“What are you thinking about?” Marco asked softly.
Lara hesitated, and then answered honestly. “You,” she said.
Marco raised his eyebrows slightly, and he seemed about to make a joke. But then he must have thought better of it, because he leaned toward her.
He’s going to kiss me, Lara thought. What should I do? But before she could answer her own question, his lips were against hers. They were soft and warm and gentle, and she felt herself responding, almost against her will. An image of Drew flashed in her mind, but she closed her eyes more tightly until it vanished. As she opened her mouth and their tongues touched, she felt a surge, like an electric current, travel from her lips down through her body and all the way to her toes. She let herself fall into the kiss, and then after a few moments she reluctantly pulled away.
“Um,” she said.
Marco looked at her with his beautiful dark eyes. “Too fast?” he asked. “Should I have waited until after dessert to kiss you?”
Lara laughed shyly. “I just…Oh, I don’t know.” She didn’t want to tell him about her recent heartbreak, but the words were at the tip of her tongue.
Marco shrugged good-naturedly. “All right,” he said. “Let’s back up a bit. We were talking about Maine. And before that you were saying how you don’t approve of digital cameras because you feel that the impermanence of the digital image only contributes to the throwaway consumerist culture that we live in.”
Lara laughed and felt her cheeks turn red. “God, do I really sound like that?”
“And,” Marco went on, even though she held up her hands in protest, “you were also talking about how our consumerist system, which equates conspicuous consumption with personal well-being, economic progress, and social ful-fillment, is a recipe for social and ecological disaster.”
Lara put her hands over her ears. “Stop!” she cried. “Please stop.” It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in the truth of what she’d said—it was just that it sounded so…well, pretentious coming out of Marco’s mouth. “I blame my diatribe on your vinho verde,” she announced, folding her arms in defiance. But it was cute how much attention he’d paid to what she said.
“Oh, yeah,” Marco said. “Vinho verde often induces anti-capitalist fervor. It says so on the back of the bottle.” He pointed to the label.
She swatted his broad shoulder. “Shut up,” she giggled.
“All kidding aside, though,” he offered, “I do think you have a point. We waste way too much here in America.”
Lara sighed. It was true. But she didn’t want to talk about serious stuff anymore. She wanted to eat her dessert and then kiss Marco again. She glanced over at him, and found that he was gazing at her intently. By the look in his eyes, she could tell that he didn’t care one bit about the dark chocolate he’d brought, or the fresh strawberries.
She smiled at him shyly, and then leaned a little toward him. And then Marco reached out and cupped her face with his hands. She slid her arms around his waist. After another minute, they were kissing again, hungrily. She felt his hands moving over her dress. She let out a little moan that was part pleasure, part protest. She felt like she shouldn’t be doing this—wasn’t a person supposed to wait a little while before hooking up with someone new?—but it felt so good. She shifted around to get more comfortable in the sand and Marco leaned over, pressing his body against hers.
Her fingers traced a line up his smooth back and then reached down to grasp his hips, pulling them against hers. She heard Marco’s breath in her ear.
But even with her arms around Marco, Lara still couldn’t quite shake the thought of Drew. Who said anything about the rest of our lives? he’d asked her. No one did, she thought fiercely.
Then Marco buried his face in her neck and kissed her collarbone and nibbled on her ear, and after that she thought only of him.
They lay like that for an hour, just kissing and touching each other, though to Lara it felt like only a few minutes. Then Marco reluctantly pulled himself away from her. “I promised my folks I’d be home at eleven,” he said. “We’re heading out for a really early sail.”
Lara sat up and rearranged her dress, which had gotten very wrinkled in their make-out session. “It’s probably for the best,” she allowed. “This isn’t the most private place in the world.”
“I know,” Marco said. “Those seagulls were totally checking us out. They’re so jealous.”
Lara tossed her napkin at him, shaking her head, but Marco just grinned.
