How to Survive a Summer Romance (or Two)

by Ann Herrick

  "… an," Gwen said.

  "What?"

  "Brian," said Gwen. "I just finished the word for you. You seemed to have trouble saying it." She peered into my eyes. "Anything you want to talk about?"

  Apparently Gwen zeroed in on my distressed mental condition. "Is there ever!" I took a deep breath, then filled Gwen in on my confused feelings about Troy, my guilt about Brian. "Thing is, Brian is so nice. I know I care about him. I'm pretty sure I still love him. But then there's Troy. I feel … I don't know … drawn to him."

  "Don't feel guilty," Gwen said. "Brian told you to see other guys. He just didn't want you to fall in love. It doesn't sound as if you're in love with Troy."

  "You're probably right‑‑"

  "No, I don't think it's love." Gwen leaned back on her elbows. "I think it's what Ms. Donaldson would call 'lust.'"

  "Lust!" I almost fell off my bed.

  "Yes, you know. Passion, Desire. Or as Ms. Donaldson sometimes put it, 'the hots.'"

  "I know what it means." I stiffened as I felt my face burning. "But what makes you think that‑‑"

  "Hold it." Gwen raised one hand. "I'm just explaining what I learned in 'You and Others' this year. Ms. Donaldson did two whole weeks on love and lust and how to tell the difference. I'm no expert, but personally it sounds as if what you've got is definitely lust."

  I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at Gwen. "You trying to tell me about love is … is … What are you thinking? You're only twelve."

  "You can learn a lot from books." Gwen sniffed. "Besides, now there's Mikel."

  "Ooh. You've been involved with a guy for one whole day and suddenly you're an expert!"

  "Hey, it's just a theory. I admit it's based mostly on classroom studies, not field work. If you don't want my opinion, then the subject is closed." Gwen's lips pulled into a thin, tight line.

  I wanted to stay ticked off at Gwen‑‑but she was so logical. Plus, I did want to discuss some of my other worries with her. "I'm sorry if I insulted you," I said carefully. "I didn't mean to."

  "Apology accepted," Gwen said curtly.

  "I so want to talk to you about something."

  Gwen couldn't resist. "Wel‑l‑l. Okay!"

  I paused and took a deep breath. "You know Troy and I went into Lakeview with Mom and Mr. Daly‑‑Troy's father."

  "Oh, Dad said something about that." Gwen looked disappointed at my topic of choice.

  "Well, it turns out that Mr. Daly is the Parker Daly Mom had that big summer romance with years and years ago."

  For a second there was stunned silence. Then Gwen recovered enough to say, "Hmm. Dad sure didn't mention that!"

  "No?" I half laughed. "I guess Dad wouldn't." I went on to describe the entire afternoon and evening, and all my suspicions.

  "Oh, come on. You don't really think Mom knew Parker Daly was going to be here, do you?" Gwen asked, clearly surprised.

  "I'm not sure. Maybe she just hoped he would be. I mean, to suddenly plan a vacation here just after Mr. Daly gets divorced?" I saw the doubt on Gwen's face. Suddenly, I felt guilty about making her worry. "But then, maybe it is all just a coincidence. Coincidences do happen."

  "That has to be what is," Gwen said. "I mean, how would Mom even know Mr. Daly was recently divorced?"

  "She wouldn't …" Unless she'd been in touch with him.

  "Besides, Mom would never do anything to hurt Dad. They love each other."

  "I know. That's what has me confused." Then it hit me. "Maybe she didn't plan an affair, exactly. Maybe she just wants to make Dad jealous. Wake him up. He does tend to get lost in his work."

  "Hmmm. Could be …" Gwen wrinkled her brow. "Still …that sounds kind of drastic, even for Mom. I always had the feeling she was used to the fact that Dad is old fogey‑ish."

  "True," I said. "And besides, Dad just doesn't seem like the jealous type. I've probably been letting my imagination run wild because Mr. Daly is so incredibly handsome and happened to have a relationship with Mom centuries ago."

  "On the other hand …" Gwen chewed the inside of her lip. "There is such a thing as mid‑life crisis, you know."

  "Mom? Having a mid‑life crisis?" A new wave of doubt flowed through me. I decided I should watch her and Mr. Daly and get some real proof one way or the other. But I didn't want Gwen to worry too much. I forced a small laugh. "Oh, we're probably just jumping to conclusions."

