Summertime Sadness

by Dylan Heart

  Blue tugs the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head. He tosses the shirt to the side and my eyes soak in the sight of his chest. The sunlight that glistens off the thin layer of sweat trailing down his body almost blinds me.

  I grab my shirt and begin to pull it off. As it passes over my head, it occurs to me that I’m not wearing a bikini. Thankfully, I have a bra on, so it’s not a total disaster. I drape my shirt over a low-hanging tree branch.

  Blue grabs the button of his jeans and unsnaps it. With an inquisitive look, he peers down at his lower half, and I know exactly what he’s thinking, because I’ve already beat him to the punch. “I’ve made a huge mistake,” he says.

  “Yeah?” I laugh softly. “What mistake would that be?”

  “I got so excited about the date and the secrecy of it all,” he says. “I’m not wearing swimming trunks.”

  I shrug my shoulders and state the obvious. “We’ll just have to go in our underwear. Or we could just go in bare?”

  His entire body perks up, including his brow. “I like that idea.”

  Of course he does.

  The water appears clean and to be honest, it sounds like a great idea, but I’m really trying this no sex on the first date thing. And no, I don’t have a selective memory. I remember the carnival all too well. Every sweat-dripping moment and every slippery movement. I remember every micro sensation of the grass on my back. That wasn’t a date, though, and despite what Blue says, it certainly doesn’t count as one.

  I slide my jeans down my legs with a sincere attempt at being sexy, but as the denim bunches at the calf, it comes off clumsy. I kick my shoes off and pull my jeans the rest of the way off. They are thrown alongside my shirt on the branch.

  Blue’s turn to stare, apparently. I believe, more so now than ever, that he fantasizes about me the same way I do him. “Don’t just stand there and drool. Drop ’em, boy.”

  He tosses his shoes behind him and smiles. His teeth bite into his lip as he pushes his jeans down to the ground—

  And that’s how you undress sexily.

  His bleach-white boxers are almost see-through and they compliment the dark tone of his tan skin in a sexually compromising fashion.

  “Now who’s drooling?” he asks smugly.

  “Shut up and let me enjoy my moment.”

  He reaches down and adjusts himself, and I know exactly what he’s doing. The proper part of me wants to tell him to do it in private, just as I told Dillon. The other part of me, the one keen on sinning, says we should just gloss over the swimming portion of our date and fuck against the tree.

  Must.

  Be.

  Good.

  His smile and his gaze remain locked on me for a second more before he’s rushing into the water. It’s shallow at first. The crystal-clear water splashes around him, soaking his bottom half. The outline of his equally cute and sexy bubble butt is visible for a few seconds before he hits a drop-off and dips beneath the surface.

  He comes back up almost instantly, shaking water off his face and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Are you coming, or are you just gonna stand there and watch?”

  I immediately run toward the water. Instinct tells me I should dive, but I know better. Still, if he hadn’t gone first, there’s a good chance I’d be suffering a broken neck. I glide into the water, slow at first. It should be chilly, but it’s comfortably warm. Like paradise without the price or the hassle. The trees that line the quarry on both sides block the cool breeze that was so prominent in the earlier hours of our date.

  I make my way to Blue. We’re both wading in the water when something hits my leg, causing me to freak out before realizing that it’s just Blue’s foot. While it’s perfectly clear on top, by the time you reach our feet the water has become hazy. Still, it’s clear enough to make out the outline in his boxers.

  “So I still haven’t told you about our date?”

  I laugh at that odd statement. What’s to tell?

  “I’m serious. I didn’t bring you here to swim.”

  “Are you still on the sex kick?”

  “Always,” he blushes. “See that cliff behind me?”

  I saw it when we first came to a stop on the path, but I check it out again. It looks taller from our current location.

  “We’re gonna jump off it,” he says seriously, not realizing how dead wrong he is. If he thinks I’m going anywhere near the top of that cliff, then his date will end in massive disappointment. And then jump off it? Absolutely not.

