Summer's Desire

by Olivia Lynde

  The moment he sees me, he strides to me, his left hand going instantly around my waist, the other one rising to my cheek.

  "What happened, Sunny?" He sounds so apprehensive, so worried on my behalf.

  And sweet Lord in heaven, but it feels good to know that there's someone in the world who cares what happens to me! That Seth cares.

  "Let's get in the car and away from here," I ask him. "I'll tell you everything on the way."

  He nods and leads me to his car, opens the door for me, and closes it after I take my seat. I've been clutching my small memento box to my chest, but now I put it on my lap to fasten the seatbelt.

  It's a strange feeling, knowing that I'm carrying all my possessions with me. The clothes on my back, of which the hoodie isn't even mine, but Seth's. The box on my knees. The cell and the small wallet in my pocket. In the wallet, I have my only remaining photo of a young Seth—my favorite picture and hence my pick for carrying it with me at all times. I also have my ID and birth certificate, money to the exact amount of 506 dollars and 78 cents—of which 500 dollars are from Greg—and the debit card to my few savings accrued from part-time jobs over the past couple of years.

  Seth gets in and starts the BMW. "Now tell me what happened."

  I take a deep breath. "Jessica figured that I took my letters back. In revenge, she slashed all my stuff. Clothes, childhood souvenirs, everything I owned is torn to pieces. All I have left is what you see on me."

  His hands tighten on the wheel. "I'm so sorry, Sunny." His voice is suffused with sympathy, and also a deep underlying anger.

  "I know that my clothes weren't much to look at... but they were mine." I try to explain my sense of loss, falter. "Still, clothes can be replaced, I suppose. But my keepsakes... Oh, Seth, she destroyed all my pictures of us! And those are irreplaceable." I furiously dash a tear from my cheek.

  He glances at me tenderly. "I'm truly sorry, Sunny. But you're right, the clothes can be replaced. In fact, we'll go shopping tomorrow at the mall in Grand Rapids. What do you say?"

  What can I say? More than anything else, the fact that Seth is trying so hard to cheer me up manages to lift my spirits. I offer him a small grin. "That sounds good. Greg gave me some conscience money, so I'm all set for shopping."

  He frowns. "I have some money. You don't need Greg Anderson's."

  I just stare at him. God, this boy is unreal! He's on his own, with no family to help him out with anything, and he's working to support himself. I sure as heck am not about to let him spend his hard-earned money on clothes for me! I already feel plenty guilty for letting him pick up the tab when we go out together—not that there's anything I could actually do to change that. Seth has always been protective of me and very proud, and from past experience I know that he'd blow a gasket if I even suggested that I pay my way.

  But buying clothes is a whole other kettle of fish.

  I open my mouth to tell him so, but he's already speaking again. "As for the photos... You forgot that we had two identical sets of our childhood photos? When you left Rockford, you took one of them and I kept the other."

  A gasp escapes me. "You still have your album?"

  He gives me a sideways look, intended to convey, apparently, that my question is very stupid indeed. "Of course I have my album. So although your photos were destroyed, we still own a complete set of them. Only problem is they really are irreplaceable now. Hmm... maybe I should go and have them scanned in, just in case."

  Having reached his apartment building, he parks the car and smiles at me, lifting his hand to curl gently around my neck. "So don't be sad anymore, okay Sunny?"

  I smile back, this time with nothing held back. Somehow, Seth always manages to turn the bleakest situations around for me. In moments like this, his affection for me shines like a beacon through the darkest night, chasing all my shadows away.

  He truly cares about me, and I don't deserve him. I mean, he's the complete package: gorgeous and smart and kind (even if this last one only to me, as far as I've noticed). I don't know why he's wasting his time with me... but dear God, I hope he won't change his mind about being my friend.

  I'm already on borrowed time with him as it is.

  Chapter 20

  We're in Seth's room, on his bed.

