One Summer

by Teegan Loy

  “Why?”

  “Money, social status. A lot of stupid things that weren’t important. But I let my parents bully me, and one day, he was gone. I never told him how I felt, and I regret it every fucking day.”

  I gasped and grabbed at my chest, feigning a heart attack.

  “I’m allowed to swear,” she said, patting my hand.

  “But you were married.”

  “My husband was a good man, but he didn’t give me that spark when I looked at him.”

  “Spark?” Lately, Jamie lit a flame in my body when I was near him, but that could be because I wanted to punch him in the face.

  “Kellen, you need to talk to him,” Mrs. Jorgenson whispered.

  “But what if he doesn’t like me back?”

  “But what if he does?” She winked. “Go get your mower and mow my lawn, kid.”

  I shook my head. She walked away, humming the U2 song, “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” The woman never failed to amaze me.

  “Oh, and Kellen,” she shouted. “Come up to the house when you’re finished.”

  An hour later, I was covered in grass clippings and sweat, but the lawns looked spectacular. I slipped out of my shirt, tucked it into my back pocket, and trudged up to her house. She was sitting on her porch, sipping lemonade, looking as prim and proper as a lady with bright blue hair could look.

  “You have fabulous abs. You should consider ditching your shirt more often,” she said, totally destroying my view of a proper lady.

  “Oh my god, Mrs. Jorgenson.”

  “What? I’m old, not dead,” she said as she handed me a cold glass of lemonade.

  “Well, thanks, I guess.”

  “I haven’t met Jamie’s new— What do you call him?”

  “His name is Harry.”

  “You’ve been hanging around Dylan a lot.”

  “He’s my friend, only my friend.”

  “Bring him over. I want to talk to him again,” she said. “Tomorrow around noon. We’ll have lunch and chat about your boys.”

  I scrubbed a hand through my hair and nodded, resigned to the fact I would be once again discussing my nonexistent love life with Mrs. Jorgenson. For now, we sat quietly on her porch, watching water skiers wipe out and kids wakeboarding until Agnes let us know she wanted to walk.

  Mrs. Jorgenson patted my shoulder and told me she’d see me tomorrow. I gathered my lawn tools and went home.

  Dylan waved. “Hi, Kellen.”

  I pushed the lawnmower into the shed and waved back.

  “What’ve you been doing?” he asked.

  Movement down on the dock caught my eye. Jamie and Harry had jumped in the lake and were dunking each other.

  “I mowed our lawn and Mrs. Jorgenson’s lawn,” I said. “I should start a business.”

  “I should’ve stayed with you,” Dylan mumbled.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Not really.” He trudged toward the house. “I need a drink. Those two drove me crazy today. I actually considered feeding Harry to the sharks.”

  “You do know there’s no sharks in this lake, right?”

  “One can dream.” He sighed. “Drinks, please.”

  “You’re on.”

  We raced to the kitchen. I should’ve asked Dylan what Harry did to piss him off, but it probably involved Jamie, and I wasn’t up for more details about their affair.

  Harry and Jamie showed up a few seconds later, but, as usual, they ignored us and headed to Jamie’s room. I sneered and dragged Dylan out to the deck. We spent the rest of the day avoiding Harry and Jamie. I went to bed angry and hard.

  5

  The Clock Keeps Ticking

  Lunch with Mrs. Jorgenson started out weird and very quiet. She kept staring at me and Dylan and shaking her head.

  “This whole situation is all mixed up. You boys should write a sordid movie or something,” she said. “But it would probably end up being one of those depressing, no-one-is-happy movies.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “If I have to explain . . .” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed loudly.

  “You don’t have to tell us we’re hopeless. We already know. Let’s talk about something else,” Dylan said. “Like music.”

  It was a relief to think about something other than Jamie and Harry. Soon we were arguing about the greatness of different bands and quoting lines from our favorite songs. Dylan told a story about losing Harry at a music festival only to find him standing in line to use the toilet.

