Summer's Desire

by Olivia Lynde

  Ouch. That actually hurts... because she's kind of right. Seth may have bridged the gap between us yesterday when he helped me, but he must have done it solely because of some leftover fondness on account of our shared childhood. And as this morning's events proved, that fondness was all used up after he spent just a few hours in my company.

  Seth will never again drive me in his car.

  Still, to answer Jessica's question, I attempt an indifferent shrug. "I don't know why Seth would stop for me. Christian sympathy, perchance?"

  "Was it also Christian sympathy that made him give you his hoodie to wear, you stupid moron?" Seems like dear Jess has traded up to direct insults. I glance at Louise, but of course she doesn't admonish her hell spawn, just continues to observe the proceedings with cool boredom. Like mother, like daughter, and that's God's honest truth in this particular case!

  I sustain Jessica's glare. "Actually, Seth did remark during the drive that he owns a similar hoodie. What a coincidence, right?" I let a bit of sarcasm escape.

  "Yeah right, freak! 'Cause it's so obvious that hoodie you're wearing is in your size!" The hoodie is huge on me; I could literally swim in it.

  Still... "All my clothes are a few sizes too big," I point out, truthfully enough.

  Jessica looks about ready to explode. She doesn't believe me at all, even though my answers were consistent and complete; I'm good at lying to anyone other than Seth.

  So why doesn't she believe me? Or at least give me the benefit of the doubt? For that matter, why wouldn't she believe the easiest explanation? To an outsider, the truth—namely that I spent last night sleeping in Seth's arms—would sound much more outrageous than the tale I've just spun.

  Why does Jessica suspect the truth instead? There's no rhyme and reason to it—not unless she knows about my history with Seth. But that's impossible. Maybe she's just insanely jealous of him?

  Either way, I'm through with this conversation. I'm not a criminal to be brought before the judge and interrogated, no matter what Jessica would prefer.

  I address her mother: "Louise, I skipped lunch today, so I'd like to look for some leftovers in the kitchen. If you'll excuse me?" Truthfully, I've lost all appetite, but right now I'd use any pretext to escape this room.

  "Of course, sweets." Louise's tone is dripping with false sincerity. "Eat something, you look pathetically thin! No wonder Jessica's beau took pity on you and drove you in his car."

  I don't reply, just turn on my heels and head for the kitchen, with Jessica's furious eyes digging in my back.

  * * *

  It's late evening and I'm lying on my belly in bed, eyes puffy from crying.

  After forcing myself to eat some leftover lasagna, I went up to my room and finally released the floodgates of my grief. Crying usually eases my pain, but this time it's just exhausted me and worsened the headache I've had all day. At least I'm all cried out; I don't think there's a single drop of moisture left in my body.

  The door to my room opens behind me. I don't need to turn around to know it's Jessica; she's the only one who invades my room whenever she wants, without even the courtesy of knocking. Plus, her cloying perfume reaches my nose almost instantly—wow, she must have used a half-bottle of perfume this time, instead of her usual one third.

  "Well, well, well," she says gleefully, "aren't we pitiful, hiding in our room all alone on a Friday evening?"

  I want to ignore her, but when I hear her stepping closer, I quickly turn to face her and sit up in my bed. I can't afford to keep my back turned to her if she's near enough to, say, stick a knife in it.

  She's dolled up to the 100th degree. Her black hair is shiny and thick, arranged in an elaborate twist. Her face is perfectly made up, though definitely too heavy on the black eyeliner and lipstick, in my humble opinion. Still, it makes her gray eyes look smoky and her thin lips fuller, so I guess it works for her. She's wearing a black corset-type blouse with deep cleavage and transparent sleeves, and a violet micro-skirt. Her outfit is completed by fishnet tights and high stiletto boots.

  Boys will certainly think that she looks scorching hot in her getup. Personally, I can't get past my knowledge of how utterly rotten she is on the inside, to appreciate her outer glamour.

  Seeing my reflective gaze, Jessica gives a theatrical little spin. "So, you like?" she asks mockingly.

