by Olivia Lynde
Dana continues in full flow: "I seriously couldn't get you alone for one second, and then we had that stupid test in Chemistry! And at lunch he was just sitting there beside you, looking all dark and yummy and larger than life..."—I made a deal with Seth, and three times each week we sit with his friends, twice a week with mine; today we sat at my table. "And he's just so hot my brain seriously melted! Plus I got this really weird feeling that if I opened my mouth to tell you what happened, he'd cut my head off. And—"
"Dana, just tell me now." Seth's hand is like a vise grip around my upper thigh.
She exhales audibly. "Okay, so here goes. Your deranged stalker, Josh... He showed up today in school." Oh dear God. "And then, sometime during first period, the police showed up... and raided his locker. And found drugs."
I inhale sharply, my hand clenched on my phone.
"Drugs?" I whisper. I'm turned in my seat so that I can see Seth, and his body is rigid with dreadful tension. His expression is unreadable, his eyes very dark. And his grip on my thigh is so tight it's starting to hurt.
"A great deal of drugs," Dana whispers back. "I mean, the police took him—pulled him straight out of class—and I hear they're holding him not just for possession, but also for dealing. He's facing serious jail time, Summer. Oh, and he was also expelled—but that's totally small beans, all things considered."
"Yeah."
"I mean, I'd heard rumors that he was using, but wow!... Seriously, how stupid was he, to keep a huge stash of that stuff in his freaking locker at school?"
"Very stupid," I murmur. And very unlikely. "How did the police find out?"
"Anonymous tip, I think."
"Right," I say hoarsely. I take a very deep breath. "Thanks for telling me, Dana."
"No prob, Summer. I thought you should know, what with everything that happened last time you saw him."
"Last week in World History, you mean."
"Well, yeah. Didn't he like skip school after that, until today?"
"Yes." Another deep breath. "Thanks again, Dana. See you on Monday."
I end the call.
I become aware of my surroundings again. We're parked in front of Seth's apartment building, and his hand isn't on me anymore. In fact, he's not touching me anywhere now. His hands are balled to fists, his arms and body and expression still infused with that terrible tension from earlier. He's staring at me in unbroken silence and his eyes blaze with fathomless emotion.
I've always known that Seth's moral compass for right and wrong is... different. He lives by very strong, definite principles—but they're his own principles, not ones forced on him by his Mom or Grandma or society or religion. Mostly, his personal principles mesh with the laws of society—but not always. And I'm coming to believe that, for me, he'd break any law.
I don't think anyone else has ever called Seth kind. That he was subjected so early on to his Mom's brand of life lessons made sure that name—kind—could never be applied to him in regular life. Except when he's with me.
I've always been aware of the ruthlessness just underneath the veneer of his civility. And regardless of it, I have always loved him.
I reach out toward one of his clenched fists and pull gently on his fingers in silent demand to open. His fist relaxes slowly, and I lace my fingers through his and smile at him brightly.
"We should hurry, big man. I want to cook something delicious for you before we head for work."
His eyes turn from dark to incandescent in an instant. Slowly, tentatively, he leans down toward me—still not certain of his welcome, I think. I curl my other hand around his neck to pull him down to me faster, and when our lips finally meet, there's no hesitation in me.
* * *
Our lives settle into an effortless rhythm.
Whenever I'm with Seth, time expands in a kaleidoscope of joy and intensity, and at the same time it contracts, flowing by too quickly. Quite apart from the fact that he's Seth, my best friend and my dream guy, he's simply a fun person to be with. He listens attentively to whatever I have to say. He's very smart, full of fascinating ideas. He has a dry wit and makes me laugh a lot.
Physically, as if simply watching his stunning face and fantastic body wasn't enough of a wet dream, he speaks to all my other senses as well. I love hearing his deep, sexy voice, and his scent drives me wild with the longing to taste him. His touch makes me sparkle like champagne, and his kisses are like a match set to my kindling. Then, he has this way of looking deeply into my eyes and focusing on me completely that creates the most exquisite quivers in my belly. Seth looking at me as if I'm precious and somehow essential to him gives me the biggest high I've ever imagined.