  "Yeah, that's probably it," said Gwen, too eagerly agreeing with me. She yawned and crawled under the covers. "I'm tired. I'm just going to go to sleep and blot out this whole Mom and Mr. Daly thing."

  "Good idea," I said. I picked up the magazine Gwen had dropped earlier. "I think I'll stay up for a while and read."

  "Okay." Gwen sounded half‑asleep already. "Goodnight."

  "'Night." I stared at the magazine, but was too busy thinking to read. Why was I so suspicious of Mom? I wondered if my situation with Troy was affecting my brain when it came to her and Mr. Daly. Maybe I was making all kinds of assumptions because I was having the kind of feelings I suspected Mom of having.

  Even sitting there in bed I could feel my pulse quicken and my face color as I thought about that exciting tingle I felt whenever Troy and I touched.

  I closed the magazine, got up, and looked out the window. I could see the light on in Troy's room. As I stood there, I suddenly decided I could see Troy and still remain true to Brian. I'd just hang out with Troy. I wouldn't fall in love with him.

  I pulled the shade so I could undress. I put on my nightshirt and turned off the light. As I slid into bed, a tingle of excitement flowed through me as I thought about my decision.

  Just as Brian had suggested, I would go ahead and have a summer romance with Troy. Only it wouldn't be the type where there'd be tears when it was time to go home. We'd just have fun together.

  And I would be careful. I would go just far enough to get Troy and this … this kind of temptation out of my system. Emotionally, physically, I totally would not let things go too far. I promised myself.

  I was sure it was a promise I could keep …

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning I woke up early. Gwen was burrowed under her blanket, looking as if she'd be sleeping in. But not me. I couldn't wait to see Troy.

  I showered, brushed my hair and pulled it back with a couple barrettes. I spritzed myself with cologne in all the pulse spots I could think of. I even whisked on a touch of brown eye shadow, because I knew it made my eyes look even greener.

  Then I rushed downstairs for breakfast. Mom was sitting alone at the table, sipping coffee.

  "Hi." I stuck a slice of bread in the toaster. "Don't tell me Dad is hard at work already."

  Mom shook her head. "He decided he needed some exercise, so he walked into town to pick up a couple things I want from the store."

  "Oh." My toast popped up. I spread a load of chunky peanut butter on it, poured a glass of juice, and sat down. I hoped that Dad deciding he needed some exercise was a sign that he might spend less time on the computer and more time doing something with Mom. Even though I was unsure about Mom's feelings for Mr. Daly, I had no doubts about his for her. I was positive he was after her. And if Mom spent too much time with him, and he was persistent enough, well, anything could happen.

  "What a beautiful morning!" Dad breezed in the door carrying a small bag of groceries. As he started putting them away, he pulled an envelope out of his pocket. "Oh, I stopped at the post office too. Here, Kaysie, this is for you."

  I stared at the envelope. It was from Brian. I swallowed a lump of guilt along with a bite of peanut butter and toast. I could see by the postmark that the letter had been mailed the morning I left for New Hampshire. And I hadn't even written to Brian yet.

  I tried to act cool and calm as I finished my breakfast. But as soon as I was done, I zoomed upstairs to read Brian's letter. Gwen was still asleep, so I sort of had some privacy. The letter was short, but, as the saying goes, sweet.

  Dear Kaysie,
>
  I miss you already. I start working at camp in less than an hour, so at least I'll be busy. Still, it won't be easy keeping my mind off of you.

  Please remember what I said and try to have some fun on your vacation.

  I can't wait to see you again!

  Love, Brian

  I traced my finger around the edge of Brian's letter. Maybe I should stick to my original plan, and just hole up with my books all month. Still … right there in the letter he reminded me that he wanted me to have fun. Not that reading wasn't fun. But I knew that's not what Brian meant. I could get involved with Troy, within the limits I set for myself, and that would be fun and, I was sure, safe.

  I checked my watch. It was still early. I had no idea how long Troy and his father would play tennis, so I decided it was as good a time as any to write to Brian.

  I tiptoed to my dresser and pulled out the pale pink writing paper I'd chosen especially for writing to him. Keeping my letter short and upbeat, I told Brian I missed him, but didn't go on and on about it. I wrote about going out on the lake in the speedboat and attending the Food Fair. I just didn't mention that I'd been with Troy. I left it kind of vague. And I certainly didn't mention dancing under the starlit sky or kissing in the moonlight.

