Summer's Desire

by Olivia Lynde

  Which would be a very natural reaction, I assure myself. After all, how could I (or any living and breathing woman, really?) in all fairness be expected to show restraint when confronted with Seth's glorious bareness for the first time?

  I mean, I know that I've already spent two nights in his arms, and he only wore boxer shorts to bed, so I've already felt and touched his naked torso (as much as I reasonably could, which didn't come even close to how much I unreasonably wanted). But this is the first time that I've had a chance to properly see the aforementioned torso.

  In bed, Seth was plastered to me the entire time, restricting my visual field, and both times when I got out of bed I was on fire for him, so I didn't look back. I just raced out of the room as if the hounds of hell were on my heels. Which they were, figuratively speaking. If I were to give in to my blazing attraction to Seth, that journey could only ever end in hell—for that is what losing him would mean to me: hell on earth.

  He's finished frying the bacon and has turned to settle it on the table—and sweet mercy!... If his naked back robbed me of speech and made my legs turn to butter, then seeing his naked front, I think my poor, overwhelmed heart is about to blow up.

  Admittedly, when fully dressed and surrounded by his jock friends, Seth looks tall and tough and muscled. Still, he seems slender compared to some of his beefier friends, which creates the illusion that he's made more for speed and endurance than for pure strength. Yet seeing him revealed in all his bare upper-body glory, I see that truly is nothing more than an illusion.

  He's very powerfully built, his sinewy muscles chiseled to absolute perfection. His shoulders are wide and wiry, his pecs look carved out of stone, his six pack is flawless. I was right when, on first seeing him in school last week, I fancifully compared him to some classical warrior. He truly looks like a warlord of old: hard, forceful, invincible.

  He takes my breath away.

  The silence has gone on too long. He looks up from his task setting food on the table and finds me staring at him. I try to hide the lust that must have been flaring in my eyes a second ago, but I don't know if I manage before he sees it. His expression doesn't change, but his eyes seem to gain a new brilliance.

  Taking a deep breath, I uproot myself from my spot and move toward him. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Despite my best efforts, my words come out husky.

  Seth raises an eyebrow, but thankfully doesn't comment on my odd behavior. "Thanks. You can make the toast while I go to the bathroom. I've already started the coffee."

  He moves away, and I go and make the toast.

  * * *

  We're sitting at the small kitchen table, eating breakfast. Or at least Seth's eating, while I'm playing with my food and trying, very unsuccessfully, to ignore his naked chest. I'm positive my cheeks must be tomato red. They certainly feel as if they're on fire!

  "You're not hungry?" His voice is warm, amused.

  "Oh, of course I'm hungry."

  "Then why aren't you eating? You don't like the bacon?" he asks innocently.

  "The bacon is fine." I force myself to take a bite and nearly choke on it.

  "But why aren't you looking at me?"

  Startled, I meet his gaze directly. His eyes sparkle with glee.

  "Because you're naked!" I wail, at the end of my rope.

  He raises an eyebrow. "I'm not naked."

  "Well, you're half-naked," I amend, frustrated with his quibbling.

  "And that is a problem, why?" God, he's really enjoying himself, isn't he?

  Fortunately, the ancient coffeemaker pings, so I quickly jump to my feet and skip to it. "The coffee is done." How did he take his coffee yesterday morning? "One sugar, no milk for you, right?"

  "Yes." Then, having obviously not finished playing with me yet: "You don't like my body?"

  I stop pouring his coffee and, back turned to him, I close my eyes and lower my head in defeat. The problem is I like it too darn much. Oh Summer, Summer, just stop it already! This is going nowhere. You know the right thing to do, you've made your decision to keep things with Seth platonic—now stick to it, for God's sake!

  I add the sugar, then turn to Seth and place his coffee in front of him on the table. Calmer now, I meet his eyes. "I'm sorry. I know I'm acting silly. It's just that I'm still not used to all of this... to us being together again."

  He nods, regarding me with tenderness.

  I quickly change the subject. "So what are our plans for today?"