After they kissed good-bye—for another half an hour—Lara biked home through the beautiful Maine night, feeling giddy, pleased, and only slightly tipsy.
She found Greer lounging on the deck with a glass of Uncle Carr’s scotch and a copy of Vanity Fair. She raised her eyebrows when Lara appeared and looked her up and down. “What were you doing?” she asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
Lara glanced around to make sure that they were alone. “I was out with the greatest guy,” she whispered. “It wasn’t supposed to be a date, but I think it turned into one.”
Greer’s eyes widened. “Tell,” she hissed.
“His name is Marco and he’s half Chilean and he is probably the best kisser that the world has ever known,” Lara gushed. Then she stopped herself. “It’s terrible, I know. I mean, Drew and I are barely broken up. I mean, we are, but we never talked about it. We just—we just stopped talking to each other.”
“And now he’s snoring inside a tick-infested sleeping bag somewhere in Vermont.” Greer reached out a reassuring hand. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” she counseled. “You just do what makes you happy.”
That seemed a little selfish to Lara. But then she thought back to the picnic and laughing with Marco. He had definitely made her happy—why should there be a problem with that?
She looked earnestly at her cousin. “You can’t tell Jessica, though. This is a secret.”
Greer smirked. “As the guardian of our Classified List of Summer Goals, let me remind you that I am excellent at keeping secrets. I had a bichon frise puppy for an entire year before my mother discovered him, you know. I can certainly keep my mouth shut about your Marco.”
Lara lay back on the lounge chair next to Greer and took a sip of her cousin’s scotch. “Phew,” she spluttered. “That’s strong.”
“Wuss,” Greer giggled. “But seriously. Your secret is safe with me.”
Lara sighed. It was unfortunate to have such a big secret. But she let herself be reassured by Greer’s reasoning. She could get to know Marco a lot better in the coming weeks, and Jessica never had to be the wiser. “Okay, Greer, you’re right,” she said firmly. “Ignorance is bliss.”
“Amen to that,” Greer agreed, and snatched her scotch back.
10
“Are you sure this looks okay?” Jessica queried as she modeled one of Greer’s tube miniskirts for her cousins. She was showing way more leg than she was used to revealing, and the cute little lacy top she’d borrowed from Lara was definitely formfitting. She looked down at her chest. Had it always been that big?
“You look amazing,” Lara reassured her. “No one would take you for a jock at all. You look more like a blonde Jessica Biel or something. Hot.”
“Heidi Klum,” Greer called absently. She was busy putting her own outfit together for some mystery date, Jessica guessed. After all, it was hardly like Greer to spend a Friday night in the house, parked in front of a plasma TV screen.
“So you’ve got the whole Operation Seduce Connor Selden planned?” Lara asked, reaching out to adjust the strap of Jessica’s bra, which had slipped down her arm.
Jessica nodded excitedly. “Dinner in town, then dessert by Knight’s Pond, where the water is conveniently warm enough…”
“For skinny-dipping!” Lara squealed.
Jessica blushed and then smiled. “Just in case he needed some encouragement to take his clothes off,” she admitted.
“Brilliant,” Gre
er remarked approvingly. Her voice was muffled, since she was halfway into a black Zac Posen. Then her head reappeared and she shook her brown hair and stuck her arms into the little cap sleeves. “Planned like a true fox. Whoever said little Jessi couldn’t be crafty?”
“Jessica,” Lara and Jessica said at the same time, and then they all laughed.
“But get out of here; you’re going to be late!” Greer warned. She tossed Jessica the keys to her Lexus. “I know you’ll take excellent care of Sadie, so I won’t even bother warning you that if you dent her or scratch her, I will break both of your legs.”
Jessica giggled and thanked her cousins, then gave herself one last look in the mirror. She did look good; her blonde hair—already lighter from the sun—hung in loose waves around her shoulders, and her green eyes, highlighted with a silvery shadow, glowed above her tan cheeks.
