Next Summer

by Hailey Abbott

  “What’s your name?” one boy—the skinnier one—asked. Neither one was her type (they both looked like Clay Aiken and were small enough to fit into her clothes), but Ella wasn’t one to let something so minor get in the way of a little innocent flirting. She started to reply when Beth appeared at her side.

  “So, what about that pledge?” Beth asked, pinching Ella’s arm.

  “What can I do?” Ella whispered. “They’re everywhere. I can only cope with so much temptation.” She waved her arm over the summer people milling around on the sand.

  The bonfire crackled and smoked, and just outside the ring of heat, the night air was chilly and inky black. The waves rolled onto the beach, the water dark and mysterious as the tide came in. A pair of girls were playing what looked like drunken tag just a few steps away from the fire, while a group of boys who looked like they got lost on their way to a Phish concert cheered them on. There were even a few couples getting busy back where the rocks littered the beach.

  Most important, there were a whole lot of guys. Guys Ella didn’t know. And among them, maybe, the one Ella was looking for.

  “I don’t think you’re really trying to resist, El,” Beth said suspiciously.

  As if to prove Beth wrong, Ella immediately rebuffed the two Clay Aiken boys—something she managed to do so smoothly the two of them looked as pleased, as if they’d actually gotten somewhere with her.

  “See?” Ella flashed her cousin a grin. “I totally resisted those two.”

  “That shouldn’t have been so hard,” Kelsi said from behind them. “I think the red-haired one was about twelve.”

  “Whatever,” Ella said, helping herself to one of the bottles of beer Kelsi was cradling against her chest. The three girls smiled at one another as Beth took a beer for herself.

  “To new boys, fun parties, and the perfect tan,” Ella said grandly, holding her beer aloft.

  “To a good summer,” Kelsi said, doing the same.

  Beth, whose smile seemed a little dimmer, reluctantly opened her mouth to throw a toast in there, but Ella cut her off with a long, low whistle when she spotted a figure near the shore.

  “What is that delicious thing?” she asked, her eyes widening. She clutched her beer and sat forward on the rock.

  He had huge brown eyes and an artful mess of dark curly hair. He walked through the crowd with a different kind of grace than the other boys around him. He wore a forest green sweater and low-slung jeans, neither of which Ella could label-ID from a distance. But she noticed other details, like how his bare feet sank into the sand when he moved. He looked like some kind of cat, all lean and hungry, and he was headed straight for Ella.

  Ella knew one thing for sure: Screw the stupid vow. She would not, and could not, say no to this guy.

  “Of course, you’re going to resist him, right?” Kelsi snickered as Mr. Dark-and-Mysterious moved through the crowd. “Like you swore you would?”

  A naughty smile was creeping across Ella’s mouth as the dark-haired boy drew closer.

  “If this isn’t love, I don’t want to know what it is…” she replied.

  “He hasn’t even said hello yet.” Beth shook her head.

  “Sometimes words are unnecessary,” Ella murmured, and then she just smiled, because the hot guy was now front and center and looking mighty fine. When Ella looked up at him, she felt a shiver run through her.

  “Come,” the boy said in a thick foreign accent that transformed him from plain old hot into scorching in one second flat. “We…talk.”

  “Why can’t we talk here?” Ella asked, cocking her head to the side.

  He smiled slowly. Ella felt herself quivering. This guy was sex personified.

  “The things I wish to talk about are better in private,” he explained softly.

  That was all the convincing Ella needed.

  “Later,” she mouthed to Beth and Kelsi over her shoulder. Then she put her hand into his, and let him pull her to her feet.

  The stranger escorted Ella just outside the light of the fire. They stood there, looking at each other. Ella watched the fire dance across his face, illuminating his incredible cheekbones and dark eyes. Still holding his hand, she angled herself toward him.

  “I saw you and I knew,” he said simply.

  “I knew it, too,” Ella replied, smiling up at him.

  What she’d said to Beth had been accurate. Sometimes words—or actual conversations—weren’t necessary.

  As if the boy had read her mind, he slid his arm around Ella’s back, then drew her close to kiss her. The kiss was hot and long, and Ella felt her body exult in it. She pulled him closer and kissed him harder, feeling their tongues touch and the heat of the moment swell through her.

  I’ll be a better girl tomorrow, Ella thought as she grabbed the beautiful stranger by the sleeve of his sweater and pulled him into the dark beyond the fire.

  5

  By the time Kelsi made it back across the sand to grab another beer, there was a crowd about five people deep around the cooler, all jostling for access.

  This was the worst part about beach bonfires. On TV, they always looked like so much fun—bikini-clad girls lounging around, sipping drinks and chatting. The reality, at least in Pebble Beach, was that it was too chilly to wear a bikini at night, and the competing boom boxes made conversation nearly impossible. Indie rock to the right, hip-hop to the left. Something for everyone, Kelsi thought.

