A Summer Like No Other

by Elodie Nowodazkij

  She runs her hand down my back, slowly. Teasing and tender. But her voice sounds so tired when she says, “If you tell me you can’t kiss me because of my brother I’m going to kill you. I had a shitty day. And I can’t take one more rejection.”

  “Kissing you seems like the only thing that makes sense to me right now.”

  “Oh.” She smiles.

  “But you know I can’t have a relationship. I can’t. Once school starts again, I’m going to have to work even harder than now. And my parents, it’s complicated. And yes, your brother clearly would kill us, he would kill me if he found out.”

  “How about we forget all of that, all of this for the summer? One summer and then we go back to being friends, and that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “You deserve so much more than that,” I reply even though I can picture it, even though she deserves much more. She fucking deserves the world.

  But, one summer together. One summer in the city while everyone we know is away. One summer to help her deal with whatever she finds.

  One summer.

  CHAPTER 19 - EM

  Nick stays silent for a second too long. And I step aside, away from his arms. I can’t deal with someone else telling me what’s good for me, what I should do, what I need, what I want. I know what I want.

  He gently tugs me back to him, until our bodies press against one another again.

  “You deserve everything,” Nick says.

  I tilt my head to look into his eyes. “I know what I want. And I want you. You’re the only one who doesn’t bullshit me.” I pause. “You could say no, you could tell me that you want a real relationship, but it’s not true. You could say no, because you think you might hurt me, but let me make that decision. Don’t make it for me. Because, I’m already hurting.” My anger fades away and there’s only raw pain in my voice. “You’re the only one who helps me, who’s standing by my side even when I screw up.” I pause and take a deep breath. “And you’re right, we can’t date. Not really. I mean, we can’t be together while we’re at school.”

  He raises an eyebrow like I’m full of shit, but he’s right. My fairy-tale romance is too good to be true, and I’ll get what I can—but under my own rules. I continue. “It’s going to be too complicated, too many expectations, and then what happens if we don’t work? Then what? We pass each other in the hallways, I see you with your flavor of the hour, with your arabesque of the minute, and I say nothing? At least, with an expiration date, we both know what we’re getting into.”

  “My arabesque of the minute?” he kisses my neck and my body tingles. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Who are you kidding? You’ve dated half of Manhattan.”

  His shoulders slump. “I haven’t. I don’t think I have.”

  “You never lie. You never make false promises. The majority of girls think they can change you. The majority of girls believe that they’re the one you’re going to change your ways for.” And as the words cross my well-kissed lips, my heart tightens into a knot that’s every sailor’s dream. Is this what I want? Is it what I hope will happen? I shake my head. I only want to feel his lips on mine again, his body pressing against mine.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks again. His fingers caress my cheek slowly, like he wants to memorize it in case I disappear in a pirouette.

  “I am,” I reply, thinking I’m strong enough to handle this. I’m strong enough to end this when needed. I’m not going to cling to him. I’m not going to ask him to stay with me when the summer draws to a close. Even if it breaks my heart.

  CHAPTER 20 - NICK

  When Em invited me to her Nonna’s restaurant on Monday, I sweated my balls off. I’m so not ready for the big family dinner, I can’t face Roberto or Em’s parents. But Em explained her Nonna is going on another date with the older gentleman she met at the market. Em says her Nonna believes in love, she believes her deceased husband sent that guy to her to make her dance again. So, they’re going to one of those festivals the firefighters organize every summer. The way Em blushed when she talked about love made me want to tease her, made me want to make her smile.

  But I resisted. I can’t cross the line—what we have is a friendship with temporary and limited benefits. Nothing less. Nothing more. And I better remind myself of that before I do or say something stupid. I’m tempted to throw away the flowers I got from a street merchant on the way to Brooklyn. It’s a bouquet of tulips, and there’s something about them that reminds me of Em.