“Bye!” she called, and dashed out the door.
Less than twenty minutes later, she and Connor were sitting at a corner table near the window at Chez Suzette, a sweet little French café with a view of the harbor. Connor had on his best white shirt and had actually gone so far as to tuck it into his khaki pants. He looked cute and clean and vaguely nervous, like a guy at a job interview or the first day of college or something.
Connor poured some sparkling water into both of their glasses and then looked around him at the pale blue walls and the roses on all the tables.
“So in a way, this is our first real date,” he said. “I mean, we can’t count all those lacrosse practices last summer or anything.”
Jessica nodded. “I thought it was about time we saw each other in something besides swimsuits and athletic gear.” She paused, hoping he would compliment her outfit, and when he didn’t, she kicked him lightly in the shin.
He jumped. “Sorry—I mean, of course, you’re right. And you look amazing.”
Jessica grinned. Connor’s compliment was obviously sincere, even if he’d had to be reminded to make it. “Thanks.”
When the waitress brought them their food—lobster bisque and sole meunière for Jessica, steak frites and an endive and frisee salad for Connor—they looked at each other and snickered. It was so fancy, with gold linen napkins and the multiple sets of forks! Jessica hardly knew which one to choose, and from the look of it, Connor was no more experienced with complicated place settings than she was. But the food was delicious, and they were both starving because they’d been in the ocean all day.
As they ate, Jessica played a little footsie with her date, just to make sure he didn’t forget about her while he was devouring his steak. And she did her best to keep the conversation away from sports, Xbox games, or anything else really low on the romance spectrum.
“I know I’m going to be stuffed in a minute,” Connor said, interrupting her story about Greer’s crush on Hunter Brown. “But I still want dessert.”
Jessica shook her head firmly. “Can’t have it here,” she told him.
“Why not?” Connor looked so baffled and disappointed that she laughed out loud.
“I have a different plan for us.” She gave him a significant—and what she hoped was sexy—look.
He whistled. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time.”
“Just you wait,” Jessica said in her best attempt at a sultry, seductive voice. (It wasn’t half bad, either! she thought.)
Connor’s eyebrows very nearly disappeared under his bangs. “Wow,” he said. “There’s something different about you tonight.”
Jessica grinned at him but said nothing. So far, things were going exactly as she planned.
There was a slight chill in the air as Connor and Jessica walked along the forested path to Knight’s Pond. Jessica led the way, carrying (despite Connor’s attempts to be chivalrous) a canvas bag and a little cooler that contained their dessert—two slices of Aunt Trudy’s to-die-for lemon cake with a container of raspberry coulis and a tub of fresh whipped cream to top it off.
When they came to the little sandy beach at the edge of the water, Jessica unfolded a blanket and motioned for Connor to sit down.
“Isn’t this nice?” she said. “It’s so private and quiet. I love the ocean, but sometimes I think I might love lakes and ponds better.”
Connor nodded as he tried to peek into the cooler. Clearly he’d already digested the steak and was in need of another massive calorie infusion. “This is where I learned to swim, you know,” he told her. “My mom taught me and my brother in this very pond.”
“Leave the dessert alone!” Jessica laughed. “Let’s just sit here for a minute. I, at least, need to let my dinner digest.”
Connor watched with interest as she brought out the three beeswax candles she’d swiped from the dining room and lit them. The gentle breeze made the flames feint and sputter, but they gave everything around them a warm, golden glow.
“Nice,” he said softly, and she smiled at him. Then she brought out the cake and dished it out onto their two plates, surrounding the golden slices with the raspberry sauce and dabbing whipped cream on top.
She sighed happily. It was so beautiful here. Above them, the leaves of an oak tree whispered and she could hear the birds singing good night to one another. Soon the bats would come out (unlike Greer, Jessica wasn’t afraid of them at all) and perform their evening acrobatics in the air.
