The Last July: A New Adult Romance

by Breanna Mounce

  I pull into camp ten minutes ahead of schedule, so I head down to the welcome center parking lot to meet Mr. Garreth. He and Molly are just coming out of the building. Molly has a huge smile on her face when she sees me.

  “Good to see you, sweetie,” she says patting me softly on the back and then squeezing my shoulder.

  “You too, I’ve been missing this place,” I say as I pull away and shake Mr. Garreth’s hand.

  “You just missed Sampson!” Molly says, and my heart starts hammering in my chest, trying to break out.

  “Did I?” I ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.

  “Yeah, he just had to pick up some stuff. He and his fraternity brothers are having a weekend trip. They’re staying at a cabin in Gatlinburg for a retreat,” she says.

  “I tried to talk the guys into having it here,” Mr. Garreth says. “Apparently the offer was too late, and they had already paid for the rental cabin.”

  Molly nudges me and grins. “Now that would have been a weekend, right? Helping around here with a bunch of frat guys your first weekend. I bet your girlfriends would have been jealous.”

  “That would have been something,” I say, and smile thinking about how jealous Carla would be, she would definitely be wanting a summer job here.

  “Let’s go get you some dinner,” Molly says. “I hope you don’t mind, but for the weekend, we’re going to put you up in our house.”

  “We had to turn off all the water to the cabins,” Mr. Garreth explains. “Everything’s being shut off maintenance this weekend.”

  “Yeah, sure, that’s fine. I just don’t want to get in your way at all,” I say.

  “You’re fine, hun!” Molly says.

  I turn back to head for my car. “I’ll meet you guys back there, see you in a bit!”

  When Mr. and Mrs. Garreth offered to let me stay with them, I figured it would be in their guest bedroom or maybe the basement, but I was wrong. I follow Mrs. Garreth up the stairs, my duffle bag in hand and enter what I’m told is Sampson’s room. Mrs. Garreth’s amazing dinner wasn’t even enough to distract me from the nervousness I was feeling about sleeping in Sampson’s room. I think I might do better in a lone cabin without running water, but it’s too late for me to turn back.

  “Now,” Mrs. Garreth says, picking up a dirty white sock from the ground. “I just washed the sheets so they’re fresh. There’s a bathroom right across the hall, and it’s all yours. I’ll leave you to get settled in, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

  I nod and gently sit my bag on the floor next to his desk. It’s covered in papers with a dusty desktop computer that he forgot to shut down. I gently bump the desk as I’m trying to lean in to examine his Funko Pop figures when the computer wakes up from its sleep. I must have brushed the mouse.

  A smile slips across my face when I see a picture of me and him sitting on the logs showing Daisy how to play the red hands game where one person hovers their hands over the other person’s and that person tries to slap the other’s hands before they pull away. Sampson and I are both smiling. I have no idea who took the picture, or how Sampson acquired it. Maybe it was a picture taken for the camp website or something.

  My heart flutters seeing that Sampson made me his screensaver. I grab my toiletry bag and pajamas and head over to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I don’t think I will be able to sleep. The thrill of laying my head where Sampson has slept might be too exciting for me.

  I finish up in the bathroom and tip-toe back to his room, closing and locking the door behind me. I climb into the bed with my phone and a book I found on one of his shelves.

  Just like earlier with my sociology book, I can’t concentrate on my reading. I just keep skimming over the same words, but never actually reading and taking them in. I grab my phone and start a text message to Sampson.

  “I’m in your bed right now…” I start to type, but think better of it. If he wanted to hear from me, he would have found time to talk to me over the last four weeks. I’m not going to be the one to crawl to him.

  Shutting off my phone, I slip under the covers and try my best to stop thinking about him. Maybe taking this job wasn’t a good idea.

  DECEMBER

  My parents are trying one more time to save their marriage. In September they booked a winter cruise for the holiday to try and get back to being in love. Though the two of them being away over Christmas is going to suck, I’ve had plenty of offers from my friends to come home with them for the holiday.

  Luckily, them planning so early gave me the chance to schedule a winter course. I took two sociology classes my first semester, and I figured I would try out a third for the month of December. At least that would give me something to keep me busy while my parents are cruising somewhere warmer and I’m not getting any hours in at Camp Arthur.

  Campus is pretty empty and when I checked the online roster, it appears only 30 people will be in my sociology lecture. Being an eight o’clock class didn’t help its popularity. Thirty bored souls for the holiday season. No doubt half of them will probably try sleeping through the lecture each day.

  Bundling up in my winter coat, boots, scarf, and gloves, I head out into the cold, an inch of snow already blanketing the ground. I glance at my watch and realize I only have five minutes to make it to class. My first day of a miserable winter course I will be late, but maybe the snow has slowed down some other students, or maybe the professor is planning on playing hooky.

  I’m almost to the door of the sociology building when a stranger rushes in front of me holding the door open, a cup of coffee steaming in his other hand.

  “Thanks,” I say and head to the elevators. I’m not walking up four flights of stairs in my winter gear, or I’ll end up drenched with sweat sitting through class.

  As the stranger and I both stand there waiting for the elevator, I slip off my hood, remove my gloves and place them in my pockets, watching the illuminated numbers say which floor the elevator is currently passing. From the corner of my eye, I see the stranger looking down at his phone, so I take the chance to steal a look. Maybe he’s the perfect rebound for me, someone I can cuddle with in this chilly weather. Or possibly just a good study partner. Campus has gotten pretty lonely with everyone gone on winter break.