  “I’ve been to a lot of concerts where I had to pee in the bushes,” Mrs. Jorgensen said.

  “Who’d you see?” Dylan asked.

  “How much time do you have?”

  “Tell us,” Dylan begged.

  She grinned and launched into stories of her adventures. After the birth of her daughter, her husband had taken her to Chicago for a honeymoon. She’d actually seen the Beatles in concert. Going to shows in Chicago or Madison had become a regular occurrence. She’d also seen the Rolling Stones and the Doors and several other notable bands. Her list made me drool.

  “I saw fat Elvis too. He could still belt it out, but his lifestyle was getting the best of him. I enjoyed the concert, but it made me sad.”

  I was amazed I’d spent twenty-two summers living next door to her and knew nothing about her. She kicked her feet up on a bench and leaned back in her chair.

  “It really was a fun time in my life, if I don’t think about the shit my parents pulled. I was only seventeen the summer I met Julian. I fell hard for him and he felt the same way, or at least I’d like to think he did.” She bent over, pulled out a small bottle of vodka from her bag, and unscrewed the top. She poured a little into her glass. I held out mine, along with Dylan’s glass, so she could spike our drinks as well.

  “Are you sure you want to hear this?” she asked.

  We both nodded.

  “After one meeting with my parents, they refused to let me see him again. They didn’t even give me a reason. We tried to sneak around for a while, but it just got too hard. My dad started following me, and everyone fought all the time.” Her voice cracked. “Finally, it was too much for Julian, and he left. I was so angry with my parents and myself for letting him go without a fight. I ran away and tried to find him, but in those days, it was easy to disappear. Two months later, I met my husband at a concert and married him to make my parents angry.”

  “Fuck,” Dylan muttered.

  “Don’t settle,” she said firmly and then looked away from us. “Your guys are shouting for you.”

  She wiped her eyes and whispered something to Dylan, who turned an amusing shade of maroon. Before I could thank her for the drinks, she had Agnes on her leash and was heading down the road to find Mrs. Benson.

  “She’s an interesting lady,” Dylan said.

  “I never knew any of that, and I’ve known her my entire life.”

  “I don’t think it’s something she talks about a lot.”

  Jamie and Harry shouted again, but I wasn’t up for hanging out with them. After a lot of prodding, we agreed to have dinner with them, but only because they were cooking. While they went skiing, we spent the rest of the day, lying on the dock and talking.

  They were both sun-kissed and happy when they returned. While they cooked and teased each other, Dylan and I sat at the table, drinking beer. A couple of times, Jamie tried to coax us into helping, but we refused.

  “This was your idea. We’re here as guests,” I said and clinked my beer bottle with Dylan.

  The meal was great, but their lovey-dovey act was starting to wear on me. A couple of times I caught Jamie staring at me, but as soon as I busted him, his attention returned to Harry. The conversation was clipped, nothing like lunch with Mrs. Jorgenson. When they started to feed each other, Dylan grimaced and kicked me in the ankle.

  “We’re leaving.” Dylan sneered and snatched my plate, stacking it on top of his. “And you guys can take car
e of the dishes.”

  I thought about being polite and saying thank you for the meal, but Jamie rubbed his nose against Harry’s neck and growled.

  Before I could stab Jamie with my fork, Dylan took the utensil from my hand and herded me outside.

  “Peyton Place?” he asked.

  I nodded and allowed him to lead me up the stairs where I paced around the room a few times before Dylan begged me to take a break.

  “You’re giving me whiplash.” He patted the space next to him. “We let them bother us too much.”

  He fluffed up my pillow and forced me to lean back.

  “I haven’t told anyone this, but I had a job interview for a position to teach math at the high school in Apple Valley. I’m going to accept if they offer me the position. I can’t wait around forever. It’s time to be an adult,” I said.

  “That’s great,” Dylan said.

  “Yeah. I suppose it is.”

  “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

  “I don’t know? Maybe it’s because I don’t want to hear where Jamie is going. It really finalizes everything.” I groaned. “This feels like a terrible breakup, only I never got the benefit of having sex with him.”