  I'm taking for granted that we will be spending the day together. I couldn't bear to let him out of my sight right now; I'm still feeling raw after yesterday's emotional turmoil. I also have the sneaking suspicion that it may not have completely sunk in yet that I've gotten Seth back, so I'm afraid that if I let him go now, next time I'll see him I'll discover that this has all been just a dream.

  For all of that, I can't bear the thought of separating myself from him as of yet.

  Luckily, he seems to feel the same way.

  Leaning back in his chair, coffee cup in hand, he tells me matter-of-factly, "You're staying with me. I have to go in to work today, unfortunately, but you're coming with me to the Garage." Then all of a sudden, a cloud of doubt crosses his face. "I mean, if that's all right with you? You do want to spend the day with me, yes?"

  My heart melts at the uncertainty in his voice. Impulsively, I go to him and lean in, trying to hug him. It's sort of awkward because he's sitting down, but as my arms curl clumsily around his neck, he sets his coffee on the table and rises fluidly from the kitchen chair. Then, in the blink of an eye, I'm aloft in his arms bridal style, and he's carrying me to the couch in the living room.

  He sits down with me still in his arms, and I arrange myself on his lap: legs to one side, arms tight around his neck, head on his chest. I'm engulfed by him, overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude to God or fate—whoever's brought Seth back in my life.

  We stay like this, in silence, soaking each other in.

  After a while he speaks, his chest rumbling under my head: "We'll need to get going soon. I start work at ten and it's already well past nine."

  "Okay." I don't move an inch away from him.

  "What's the situation with your foster parents? Will they blow a gasket because you spent the night outside their house again?"

  I frown in thought. "I hope they don't know about that, actually. I waited until they went to bed before I snuck out last night, and if Jessica didn't check on me when she returned from the party, I should be fine. I'll just call Louise later this morning and tell her that I left the house before breakfast to take care of something."

  "The Andersons will give you any trouble if you start spending more time outside their home? Or if I go see you there?"

  I ponder for a bit. "I think maybe the first option could work. Jessica has poisoned her parents' minds against me—not that it took a lot of effort in the case of her mother. So Louise won't care in the least about my whereabouts, and Greg's pretty much checked out. It's not that he actively doesn't care, just that he doesn't really notice what I do.

  "The second option, though..." I shake my head. "That's a no-go for sure. Jessica is rabid when it comes to you, and her mother supports her. They've both made it clear that I should stay away from you because you were Jessica's. Louise even said that, since she's given me a home, the least I could do in return was not to throw myself at her daughter's boyfriend. So I really doubt that they'd take it on the chin if you came to their house to be with me."

  He's staring at me in disbelief. "They warned you away from because I'm Jessica's boyfriend? Are those bitches crazy? Like I'd have anything to do with that viper!"

  "Well, you did have something to do with Jessica, at one time," I point out, growing angry myself. "Sophomore year, was it not?" I try to get down from his lap, but his arms tighten around me and I'm no match for his strength. I settle for glaring at him instead.

  He closes his eyes in frustration for a moment. Then, seeming to brace him
self, he meets my gaze head-on, his intense blue eyes filled with regret. "She had been throwing herself at me for years. I honestly never liked her because I saw how vicious she is with people she considers beneath her. But she's not hard to look at, and one night when I was bored and restless, I took her up on her offer. We only hooked up a few times, and it never meant anything." His voice rings with sincerity.

  Still... "You mean, it didn't mean anything to you," I correct, miffed at his man-whorish ways. Obviously, it meant something to Jessica if she's carried a torch for him all this time.

  "It never meant anything to me," he agrees solemnly. "Sunny, please forgive me my past. I was lost without you and I did lots of stupid things. Don't hate me for it, please." His beautiful blue eyes entreat me, candid and pained.

  I soften all over, powerless to refuse him anything when he's looking at me like that. "Oh Seth, there's nothing to forgive. Your past is your past, and I have no right to judge you for what you did when we were living separate lives. And surely you must know that I could never hate you, no matter what you did. You're my best friend and I love you." I smile at him shyly, my heart laid bare, and his eyes flare with some unknown but powerful emotion. I think, for a moment, he even trembles slightly.