  “I think you have me confused with some other girl.”

  “I’ve already told you, there are no other girls.”

  I caress his cheek. “That’s so sweet of you, but I’m still not going anywhere near that thing.”

  “I know you, Charlie. Not as well as I would like to, but enough to know that you love thrills.”

  “In controlled environments.”

  “Do you really think those carnival rides are safe? You should see how we put them together, especially when we’re tired, hung over, or drunk. Mostly drunk.”

  My shoulders rise. “Sorry, I can’t do it. It’s not in my blood.” I eye the cliff again because I really want to do this for him. “You saw me on the Zipper. I love that thing, probably a little too much for a grown-ass woman, but you haven’t seen me on the Ferris wheel.”

  “That scares you? It’s just a tall kiddie ride.”

  I frown. “It’s terrifying.”

  “Why don’t we just go to the top and check it out. If you chicken out, we can climb back down the rocks.”

  That’s fair enough, I guess. “Race you to the top?”

  His head wobbles in thought. Then I’m blinded by a violent splash of lake water to the face. Once I’ve wiped the water out of my eyes, I can see he’s already racing toward the cliff. “Cheaters never win!”

  “We’ll see about that,” and hollers back.

  Blue beats me to the cliff by about thirty seconds. He beats me to the top by about two minutes. It was a rugged climb and I almost lost my footing a few times. We both stand over the edge of the drop-off. He’s excited, ready for the thrill, but I could lose my lunch any second.

  From the bottom of the cliff, it looks about thirty feet high. From the top of the cliff, it looks like a hundred. I was always terrible with math, but Blue seems to have it figured out. “It’s about fifty feet.”

  “Is that all?” Just looking over the edge makes me want to vomit, or pass out. Maybe both.

  “It’s not that bad,” he says. “The Zipper is about a hundred feet in the air.”

  “Except that you’re not falling for a hundred feet to the ground. Cages, remember?”

  “It’s practically the same thing.”

  Nope. “I wish I had some liquor.”

  “I could just push you off,” he suggests.

  I turn to him. “You wouldn’t.”

  Blue arches his eyebrow. “No?”

  I look back down. I know many people who have jumped into water from much higher cliffs and bridges, and they’re still alive. Still, I can’t shake the looming danger of death. I’m not twenty-seven and I’m not ready to die.

  Then I’m in the air. Barreling toward the water and screaming like a banshee. I can feel Blue’s arms around me. He’s hollering in ecstasy and I’m going to kick his—

  We slam into the water, sinking a distance equal to the distance we fell—if my memory of basic high school physics is correct. Blue lets go of me, and I kick to the surface. It’s darker down here, far from the clear waters of the surface.

  I rise above the surface and take in an extended breath. Blue comes up beside me laughing.

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  “At least I’ll die happy,” he says.

  His wet hair sticks to his face. I move closer and push his hair back—nice, neat and out of the way. I take a sideways glance and rub my palm through his hair, roughing it up. “You’re much hotter with messy hair.”

  “Then y
ou’ll never see it combed.”

  “I want to jump without your helpful assistance.” I don’t know where the hell that came from, but it’s too late to take it back.

  “If I hadn’t pushed you, you never would have jumped to begin with,” he says. “Trust me. The longer you stand there, the less likely you are to jump. Sometimes you just gotta make the move.”

  I can’t help but think he’s talking about something else entirely. He wades closer to me, his eyes dancing with mine. “You’ve done this before?” I ask.

  “Other places. Bridges, mostly.” He’s now within an inch of me, and he gently grabs me at the waist, pulling me close.

  “My own personal daredevil.”

  “Something like that,” he says quietly. I can feel the seduction in the words. He’s going to kiss me—I know it. He gets closer still and I’m about to pucker my lips.

  I jump out of the water, bringing both my hands down on his shoulders and push him under. Little does he know we’re about to have another race. By the time he resurfaces, I already have a comfortable lead.