  And oh my God, where did my balls go? I’ve never been so touched by anyone, so in synch with anyone in my entire life.

  Before I can convince myself to turn around and cancel our date tonight, I ring the bell of the restaurant, hiding the flowers behind me.

  “You can come in!” Em calls, her voice a tad muffled. “In the kitchen!” she says again and I follow her voice.

  She’s covered in flour, almost from head to toe. Her dark brown curly hair is peppered with white. And she’s holding a cannoli in her hand.

  “What are you doing?” I chuckle, still holding the flowers behind me.

  She steps closer to me. “You’re not going to be laughing once I get flour all over you too.”

  She kisses me gently but too quickly for my taste. “Screw the flour,” I tell her and bring her closer to me with one of my hands for a real kiss, a deep I-want-more kiss. She moans in my mouth and I’m suddenly forgetting why it's a bad idea to take it further than our make-out sessions, why I can’t cross that line with her if I can’t promise her more than this summer.

  But luckily, she steps away from me, before my lower brain decides to overcome my real one.

  “What are you hiding?” She’s smiling that bright smile of hers, the one that touches both brains of mine.

  I run my hand through my short hair and then shift on my feet. I’ve never been this nervous with a girl before. I hand her the flowers. “Hmm. A guy was pushing those outside the subway. For you.” I don’t tell her that I thought of her as soon as I saw them or that I was worried she might not like tulips.

  She takes them carefully and gazes at them with the tenderness she sometimes has when she looks at me.

  Shit. I am in trouble.

  “I love them. Thank you.” She kisses my cheek and then skips to the other side of the messy kitchen to get a small vase. She arranges the flowers in it and then turns back to me.

  “I made lasagna this afternoon. For us. And then I’ve been trying to make my Nonna’s cannoli for dessert, but I’ve been having issues.”

  She blows a strand of hair away from her face, or at least she tries to, but it keeps on falling back. “What type of issues?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t taste the same,” she replies and pulls out a tray full of delicious-looking creamy pastries. “Here, taste one.” I plop it in my mouth and it’s my turn to moan. Those pastries are absolutely amazing.

  “Those are wonderful.” I stare at her lips. “Like you.” I want to forget about the pastries, and the dinner, and everything else right now. I want to carry her onto the nearby counter and see where it takes us. But then she switches topic and it calms me down as quickly as a cold shower.

  “Roberto’s pissed at me.”

  “For what?” I tilt my head and tighten my fists.

  “Don’t sound so scared, it’s not about you.” I cock an eyebrow. Rob called me on July 5th to tell me to stay away from Em if I couldn’t offer her forever. We talked about it and I somewhat came to a truce with him. She bites her lip. “Fine, it’s still a bit about you. But mainly, it’s about me not giving up on looking for my birth parents. Despite what Dad said about Claire Carter.” She pauses and picks up another pastry before dropping it into her mouth. If she licks those lips one more time, I will forget my promises to myself. “Maybe he’s right though. Like what else do I know? Based on her LinkedIn profile, she’s an executive assistant for Procter & Gamble now. But all I have is what you overheard, and I’m so fucking
scared.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you ever get so close to something you really wanted only to have taken it away from you?”

  You. But that’s my own fault, so instead I reply, “Yes. Remember the lead at last year’s showcase? It was mine for only five minutes.”

  “That’s because you were only a junior then—they don’t give leads to juniors.”

  “I’m sure you or Nata could get the lead.”

  She frowns. “Is the flour getting to your brain? Maybe Nata, but not me.”

  “Whatever. You know you’re good and with us practicing every day, you’re getting even better!” I pause. “I couldn’t find anything in my dad’s office yet, and this week might be tough because he’s working from home a lot, but next week, we could try to dig deeper in there. There’s some important conference. He wanted me to come with him, as part of my stupid internship, but I told him no.”

  “You never talk about it. About your work there.”

