The Summer Before Forever

by Melissa Chambers

  “Thanks for the setup,” the guy says.

  She gives him a wink. “No problem.” She takes a few steps, still eyeing the guy and holding his smile, and then finally turns toward the food trucks and sashays away, swinging her skinny ass from side to side like a pendulum.

  Chloe looks at me. “Are you attracted to Jenna?”

  I gauge her with a raised eyebrow. “Why would you ask me that?”

  She shrugs, her face coloring a little. “I’m just curious. Most guys are.”

  “And I’m most guys?”

  “I didn’t say that.” She points at me. “And you didn’t answer.”

  I have to be careful with the way I play this. I shrug. “She’s attractive.”

  “That’s obvious. What I’m asking is, are you attracted to her? There’s a difference.”

  “Is there?”

  “Of course there is.”

  “I don’t get it,” I say.

  We stop in front of the food trucks and she turns to me, frustration threatening in her eyes. “Just because somebody is nice-looking doesn’t mean you are automatically attracted to them.”

  I squint at her like this is the first time I’ve ever considered it.

  “So seriously,” she asks, hands on hips, “you’re just attracted to every pretty face you see?”

  I shrug. “I guess. Aren’t you?”

  She throws her hands up. “No. Absolutely not. There’s got to be something special that draws me in.”

  “Like what?”

  She lets her hands fall to her legs in frustration, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up without laughing.

  She gazes off at a spot behind me. “Like a certain way a guy carries himself that shows he’s confident but not cocky, or a particularly unique facial feature that intrigues me, or—”

  “You mean like a dimple?” I ask.

  “Yes! Or like a—”

  “Set of powerful blue eyes that sparkle under the moonlight?”

  She looks at me like she’s about to agree, and then she catches herself.

  I laugh and say, “You mean like a tall, dark-haired, history-loving, football playing, wrestling—”

  She shoves me, and I laugh harder. I know I crossed a line, but I think she knows by now I like to flirt, so she probably tosses it up to that. Hell, even if I’m supposed to see her as only a sister, we’re not blood related, and I’m only human…and a guy at that.

  “Landon!” Jenna holds her hands up in the air and rubs her fingers against her thumb.

  I pull out my wallet, and we head toward her. We fall in line behind her, and she starts rattling off an order to the guy behind the counter.

  I look down at Chloe, and she’s all red-faced and cute. I can’t help myself. I lean down to her ear. “Yes, I know what it means to have chemistry with someone. And I do not have it with her.” I emphasize the last word and linger by her ear a second longer than I should.

  Her body trembles, and the color invades her cheeks even further. A smile betrays her lips, and I know, without a doubt, I’m not the only one feeling the connection between us.

  After we eat, Dane shows up, and we all head to the pool adjacent to the village. Jenna sits on the end of the diving board while Roth and Dane take turns harassing her by jumping behind her, threatening to kick her off. Funny how no matter how irritated she acts, she never gives up her spot.

  After crossing that line earlier, I’ve been trying to keep my distance from Chloe so I don’t do something stupid. Like kiss her. I hang close to the other guys, dangling my feet in the deep end while harassing the three of them.

  But I can’t take my eyes off of Chloe who lounges in a chaise, gazing at the stars that scatter throughout the sky now that the evening has darkened. A falling star shoots through the sky, and she closes her eyes. I can only imagine what she might be wishing for.

  Practically on autopilot, I make my way to her and lay in the chaise beside her.

  “I want you to make me a playlist,” I say.

  She opens her eyes and creases her brow. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I want to see what the fuss is about. I’m jealous.”

  “Of what?”

  “I’ve never been impacted by music the way you say you are. Hearing you talk about it…I want to feel that passionately about something.”

  “What about wrestling?”

  I stare at the sky. “Nah. I mean, I get a rush of accomplishment when I make a takedown, but that’s just sports and winning. I want to feel good about music. I want what you described.”

  “There’s no guarantee my music will speak to you, but we can try. What do you like?”

  I shrug. “Whatever.”

  “I’m not familiar with them.” I cut my eyes at her and she gives a grin. “Let’s start with what you don’t like.”

  The misery of my middle school therapist’s musical sessions invades my brain. “No Christian rap.”

  “No problem,” she says. “I’ve been trying to quit anyway.”

  I give her a look, and she just smiles.

  “I don’t like those dudes that sing and dance and point at the camera,” I say.

  “Boy bands?”

  “Yeah.”

  She snaps her finger. “Oh, man. And I had the perfect song for you.”

  I focus on a cluster of stars that look a little like a sheep. “I like rock, I guess.”

  “Of course you do. You’re a guy.”

  “What’s wrong with rock?” I ask.

  “Nothing’s wrong with rock,” she says. “I love rock. Any particular kind?”

  “What do you mean? There’s different kinds?”

  She repositions herself in her chair. “God, yes. There’s new rock, classic rock, pop rock, metal, indie rock, alt rock, punk rock, emo rock, screamo rock—”

  “All right, all right. How about you just give me your favorites.”

