The Summer Before Forever

by Melissa Chambers

  “But nothing like living with Landon.”

  My face heats up, and I roll my eyes. “Mom.”

  “So, Landon is really a gentleman?” she asks. “You’re not just putting me on?”

  We’re dipping our toes into a strange area here. My mom and I don’t talk boys. Given, until now there haven’t been boys to discuss. But still.

  “God, mom. Yes, he’s a total gentleman. He’s so concerned about me being okay. I can’t even tell you how much.”

  “Good. That’s how he should be. And you’re…okay about romantic stuff?”

  Oh, God. Make it stop. “Mom!”

  “I’m just talking about kissing and stuff.”

  I cover my eyes. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Look, there’s nothing to be freaked out about here. You’re seventeen. We can talk about this stuff. We can even talk about sex.”

  “That’s it.” I stand up.

  “Sit. There are worse things in the world than having a conversation with your mom about sex.”

  I sit, cross my arms on the table in front of me, and then drop my head into them.

  “I think I may have screwed up by not talking to you about sex before now,” she says. “I always thought I’d wait until I saw you were getting serious with a boy, and we’d talk about it then. That’s my fault. I just…it’s as hard for parents as it is for the teenagers whether you want to believe it or not.”

  My stomach churns with the awkward. I sit up and cross my arms over my chest. I suppose I should let her know Landon and I have already gone there. But I’m not ready for that yet. I don’t like lying to her, and even though it’s sort of nice to know she’s okay with it, I’m still her daughter.

  She rests her elbows on the table. “It’s not the worst thing in the world to have sex as long as it’s with the right person—someone who really cares about you and is committed to you. I see so many girls your age doing so many silly things.”

  A scene comes to mind from earlier this year where a group of kids huddled around a girl in the English hallway so she could give a blow job to a senior during activity period—phones held up on record.

  Now I wonder if she did it willingly.

  “I’m not like that,” I say.

  “I know you’re not. And I can’t tell you how thankful I am for that. You’re smart in so many ways, sweetie.”

  “Is this almost over?” I ask.

  “I’m just going to say one last thing. When the time comes, you can talk to me about it. I’m not opposed to getting you on the pill, but you also need to make sure to use a condom every single time without exception. The pill’s just a backup because condoms do break and if you get pregnant—”

  I open my eyes wide. “Got it.”

  She purses her lips, relaxing back in her chair. “So what does Cynthia think about all of this?”

  “She doesn’t know Landon and I were a couple. She’d have gone off the deep end. She threatened him within an inch of his life not to touch Jenna or me.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, she assured me of that, several times. I should have known. The second you tell a teenager they can’t have something, you can bet they’re going to go for it.”

  I frown.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. You are an amazing person, my sweet daughter. Of course he fell in love with you.” She considers me. “So why aren’t you asking me if you can go live with your dad if it would put you closer to Landon? Wouldn’t that solve everything?”

  I sit up, my eyes going wide.

  She holds up her hands. “I’m not saying I would allow it. I’m just wondering why you’re not asking.”

  Monica’s words hit me again like a sledgehammer. “Monica—that’s his tutor, and they’ve apparently been friends since birth—thinks I’m a bad influence on him…that he’ll totally ditch school and make everything about me.”

  She sits back, lifting her chin. “Does this Monica person intend to keep a chastity belt on him for the next four years?”

  I giggle at the idea. “I guess so…or keep him for herself. I think she’s in love with him.”

  “If they’ve been friends as long as you say they have, I’m thinking if that relationship hasn’t developed romantically by now, that ship’s probably sailed.”

  “She calls herself an expert on Landon Jacobs. She says the whole reason he’s going to North Florida State is so that she can be his tutor.”

  She cocks an eyebrow. “Jeez. I hope he plans on marrying her because otherwise, she’s making it sound like he’s not going to be able to string two sentences together without her around to hand him the scotch tape.” She sighs. “Look, I think she’s well-intended, but able people can’t depend on one single person to hold their hand through life. I don’t know anything about dyscalculia, but if it’s as serious as you say for him, he’s got to learn how to adapt to it in the real world for his own sake.”

  Her words whirl around in my brain as I look at this whole thing with new eyes. “You know, he doesn’t even want to go to that school.”

  “Where does he want to go?”

  “Georgia Tech,” I say. “He wants to play football for them.”

  “Is he any good?” she asks.

  “I think so.”

  “So why isn’t he doing that?”

  I explain all about how his high school team accommodated him and how he doesn’t want to ask that of a Division 1 team.

  “If he’s good enough,” she says, “they’ll turn cartwheels for him.”

  I can’t help getting a little jazzed up at this idea, crazy as it is. “He doesn’t have a scholarship there,” I say.

  She shrugs. “Ever heard of a walk on? Isn’t his dad an attorney? I’m sure he can afford to pay tuition.”

  I let out a huff. I can’t believe I didn’t see things this way before.

  The doorbell rings. “That’s your dad. He wanted to have breakfast with us. Is that okay?”

  “Sure,” I say absently, running all sorts of plays and maneuvers through my brain.