  I practically choke on my tongue when his eyes meet mine and I realize he’s not a cute stranger that could be my rebound.

  “Penelope?” he says, shoving his phone in his pocket and pulling his beanie off to reveal a fresh haircut, his cute boyish curls replaced with one of those metalcore hairstyles where the sides are shaved and only the hair on top remains, slicked back. Not a man bun at least, thank God.

  “Oh my god, Sampson,” I stammer, barely believing my eyes.

  He pulls me into a tight, warm hug, and I practically melt into his arms even though I’m shaking. The elevator doors open and the two of us walk in side by side. Sampson presses a button and the doors close. I notice we’re both going to the same floor. I don’t even care that I’m running late now. It’s been three months since I’ve seen him. Three long months.

  “It’s about time! Talk about serendipity,” he says.

  “Yeah, I… I’ve been working at camp all semester. I thought I’d see you there.”

  He goes back to his side of the elevator and scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy with my internship and classes are getting tough. I had to get a tutor and everything. If I wasn’t locked in my apartment studying, I was working.”

  “Busy man,” I say.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks as we both get off the elevator. He proceeds to follow me to the door of my classroom. “Not going home for winter break?”

  “My parents are going on a vacation in a last ditch effort to save their marriage. I figured I’d just take a class to pass the time.”

  “Well it’s good to hear that they’re trying to work things out!”

  Sampson is giving me a funny look when I turn around to glance back a
t him and start making my way into the lecture hall. He follows me in and I stop at the bottom of the stairs leading to the seats.

  “Wait,” I whisper. “Are you in my class too? What are you doing taking a lower level sociology class?”

  When he stops at the desk in the front of the room and opens his bag, I grab a seat in the front row, still shocked that he’s in the same room as me after months of not hearing from him.

  “Hey guys,” he says to the class, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Looks like we’ll all be spending the next two weeks together. My name is Sampson and I’ll be your TA for this class. Your professor is actually sick with the flu right now, so it’ll be me for a few days until he gets better.”

  My jaw drops. Sampson is going to be my TA for the winter semester?

  “Now, I know what some of you are thinking, ‘Golly, he’s so young and attractive, he can’t be smart too’.” That gets him some giggles from the other girls. “Well, clearly someone thought I was smart enough to help with this class. Take a syllabus and pass the rest to the row behind you…”

  Sampson goes on, proceeding with class rules, the attendance policy, and the units we have to learn every week. Since it is such a short class, most of it is learn at your own pace online. We regroup on Mondays and Thursdays to go over the material together. I try my best to concentrate, but it’s always been hard for me to focus around Sampson.

  He ends the class a few minutes early, and everyone begins packing up their stuff.

  “Penelope, can I see you for a moment?” he asks me with his ‘teacher voice’, not looking up from a piece of paper he’s writing. I blush and a few of the other students look at me, probably wondering how I could already be in trouble.

  “Sure,” I answer, pulling my backpack over my shoulder as the last student quickly shuffles out of the room.

  When I approach the desk, he looks up at me and smiles. “Now what?”

  “You tell me,” I say, grinning back.

  “Well, I’m starving!” he proclaims. “Want to go get lunch? It’s on me.”

  “You think that’s okay? With you being my TA and all?”

  He finishes putting his stuff in his messenger bag. “I’ve waited long enough to start courting you, I’m not letting this class get in my way of that.”

  “Okay,” I reply. “But you’re buying me a dessert, too!”

  He shakes his head. “My mother has created a monster.”

  I follow him out of the room and back to the elevator where his hand meets mine. The butterflies erupt in my stomach, and I can’t help but lean my head against his shoulder.

  It’s finally happening.

  Finally.

  Acknowledgments

  Firstly: thank you to my husband for always pushing me to finish my novel. There were times that I wanted to strangle you for making me write or edit instead of watching a movie or going out, but The Last July is finally finished. Thank you for telling me how amazing it would feel to finally hold my first book in my hands and be able to say I wrote a novel. Thank you for editing my first draft and my second—and not complaining… too much.

  Thank you to my mom and dad who have told me I could be whoever I wanted to be from a very young age. I know you’re proud of me no matter what, but I’m sure you’ll be even more proud since I put my English major to use and finally wrote a book. Thanks for all the amazing summer vacations spent hiking in the Smoky Mountains, and thanks for sending me to summer camp as it made for great inspiration. I love the both of you so much.

  Thank you to my English and creative writing teachers from high school through college. You helped shape my writing and taught me so much about life, real and written. It is because of you that I found myself in the pages of novels.

  And last but not least, thank you to my granny. I wish I could have finished this novel before you passed on, but I know how proud you would be of me. I may not have inherited your green thumb or artistic skills, but I did get your story telling attribute, and I’m so thankful for that.

  About the Author

  Breanna Mounce grew up in a small Kentucky town and dreamt about exploring places she had yet to see, real and fictional. She received her BA in English from Northern Kentucky University and currently resides just outside of Cincinnati with her husband, dog, and cats. When not writing, she loves escaping to the mountains, hanging out at concerts, and reading as many books as possible.

  You can catch up with her blog full of quirky book tidbits at https://breannareadsberks.wordpress.com/