  I ask him, "Can you please hold me now, just for a little while?"

  For an answer, he pulls me closer to him, and I burrow in the heat of his body, my head laid on his chest above his beating heart.

  I'll only have this—I'll only have him—for a little while, I know that, so I'm soaking it all up... while I still can.

  Chapter 17

  I'm in Seth's car, and we're heading toward his workplace. We're running slightly late.

  After our beautiful moment on the couch we barely found the will to untangle ourselves from each other, and when we eventually looked at the clock, it was already twenty minutes to ten. We hurried to get dressed and left the apartment five minutes later.

  In those five minutes, Seth managed to put together a look for himself that would do the cover of an Abercrombie & Fitch men's catalog proud: black macho boots, washed down blue jeans ripped in a deliciously naughty pattern, form-fitting gray henley shirt, and a gorgeous midnight-blue jacket. His hair, which I'm positive hasn't met with a comb this morning, falls over his brow in a sexily-mused, just-got-out-of-bed way. He's utterly scrumptious.

  I, on the other hand, look like the dowdy Beast to his effortlessly stylish Beauty.

  I'm wearing my pants from yesterday, which have luckily dried overnight—or maybe not so luckily, considering their atrocious green color and how they hang on me creating big, ugly folds. My striped tank and cream T-shirt from last night have dried as well, so I'm wearing them, but the gigantic black hoodie that Seth loaned me yesterday was a lost cause, being still wet this morning. So Seth cheerfully loaned me another of his all-engulfing (for me) hoodies (this one blue, with a pattern of darker blues and greens, and the imprint "Surpass your limits"). In a burst of rebellion after I saw my sorry state in the mirror, I put up my hair in a ponytail (which looks nice) instead of the customary bun (which looked atrocious). Still, it didn't do much to improve my overall appearance.

  When I came out of the bathroom looking, in my considered opinion, like a color-blind and fashion-disabled clothes hanger, I could swear I saw Seth's lips twitch. He strode to me instantly and engulfed me in an affectionate hug, murmuring under his breath something like, "Well, can't say I mind the look. It's best if I don't have to break too many jaws of assholes who're lusting after my girl."

  Yeah, joke all you want, smartass!

  Honestly though, since Seth came back into my life I've started to hate my long-time "uniform" with a passion. He always looks so gorgeous whereas I... don't. And him seeing me look like a frump... well, it makes me feel bad. It makes me want to look pretty for him. Which, in turn, makes me terribly conflicted because I don't want anyone else's attention. Especially after what happened with Josh, I'm scared at the thought that other guys might find me attractive and try to get in my space with their flirting rituals.

  "What are you thinking of?" Seth's voice brings me out of my musings, returning me to the here and now. He's just stopped the car at a sign, checks if the way is clear, and smoothly gets the car moving again.

  "I'm thinking that I don't like my uniform anymore," I admit distractedly.

  He throws me a puzzled glance. "Your 'uniform'?"

  "Yes, my uniform. You know—baggy pants, tops and hoodies that are at least three sizes too big for me, no makeup, and that ugly bun. My uniform. You can't possibly have missed it." I smile wryly.

  He gives me another look, this one filled with curiosity. "Ah. So what exactly is the purpose of the, err..."—he coughs slightly—"the 'uniform'"?

  "To make myself unattractive, of course. Not that I'm such a great beauty in the first place—I mean, I know I'm not." Obviously.

  He aims a disbelieving sideways glance at me. "You don't think you're beautiful?"

  I laugh. "Hardly. I mean, I can manage pretty if I try, but beautiful... that's like a whole other league: way, way above mere prettiness. You're beautiful, for example. I'm just pretty." Again he looks at me sidelong, this time as if I was crazy or speaking in an exotic language.

  I ignore his stare and continue my explanation. "Anyway, most boys—present company excluded, of course, for politeness' if not exactly the truth's sake—are clearly undiscriminating bunnies who think of only one thing." Once more Seth gives me his sideways glance, this one filled with amusement as well as a bit of annoyance, probably at having been insidiously included in my prejudiced statement. "And after I filled out in the chest area, I started to get hit on a lot. I didn't enjoy the attention."