  “Harry graduates in December. He wants to go to LA and find a job. I’m staying in Minneapolis and going to grad school.” He pulled the blankets up to his chin.

  “Maybe if you told him how you felt, he’d change his plans,” I said.

  Dylan chuckled. “Maybe if you told Jamie.”

  “That sounded like something Mrs. Jorgenson would say to us.”

  “Do you mind if I stay tonight?”

  “No, it’s nice to have company.”

  “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. We’re leaving soon to go home.”

  “Like Mrs. Jorgenson always says, you can’t stop time from stomping on your head,” I mumbled.

  “Fuck,” he said and rolled over.

  Before long, his breathing settled and I climbed out of bed to stare out the window. Lights were still on in the cabin, but I didn’t want to think about what was going on in Jamie’s room. I moved to a different window that gave me a view of the lake. Tiny flickering lights from other cabins dotted the horizon, and I wondered how many people were really happy with the choices they’d made in their lives.

  Over the next couple of days, Dylan and I stayed close to Peyton Place or took the boat out on the lake. We also hung around Mrs. Jorgenson, begging for more of her stories.

  She always ended by telling us not to settle or to live our lives with no regrets. Then she added that we were stupid not to talk to Harry and Jamie. Her life-lesson speeches were painful to listen to, but they were better than watching Jamie grope Harry every time I glanced their way. I wanted to wipe that smug little grin off Jamie’s face, so it was safer for Jamie if I kept my distance.

  The final day of Dylan’s vacation was rainy, so Jamie and Harry tried to convince us to play some rude form of strip poker. When we said no and told them we were going to Peyton Place, they bombarded us with kissing noises and loud moans.

  “Have fun in your love nest,” Jamie yelled.

  I flipped him off. They’d started calling Peyton Place our love nest several days ago, and Jamie even made a sign that said Do not disturb. BJs in progress and taped it to the door. Every time we ripped it down, it showed up again. The sign belonged on his bedroom door. I thought about shoving it down his throat a few times.

  The rain bounced off the windows and Dylan sat down on the bed, drawing his knees up to his chest. I sighed and perched on the window seat, watching the wind stir up the lake.

  “Come sit by me,” Dylan said, stretching out like a cat. His shirt rode up, exposing his tan lines and his hipbones. My dick took an interest.

  “Okay,” I answered and flopped down next to him.

  “You really are in love with him, aren’t you?” Dylan leaned up on his elbow.

  “That’s what everyone tells me.” I brushed his hair away from his eyes and mindlessly stared at his mouth. His lips weren’t as full as Jamie’s, but they were nice and wet and within reach.

  He said something else but his mouth mesmerized me. Dylan poked me in the ribs. “Kellen, are you even listening to me?”

  “I want to kiss you.”

  “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”

  “Fine. What did you want to know?”

  “Why are we in love with two morons?”

  “I don’t really think it’s their fault.”

  He sat up and knit his eyebrows together. “But I’ve been giving Harry all sorts of signals.”

  “Mrs. Jorgenson seems to think we need to use our words.”

  Dylan snorted. “We’re going home tomorrow.” He wrapped his fingers around my wrist and inched closer to me. “At first, I didn’t know what all these feelings meant. I dated women, but I couldn’t quit thinking about Harry. I wanted to be around him all the time. My girlfriend finally asked me if I was bi.” He cleared his throat and rolled to his side. I scooted closer to him and put my hand on his back. He leaned into me and nuzzled my neck.

  “I didn’t even know I was in love with Jamie until Stef told me. And then Mrs. Jorgenson and Mrs. Benson said the same thing. I blame all of them for ruining my life.”

  “You really didn’t know?”

  “I’ve lived with Jamie for four years. I guess it just became a normal feeling that I identified with him. Only it never bothered me before Stef decided I needed to know the truth.”

  “Wow.”

  “You should tell Harry,” I said.

  “And you should tell Jamie.”

  “I thought about it, but I’m trapped in a horror movie where people keep climbing out of the lake and taking him away from me.”