  He ambles in hands in pockets, a worried brow peeking through an attempted smile. “How’s it going today, sweetie?”

  I meet his gaze. “Dad, how good is Landon at football?”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Damn good if you ask me. It’s a shame he’s not considering the tryouts this weekend at Georgia Tech.”

  My heart lurches. “Tryouts?”

  “Yeah, a handful of guys got caught accepting gifts from boosters. They’re off the team. Coach is holding a tryout for a few open third string level spots. Wide receiver is one of them. That’s Landon’s position. His dad wants him to. Cynthia doesn’t. I don’t get involved.”

  “He knows about the tryouts?” I ask.

  “His dad’s been hounding him since the scandal broke, according to Cynthia. I’m not sure which of the two of them wants him to play there more, Landon or his dad.”

  I stand up. “When are you heading back to Florida?”

  “Well, I’m just here for as long as I need to be,” he says.

  I remember my mom, and turn to her. “Can I go back? I need to be there for the wedding anyway.”

  My mom stands, stunned, assessing me, and then meets my father’s confused gaze. “Um…well…I…” she stutters.

  “I know we agreed I’d stay and Jenna and her dad would go get my car, but I’ve got to talk to Landon about all this. I think he’s making a huge mistake with North Florida State. He needs to go for this position at Georgia Tech.”

  “Honey, it’s not that simple,” my dad says.

  “Because of his dyscalculia, right?” I ask.

  He blinks. “Yeah. He told you about that?”

  “Yes, of course.” I realize my mom is the only one who knows Landon and I were a thing at this point. It’s not like the cat�
��s not getting ready to dart out of the bag, but I need to get this trip back to Destin solidified first and foremost. “He doesn’t need to let his disability hold him back from playing football. Mom’s right. If he’s good enough his team will come to the plate.” I consider my dad. “Is he Calvin Johnson good?”

  My dad considers the question. “It’s hard to know since all he’s played is high school so far. Get him around a group of Division 1 first strings and his skills are bound to develop. I know I’ve never seen a kid run like him on the field.”

  I look to my mom for confirmation. “See. This is all doable. I just need to get to him so I can talk to him.”

  My mom frowns, lifting her chin. “What’s wrong with the phone?”

  My whole body droops in desperation. “I screwed this up so bad. I’m not even sure he’s going to take my call at this point, and I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. I can’t do this total 360 over the phone. He’ll think I’m crazy. If I can just get in front of him and make him see this from a different angle, it could change his whole college career and by extension his whole life. I love you, and I’ll be back right after the wedding, I swear. You’ll have me all year. Just give me this one week and a half.”

  My mom lets out a sigh, pulling the hair back from her face. She glances up at me suddenly. “The detective. She’s coming by this afternoon.”

  I look to my dad. “When are the tryouts?”

  “Saturday.”

  “Then we leave tomorrow early. He’ll still be able to drive up to Atlanta on Friday.”

  She lets out a sigh, and then studies me. “You’re okay with talking to the detective again?”

  I wave her off. “It’s fine. You both can even be in the room with me if you want. I don’t care.” My adrenaline is pumping so hard now. I just need her to say yes so we can get this show on the road.

  She lifts her eyebrows in pleasant surprise, and then her face morphs into a smile as she lifts her arms and then drops them. “Okay. I guess.”

  I give her a huge hug, and while I’m at it, I do the same for my dad—a full frontal hug. None of this side hug business.

  As I’m taking the stairs two at a time, I hear my father say, “Am I missing something here?”

  My mom responds. “Sit down, and keep an open mind, will you?”

  Landon

  Monica’s going to be here soon. She’s scared to death I’m not going to take this goddamned test, so she’s coming to drive me to the school. The thought of giving up only crosses my mind every other minute, but when it comes down to it, I know I could never do that to her. She’s been working as hard as I have, and that means something, paycheck or not. I appreciate her, and if I blew off this test it’d be like holding up my middle finger to everything she’s done for me. I’m not that big of a dick.

  A knock sounds at the door, and I peel myself off the couch to let her in. She’s early, which shouldn’t surprise me. She’s probably about ready to freak out and won’t be relieved until she delivers me to Mrs. Keeley.

  I pull open the door, but my whole body freezes when I see Chloe standing there.

  “Can I come in?” she asks.

  I have no idea how to respond. She ripped my heart out and wrung it like a wet washrag with her distant finality on the phone that night, and then shut me off from her like a goddamned faucet, but here she stands at my front door, wanting to talk.

  “Can we talk, please?” she says, the expression on her face gentle and caring, reminding me of how much I love her way.

  I harden my heart. “I thought it was over. What’s left to say?”

  “Please,” she says. “Let me in.”

  Against all my better judgment, I open the door. I point to the kitchen, and she makes her way in there and pulls a chair out. I sit in the chair next to her, but pull it a few feet back. I don’t want to breathe in her scent and get any crazy ideas about giving in.

  She looks down at her fingernails flicking them with her thumbnail. “Before you, I’d never been with a guy before.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “No, I don’t think you understand. I’d liked guys and crushed on them and stuff, but I’d never…” she swallows hard, “been out on a date.” She adjusts her elbow on the table, focused on the placemat.