  That is part of the truth. The complete truth is that I was mostly scared of the attention. Which, I guess, is just one of the myriad ways in which I'm broken by what happened when I was five years old. When my parents were killed because of me.

  The tenebrous tentacles of memory try to suck me in, but I manage to fight them off. I'm with Seth, I remind myself. I'm safe now.

  I refocus on him. "So my genius idea was born, and I started wearing my 'uniform'. Then ta-daaa!—ninety-five percent of my boy trouble was gone, just like that! You men really are shallow creatures," I remark sagely.

  Surprised at Seth's lack of response, I notice that, unlike a few moments ago, his hands are clenched too tightly on the wheel, and that familiar angry tick has appeared above his jaw. Oh my, did my joking comments really annoy him that much? I bite my lip in consternation.

  The laden silence persists until, two minutes later, we've reached Joe's Garage and Seth's finished parking the car at the back of the shop. After extracting the keys from the ignition, he unfastens his seat belt and immediately turns to me, his warm hand going to my cheek.

  His expression is grave with intensity. "Sunny, tell me the truth. The reason for your so-called 'uniform'..." He breaks off, closes his eyes, inhales audibly, opens his eyes again, and continues hoarsely: "Did anyone ever try to hurt you... Like Josh did?"

  "No! No, Seth!" I'm horrified. This is why he became so upset? My hand rises to his wrist, clasping it in a fierce gesture of reassurance. "I had a couple of foster fathers and brothers who made me feel uncomfortable, but they never tried anything, I swear. And the boys in school who hit on me never became aggressive. The thing with Josh was a total anomaly, and it wasn't even because of me!"

  "What do you mean?" He seems calmer now that I've allayed his worst fears.

  "I mean that Josh didn't attack me because he had gone crazy with lust for me, or anything like that! Mostly, he seemed to want revenge because of my rejections. What's more, taking into account something he said, I think that freaking Jessica asked him to teach me a lesson!"

  A scary kind of rage leaps to life in Seth's eyes. "And you're only now telling me this?!"

  Provoked, I snap back, "Oh, for crying out loud, it's not like I intentionally withheld information from you! These
past two days, I've been on an emotional roller-coaster, so please forgive me if one little detail slipped my mind!"

  He actually growls at me. "That's not exactly a little detail, Sunny! It means that fucking bitch wasn't happy with just ruining our lives five years ago; she's doing all she can to ruin them again!"

  Wow, I knew that Seth had a lot of anger and resentment bottled up against Jessica, but right now he seems so off-the-scale menacing that I almost feel sorry for my nemesis when he gets through with her... Actually, scratch that! I don't feel sorry at all. That freaking devil's spawn—I wish I could strangle her with my own two hands!

  Still... "Seth, I'm not completely sure about the thing with Josh. Frankly, I find it hard to believe that even Jessica would go so far as telling her buddy to rape me."

  The remembrance makes me sick to my stomach. Heavens, those rotten memories are like so much slime clinging to the recesses of my mind. I wish I could wipe them all away, like Seth's gentle touch wiped away the ugliness of Josh's brutal fondling. My hand around Seth's wrist clenches tighter.

  I continue in a whisper: "Maybe Josh was just supposed to try and seduce me, which he had a snowball's chance in hell of accomplishing, and he grew enraged when I rejected him. Besides, even if Jessica was the instigator of his attack on me, it's still Josh who actually went through with it."

  Seth shakes his head. "I find it unbelievable that, after all she did, you can still defend that bitch."

  "I'm not! Believe me, I'm really not! It's just that I don't thi—"

  We're interrupted by someone rapping on Seth's window.

  "Hey, lover boy!" a young redheaded guy in coveralls greets with a big grin. "You plan on ever getting out of the car and, I don't know, maybe start getting some actual work done? Unlike the zingy kind of work you're doing right now?" His gaze moves to me, and the grin becomes wider. "Hey there, pretty lady!"