  Because I don’t want to tell you about Jen. Because I don’t want to show you how low I can go to get what I want. Because I’m afraid you’re not going to look at me with so much passion in your eyes.

  I purse my lips. “Not much to say. Dad put me in an office with a real intern, one who graduated from Harvard Law and who wanted to get into business. All I do all day is listen to him talk about how awesome my father is, and how he wants to become like him. Luckily it’s only three days a week and I get to leave early.”

  “Sounds like fun.” She nudges me and I capture her hand in mine, bring it to my lips and gently kiss it.

  “No, this is fun.” I kiss her cheek, then her lips. “This is amazing.” I kiss her neck. “This is fucking amazing.” I steal one of her pastries. “I promise you, Em. I’ll help you in any way I can. And I’ll make sure you smile at least once a day.”

  She giggles, blushing. “Why is that?”

  “Because seeing you smile is making everything better. Everything.”

  This time, when I kiss her, I don’t hold anything back. We may only have one summer, but it’s going to be a summer like no other.

  CHAPTER 21 - EM

  A few days later, I still can’t believe Nick and I are somewhat of an item. I still can’t believe that I’m so much closer to finding my birth mom. I still can’t believe how everything can change in the blink of an eye.

  “Where are you going?” Roberto asks me as I’m about to head out.

  “If I tell you the truth, are you going to lecture me or are you going to tell me to have fun and to say hi to Nick?” I cock my head to the side, watching his reaction.

  He sighs but pulls me to him for a quick hug. “Have fun, say hi to Nick.” He pauses. “He knows I’ll kill him if he hurts you.”

  I roll my eyes, but my chest feels much lighter, knowing I don’t have to hide from Roberto. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m happy. And that’s what counts, right?” I pause. “Plus, you said yourself that you were enjoying every second with Giovanni because he has to go back to Italy at the end of the summer. I’m sure you understand.”

  His smile is sad. “Yes, but both Giovanni and I would love to make it work. We’re not going into it with an expiration date on our relationship.”

  I flinch, but then shake my head. “I’m not saying I won’t cry at the end of the summer, but let me be. Let me make my own mistakes, especially when they don’t feel like mistakes. At all.”

  He hugs me again, but this time, it’s warmer, more protective. “Be careful, that’s all I’m asking.”

  “You too,” I tell him and skip out of the house, before Mom has a chance to join in the discussion. I haven’t talked much with my parents ever since that day I threw Claire Carter in their faces. I’m still hoping they’ll come around.

  I know they’ll come around.

  But for now, my heart hammers in my chest as I hurry to the School of Performing Arts, where I have a date with Nick.

  For once, Nick’s arrived before me and for once, I get to watch him as he leaps in the air, as his muscular torso bends to the side, as he moves in such a way that my entire body flames up. He’s not only hot, he’s super sexy. He’s mesmerizing. He’s looking at me.

  I clear my throat. “Nice moves,” and I think my face gets even redder.

  His laugh is happy and warm and does things to me I can’t explain. The way he looks at me like I’m everything to him, the way he strides my way, still not wearing a shirt.

  He leans in and his mouth meets mine for a kiss that’s both sweet and explosive, a kiss that leaves me breathless.

  His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me off the ground like it’s nothing. “Are you ready to spin?” He chuckles. He used to make me spin when we were younger, make me fly in the air until I begged him to stop. But not this time. I press my lips to his again. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  And I laugh as he turns and turns and turns, until we’re both begging for mercy. He gently drops me back on the floor and leans against the wall. “Let’s dance but let’s not rehearse,” he says.

  “What do you want to dance?”

  “I just want to feel you,” he replies and takes my hand in his. The music playing is a piece by Mozart. It’s fast but Nick’s going slow; he settles his body against mine and he starts waltzing. I smile, because I remember him saying one time to whatever girl he was with that he loves dancing, but that she'd never get him to waltz for no reason.

  And with the way he’s smiling, I know he remembers too. I know he’s giving me something special without saying it. And I close my eyes, let myself fall into the music and into the movement.