  I furrow my brow for effect, as if considering her question. "Sure, I think you'll fit in perfectly with all the other night ladies. You'll probably even manage to scrounge up a few desperate clients tonight, don't worry." I smirk.

  She glares, then takes on a feline expression. "Oh, I already have a party lined up for tonight. And a man. He'll really like my look. And he'll get to unwrap me and enjoy all of this." She molds her hands suggestively down her upper body.

  "Know who he is?" she asks slyly. "You get one guess." She's the one smirking now.

  "Seth never goes back for sloppy seconds," I remind her flatly.

  Her mouth purses together and her face clouds with rage, but she recovers fast. With an eerie smile, she extracts something from her bodice. She opens her hand, shows me a little packet. "Know what this is? You get one guess again."

  I stare, horrified.

  "Oh, I think you guessed it!" she says cheerily. "I'll tell you a secret. Seth is a wild, wild thing in the sack, but this little thing"—she plays with the packet—"will add some more spice to the jazz."

  I jump from the bed. "You bitch! You're going to drug Seth to get him to have sex with you? Are you actually insane?!" I reach for the packet, but she quickly slips it back in her bodice—and slaps me hard.

  I stagger back a step and look at her in disbelief. Then I instinctively take the step back toward her, my hands balled to fists. She's taller than I barefoot and much taller now that she's wearing her killer heels, but the way I feel right now, I swear I could tear her to pieces.

  But I can't! God, I can't fight her, or she'll go straight to Louise, to Greg even, and I'll be out of the house and out of this town by the end of the week! My fists clench tighter, trembling with the force of my contained rage and frustration.

  Jessica has lost her smile and her eyes shine with an unnatural light. "You're the one who's a dirty bitch, trying to steal my man. Acting all pathetic and downtrodden to get him to notice you. Who do you think you're fooling with your innocent act, you filthy whore? First chance you got, you spread your legs for him! You think I don't know who you were with last night?

  "But it didn't do you much good, did it?" Her voice sounds calmer now, filled with satisfaction. "Like today showed, Seth doesn't even know you exist."

  She must have watched him like a hawk all day. It galls me that she knows that Seth is done with me. But she's not finished with me yet.

  "Freak, you're so far off Seth's radar, you may as well live in a different galaxy. Which is just right. So know your place and stay out of my way, or swear on my life, I'll break you!"

  Then she smiles brightly again—holy crap, she's schizo! "So it was nice chatting to you and all, but I've got to go now; can't keep Seth waiting."

  "Where's the party?" I ask her hoarsely. Somehow, I have to warn Seth of what she's planning.

  "And wouldn't you like to know that? Right!" She laughs and turns for the door.

  Before she exits the room, she throws her parting shot in a sugary sweet voice: "Dream sweet dreams, Sunny! Don't wait up for me tonight!"

  The door closes behind her as I fall to my knees, struck to the heart.

  * * *

  An eternity passes, or maybe hours, or maybe just minutes. I'm still on my knees in my room, and my legs feel numb. I feel numb everywhere.

  There's only one person in the world who has ever called me Sunny.

  And now Jessica.

  Could Seth have talked about me, to her? Even the thought of such a betrayal is like a fiery poker plunged into my chest. Seth and I used to always keep each other's secrets. No, no, I refuse to consider this! Seth couldn't have bet
rayed me this way!

  Could she, then, have heard him call me this name? No, that can't be it, either. He only ever calls me Sunny when we're alone.

  There's one other possibility. I hug myself, shaking all over. Oh God, there's one other possibility. The letters—the letters I wrote to Seth. I always signed them:

  Your Sunny.

  I dash to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet bowl before I lose the contents of my stomach. After I'm finished, I flush the toilet and sit down on the tiled floor, leaning against the cool marble wall. I close my eyes, wrapping my arms around me again. I feel like if I don't hold my body tight, together, it'll shatter into a million shards.

  I send my mind back in time, reliving memories.

  It's really you. It's really my Sunny. Seth's voice, so tender when he saw me on my first day at Rockford High. Before his expression closed off for some reason I couldn't understand.