  I look back and he’s racing toward me. I don’t know when he found time to train for aquatic Olympics events while working the carnival circuit, but he’s quickly catching up. My arms are worn out by the time I get cliff-side. With one last feat of strength, I pull myself up onto the rocks.

  I clench my fists and throw them into the air, celebrating my win. When I turn around, I notice Blue isn’t moving. Instead, he wades in the water, watching me intently. Sore loser.

  “I’ll just watch you,” he says.

  “You don’t think I’ll do it?”

  “Eighty-twenty. And the odds are not in your favor.”

  Really? I pull up my big girl panties and begin the long climb to the top. It doesn’t take as long as the first time to scale the cliff, but it’s just as difficult. I grab onto branches of trees that sit awkwardly on the sides of the rocks.

  Once I’m at the top, I don’t go to the edge. Looking down will only scare me. If I’m going to do this, I can’t see where I’m going. Blue’s expecting me to take a walk of shame down the rocks or is waiting for his opportunity to rescue the damsel in distress. Neither is going to happen.

  I breathe in and breathe out before sealing my eyes shut. Then I run and find myself flying. My eyes open mid-air and at the moment, I love the lack of control. The thrill of falling.

  My body darts into the water, causing waves of commotion above me as I sink. I hold my breath for as long as I can. Slowly, I rise to the top. When I surface, sight and sounds are blurred. I spit water off the edge of my mouth, pull my hair out of my face and see Blue right in front of me. Even with blurred vision, he’s gorgeous.

  He grabs me by the waist again, pulling me close to him. He doesn’t hesitate. It’s quick and it’s heaven. His lips are on mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and sink deeper into his mouth. This is as close as we’ve been since the night we met. And I’m wishing we could stay locked like this forever.

  Then he pulls away but still holds me. “I think I really like you,” he says. “Like, I think I’m in like with you.”

  “In like with me?” I ask, pushing him away, playfully and not serious. “What the hell does that even mean?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “It means that I’m not in love with you, but I could be someday.”

  There’s that word again. Someday. “Well, then, I think I’m in like with you, too.”

  It sounds stupid. Maybe it is, maybe it’s not. But it feels right. Whatever it is, it’s ours.

  I embrace him one more time, and behind me, I can feel the coolness of the sun beginning to set.

  We’re back on top of the cliff. Blue sits with his back against a rock formation. My head rests on his lap, on the thin fabric of his damp boxers. I’m looking out into the distance, not thinking about anything in particular. Not even dreaming.

  Like Blue, I’m almost naked, but I don’t feel like it. When you’re naked, you feel exposed and vulnerable. Neither of those is true at this moment. I feel safe and free.

  I turn my head gently and peer up at him. He’s looking out into the distance, across the quarry and into the forest. “You’ve got something on your mind.”

  “I do,” he replies without breaking focus. “Just thinking about earlier.”

  I haven’t thought about our pit stop at the carnival for hours. It’s been the furthest thing from my mind. Now, it all comes back to me. The Blue that Marvin told me about isn’t the same Blue that I’m lying on. He’s not the same Blue that I’m falling in love with.

  “Can I tell you something?” he asks.

  “Anything.”

  He bites into his lip and pulls a finger to his mouth, just on the edge of chewing on it. “Earlier, at the carnival, I was angry. I felt like I could have punched my fist through a brick wall.” He stops, contemplating. “There are things in my past that I’ve tried to get past, and in that camper, it all came flooding back to me.” His voice is shaky, as if he’s on the verge of some revelation.

  “You don’t have to talk about if you don’t want to.”

  “Thank you,” he says softly and combs his hand through my hair.

  I rise up and sit beside him. He grabs my hand with his and I lean in and kiss him on the lips. It’s not passionate. Just soft and comforting.

  No matter where he’s been or what he’s done. It’s in the past and it doesn’t matter.