  It’s hard for me to imagine she never went to a dance or a football game with a guy.

  “You mean not a one-on-one date,” I say. “You hung with guys though before me.”

  She shakes her head, still not meeting my gaze. “My first kiss was the night on the pontoon boat with Trevor.”

  I recoil at the thought. What a nightmare of a first kiss. I narrow my eyes, trying to imagine how no guy in middle school or high school ever kissed her.

  She gives a humorless chuckle. “Actually, my first real kiss was the one you gave me that night right there in that entryway.”

  My heart softens to her, my fingers itching to reach out and touch her sweet skin, make her feel special and cared for.

  She looks up at me with a thoughtful smile, but I look away, placing the shield back over my heart.

  She shakes her head. “Anyway, I had no idea what I was doing this summer. You’re my first love. I just wanted to be with you as much as I could…especially knowing we’d be separated soon.”

  “And there’s something wrong with that?”

  “Yeah, definitely. You told me about your dyscalculia, but I blew it off. I spent the weeks encouraging you to ditch Monica so we could lie on the beach and in your bed.”

  “You never encouraged any of that. I made up my own mind.”

  “And I did nothing to stop you.” Her nose scrunches up as she picks at the end of the placement. “I was jealous of your relationship with Monica, so when you would blow her off for me it was like a little victory.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “I was too selfish to sacrifice for you.”

  “You’re not selfish, Chloe.”

  She holds up a hand. “Just let me…” She calms herself, and then looks to the front door, giving a nod. I turn to find Monica behind the glass screen door. As she’s opening the door, Chloe says, “Monica is a really good friend to you. I’m so thankful you have her.”

  “But I smother you,” Monica says, joining us at the table. “She holds out a hand toward Chloe. “According to her.” She gives a closed-mouth smile, and Chloe gives her one in return. Apparently these two have some sort of understanding or friendship, and I don’t know what to make of that.

  Monica sits across the table from me. “I’ve been selfish in a different way. I’ve had a crush on you since we were kids, and you never reciprocated. This was a way for me to have the upper hand between us.” She grasps the edge of the table. “I didn’t want you to leave for school. I thought if I could control where you went and keep you chained to me…” She trails off and shakes her head. “I don’t know what I thought.”

  Based on our recent conversation, it’s not a total surprise to hear her say that. Still, I can’t help but be a little taken aback that she’s willing to admit all of it so freely.

  I look between the two of them. “So you two have been talking?”

  “Since she left,” Monica says, and then rolls her eyes. “And way too much these past two days. At first I wanted to punch her in the face the next time I saw her, but then when I talked to my dad about it I…saw her point…sort of.” She hangs her head, looking up with a tiny smile.

  Chloe smiles back and then meets my gaze. “My dad told me about the third string spot at Georgia Tech.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m not asking them to make provisions for me.”

  “What if they wanted to?” Chloe asks.

  I narrow my gaze at her, wary. “Did you do something?”

  Monica points at her own chest. “I wanted to. I was all set to work my charm on the coach, but C
hloe said I needed to let you handle that.”

  I look at Chloe, and she gives that smile like she’s up to something, but it’s for me only.

  She leans forward and bears her gaze into mine. “Walk on. Prove yourself worthy of the provisions. If you catch and run like you did in that video your dad made, they’ll be on their hands and knees begging to accommodate you.”

  She believes in me. There’s no doubt in my mind. The look in her eyes makes me want to show her I can do it.

  “I’ve spent my summer doing things that ripped me from my comfort zone,” she says, “and it’s changed who I am in ways I couldn’t have even imagined. All I’m asking is for you to do the same…for yourself.”

  She’s thrown down a gauntlet, and I have no idea how to combat. And I’m not sure I want to.

  She lifts an eyebrow. “Do you think they would have made provisions for Megatron?”

  I can’t help a smile at her reference. She remembered.

  “You saw the video?” I ask.

  She sits back. “My dad had it. He played it for me.”

  A thought occurs to me, and I go to the window and slit apart the blinds. “Is he here?”

  He sits in Chloe’s car, flipping through his phone.

  I turn to her. “Does he know?”

  She nods with a smile. “I’m afraid so.”

  Holy shit. I lower my chin. “And he doesn’t want to murder me?”

  She winces. “I think you might be in for the most awkward man-to-man talk of your lifetime, but murdering seems to be off the table.”

  I sit, running my hand through my hair. Until now, when I thought about Georgia Tech football, I always let my dyscalculia be the reason I couldn’t do it. I’ve been so ashamed of it and so scared to let the world outside of Destin know about it that it never occurred to me I could let it be the least important thing about me. I love the idea of being Megatron badass enough that the guys on the team would do whatever they had to in order to let me play. There’s something about that idea that’s bigger than dyscalculia, and I never thought anything could overpower my learning disability.

  I’d have to work my ass off…ten times harder than I’ve ever trained. But finally, I think I want to play football for Georgia Tech more than I give a shit about people finding out about my dyscalculia.