  Seth is sitting in a relaxed position, his back propped on a big pillow against the headboard, and I'm resting between his strong legs, my back supported by his chest. His arms are wrapped around my waist, and his left hand, having slipped below my T-shirt, is gliding in gentle strokes on my skin and raising delicious goose bumps. I'm wearing the same clothes that he gave me yesterday night for sleeping—the T-shirt and drawstring pants—but he's only wearing a pair of sweatpants. Which means I'm in serious trouble. His naked upper body encloses me like a furnace, melting me into him.

  I'm holding on my lap Seth's photo album, which looks a little frayed around the edges as if it's been handled a lot. Just like Seth assured me, it contains all our childhood pictures.

  I'm turning pages and we're looking together at the photos: pointing them out individually, recounting the events during which they were taken, and laughing when some of our funnier (in retrospect) childhood mishaps are brought to mind. In other words, we're both laughing a lot; we used to get into a lot of scrapes when we were younger—Seth especially, but with me not far behind—and whenever one of us got in trouble, the other would inevitably find themselves drawn in as well.

  Double jeopardy indeed! I think with a fond smile.

  But when I turn another leaf, my eyes drop to a certain picture that-shall-not-be-named, and my grin changes into a grumpy pout. I try to move on quickly, but before I manage to do so, an agile hand cuts in and resettles the page.

  "Why so fast, Sunny? It couldn't possibly be that you're trying to hide something, now could it?" His voice is filled with glee as he innocently smoothes the folio right above the mortifying image.

  I groan. "You heartless pest! You know how I loathe that photo!"

  "But why?" He laughs. "I think it's quite the masterpiece—and that's without even taking into account the photographer's extraordinary daring in taking this one precious shot."

  "Gee, Seth, you're modest!"

  "Why be modest? I'm right. You don't remember?" He chuckles as he leans over my shoulder, and his breath falls hot on my neck. I fight to ignore the quiver surging through me.

  "Trust me, Seth, the moment when I saw you swinging on that darn rope outside my bedroom window, camera in hand, is forever imprinted on my poor, traumatized mind!"

  "That's very nice, but just in case that you do forget, we're fortunate to have this lovely photo immortalizing your expression at that exact moment." He's laughing so hard now that I can actually feel his body vibrating against my own.

  Helplessly, I feel my own lips curling into a reluctant grin.

  Lovely photo indeed! On that summer afternoon many years ago, in that ill-fated instant when I gaped out the window at a recklessly hovering Seth and he clicked his camera, my jaw was slack with amazement at seeing him there and my eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets. Not to mention that I was sporting an angry red rash that covered half my face!

  In fact, that awful rash was the reason why I had holed up in my room in the first place, and why Seth had consequently felt it crucial to do his Tarzan routine—of course, just climbing up to my second-floor window via, say, a freaking ladder wouldn't have been exciting enough; oh no, he had to climb down on a rope from the attic, of all places, risking life and limb in the process!—just to reach me. Or rather, to get the opportunity to take his precious shot. God, how he had laughed himself sick at my misfortune!

  "You know, Seth, I've always thought it horribly unfair that it was me alone who got a nasty skin reaction that time. After all, we had both frolicked in that wretched pond!"

  "You're saying it was unfair?" I sense the smile in his voice. "I'm saying it was flawless divine justice—seeing how, of the two of us, only you'd ente
red the pond of your own free will."

  "What?! Divine justice? Of my own free will? Oh Seth, you phony! You were the one who dared me to enter—dared me, an innocent, misguided eight-year-old! I was tricked by a master charlatan who was well-versed in forever leading me astray!"

  "I didn't think you would actually take the dare." Now he sounds disgruntled. "I was just ribbing you."

  "Oh, please! Of course I took the dare! I took all your dares! But ha! I got you good afterward, didn't I? 'Jesus Christ, Sunny, try to stay afloat! I'm coming to get you! I'm so sorry, Sunny, please hang on!'" My imitation of him is unfortunately not very good, especially since it's interspersed with my hysterical giggles. Still, judging by his dark frown and newly-rigid body, I think my little act has more than accomplished its desired effect—which was to rile him.

  "You were thrashing like mad," he growls, "screaming for help, swallowing water! I thought you'd go under before I could reach you, drown right before my eyes!"