  What an adaptive memory you have, to so easily forget the past. And your promises! Seth, angry and cutting.

  There are some things that life should not be let in between. And promises always matter! His voice, full of conviction.

  Then, incredulous: You broke your promise because it wasn't convenient anymore?

  And hurt! Oh God, my Seth sounding hurt. You wanted to forget me?

  You're not who I thought you were.

  Everything he told me I interpreted based on my knowledge of the past. Based on my assumption that, in our friendship gone adrift, he was the betrayer.

  But what if he wasn't the betrayer? What if he was the betrayed?

  I stagger, wobbly, to my feet and start brushing my teeth mechanically.

  One other time, when I first arrived here, I considered the horrifying idea that Seth never received my letters. I dismissed that idea immediately, though, after Greg assured me that Seth had lived in this house at least during the year when I wrote to him.

  But what did Greg actually say?

  I think back. He told me that he bought the house from Seth's Mom. And yes, that he did this four years ago, in the spring... But he also told me that he was very bad with dates. Could it be, then, that he bought the house not four, but five years ago? Would Janice have sold her parents' house so soon after Grandma's funeral?

  I blink. Yes, she would have.

  I rinse my mouth and close the water faucets, then walk outside my room. In the hallway, I stop to listen. I hear Greg and Louise's voices downstairs, in the living room. Good.

  I enter Jessica's bedroom, close the door behind me, and start searching methodically. Fifteen minutes later, I'm kneeling in front of her open closet, holding a bundle of letters addressed to Seth Lewis by me. Numb, I start counting the letters.

  There's 365 of them.

  Chapter 14

  I'm huddling against the wall in the darkened hallway before unit 23A in Seth's apartment building. He's not at home.

  It's after midnight, and I shiver with fear and cold.

  The fear is because this really is a bad neighborhood, which I vaguely suspected but didn't completely grasp when I came here before with Seth. Whenever I'm with him, he has my complete focus and the outside world just... falls away. I never consciously think of it, but I know bone-deep that I can allow myself to be all wrapped up in him, for even if I ignore the rest of the world, he remains watchful—and he would never let any danger reach me.

  But now, without Seth's insulating presence, I'm ultra-aware of everything around me, and this neighborhood is definitely not a good place where to be alone at night. I've seen some shady characters eyeing me from afar, but luckily no one's approached me. Not yet, at least.

  On the way here, I walked fast and it was raining, so there weren't a lot of people around. After I arrived here... Well, what's saved me from any unpleasant experience is, I suspect, mainly the fact that I'm waiting before Seth's door. I think that nobody's willing to risk messing with me in case I turn out to be his girl.

  Heavens, I'm scared to think how Seth acquired the sort of reputation that keeps even shady characters on their toes... But right now, I'm also really grateful for it.

  Another thing I am is awfully cold. I'm soaked to the skin, and the temperature is much too low for anything nearing comfort.

  Earlier tonight, I waited until Greg and Louise went to bed, then I snuck out and started toward Seth's apartment. It's a long distance to go on foot but taxis are a luxury I most definitely cannot afford, so I had no other choice but to walk. Then, when I was about midway to my destination, it began to rain heavily. Seeing how I didn't have an umbrella and couldn't exactly stop to look for shelter at night, on the streets, I was drenched within less than five minutes.

  I realize how very stupid it was: coming here like this, alone and unannounced, especially at this late hour. Even if the town does have an okay reputation, a girl should never put herself to the kind of risk that I took tonight. I'm thankful that I've made it safely to the apartment and that, once here, Seth's apparent "tough guy" status has managed to protect me even in his absence.

  But no matter what, I cannot regret being here; after my earlier discovery, there was absolutely no way that I wouldn't come immediately. Had it been Seth in my shoes, I would have hated for him to delay telling me the truth even for one night.

  Still, I've been waiting here for almost an hour, it's very late, and I have to consider something that I've tried to ignore until now. What if Seth isn't coming back tonight? What if Jessica managed to get her clutches in him?