  “I can certainly do that.” She waggles her eyebrows with a gleam in her eye. I love her passion for music and how just the idea of sharing it seems to get her pumped up. I don’t know if I’m excited about the music or what she wants to share with me.

  Jenna squeals in delight about something, but the noise seems far off, like everything around Chloe and me is fading away, and we’re the only ones left around.

  “Tell me again how music makes you feel,” I say.

  She gives a deep inhale and closes her eyes. “There are times when I’m listening to a particular song, or maybe even a concept album, and there’s nothing but the music. There’s no chatter in my head. There’s no school. There’s no family. No phone. No worry. No anything. Just the melody in my ears.”

  I focus on the stars letting her words flow through me. I’ve never dated a girl who would say something like that. I imagine her clearing her head of everything but the music. My coach brought in a yoga instructor last fall for flexibility, and he said similar stuff. It was all too existential and far out for me. I did the stretches, but I never got into the philosophies of it all. I’m a realist. I believe what’s in front of me—facts, books, tangible items.

  Still, she fascinates me. I want in her head and her world. I want to hear her music and let it wash over me, imagine her listening to the same thing and feel what she feels. I want her to make music okay for me again.

  I turn toward her and watch her gaze at the stars. She turns to me, and I hold her gaze. She opens her mouth, and her bottom lip quivers. She closes her mouth and swallows.

  What would one kiss hurt? Just to see what it was like. I doubt we’re compatible, anyway. We could get it out of the way so there’s not all this tension between us all the time…a logical kiss…one that serves a purpose.

  I lean toward her and she blinks, opens her mouth. I give her the opportunity to move away, and she do
esn’t. I inch toward her, slowly…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chloe

  My whole body flutters like a moth caught in a jar that can’t escape. A rush of tingly heat invades my chest and belly, but I force myself not to look away from his indigo eyes.

  His full lips sit there, inviting mine to them. Out of nowhere, he breaks into a smile, and my heartbeat is like a thousand greyhounds as the gates open at the track.

  In my wildest dreams, I never once imagined locking gazes with a guy as gorgeous as this one in this way. That subtle patch of freckles sprinkle his face, and I wonder if he has them in the wintertime or only in the summer. I love them on him. They give him a boyish charm that takes the edge off an otherwise practically perfect face.

  “We’re taking Jenna for a ride in the Gator,” Roth calls out, waking us both up.

  I sit up on my elbow and run my hand through my hair. “Do I need to be worried for her?”

  “For her?” he asks. “I’m worried for them.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, though I know very well he has a point.

  Landon hauls himself to his feet, and then holds out both of his hands. “Come on, little sis. Let’s go for a ride.”

  Unnecessarily, I take his hands, and he pulls me to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex, and I can’t help a little swoon. I follow behind him, and he adjusts his shorts as he saunters toward the gate in his flip flops. He’s a little bit bow-legged, but it only makes him seem hardy…like a guy’s guy.

  Dane passes the closing gate to Landon, and he balances himself lazily against it. He holds out a hand. “After you, my love.”

  I could grab my own heart and squeeze it when he says stuff like that. He’s the King of the Mixed Signals. He just called me little sis a minute ago, and now he calls me his love as he watches me walk through the open gate he’s holding for me. He said it in sort of a joking voice…but still. He brings up the rear now, and as I walk, I am aware he may very possibly be checking out my ass.

  Roth gets into the driver’s seat, and Jenna calls shotgun, of course. Dane piles into the back, and Landon sits next to him with his feet flat on the bed, his hands dangling off his knees.

  “Come on.” He holds up his hands to me.

  There’s absolutely no room back there for me. I can’t even fathom where I would sit.

  He must sense my hesitation because he wiggles his fingers. “Give me your hands.”

  I hold out my hands to him, and he takes both of them. A flame ignites through my chest at the touch.

  He points. “Put your foot right there on the top of the wheel.”

  I obey, and in one fell swoop, he has pulled me up into the back and positioned me in front of him. His legs close in around me. He pats the side of the Gator twice, and we’re off.

  I can’t get the grin off my face as we bump over the grass and make our way toward a path. Roth picks up speed, and Jenna lets out a whoop as we ride over small rolling hills.

  Landon squeezes my shoulder. “You good?”

  I nod and close my eyes. I’ve been on roller coasters that didn’t provide half the exhilaration coursing through me at this moment.

  We all get a few inches of air as Roth hits a pothole, and Landon secures me tighter to him. My back is engulfed in his chest, and his hairy legs rub against my smooth ones. Thank God I shaved.

  Our ride evens out as we hit a paved path, but it’s not long before we are headed down a street that leads to a wooded area. Typically I’d be freaking out right about now. But I trust Landon…I think.

  We hit the end of the short road, and Roth parks the Gator. A golf cart and two other cars are parked here as well. When Roth cuts the engine, I hear voices…laughter.

  We pile out of the Gator, and I turn to Landon for explanation.

  “There’s an inlet on the other side of these woods. Some of the kids who work here hang there sometimes.”

  “Let’s go,” Jenna says and leads the way for a few steps until, I assume, she realizes she has no idea where she’s going. She turns around and jumps on Landon’s back.