Quite simply, he makes me totally, utterly happy. And from everything I can see, I get the sense that he feels the same about me.
He's always watching me intently, passion or tenderness glinting in his eyes. He listens to me carefully, and when he speaks to me, warmth suffuses his voice. He's always touching me: holding my hand or playing with my fingers, wrapping an arm around me and nestling me into him, caressing my face or my neck, giving me small, teasing kisses. Or not-so-small kisses that never fail to make me melt completely into him.
He always looks so very happy to be with me. Thank you, God!
He's not perfect, of course—just perfect for me. He's overprotective and super possessive. He's stubborn and likes to always get his own way. The sheer force of his personality is overwhelming, and it takes a lot of grit and sheer obstinacy on my own part to be able to stand my ground before him. But I revel in the challenge of holding my own with him; I revel in him and the way we so effortlessly spark each other up.
Although we disagree every now and then, we've yet to relive one of those bigger fights that we used to have sometimes when we were children. Now when we quarrel, we're usually quick to compromise or just end all fighting with a mind-blowing makeout session. Ah, right! That's why we're arguing less now than when we were children; back then, we didn't yet have this oh-so-splendid way of patching things up.
In bed I never hold back, because I trust him completely. I told him I'm still not ready to go with him all the way, and so he's always careful not to take us beyond the point of no return.
* * *
In the second week after I moved in with Seth, I get a call one evening. I'm alone in the apartment since Seth hasn't returned yet from his sparring session in Grand Rapids. When I hear my phone ring, I reach out quickly, thinking it's him calling. But then I see the name on the screen, and my heart starts pounding in this rapid, ominous rhythm.
I take the call.
"Good evening, ma'am."
"Summer, I haven't heard a word from you in weeks!" says Ms. Walker. "Why haven't you called me?"
"I thought you'd be busy, ma'am."
"I'm always busy. That doesn't mean that you shouldn't show a little courtesy and call to tell me that you're still alive!"
Meekly, I say, "I'm sorry, ma'am."
A drawn-out pause.
"And how have you been, Summer? Have you met with any tribulations yet?"
I fall into a coughing fit. "There's been no trouble at all, ma'am," I tell her after I recover. "I've been very good."
"Yes, as good as a regular little church mouse, I expect." Her voice is, as always, hard to read, but the tinge of irony is pretty much unmistakable this time.
"Yes, ma'am," I squeak.
"I, on the other hand, have been subjected to quite an ordeal today. You see, I've had a very disagreeable phone conversation." On a murmur, she adds, "But very enlightening."
"I'm... sorry, ma'am?"
"You shouldn't be sorry, Summer. I'm certain that it was all lies. What an utterly vile girl is this foster sister of yours!"
Oh. Dear. Merciful. God!
"You've talked to Jessica Anderson, ma'am?"
"Indeed I have, and more's the pity. She found my number amongst her father's papers, she said. She called my office and insisted quite vocally on speaking to me."
"And what did she tell you, ma'am?" I whisper, heart in my throat.
"It's hardly worth repeating, Summer, especially for ears as tender as yours." She's only being half-ironical, I know. She's aware that I've never acted out sexually, and so she really has a bit of a tendency sometimes to overprotect me as if I'm some eighteenth-century sheltered virgin.
"But maybe my tender ears could withstand a sanitized summary?"
She laughs. "Indeed. Basically, this foster sister of yours found highly creative ways to besmirch your character and conduct. Mostly, she seemed concerned with your lack of morals as evidenced by your... indiscretions with a number of very inappropriate men."
"More than one man, ma'am?"
"Oh, yes, of course. But one man in particular, it seems, much older than you and a very suspect character all-around. A man who had lured your innocent self into entering a scandalous living arrangement with him. A man, most importantly, that your foster sister insisted I should protect you from."