  I shudder, and not because of the cold.

  It doesn't matter... It doesn't matter! I chant to myself. If Seth changes his mind about us after I show him the letters, if I can somehow have him back in my life—then I can deal with anything else that may be.

  The sound of an arriving car reaches me through the hallway's open window, yanking me from my thoughts. I strain my ears for the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and don't hear anything. But then only moments later, he appears out of the shadows.

  Seth.

  I rise to my feet, supporting myself against the wall, and in the weak light provided by the single light bulb, he notices me at once. He's dressed all in black: black boots, black jeans molding his powerful legs, black sweater under the black leather jacket, with his inky black hair falling in sexy disarray over his forehead. My gorgeous prince of darkness! I think fancifully.

  He stares at me in surprise, then in the blink of an eye he's right beside me, looking down on me in anger.

  "What the hell, Sunny? What are you doing here alone, in the middle of the night? You have any idea how dangerous this is?" His hands curl around my trembling arms. "And you're wet and freezing! Again, what the hell?!"

  He's upset and shouting at me, but I'm so happy to see him, so happy he's here, that I barely stop myself from jumping him. He's perfectly sober—I smell no alcohol on his breath—and Jessica's plan seems to have failed. Thank you, God! I mean, if she had managed to drug him, the drug would surely have taken longer to work itself out of his system, right?

  "Sunny?" His voice reminds me that he's still waiting for an explanation for my midnight visit.

  "I had to see you, Seth. I needed to talk to you."

  His eyes are focused with laser-like intensity on my face. "Why? What's left to say?" His words seem dismissive, yet his grip on me hasn't loosened at all. And my heart leaps with happiness because—even with the horrible way that things were left between us—he still can't let go of me, either!

  "Please, Seth. I need you to hear me out."

  His body feels taut with strain, and his eyes keep searching into mine, seeking out my secrets—reaching for my soul. Finally he rasps out, "Come on, let's go inside. You have to get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death."

  He releases my right arm only, still holding onto my other one, and when he reaches to unlock the door behind me, our bodies come into contact. I jolt, electrified, and a tremor seems to pass through him as well.

 
; But he doesn't step away from me.

  He opens the door with a jerky motion and pushes me lightly into his apartment. Once inside, he seizes my hand and pulls me quickly through his living area and into the bathroom. There, he opens a small closet and starts searching for something.

  He still hasn't let go of my hand.

  I look at him, drinking him in, my beautiful Seth. It's so good to be close to him again, and after what happened this morning, I was afraid I would never have this again. I shiver with the chill of remembrance.

  He extracts a white towel out of the closet and gives it to me. "You can use this after you take your shower. I'll go find you something to change into." He looks at our still-joined hands with an unreadable expression, then slowly releases his grip. The next instant he's gone, closing the door behind him.

  I look down at myself. My clothes are plastered to my body, and it takes a brief struggle to ply my hoodie off of me; incidentally, it's the same hoodie that Seth loaned me this morning. Seeing its drenched state, I feel a twinge of guilt for my carelessness with it.

  Then I release the elastic belt around my middle and catch the plastic bag I'd hidden underneath my clothes. I open it and exhale in relief when I find it dry on the inside. Thank heaven for big mercies! I place the precious bag on the washing machine by the door.

  After a bit of squirming I manage to also take off my long-sleeved T-shirt and tank top. And my necklace, which I hide behind the soap on the sink. When I reach for my pants, I hear a knock on the door. Right, Seth said he'd bring me a change of clothes. I quickly open the towel and hold it to my chest. Then I open the door.

  Wordlessly, Seth hands me a small bundle; as I stretch for it, my towel slips a little, revealing the upper curve of my bra. Instantly, Seth's gaze on me turns burning, and the air around us starts crackling with heat.

  Seeming conflicted yet still somehow helpless to resist, he raises his hand to my right cheek, gently tipping up my head, and for an endless moment we stare deep into each other's eyes. That same nameless longing that is tugging at me—I think I can see it in him as well. And I cannot look away.