  I snort amid my laughter. "Suuure, Seth, that would have been one for the record books!... Drowning in water two feet deep! I should have been the one taking a picture of your face when you pulled me back to my feet in the pond and saw that the water only reached to my waist!"

  My entire body is shaking with mirth at the memory, and Seth's started to chuckle as well—maybe at my enjoyment, or maybe at the story itself (though he had most definitely not been amused when all of this had happened; in fact, he had been chillingly furious at me for scaring him like that). Amid my continued laughter, my head falls back on his chest, and he lowers his head into the crook of my neck.

  Suddenly, his lips open on my throat in a sensual kiss... and tendrils of flame spread all across my skin from the point of contact. My laughter cuts up abruptly, and I barely suppress a moan.

  I've been in constant arousal ever since Seth and I cuddled together in bed an hour ago, and he surrounded me: all male heat and power, and pure, delicious scent. Now, with just that little kiss he's placed on my neck, he's fanned my desire into a raging inferno. I'm ablaze with lust, my heart fluttering madly in my chest.

  He must feel it too, for the next instant his hand grabs the album off my lap and throws it aside carelessly, then he's turning me to face him.

  As easily as if I was a tiny doll, he lifts me from between his legs and lays me down on my back, then he settles smoothly on top of me, bracing himself on his forearms while my legs spread helplessly to accommodate him. His hips come to rest in the cradle of my thighs, and—sweet mercy!—through the thin layers of our clothing I can feel his arousal high against my inner thigh. I bite my lip to stifle another moan and barely stop myself from giving a shimmy to position his hardness a bit further up, in the spot where I burn the hottest.

  I look up into his eyes and find them incandescent with desire. My corresponding, bone-deep need for him, long fettered inside me, breaks free with a mighty ripple. It rises to the surface of my consciousness and suffuses all the cells in my body.

  He holds my gaze captive, and I feel as if he can see straight into my soul, into the furthest reaches of my being, and read all my secrets. This thought terrifies me, for I have my new secret that I have to keep from him.

  I cannot allow him to find out how much I want him—especially now, when I know that he, too, desires me. If he discovers the truth of my feelings, he'll realize the power he holds over my body. He'll seduce me easily and then he'll tire of me like he has of all his other girls.

  And I will lose him forever.

  No, I cannot allow that to happen! I will not allow it to happen! He is the one bright light of my existence, and while I live and breathe I will never stop needing his presence beside me—I know that. Therefore, we have to stay as we are—best friends only, not lovers, never lovers!—then I can keep him for a little while longer.

  He's still looking down at me piercingly, and I don't know what he's read in my eyes, in my soul, but his head has started to lower, and suddenly his lips are far too close to mine. Then closer still. His blue eyes are like laser fire, singing me. I tingle everywhere.

  Just before his lips touch mine, I force myself to turn my head, though oh God, this is one of the hardest things I've had to do in my life! His kiss lands on my cheek instead of my lips, barely grazing the corner of my mouth, yet still the contact affects me like a detonating landmine. I battle desperately to calm my inner conflagration.

  The only endgame that matters to me is having Seth in my life, I remind myself.

  For that reason, as much as I want his lips on mine—heavens, I burn to feel them on my mouth, on my neck, everywhere on my body!—I won't risk our friendship by giving in to my wants. If I surrendered myself to him, when he lost interest like he always has in the past, it would destroy me.

  So I beseech him, "Don't, Seth! Please don't!" But my voice sounds hoarse with the desire still throbbing through me.

  He raises his head, but his body stays braced above me, caging me in its heat, and he meets my vulnerable gaze with observant eyes.

  "Why not? You want me too," he states the undeniable truth.

  Yes, I do. But I can never have you! "I want us to stay friends."

  "So do I. But I want more besides."

  "What do you want?" I whisper, afraid of his answer.

  His face blazes with intensity. "I want everything! I want all of you!"

  "And what happens when you stop wanting me?"

  "That won't happen." His eyes glow unbearably brighter, and God, he sounds so completely certain! How can he say that when he's a total player? Why is he doing this to me?