"But if I lacked morals in the first place, how could I be an innocent of whom someone had taken advantage?"
"Good point. In fact, this Jessica couldn't seem to decide in her recounting whether you were a Jezebel or an innocent twit. You switched between the two with astonishing speed, as was most convenient at each particular point during her tale. And it was all a tale, wasn't it Summer?"
"I'm neither a Jezebel nor an innocent twit, ma'am," I tell her most truthfully.
Very somberly, she says, "No, you are certainly neither of those." She sighs. "You should take care with this girl, Summer. She's very fierce in her hatred of you. Maybe you'd prefer that I find you another place to—"
"No! Please no, Ms. Walker, I don't want to be moved somewhere else! I'm fine where I am now."
"Nevertheless—"
"Ms. Walker, please let me stay!" I hesitate... and tell her the one fact that would really carry weight with her. "I... I'm sleeping through the night again."
A long silence stretches out. Finally, she says, "Are you now?" But there's none of the disbelief or even surprise that I would have expected to hear in her voice. No, it's almost like she expected me to tell her something like that.
"All right, Summer," she continues. "I'll trust your judgment on this one. But do take care of yourself."
"I will, ma'am." I dash the big tear of relief slipping down my face. "Thank you."
* * *
It's a couple of weeks after my conversation with Ms. Walker, and it's one of those days when Seth has a free period and weight training before lunch, so I'm walking alone to the cafeteria.
"Hey, Summer, wait up!"
I freeze in my tracks on a creepy sense of déjà vu, but I shake it off and look back. It's just Dana, hurrying to catch up with me.
"Hey," she says again and we start walking together. "You and Seth are sitting with us today?"
"Yes."
She smiles. "Well, I better tell you something quick before your über-possessive hottie shows up and you two lovebirds completely forget about the rest of us."
"Pfft! You're just jealous." I give her a huge grin.
She winks. "Damn right I am. If someone had told me two months ago that Seth Lewis could ever be so into a girl, I would've called bullshit so fast it would've made your head spin. But seriously, the two of you are so wrapped up in each other you're not fit for society yet!"
"Hey! We do well enough!"
She snorts. "But anyways, I have to tell you something, and Seth can't hear it because he'll really kill the Bitch this time."
I sigh. "Jessica tried to spread another nasty rumor about me?"
"Obviously."
"So that would make it... her tenth attempt maybe?"
Dana snorts again. "Seriously, who's keeping count? Every couple of days, she comes up with another tale or two about you, each crappier than the other. But really, she's like social plague these days, so what else better has she got to do?"
"Maybe she thinks that one of her rumors will catch on eventually."
"Please! Everyone hates her and everyone knows she hates you. As much as some of her former posse would love a juicy tale so they can sling mud at you, everyone knows Jessica's just talking crap because her life is crap."
"So what's the latest story?"
"Oh, just that you were seen at the family planning clinic downtown because you went to have an abortion. Wasn't Seth's baby, obviously."
My feet stop abruptly and refuse to move for long seconds.
Dana takes another couple of steps before she realizes she's lost me and returns to me. "Summer, you all right?"
"I don't think so," I murmur. Jeez, of all the bad luck in the world! Someone had to recognize me at the clinic and tell freaking Jessica about it!
I didn't go to have an abortion, of course. Seth and I haven't even had sex yet. But I'm finding it harder and harder not to. We will make love at some point in the future, I know that, and I want to be prepared when the time comes. So I went to the clinic and got a prescription for the pill. Then I started taking it when I got my period a few days ago. I haven't told Seth any of this yet. I don't know how to tell him, and I don't want him to think that my going on the pill is a green light for us to have sex right away. I still need more time.
"Seriously, Summer, no one believed Jessica. You don't have to worry."
I lick my dry lips and start moving again, tugging Dana along. "I'm okay now," I tell her. "You just took me by surprise."
