How to Survive a Summer Romance (or Two)

by Ann Herrick

  I stopped kissing Troy and pushed his hand away. "No, don't." I held my breath, wondering‑‑and maybe just a bit scared‑‑about how he'd react.

  Troy stared at me, baffled. "What's wrong?"

  "Well, n‑nothing. I mean, uh, that is, I think we should stop now."

  "Why? I thought you wanted to be here with me." Troy looked confused.

  "I did. I do." I knew I was turning red. I hadn't expected to feel so embarrassed calling a halt. I'd thought it'd be simple to keep things under control.

  "Well, then …" Troy smiled, and started to kiss me again, pulling me close.

  "N‑no." I pulled away from him. "It was your hand. The way you … it was moving up my … the way it was moving."

  "That bothered you?"

  I nodded.

  For a second Troy didn't say anything. Then he let out a long sigh. "Okay. I won't do that." Next thing I knew, Troy was pulling me into a kiss again. For a moment I was right back into the flow of emotions I'd gotten caught up in, in the first place. But then I realized I'd better cut it out, at least for the time being. I gently pushed Troy away.

  "Don't worry," Troy said. "I won't‑‑"

  "Listen. I just think I'd better get back. For lunch. I … I'm expected." What a dorky excuse! But I figured an excuse, no matter how weak, was better than trying to give a detailed explanation of how I'd promised myself I'd go just so far. For one thing, it would sound so clinical.

  Troy let out a really big, long sigh this time. He looked disappointed. But not angry. That made it hard. If he'd gotten angry, I could've told myself he was acting like a jerk.

  But Troy wasn't a jerk. At least I didn't think so. I knew it was going to be harder than I thought to set limits on our relationship. I didn't want to stop seeing him. I totally didn't want to stop kissing him.

  I would just have to be careful, that's all. Very, very careful.

  Chapter Ten

  Okay, so I couldn't help myself. I got more involved with Troy. Emotionally, that is. Um, and to some extent, physically.

  Sometimes, however, I thought I just wanted to think my feelings for Troy were growing deeper. There was no doubt that I liked him. But did I love him?

  I mean, there was still Brian. Every time I got a letter from him, which was almost every day, I could just feel his love wrapping around me. I knew my feelings for him were something special, and different from my feelings for Troy.

  Of course, Brian's letters gave me a dose of guilt too. They were full of details about camp and all the disadvantaged kids. Some of them had never been away from home before. Some of them had never built sandcastles. Or ridden a horse. Or had three meals a day.

  Brian was the giver and receiver of frequent hugs. Especially at the end of each week‑long session, when many of the kids were in tears at the thought of leaving.

  I wasn't at all suspicious of Brian. It didn't seem to me that he left anything out of his letters, the way I did. I described my days, but I always omitted any mention of Troy.

  My days had evolved into a routine that included Troy almost every minute. Most mornings he came over and we read my books on the front porch. He really liked reading as much as I did. He teased me, because I often reread certain passages of The Rubiyat of Omar Khyyam, and the paperback copy, tattered to begin with, was wearing out.

  One morning he came over with his hands behind his back and a big smile on his face. "Here," he said, handing me a book. "This is for you. I found it at that little book store in town."

  It was a beautifully embossed leather‑bound copy of The Rubiyat of Omar Khyyam. I ran my fingers of the gold lettering. "Oh, Troy! How can I thank you?"

  "We'll think of something." Troy grinned. He sat next to me and pointed to the edge of the book. "Did you notice the bookmark?"

  A thin suede bookmark with a drawing of Lake Winnepesaukee etched on it marked a page. I opened the book and felt a funny thumping in my chest as I read.

  A Book of Verses underneath the Bough

  A Jug of Wine, a loaf of Bread‑- and thou

  Beside me singing in the Wilderness ‑‑

  Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

  The next day I surprised Troy with an autographed copy of one of Dad's books. Troy's eyes lit up at the sight of it. I don't know why I didn't think to give it to him sooner.

  If we didn't eat lunch together at my place or his, we packed a picnic lunch to share. Afternoons we went out in the boat. Sometimes we followed the shore, sometimes we weaved in and out of the small islands. Always we spent at least a few minutes racing at full speed.