It was shaping up to be the perfect night. Pretty soon, Jessica knew, she and Connor would kiss. And if things went as planned, tomorrow she wouldn’t be a virgin anymore. The thought made her nervous, but not so nervous as to change her mind.
She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse to reveal the lacy edge of her bra, and then she reached out and touched Connor’s leg.
“Remember last year, how you lost that bet to me and you had to go skinny-dipping in front of everyone?”
“How could I forget it,” Connor moaned. “My brother teased me about that for weeks.”
“How about you get me back?” Jessica offered. “What if we make some bet right now and if I lose, I’ll go skinny-dipping?”
“I like the sound of that,” Connor acknowledged. “I bet you can’t eat that cake you brought us in four bites.”
“You’re on,” Jessica said. Even though she wanted to enjoy the cake slowly, she took three big bites to make it look like she was trying. And then there was one mound of it left on her plate, and she forked it up. Even though she could have fit it all in her mouth, she didn’t. She pretended she couldn’t, and then she made a morose face.
“I lose,” she said, though secretly she wasn’t sad at all.
Connor clapped his hands delightedly. “Skinny-dip! Skinny-dip! Now you can bare your white butt in front of everyone we know.”
Jessica stood up. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” she said softly. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she unbuttoned her blouse and her bra, letting both of them fall to the ground. Connor’s eyes widened as she stepped out of her skirt. She was overcome by shyness then, even though it was dark out. Because she didn’t want to fail in her seduction objective, she began to walk quickly toward the water, and at the edge she slipped off her panties and then plunged into the cool pond.
The water closed over her head and filled her ears. She kicked her arms and legs and then came up to the surface, wiping the water from her eyes. “The temperature is perfect!” she called. “Why don’t you come in?”
Connor hesitated for a moment.
“What,” she teased, “are you chicken or something? I dare you to come get me.”
Connor would never back down from a dare; she knew that much. And indeed, he stood up, stripped quickly, and came dashing toward her into the water. “Not chicken!” he cried, splashing toward her.
She reached for him and pulled him close, and the next thing she knew they were kissing passionately. She loved the feel of his skin against hers, warm and smooth in the cool water. She let her hands wander down his arms and toward his stomach. She heard him inhale as her hands went fa
rther south.
“Jessica,” he whispered.
“Mmm,” she said, kissing him more. Over his shoulder, the moon danced in the water.
He pulled away from her and took her face gently in his hands. He gazed intently into her eyes. “Look,” he said, “I know this is what we talked about. But I think we should cool it a little.”
Jessica’s stomach fell with a thud, and she treaded water to move away from him. Suddenly, she was freezing in the cool night air. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was stopping her again? Connor tried to lean in to kiss her, but she wanted no part of it. She quickly turned around and splashed her way to the sandy shore.
Fuming and hurt, she snatched up a towel from the canvas bag and put on her clothes, as quickly as possible. Her cheeks burned with humiliation. Why did he keep preventing her from going any further? Hadn’t they agreed to be each other’s firsts? Maybe he needed some kind of engraved invitation, she thought bitterly. She remembered Greer asking what kind of normal American male would try to stop a girl from having sex. I’d certainly like to know the answer to that, Jessica thought. She wondered if the problem was him or her. Was she doing something wrong, or was he?
“Jessica, wait,” Connor called.
But she was already packing up her things. He could make his way home by himself, she decided. She wasn’t going to spend another minute with a person who kept rejecting her.
As she stomped down the path toward Greer’s car, she heard Connor’s voice, faint but insistent. “Hey,” the disem-bodied voice said. “Jessica, please come back…”
But she kept on walking. His rejection stung too much, and she needed to be alone to recover her dignity.
She climbed into Greer’s convertible, and as she drove down the winding road beneath the silvery moon, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, her phone beeped with a text.
She slowed to a crawl along the deserted lane so she could read the message. It was from Connor. I’M SORRY, it said. I LOVE YOU.
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