  With him.

  CHAPTER 22 – NICK

  Every morning, I ask Daddy Dearest for more information about Em’s adoption. Every morning, he shuts me down. Every morning, he reminds me of my duties as his son, as his heir. But this morning is different. Mom’s birthday is today.

  “Are we going to see her this weekend?” I ask before popping a piece of toast in my mouth.

  “I’m busy this weekend,” he replies, not looking away from The Wall Street Journal. “Did you hear about what's going on in the euro area right now? Some analysts fear a contagion of the crisis to other markets. Between that and the talks of stricter financial regulations everywhere, our investments could take a hit. That and we might need to change the way we conduct our business.”

  “It sounds fascinating.” I don’t even think he realizes I’m being ironic. He takes one more sip of his coffee and stands up.

  “Don’t forget you have to work tomorrow,” he says.

  “I know. I won’t forget,” I reply and then add, “Why don’t you show us the paperwork from Em’s adoption? She does have a birth certificate, so you must have the rest of the paperwork.”

  “I told you. This is none of your business and I’m bound by client privileges, as you will be too once you realize your career as a dancer is not what you want for your life.”

  “You mean what you want for my life.” I take another bite, so used to this conversation it doesn’t even faze me anymore. “Have a good day. I’ll see you later.”

  He pauses for a second, looking at me, and I hate that we have the same eyes. I hate that I get my height from him. I hate that I still want him to accept me for who I am, to help me, to help Mom. “See you soon, son.”

  And like that he’s out of the house and out of my life. As always.

  Em arrives almost as soon as I call her. She’s wearing one of those sundresses that is meant to be taken off slowly. But we’re going to see Mom, so not really the direction my thoughts should take.

  “Are you sure you want to come with me?”

  “Of course! It’s your mom’s birthday, she’s going to be so happy to see you!” She gives me a hug; it’s spontaneous and it’s not a friendly-hug, it’s a full-body hug, and I think she’s as surprised as me by it. But when she pulls away, I tug her back to me and melt into her embrac
e.

  “Let’s get going.” I kiss her gently on the lips. Like we’ve been doing this for years instead of weeks.

  On the road, we play stupid games, like finding random license plates from California and Alaska, or we look for signs where the city starts with B. We listen to music, sing out loud and then we play Twenty Questions.

  During the trip, my hand casually falls on her thigh and my fingers trace circles underneath her dress. She tenses at first but then she pulls her dress a bit higher up. I have to restrain myself to simply take the next exit, and park somewhere.

  But then, she takes my hand in hers, and intertwines our fingers. Her skin’s so soft and she smells like peaches, and flowers and summer.

  The GPS lets me know I need to turn right. “I didn’t tell her we were coming.”

  “Why?” Em asks.

  “Because I didn’t want her to tell me I couldn’t come. Because I didn’t want her to lie to my face about what I overheard.”

  “It’s her birthday, she hasn’t seen you in a while. Don’t ruin it for her,” Em says and I squeeze her hand. “Your father seems to be the one who knows more about my adoption than she does. It’s killing me to say that, but don’t mention anything to your mom. Not today. Definitely not today.” She pauses. “For me. Don’t ask anything.”

  “I...” I clear my throat. “I know.” That’s not what I wanted to say. At all.

  The spa where Mom is staying is even bigger than what I remember. More grandiose. We park by the entrance and a valet picks up my keys. “Nice car,” he says of my classic Mustang.

  “Thank you,” I reply. It’s a 1968 black Mustang coupé—it used to be my grandfather’s. He bought it for next to nothing back in the day and he’s the one who repaired it. My father gave it to me when I turned sixteen.

  I open the door for Em and hold her hand as we walk up the stairs, to the receptionist who is sitting behind an imposing counter and a bunch of white flowers. “Hi, I’d like to see Mrs. Grawski.”