  "Seth, I've heard about your reputation," I choke out and feel my eyes getting wet. "You've never been with any girl for more than a couple of weeks. And you've been with a lot of girls."

  His expression is a mixture of regret and frustration, but he wipes away the moisture below my eyes with gentle fingers. "My past isn't important. You promised you wouldn't hold it against me."

  "I don't. But the fact remains that you've never committed to a single girlfriend. You've never had a relationship. And I refuse to become just another girl through the revolving door of your sex life!"

  Seth shakes his head, upset. "I've never had a girlfriend because you weren't here to be her. I've never been in a relationship because I've only ever wanted one with you. It was you, or no one at all. The other girls were just meaningless hookups."

  Heavens, have I heard him right? Did he really say that?

  Yes, he did, he really did!

  I'm blown away, left completely rudderless in shock and in fear to hope. I raise my hands and grab hold of his biceps, needing the contact of skin to skin; and the feel of his coiled strength moors me, gives me a safe harbor in the wild sea of my out-of-control emotions.

  "Please, Seth, please don't play games with me! I don't know how they are played."

  I know that I am laying my vulnerability bare, but now I understand instinctively: I can trust Seth not to take advantage of me. How could I think, even for one moment, that he would seduce me, careless of my feelings? He's the boy I trust with my life, the boy whom I've loved my entire life. And he has always loved me too. He's always protected me from anything that tried to hurt me.

  He'll protect me even from himself if he has to.

  His face softens at the uncertainty in my eyes, at the hope I know I cannot hide. "I would never play games of the heart with you, Sunny."

  "Then you want a real relationship with me?" I allow myself to hope, hold my breath in wait for his answer.

  "Yes." He places a tender kiss on the tip of my nose. "I told you, Sunny, I want everything with you."

  Can I give in? Can I take the risk? God, I want him so much!

  "If we do this,"—I falter, inhale deeply for courage—"if we do this, promise I won't lose you?" With my eyes, I plead for reassurance. "No matter what happens?"

  "Sunny, you can't lose me. I'm yours forever." Finally, finally he smiles his beautiful smile at me, open and
unreserved—the smile I've always considered my personal property.

  But no, I think—not forever. He can't promise me forever. Even if he doesn't stop wanting me, he'll still leave for college at the end of summer.

  And I can't go with him.

  Future heartbreak is inevitable no matter what. But is it worth it—the even greater heartbreak I'll feel when I lose him, if I give in now—the greater heartbreak of losing not only my best friend but also my love? Is that price worth paying in exchange for the greater—greatest—happiness that is within my reach... even if that happiness can only be temporary?

  I smile back at Seth, with all of me laid bare. For it is worth it.

  Then his head lowers to me once more, and this time I don't turn away. His lips land on mine, softly, caressingly, reigniting the smoldering embers in my belly. Tentatively, I move my lips against his, and instantly he's pressing harder into the kiss. He sucks at my lower lip, then the upper. I go up in flames.

  I raise my arms, wrap them around his neck, draw him into me. Our lips are touching, stroking, molding to each other. He gently bites my lower lip, pulling slightly, and I moan and crush my lips against his even as I press my body impossibly closer to him.

  When he finally raises his head, breathing heavily, his blue gaze shines with unbridled passion. My lips feel puffy and I'm trembling all over. I bury my face in his neck and inhale deeply, trying to calm my frantic heartbeat.

  "That was some first kiss," I tell him huskily. "So glad I waited."

  At this he stiffens, then gently raises my face from the crook of his neck and—oh, mercy!—his eyes burn impossibly hotter, watching me in a devouring, proprietary way.

  "This was you first kiss?" he asks in a raspy voice.

  I nod, smiling happily at him. I really am glad that I waited for him; I couldn't imagine a more perfect first kiss. And he was the perfect boy to give it to me.

  Emotions flash across his face in quick succession: surprise, joy, hunger. A note of regret. I don't understand the latter, until he tells me, "I'm sorry I didn't wait. If I'd thought even for a second that I could have you back in my life, I would've waited for you.