* * *
The following week I'm in a bathroom stall, having just used the facilities. I'm in the process of refastening my jeans when the bathroom door slams open and I hear a furious voice:
"Swear to God, that slut branded him! When Seth took his jacket off, I saw it clear as day—a freaking hickey on his neck!"
Gosh, this is embarrassing. First because I'm stuck in the bathroom stall now, forced to listen to a conversation I most definitely do not want to hear. Second because that conversation happens to reference my monumental dorkiness in giving Seth a hickey... again.
But really, it was an accident! Last night was... Well, it was Intense—yes, with a capital I. I loved all of it, of course, but now I have love bites and stubble marks practically all over my body (excluding the bikini areas)—and that's not even a one-time occurrence. In fact, I haven't been able to wear anything with a low neckline (without a scarf) since I moved in with Seth. He, on the other hand, never bothers to hide whatever marks I may leave him with. Rather, whenever I happen to—accidentally!—give him a love bite, he takes great pleasure in showing it off, the beast!
"Really, Kristie, chill out," says a second, calmer voice.
One of the girls enters a bathroom stall located a couple of feet to my right. Then I hear the telltale sound of someone relieving their bladder.
"I just don't get it, Helen!" says Kristie from inside the stall. "When he was with me, if he got even a hint that I wanted to leave him with a hickey or, freak's sake, even hold his hand, he'd get colder than freaking Alaska! So why is he so different with her?!"
The other girl sighs gustily. "How should I know? Maybe this Summer gal really does it for him in bed."
"Please! She's not even that pretty!"
A scoff. "Kristie, that girl's not just pretty, she's gorgeous. She has perfect features and the curves of a porn star, according to Mickey. And he says that, because she's so small, she makes the guys feel all big and manly when they're around her. Which is pretty heady stuff, I suppose."
"Mickey's an idiot."
"Mickey's a guy and that's the least of what the guys are saying about her." Helen laughs. "But not in Seth's hearing anymore—not since he heard Austin talking trash about her, and knocked him out with one single blow."
I hear the sound of a flushing toilet and then of Kristie leaving her stall. "You see!" she explodes. "It's like Seth's been possessed, for freak's sake! When did you ever know him to be the jealous type?"
"Yeah, well, maybe he's c
hanged."
A water faucet is turned on. "But why should he change for her, of all people? What's so freaking special about her?"
"I told you. Maybe she's good in bed."
"Please! No one's that good in bed. He's Seth Lewis, for freak's sake! When's he ever stayed so long with one girl? He must be getting bored out of his skull."
"Didn't seem that bored to me when I saw him all wrapped around her just this morning," mutters Helen.
The water faucet is turned off and an electrifying silence fills the bathroom. "Or maybe that's not it at all," says Kristie in a tone of revelation. "Maybe she's playing hard to get. Maybe she's withholding sex to make him more interested. Wow, that'd be a first for Seth!"
"Uh, Kristie, no girl's that stupid. There's no way that girl doesn't know she has to give it to him if she wants to keep him."
Over the scrunch of paper towels, Kristie says excitedly, "Maybe she is that freaking stupid and he's deprived, or maybe they've been having sex all this time and he's gotten bored, then. Either way, right about now he should be ready to move on to a new girl!"
The bathroom door slams shut over the sound of her giddy laughter.
Chapter 29
That evening around 9 P.M., I'm sitting curled on the couch in the apartment, holding volume 1 of Tom Jones on my lap. I've been staring at the same page for the past half-hour. I'm alone, as I always am on Wednesday evenings, because that's when Seth goes to train with Klaus in Grand Rapids.
In fact, this is one of a very small number of rare occasions when Seth and I aren't together.
Should I be worried about that—about Seth and I spending so much time together? We wake up to each other and get ready for school together. In school, 99% of the time spent outside class we spend together. On the afternoons when I'm working, he picks me up from the book shop after work and then we spend the evenings together (except on Wednesdays). On Friday afternoons, I go with him to the Garage. The same on Saturdays when he's working. The rest of the time on weekends we're together as well. Each night, we sleep in the same bed.