  Chapter Twelve

  Blue says it’s our third date. Summer says it’s our second. I say we’re still at one. Going to a bar with four other people is not a date, unless it’s a group date, which is an interesting thought. I’m with Blue, Summer’s flirting with the bartender, and Tyson rubs his junk all over Joey’s ass, which is extremely homoerotic. They’re too drunk to know that, let alone care.

  The four of us drove up to Columbus earlier to surprise Summer. In typical Summer fashion, she was the one to surprise us. Joey brought balloons painted with scary clowns, Tyson brought a vibrator, and I brought a bottle of whiskey. Call us the three wise men. We walked down the narrow hallway of her dorm, and when we came to her room, we busted through the door to surprise her. Blue waited in the hallway—which, in hindsight, was the smart thing to do.

  The bottle of whiskey dropped to the ground and shattered. Joey retreated and Tyson looked on like a natural voyeur as Summer was being double-teamed by twins. My first thought was to intervene, but it quickly became apparent that she was a willing participant.

  Then she noticed us and screamed. She knocked the two guys off the bed, one on each side, and wrapped the sheet around her. “Just a moment.”

  I exited the room, shaking off a laugh. Tyson was still watching, though I’m not sure what for. It’s not like he’s into redheads. That was when I first became suspicious.

  The way he moves against Joey now? I sense a closet door creaking open in the very near future. Blue is off in the bathroom or something; I couldn’t really hear where he said he was going. It’s my first time at a club and it’s overwhelmingly loud. The bass thumps off the walls in perfect sync with the laser lights scanning the crowd.

  It’s just Summer and me at the bar. We’re waiting on our shots, some mysterious drink called a pancake. It’s the house special and I’m eager to see what it is.

  “Do you do this every night?” I can barely hear myself over the music.

  She nods. “Just on Fridays and Saturdays,” she says. “Sometimes Wednesdays. It’s where I picked up the twins.”

  “That was two days ago.”

  She shrugs and grins wickedly. “I’ve been very busy.”

  The hunky bartender, Jayson, pushes four shot glasses toward us. Alcohol in two, orange juice in the others.

  “What’s in it?” I ask Jayson, taking notice of the tribal tattoos painted on his bulging biceps.

  “Jameson and Butterscotch.” He leans in. “Tastes like breakfast in your mouth.”

  “Are these on the house?�
�� Summer asks, puckering her lips.

  Jayson leans in and gives her a peck on the cheek. “No.”

  Summer frowns.

  “Instead of pouting, you should be thankful that I’m letting you drink.” There’s cockiness in his voice, and he certainly carries it well.

  “Put it on my tab,” I say and hand him my dad’s card.

  “Cheers to college.” Summer bumps her shot with mine.

  I take the pancake in one go and slam the glass down on the slippery bar. I turn around, grimacing on the inside, smiling on the outside. It tastes exactly like breakfast. Blue emerges from the darkness of the dance floor. “Where have you been?” I ask him as he wraps his arms around me.

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “I’ve been at the bar all night.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. We should dance.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the dance floor. His hand is sweaty and clammy. I pull back.

  “Why are you so sweaty?” I notice a thick sheen of sweat smeared across the top of his face, dousing his hair.

  He shrugs and smiles. “I get really hot, really easy.” Then his hand is on mine again as he attempts to pull me to the floor. I push my feet against the floor, resisting. “What’s the matter? Can’t dance?”

  “I’ll make an ass out of myself.”

  He points to Joey, who is now bumping and grinding all over a short-haired blonde girl. He has the rhythm of a legless socialite. “You couldn’t possibly look any worse than him. Besides, everyone’s too drunk to pay attention. I’m definitely drunk, and I like to dance when I’m drunk.”

  “Well, if you promise not to be embarrassed by me, then I’ll oblige.”

  “That word isn’t in my vocabulary, so I’m a little unsure if that was a yes.”

  “It was a yes,” I say and take charge, leading him past Joey and his tramp, and into the center of the floor. I turn on my heel and push my back against him. He grabs me by the hips, pushing me into effortless sync with the music.