  It was hard to walk across cold sand in the dark, with her feet slipping and her flip-flops almost sliding off. It was even harder to figure out where the beer was. Finally, she was able to duck through an unexpected opening in a wall of guys. Kelsi grabbed three beers when she got to the nearest cooler, pulling them out of the ice so fast that the ice water sluiced down her jeans, sending a chill right through to her thighs. Then she had to shove her way back out of the mob. When she finally got free, she frowned down at the huge, damp marks on the front of her jeans.

  “I hate it when that happens,” a deep voice said to her left, giving a small laugh.

  Kelsi looked up, and had to take a quick breath to steady herself.

  “Hi,” he said, flashing a grin. “I’m Tim.”

  Tim was gorgeous.

  As in Heath Ledger-type of gorgeous.

  His dirty-blond hair curled at the edges, and his smile was practically divine. His arms looked muscled, but still lean, beneath the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore. His hazel eyes gleamed with laughter and that lazy confidence guys have when they know exactly how hot they are. His expression alone made Kelsi’s blood boil with both annoyance and apprehension. She had seen the likes of this cocky attitude before and it had given her nothing but trouble. She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “I feel it’s my duty to tell you that those beers are pretty much skunked beyond all recognition,” Tim said, seemingly unfazed by Kelsi’s scrutiny. “Hand to God. But if you step over this way, my buddies can hook you up with something you can actually drink.”

  “And to what do I owe this honor?” Kelsi asked tartly.

  Tim’s grin widened. “I can’t sleep at night if I let cute girls drink skunked beer.”

  “What a guy,” she replied in a sarcastic tone. Tim didn’t seem to notice.

  “You bet,” he agreed, nudging Kelsi in the right direction with his arm. She liked the feel of his skin against her own, but was instantly annoyed at herself for even noticing. This guy was obviously a jerk. Clearly one of those jock types. She tried to keep her distance by hanging back as he went over to the big cooler where a group of guys were hanging out. Tim extracted a selection of cans from within.

  “Hey, Miller!” one of his buddies complained. “Stop giving all our beer away!”

  Tim ignored him and smiled at Kelsi.

  “Allow me to take those off your hands,” he said, indicating the spoiled beers she held. “I’ll even get rid of them for you, because I’m full-service like that.” He frowned. “Sorry. I wish I knew why skunked beer happens.�
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  “Light,” Kelsi replied absently. She felt a little bit dizzy looking at his face, which was ruddy in the glow of the fire. Or maybe she was dizzy because she couldn’t believe she was this susceptible to Tim’s hot-itude. Regardless, it took her a moment to notice he was staring at her.

  “What?” she asked, feeling defensive.

  “You said ‘light,’” Tim reminded her. His mouth twitched, like he wanted to laugh.

  “Um, there’s this chemical reaction when bright light hits beer,” Kelsi said, leaning over and thrusting the cans in question into the sand. “That’s what makes it smell.”

  Tim gazed at her for a long moment that stopped just short of uncomfortable.

  “How do you know that?” he asked.

  Because I am Queen of the Dorks, Kelsi thought.

  “I like science,” she muttered. Her face felt too hot, and she hoped it just looked like a by-product of the bonfire.

  “You’re like an encyclopedia,” Tim told her with an approving smile. “Walking around in the body of Mandy Moore. This is obviously my lucky night.”

  Kelsi gritted her teeth. She hated the fact he was flirting with her. And that she wanted to respond. It didn’t take much imagination to see where flirting with Tim would lead: Peter, part two. Kelsi refused to make that mistake twice. She didn’t want to meet his gaze, so she focused on his gray T-shirt instead.

  “U Mass?” she asked, reading the red logo. Probably going to play football there, she thought.

  He tilted his chin down as if he were trying to read it along with her. “I’m headed there in the fall,” Tim said proudly. “Like my brothers before me. Millers go to U Mass, pledge the same frat, and play mediocre football.”

  Kelsi ignored her twinge of disappointment. She’d pegged this guy from the moment she’d laid eyes on him. Why was it a surprise that she was right? He was way too good-looking to be anything but a shallow jock.

  “Thanks for the beer,” she said curtly, and took the ones he’d been holding.

  “Anytime,” he replied immediately, with that same sparkle in his eyes.

  Kelsi felt a slight pang—why couldn’t the gorgeous ones ever have some substance to them? And more to the point, why wasn’t she ever interested in guys with substance? Computer geeks, for example, or poets. Political activists. Why was it always the flashy ones who got her pulse racing? Rockers. Football players. Well, her pulse could race all it wanted, she decided firmly. She wasn’t following it anymore.

  “See you around,” she said abruptly to Jock Boy, and turned away. Good-bye, Peter part two.

  “Wait, you never even told me your name!” he shouted over the music.

  His hazel eyes were bright when she looked at him over her shoulder. He made her heart ache a little bit and, oh yes, he knew it. But Kelsi decided she was stronger than Ella when it came to resisting boys.

  “It’s Kelsi,” she told him. “But don’t worry, I don’t think you’ll need to remember it.”

  She didn’t bother looking back again.