  As much as possible I was on the lookout for Mom and Mr. Daly. Mom seemed to limit herself to the fine points of smiling and basking in Mr. Daly's, um, admiration. But it was hard to tell. Sometimes I thought I caught them exchanging what looked like meaningful glances.

  Mr. Daly always seemed to find a way to put his arm around Mom. I never saw Mom initiate anything, but, of course, she totally didn't have to. Mr. Daly always took care of that.

  The only time Mr. Daly ever acted reserved was when Dad was on the scene. Usually that was for only a minute or two, whenever Mom asked Dad to join her and Mr. Daly at whatever they were doing, Dad always saying "No, but maybe next time."

  The exception was a cookout Mikel's parents had for all of us staying on the cove. I almost fell over when Dad said, "Sure, I'll go. Sounds like fun."

  Mom looked pretty surprised, but she acted as if she was happy he was going. I was really interested in seeing how Mr. Daly would react. He arrived late and left early.

  "Sorry, I've got this awful migraine," he said.

  Of course, that didn't prove anything, but it made me more suspicious than ever. So I kept my eyes wide open.

  Meanwhile, I kept seeing Troy as often as possible. When we went out in the boat, whatever else we did, inevitably we'd stop at what had become "our" island. We liked to swim there. Or sit in the sun at the edge of the water. But always, we ended up in our secluded secret spot. It got harder and harder to not get carried away.

  Deep down I knew I should avoid a pressure situation such as going to the island with Troy. In a place like that I couldn't use our parents or my sister as an excuse for holding the line. There was no one to "catch" us doing anything. So I often resorted to lame excuses such as my folks expecting me for a meal. Occasionally I was more honest and said I thought we should stop what we were doing because I didn't want to go any farther. But that wasn't easy. For one thing, it meant seeing the look of disappointment on Troy's face.

  His increasingly longer, louder sighs revealed his increasing frustration. Sometimes, when I wasn't with Troy, I thought maybe I should draw the line a bit sooner, so the situation wouldn't build to such a pressure point. But when Troy and I started kissing it was almost like being hypnotized. Except that I could eventually break the trance. However, it was getting harder and harder. Sometimes I wasn't sure I wanted to stop at all.

  For a while though, the lazy, sunny summer days made it easy to postpone all my worries. Most of the time I could convince myself that Mom was not really involved with Mr. Daly and that I totally could handle the situation with Troy.

  But one day, not long before I was supposed to go back home to Connecticut, Troy surprised me. We were on the island and had just concluded an especially heavy session at our secret spot, and were getting ready to leave. I started to stand up, but Troy grabbed my hand and pulled me back to a sitting position.

  "I can't believe you're going to be leaving in just a few days," he said, his blue eyes looking both sad and compelling.

  "I know," I said softly. "This vacation has gone by so quickly. It's been like a dream."

  "I think we should do something special to show how much we care for each other. Something we'll always remember."

  I nodded, picturing a special picnic or maybe somehow a dinner at an elegant restaurant.

  "Oh, good." Troy let out a sigh of relief. "I was worried you wouldn't want to."
r />   "You thought I wouldn't want to do something special with you?" I asked, confused.

  "Well, I know we've been very … close. But still, making love is a big step. At least for me."

  "M‑m‑m‑making love?"

  "Don't worry. I've thought of everything. We can come to the island. No one has ever bothered us here. We'll come in the early evening. I'll bring a picnic supper. And that quilt from my bed that you liked. Oh, and of course I'll bring protection. I don't have to find a drug store. I'll just sneak some of Dad's. He won't notice. He's got a whole drawer full of them."

  I sat there with my mouth open. I was paralyzed, in utter, total shock. I didn't know which was the bigger jolt. The idea of Doing It with Troy, or the fact that his father had a drawer full of condoms! Did Mr. Daly have a reason for needing so many condoms, or did he have a whole drawer of them because he hadn't had the occasion to use any of them?