  He grabs under her legs and hikes her up onto him. That little green monster rises up through my chest and paws at my throat. I hate that I’ve even put myself in a position to be jealous of my best friend and my future stepbrother. How messed up is that?

  Dane sidles up next to me. “Was she really on America’s Newest Sensation?”

  “Yep.”

  “Damn.”

  The woods open up to an inlet where about eight or ten kids mill around on a rocky bank. A few chairs and two coolers serve to form a semi-circle. Two girls stagger around putting on a show for the rest of the crew. I wouldn’t call what they’re doing dancing so much as I would call it humping.

  Their audience turns to us and comes alive with greetings. Jenna jumps off Landon’s back and walks right up into the middle of the group like she’s known these people her entire life. I hang back, of course, and watch introductions and handshakes all-around. Guys and girls alike give Jenna, the intriguing stranger, the once-over…twice-over for several of the guys.

  Jenna works her magic on the guys, stealing every bit of attention from the two dancers. A guy in a chair opens up a cooler and hands her a can. She pops the top and glances around.

  Her gaze lands on me, and she flops over my way. “Why are you just standing here? I know you’re not in a bad mood. I saw your face when we got off the Gator.”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Just warming into things.”

  Jenna sips the beer and gives a wince. “Ugh. I haven’t had one of these since that one night.”

  The night in question is of course the one last fall when she drank four beers on an empty stomach and spent the night puking in the bathroom of Thomas McHale’s basement rec room, me holding her hair, of course.

  She peers around the group. “This looks like a good time for you to check off number one.”

  I know it’s been another big day for me with the self-defense class and all, but going up and talking to a guy is, as far as I’m concerned, one of the big ones. I went up and talked to Trevor. I spent two years psyching myself up for it, and while initially I was successful in gauging his interest, the whole experience couldn’t have turned out worse.

  “I’m not going up and talking to any of these guys.”

  She offers me her beer. “Here, you can hold this, and you’ll look like you’re relaxed.”

  I take the beer, and the stench that wafts out of it puts me back on the pontoon boat. I hand it back to her. “It’s not my lack of confidence. Not this time. It’s just that…” I trail off, not sure how to complete that sentence.

  She takes my arm. “Chloe, these guys are not Trevor.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “What I know is I’m here and Landon’s here. It’s not like you’re not going to walk away from this controlled environment with any of these guys.” She points. “Landon’s right there. Do you seriously think he wouldn’t jump any of these guys if they tried to pull some freaky woods shit on you?”

  I decide not to ask what, exactly, “freaky woods shit” is.

  “You’re just opening a conversation…talking to a guy like a totally normal person,” she says.

  I eye her, and she holds up her free hand.

  “You’re right,” she says. “Normal’s overrated. But you’re just talking. Hello, I’m Chloe. What’s your name? What do you like to do? I like to draw and listen to weird indie rock, despite my best friend’s superior taste in music. What about you?”

  She makes me smile. A guy motions her back to the group.

  She turns to me. “You so got this. You know you do.” She gives me a wink and hops back over to the guy.

  A black-haired girl stands up from a chair and throws her arms around Landon like they’re old friend
s. He lifts her in a bear hug and drops her back down to the earth. The apples of her cheeks sit rosy and prominent on her oval-shaped face, her straight, dark hair trailing down her back. With her bronze skin tone and her exotic, dark eyes and features, she looks good next to him—like they belong together.

  The exotic girl punches Landon in the arm in the way of every girl who knows how to get her flirt on. I suddenly feel like the old, used gym sock of a tag-along little sister.

  Something ugly inside of me wells like a batter up to the plate, waving the bat behind him while the pitcher winds up.

  Motivation.

  I look around for a possibility and spot a guy standing by a tree stump flipping through an iPod. He’s not very tall, but he’s cute with disheveled, ginger hair and a Slow Fix t-shirt, which I appreciate.

  I will my feet to move forward in his direction, and they do. I stop in front of him, my stomach knotting up.

  I scratch the side of my neck. “Who are you looking for on there?”

  He glances up at me, looks back down at the iPod, and then does a double-take back at me.

  His face registers interest of some sort, so I waste no time in getting this done and shove a hand into the space between us. “I’m Chloe.”

  “Hunter.” He shakes my hand and sort of gazes into my eyes.

  I blink. “Um…Slow Fix. Aren’t they from Nashville?”

  “Yeah. Are you from there?”

  “About an hour and a half from there. Cliff Ridge. It’s near Chattanooga. Is that where you’re from? Nashville?”

  His face lights up with a smile. “Yeah. I was born there. We lived there till I was twelve. Do you know Slow Fix?”

  “Yeah. I remember them from a few years ago, but I don’t think I’ve heard anything new in a while. Have they put any albums out recently?”

  His eyes sparkle with excitement. “Yeah. I’ll pull up their latest one.”

  I glance over at Landon. He catches my eye and gives me one of his cool guy nods. I can’t help but wonder if his seeing me with Hunter has anywhere near the effect on him as my seeing him with that exotic girl has on me.