  6

  From: jtuttle@amherst.edu

  To: bethtuttle34@aol.com

  Subject: Summertime Love

  Dear Beth,

  Happy summer, girl. I’m having a great time here at Amherst. The campus is so green and gorgeous. And there’s a really cute town with vintage clothing shops and cafés. Everyone in the program is super-nice and really into writing. And the instructor is all kinds of hot. The way he talks about poetry makes my heart pound. It makes it hard to concentrate on my writing, but I’m managing…I think! I’ve been in and out of touch with that guy Scott from last summer, too, but it’s nothing serious with us.

  I’m so jealous that everyone’s together in Pebble Beach! I miss Uncle Carr and Aunt Claire, and the little cousins. And most of all, you, El, and Kels. I want to hear every last detail about what’s going on up there with you guys. Seriously: every boy who notices Kelsi (not that she’d notice them back, of course), every summer boy Ella toys with, and how you’re surviving without George. Nothing is too insignificant to keep from me. I want to feel like I’m up there—it’ll keep me from feeling Maine-sick. Write soon. Love, Jamie

  Beth smiled at the computer screen and took a sip of coffee, missing her smart, bubbly cousin. Then she shrieked when she caught sight of someone lurking in her peripheral vision.

  “Um, could you please avoid screaming?” Ella asked, shuffling into the room and collapsing on the sofa, clutching her head all the while.

  “You scared me!” Beth collapsed back against the computer chair, and swiveled it around so she could look at her bedraggled cousin.

  “Bethy, please. My poor head…” Ella held her head in her hands as if it were the size of a pumpkin and much more fragile. Beth suddenly noticed that Ella was still wearing her green tube-dress from the night before, only now she was barefoot and her hair was significantly less sleek. Beth’s jaw dropped.

  “You slut!” Beth accused in a delighted whisper, on the off-chance there were adults around somewhere. “You’re totally doing the Walk of Shame!”

  Ella moaned, and didn’t raise her head.

  “I saw you getting it on with that Benjamin Bratt clone before you guys disappeared into the night together.” Beth crossed her arms over her chest and made a tsk-tsk sound. “So much for that whole ‘resisting temptation’ thing.”

  “I don’t know how it happened!” Ella groaned. “One minute I was sitting there, rejecting all boys, and the next minute…” She sighed. “Maybe it was the beer. Well, at least he was cute.”

  “Are you seeing him again?” Beth asked.

  Ella winced. “Unlikely. He barely speaks English.”

  “So…” Beth laughed. “What? You spoke the language of love?” She realized that it was exactly the kind of thing George would have said, if he’d been there. She bit her lip.

  “Stop. Inigo is an exchange student from Portugal,” Ella explained. “And it took about a half hour to get that across.”

  “His name is Inigo?” Beth tried hard not to crack up.

  “Well, I think so.” Ella shrugged, and a baffled look flitted across her face. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, though. Definitely something foreign.”

  Beth cackled. “Poor baby,” she said. “Maybe you should have asked before you flitted off with him.”

  Ella frowned and sat up. “I’m not doing this stuff anymore,” she said. “I know I said that last night, but I mean it now. It’s not worth it.” She looked over at Beth, and Beth thought she looked very young all of a sudden. “I want what you have.”

  “Um, what do I have?” Beth rolled her eyes. “A boyfriend who would rather paint dorms than be with me?”

  That was unfair, and moreover, broke her rule about not being a big, fat ol’ downer. Beth sighed. What she really needed was something to divert her attention. She had to prove to herself that she could have a good time without George. Maybe surfing. She had done some last summer, but still had a way to go before she could ride the waves like that amazing girl who got her arm bitten off by a shark and then competed in some contest the next day.

  That was it, Beth decided, momentarily forgetting about Ella’s plight. She would transform herself into a surf queen. She would kick George’s ass when he visited. It was a great plan. As soon as Ella left, Beth would grab her surfboard and hit the beach.

  “I’m serious, Bethy. No more one-night stands with sexy foreigners. I want someone like George,” Ella was saying sullenly. “A nice guy. A relationship guy. He’s, like, the perfect boyfriend. You’re so lucky.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Beth said as tears suddenly sprung to her eyes. She really couldn’t believe how much she missed George. She had known it would be bad, but come on, actual crying? That wasn’t like her at all.

  Beth stood and walked over to the window, trying to compose herself before Ella could notice how vulnerable she was. Outside, their younger cousins, Jordan, Jessi, and Drew, tore around in a game of what loo
ked like sudden-death badminton.

  “Is it all right if I crash in your room?” Ella asked, blinking as if her headache had just doubled. “If I go out there, they’ll make me play with them and really, I think my head might explode.”

  “Of course you can,” Beth said, keeping her back to Ella. “I’m going down to the beach to surf.”

  And try to stop moping over said perfect boyfriend.

  Surfing actually did the trick. Beth spent that afternoon on her board, and all subsequent afternoons in much the same manner, improving her technique in between text-messaging George. But even after a week, Beth still felt slightly out of shape. Everything ached, and her soreness was really affecting her mojo. One afternoon at the end of June, after she wobbled and missed a completely easy ride, she decided it was time to take a break.