  Suddenly I heard Troy's voice again. "It'll be great," he said. "Just like the poem. 'A book of verses underneath the bough, a jug of wine, a loaf of bread‑‑and thou, beside me singing in the wilderness …'"

  His voice trailed off and he looked at me with a goofy smile on his face.

  I was still too shaken to say a word.

  "I'll need some time," Troy said. "I want everything to be perfect. So let's wait until tomorrow night, okay?"

  "Uh …"

  Troy's eyebrows drew together, as he looked at me uncertainly. "Hey," he said softly, clasping my hands in his. "You aren't having second thoughts are you?"

  "Well, er‑‑" My voice cracked. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. "Not second thoughts exactly. You see‑‑"

  "Oh, good." Troy caressed my cheek with his fingertips.

  That gentle touch sent a warm shiver through me. The initial shock of Troy's suggestion had worn off a little. His hand against my face was more persuasive, more inviting than words could ever be.

  I had to have a first time sometime. I closed my eyes and pictured myself Doing It with Troy. The thought of it was starting to make me tingle all over.

  We would be careful. Troy would use a‑‑I gulped, just thinking the word. A condom.

  Troy's lips brushed against mine and, for the moment, any lingering doubts flew right out of my head.

  The kiss was sweet, but short. My stomach growled like a guard dog.

  "Guess we can't stay here all day." Troy grinned. "We don't want to miss lunch."

  We went to my house. Gwen was over at Mikel's, but Mom and Dad were at our place. Which meant Mr. Daly wasn't.

  Sometimes Mom had lunch with us over at Troy's place, but Dad never came with her, even though I know he was invited. Occasionally Mom asked Mr. Daly to lunch, but he always made excuses. Except once. That was when Dad decided shortly before lunch time that he had to drive over to Lakeview right away to buy a new flash drive.

  After lunch Troy and I hung out on the porch and read books. But I found it hard to concentrate on reading. I kept thinking about the upcoming Big Event. From the smile in Troy's eyes, I figured he had the same thing on his mind.

  "Well," he said, earlier than usual, "I'd better go. I have a lot of planning to do."

  I blushed, half embarrassed, half excited, half ever‑so‑slightly worried about what I was getting myself into. That added up to three halves, which only compounded my confusion.

  I saw Troy again for just a short while after supper. We went for a walk in the moonlight along the path leading to the lake. But Troy limited our physical contact to a few quick kisses.

  "Let's cool it tonight," he whispered. "It'll make it that much better tomorrow night."

  If his strategy was to whip up a few flames of desire in me, he did a good job.

  It was a real mood shift when I stepped into the cottage to be greeted by the sight of Mom and Dad playing cards.

  "Did you and Troy have a nice evening?" Mom asked. There wasn't a trace of suspicion in her voice.

  But I couldn't help wonder if she or Dad could see what I was planning to do tomorrow night by the way I looked. Would my expression, my posture, my anything give me away?

  Apparently not. Neither one of them so much as blinked when I answered, "Mmmm‑hmmm," and then ever‑so‑casually walked upstairs.

  But by the time I got to the top of the stairs the magic, or whatever it was, had started to wear off. The reality of what Troy and I were planning to do started to hit me.

  I had to sort things out in my mind. I had to talk to someone. That someone would have to be Gwen …

  Chapter Eleven

  I took a deep breath as I walked into the bedroom. "Hi, Gwen," I said quickly. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

  "Sure," said Gwen, barely holding back a smile that threatened to split her face. "But first, guess what!"

  "What?" I slumped down onto the bed. It hadn't occurred to me that Gwen would want tell me something. But I couldn't expect her to listen to me if I didn't listen to her. I just hoped she'd hurry and say whatever she had to say and get it over with.

  "I think Mikel is finally getting up the nerve to kiss me!"

  "To kiss you?" I felt a headache coming on. Maybe someone who could get so worked up over one kiss wasn't exactly the person to talk to about whether or not I should actually Do It with Troy.

  "Yes!" said Gwen, bobbing her head up and down. "Isn't it exciting?"

  "Um. Yeah. Sure."

  "Well, you could show a little more enthusiasm than that."