  Dylan’s laughter vibrated against my neck. He smelled good, and he looked rumpled and comfortable next to me. And I knew he was real. My imagination was worn down, and I was tired of feeling so lonely all the time.

  “Kell,” Dylan mumbled into my neck.

  “Mmmm.”

  “I know you said you weren’t the guy for me, but can I please touch you,” he pleaded.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” I said as I let him roll me over. He climbed on top of me and settled between my legs.

  He fiddled with the button on my shorts for a few seconds before I placed my hands over his fingers to steady him.

  “Sorry,” he gasped. “I’m a little nervous. First time with a guy and everything.”

  “Take your time and relax. Don’t be afraid to enjoy.”

  “I’m not afraid to enjoy things; I’m scared the moment we do anything I’m going to come.”

  I sat up and hugged him tightly to my chest. “Don’t worry about anything. It’s not a contest. No one is keeping score.”

  He snorted, shoved me back to the bed, and urged me to shimmy out of my shorts.

  “You too,” I said. “I’m not going to be the only one naked.”

  He grinned at me and I couldn’t help pulling him down into a scorching kiss. By the time we broke apart, I was more than ready to go. Dylan yanked his shirt over his head and I finished taking off the rest of my clothing before settling against the pillows.

  “God, I’m nervous,” Dylan said.

  “Show me what you like,” I whispered.

  The first touch was just a light graze of Dylan’s fingers against my burning-hot dick. The action made me moan and wiggle my hips. I needed more, and when he finally wrapped his fingers around my erection, I had to hold my breath and stare at the floral blanket to keep from coming.

  “Okay?” Dylan asked.

  “Yeah,” I squeaked. “Keep going.”

  He tentatively stroked me a few times before he gripped me harder. I pressed down into his hand. It would be so much better with less drag and more slickness, so I reached over to the bedside table, fumbling around for something to use as lube.

  I grabbed a bottle and opened the top. The sm
ell of coconut flooded my nose as I squirted a blob into my hand. I needed to replace all the lotion with some real lube.

  “Are you sure that’s safe,” Dylan asked.

  “I think so. My dick hasn’t fallen off yet, and it’s what I’ve been using to relieve some of the tension.”

  “Works for me.”

  He moaned loudly when I slid my now slick hand over his. Again, I had to concentrate on the floral blanket so I wouldn’t come. It was nice to have someone else touching me. Through the fog of pleasure, I felt Dylan thrusting his erection against my thigh.

  “Move closer,” I gasped.

  In a few frantic motions, I was able to get us lined up and my hand wrapped around our dicks. He bucked hard against me and hissed as I started to move.

  “Shit,” he panted. “Feels so good.”

  He let his head fall to my shoulder, still gasping as he dug his fingers into my hips. I did my best to keep a nice rhythm as he squirmed and moaned, occasionally biting my shoulder.

  “Close.” Dylan grunted and pressed his mouth against mine.

  The burn in my belly was searing and Dylan panted faster and louder. Within minutes, a warm wetness spurted over my hand as Dylan arched into me.

  He tipped his head back and shouted. “Oh, god. Yes.”

  I smeared his come all over my dick, and with a few more tugs, my orgasm came hard and fast.

  “Did you like that?” I mumbled against Dylan’s throat.

  “It was fucking brilliant. Every time I smell coconut lotion, I’ll think of you.” He snickered and buried his face into my shoulder, placing soft kisses on my neck.

  We talked and snuggled for a while until I felt my dick getting into the game again.

  I nudged him. “Don’t fall asleep.”

  “Huh?” he grunted.

  “Let’s take a shower so I can blow you.”

  He jumped out of bed so fast he stumbled and almost fell on his face.

  I laughed. “A little excited.”

  “You have no idea.”

  He rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. In a few minutes, the steam filled the room and I was on my knees, sucking his cock into my mouth. His thighs shook and he yanked my hair to warn me he was coming. I knocked his hand away and let him release down my throat.