  I signed the letter With love, and put three big Xs, for kisses, under my name.

  After I tenderly folded the letter and sealed it in the matching envelope, I decided to walk to town and mail it right away. As eager as I was to see Troy, Brian did come first and I'd put off writing to him too long already.

  Out in the hall I heard Dad starting to work in his office. Mom was in the bathroom. I figured if Dad was working he might not remember anything I told him, so I tapped on the bathroom door and said, "I'm going to mail a letter."

  "Mmm‑hmm," Mom gargled back at me.

  I was just heading down the porch steps, when I stopped and rummaged through one of my boxes of books and pulled out a science fiction novel. I figured I could stop at Troy's on the way back. Surely he'd be done playing tennis by then.

  Once on my way, I enjoyed my walk along the road through the quiet, almost unspoiled woods. In town, I couldn't resist peeking in the windows of the shops in the attractive, weather‑boarded buildings. I enjoyed looking at the homes along the main street. They were all old and well‑preserved, reflecting a historical heritage.

  But once I got to the post office and mailed my letter to Brian, I decided I'd dawdled long enough. My walk back was nothing if not brisk. As I approached Troy's place, though, I slowed down. I totally wanted it to look as if I was just casually dropping by.

  I took a deep breath, and, bolstered by the fact that the book in my hand gave me a good excuse for being there, I went up onto the porch. I hesitated, then knocked.

  At first I thought no one was there. Then I heard footsteps running downstairs. Troy opened the door, water dripping from his hair. He wore nothing but a thick white towel. "Hi, Kaysie!"

  "H‑hi." I felt myself turning pink, but I wasn't sure if it was because I was so Yesss! at the way Troy lit up when he saw it was me, or if it was because I hadn't expected to find him half naked. I mean, it was the acceptable half, but still. "I … I just thought you might like to read this," I said, my hand shaking as I held up the book. I was blowing it! "It's science fiction," I babbled on. "I thought you might like it …" I let my voice trail off as I handed him the book.

  Troy looked at the cover. "Hey, thanks."

  "Well, I guess I'd better be going …" Ask me to stay …

  "Don't go," Troy said. "I'll throw on some clothes. We can listen to music. Dad brought an old CD player."

  "Oh. Well. Okay," I said, as if I hadn't been dying for him to ask.

  I sat on the sofa to wait. Within a couple minutes I heard footsteps. But when I turned around, it was Mr. Daly I saw coming down the steps whistling to himself.

  "Hi, Kaysie." He ran his fingers through his gorgeous blond hair. "Great day for sailing, isn't it?"

  "It is a beautiful day," I said, thinking how amazing it was going to be spending it with Troy.

  "See you." Mr. Daly gave me small wave, then left.

  "Bye …" I started to say. Then it hit me. Mr. Daly was going sailing. And he was extraordinarily happy about it. He so had to be going with Mom!

  I jumped up and looked out the window. Sure enough, hurrying down the path to the lake was Mom in her red bikini. And not so much as a sweatshirt to cover her hot bod.

  "There isn't much music up here."

  I almost jumped out of my shoes. I hadn't even heard Troy coming.

  "Why don't you look through these old CD's and see what you like?"

  I turned away from the window. "Music? Hmmm. You know, all of a sudden I've got an urge to go out in your boat again. It's such a great day. It's totally a waste to be inside." Desperate times called for, you know, desperate measures.

  "Well …" Troy hesitated. "We can go out in the boat any time. Right now we have the place to ourselves." He stepped right in front of me and pulled me close.

  Next thing I knew I was pressing my lips on his in a long, lingering kiss. I wanted to savor the way my skin tingled wherever we touched.

  Troy started edging me toward the sofa. "Let's get comfortable."

  His voice broke the spell. As much as I would have loved snuggling with Troy, I had to keeps tabs on Mom.

  "Oh. Um," was all I could say, trying to stall until the blood pounding in my brain cooled and I could think clearly. "I really had my heart set on going out on the lake." I noticed a look of confusion creeping into Troy's dazzling blue eyes. "We … I … it would be fun to go to that island again," I said, groping for a good reason for insisting on going out in the boat.