  "Oh. Sorry." I tried to look excited for her. "Do you want Mikel to kiss you?"

  "Yes!" Gwen covered her face with her hands, then pulled them down to reveal a timid smile. "Mikel is really shy when it comes to … physical contact. I mean, whenever we're together someone else is usually around. His sister, mostly. Or we're out on the lake where the whole world can see us."

  "Don't you get any time alone together?" I almost wished they didn't, as I flashed to scenes of me and Troy on "our" island. After all, Gwen was only twelve.

  "Just when Mikel walks me home. But the light on the porch is so bright. It's like a spotlight."

  "Well, maybe you could say goodnight in the shadows. If you want to, that is."

  "Oh, I do! And I think Mikel does, too. I mean, a couple of nights ago he said goodnight at the top of the steps instead of right by the door. And last night he stopped at the foot of the steps."

  "Sounds like progress to me."

  "Do you think it's weird that it's taking us so long for a first kiss?"

  "I don't think it's weird," I said. "I think it's sweet. It'll make it that much more special when it finally happens."

  "Yes …" Gwen's mouth curved into a thoughtful smile. Then she said, "Now that that's settled, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

  "Oh. Um. Nothing really." If Gwen was so concerned about one little kiss, how could I dump my worries about Doing It with Troy on her? "I shouldn't bother you with my problems‑‑"

  "But you said you needed to talk to me." Gwen's brow wrinkled with concern. "Besides, what are sisters for?"

  "Well …" Gwen had taken that You and Others class. I licked my lips. "Troy wants me to … I mean, we decided … we're going to Do It tomorrow night."

  "Do It?" Gwen's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "By 'it,' do you mean sexual intercourse?"

  "Well … yes. You don't have to make it sound so clinical."

  "Ms. Donaldson says you should always use the proper terms. That way you don't confuse the issue and make it sound like something it's not."

  "Ms. Donaldson has a big mouth."

  "Kaysie!" Gwen gasped. "I'll have you know that Ms. Donaldson is a very nice‑‑"

  "Okay, okay." I held up my hands in surrender. "Back to the original subject. I think Troy and I are going t‑to … what you said."

  "You think you are?" Gwen asked, sounding more like my sister now and less like a mouthpiece for Ms. Donaldson. "Don't you know?"

  "Well, I'm pretty sure I will. Just t
hinking about it makes me tingle all over. But I'm kind of nervous. Maybe a little confused. I don't know. I guess I always thought I'd be sure when I … Did It." I hoped Gwen wouldn't call me for not using a more technical term. "I thought I'd be older, maybe even … engaged or married or something."

  "Or something?" Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Personally, I figure I'll wait until I'm at least thirty-five."

  I had to laugh. "Well, you might not want to wait quite that long."

  "I don't know." Gwen wrinkled her nose. "When you think of all the possible side effects. Unwanted pregnancy, horrible social diseases. Not to mention the possibility of a broken heart."

  That You and Others class really did it's work. "Troy and I plan to take precautions against the first two problems." I didn't know, however, that there was any protection from the third. Except that I wasn't expecting a long‑term commitment from Troy, anyway. Was I?

  "Well, if you've already talked about taking precautions, it sounds as if you're really planning on going ahead with it."

  "Yes." I thought for a minute. Somehow telling Gwen about my plans with Troy‑‑and her not completely freaking out over it and doing something dumb like running to tell Mom‑‑made me feel better about it again. I mean, I was still kind of nervous. But I was nervous the first day of high school too, and I survived that. "Yes. I am going to Do It."

  "Well, let me know if it's, you know, any good."

  "Don't worry …"

  Later, after the lights were out and I snuggled under the covers, I fantasized about Doing It with Troy. I pictured us floating in a fragrant cloud. As the perfumed mist enveloped us, our lovemaking would be sweet, gentle, passionate, all at the same time.

  I could imagine Troy pressed against me. I felt waves of excitement, just thinking about it. It would be wonderful. Now I was sure. Exciting and wonderful …

  Chapter Twelve

  I woke up the next morning with a quiver in the pit of my stomach. This was it. This was The Day.