  "Hmmm, the island." Troy's mouth curved into a smile. "Maybe we'll get marooned out there. Let's change into our swim‑‑"

  "Oh, who needs to swim!" I said quickly. "I have other things in mind." Like, we'd never catch up to Mom and her ex‑love if we took time to change.

  Troy grinned. "O‑o‑okay."

  If only he knew. But then, if it weren't for Mom, who knew what I'd really be thinking? I didn't have time to analyze it. I practically ran down to the dock. Mom and Mr. Daly were just sailing out of the cove and onto the lake. I hoped they wouldn't pick up a stiff breeze.

  I lost track of them for a couple minutes as Troy and I put on our lifejackets and got the boat started. But as soon as we were out on the lake proper, I spotted the sailboat. I waved to Mom. I quickly worried, however, that I shouldn't have called attention to myself. Mom might act differently if she knew I was watching. I wanted to check her behavior when she thought she was all alone with Mr. Gorgeous. If only I had binoculars.

  Troy suddenly thrust our boat into full speed. The sailboat receded into the distance. "Hey, could you slow down?" I shouted, trying not to lose track of Mom.

  Troy slowed the boat. "What's the matter?"

  "Oh, uh, I just wanted to enjoy the scenery. Everything blurs when we go so fast."

  "Well," Troy shrugged. "Okay. For a while."

  I squinted, trying to see what Mr. Daly was up to on the sailboat. But he and Mom were so far away now that they looked like specks. Then another sailboat pulled along theirs, and they started racing. Now they weren't alone.

  "Seen enough?" Troy asked.

  "What?"

  "Scenery. Have you seen enough scenery yet?"

  "Oh. Yes! Scenery. Yes. Plenty," I blathered.

  "Okay, hang on!" Troy sent the boat up to full speed again.

  As the wind whizzed through my hair, excitement caught at my throat. I had to admit there was something liberating about flying around on the lake with the sky reaching out, cloudless from horizon to horizon. I never felt so free. I closed my eyes and let the sun caress my face.

  The next thing I knew, we were slowing down. I opened my eyes and saw that we were headed for the small island we'd started to explore yesterday. "Are we stopping here?" I asked, with a touch of disappoint
ment.

  "That's the idea," Troy said. He cocked his head to one side. "Or so I thought. Don't you want to?"

  Be alone with Troy? Well, of course I wanted to. I thought quickly. Mom and Mr. Daly were probably okay as long as that other sailboat was around. Besides, I couldn't possibly watch their every move. I'd have to, like, be satisfied with periodic spot‑checks. "Sure, Troy," I said. "I'd like to see more of the island."

  Troy tied up the boat and gave me a hand getting out. As his fingers wrapped around mine, I almost forgot about Mom and Troy's father completely. We followed the narrow, mostly overgrown path leading through the dense, heavily‑wooded area. I savored the pleasant musty smell of the undergrowth.

  Just as the path was getting so faint that I thought it would disappear and force us to turn back, we came to a small open area. Slivers of sunlight darted through the trees.

  "What a perfect place to stop." Troy gave me a smile that sent my pulse racing.

  We sat down on the soft, springy cushion of fallen needles. Just looking at Troy I got that fizzy feeling. He was the kind of guy who was so gorgeous‑looking that people would turn around to stare at him. I guess that's one reason I totally was attracted to him. But there was more to it. Chemistry, maybe. Or lust, as Gwen had not‑so‑delicately put it. But I really didn't want to waste time diagnosing it. I just wanted to enjoy it.

  Right away Troy and I started kissing. I felt that pleasant buzzing in my head and got absorbed by the kiss. I kind of lost track of exactly what we were doing. I just knew it felt good. It was like being lost in a cloud of sensation.

  Then at one point my brain activated enough to wonder just where Troy's hand was heading. I briefly flashed to thoughts of Brian. He'd never even tried to get, uh, intense with me. And I would have been shocked if he had. Troy's hand kind of froze in a neutral location and my fleeting wisp of worry evaporated.

  I was aware only that Troy's lips were incredibly warm and that I felt a glow all over. But one of Troy's hands started sliding up my leg, and that made me nervous. I wondered what would happen if I couldn't stop him. Or myself, if I let things go too far. I'd promised myself I wouldn't let that happen.