Someone Else's Summer

by Rachel Bateman

  “No, we don’t,” I whisper. Then I climb over his lap and grab his hand, pulling him to the front of the trolley. “Hey, Donny, it’s been a great ride, but I’m not feeling so great. Motion sickness.” I gesture to my stomach, trying to sell it.

  “Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. I might be able to find some Dramamine for you.”

  “That’s okay, really. It’s been an interesting tour, but I think I just need to lie down.” I’m practically bouncing, eager to get off the trolley.

  “Well, thank you for coming,” Donny says. “You feel better, okay?”

  “I will, thanks.” I force myself to walk down the steps slowly, dragging Cameron behind me.

  The light turns green, and the trolley rumbles off, turning down the cross street. As soon as it’s out of view, I launch myself into Cameron’s arms, my mouth crashing against his.

  “Come on,” I say when the kiss ends. I lead him into a little shop on the corner.

  We weave through the aisles, passing by batteries and boxed crackers and coloring books, all lined up next to each other. The store has no organization I can figure out, other than drinks in the coolers around the perimeter. I finally find what I’m looking for in the fourth aisle we try, right next to a display of Cup Noodles.

  I grab the box from the hook, and Cameron freezes, his hand suddenly tightening around mine. “Anna…”

  I press my lips to his, mouth open. His stiffness melts almost immediately, and I know he feels it, too, this desire tugging at us, stronger than I want to fight.

  “Come on,” I say against his mouth.

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The man behind the counter seems bored as he checks us out, not looking directly in our eyes once during the transaction. But when he hands the bag and the change back to Cameron, he adds a soft, “Have fun, man.” He maybe would be smarmier if he threw in a wink. Maybe.

  The walk back to the B&B is long, the trolley having taken us more than a mile from where it picked us up. Anticipation drives us along, our pace quicker than normal. A red light catches us a couple blocks from the room, and we’re immediately wrapped in each other’s arms, lips together. This suddenly feels like the longest journey ever.

  When the light turns, we practically run across the street and down the sidewalk to the B&B. Nancy is, thankfully, nowhere to be found, the lobby empty when we enter, and we make a beeline to the stairs.

  We are in our room in record time. As soon as the door shuts behind us, we are connected again, bodies hot with excitement. Cameron holds me firmly, his arm against my side pressing uncomfortably on my tattoo, but I’m beyond caring about that. I want to be even closer.

  Cameron backs us up until his legs hit the bed, and then we’re falling, our lips barely separating as we land on the bed. I lie on top of him, chest to chest, my hair creating a cage around us, and I kiss him again, slower now, but no less eager. I press into him, slide my body against his, and he groans, loud this time. My body lights up in response to the deep rumble in his chest. His hands snake up my shirt, hot against the skin of my back. He spreads his fingers, palms flat, as much contact between us as possible. I lift my head, gasping to pull a breath in, and his mouth is on my throat in an instant, pressing kisses down the line of my neck. He reaches my collar bones, and his tongue plays in the soft hollow between them.

  I need to feel more of him. The layers of fabric separating us mock me, taunt me with the barrier they provide. I sit up, straddling his lap, and pull my shirt over my head. Cameron has seen me in a bikini a thousand times before, but now, as I sit over him in just shorts and a bra, he stares at me, all awe and lust and beauty.

  I rotate my hips against him, and his buck into me in return. Bending forward, I kiss him then hop off the bed and drop my shorts to the floor.

  He peels his clothes off, never taking his eyes from mine, and we stand there, only feet apart, taking each other in. Even this close seems too far from him. I search the room, find the plastic bag where Cameron dropped it as we entered the room. I pull out the box and remove one of the foil wrappers. We strip out of the rest of our clothes.

  Skin to skin, we collide, every inch of my body on fire with the feel of him. He lays me on the bed then hovers over me, careful with his weight. He kisses me so tenderly it almost hurts, and then lowers onto me.

  We’re clumsy at first, trying to find a rhythm, one that is perfect for only us. But even as we come together awkwardly, not yet in tune with one another, something just feels right, for the first time in a long time.

  When we’re done, I curl up in Cameron’s arms and press my face into the curve of his neck. I lie there until he falls asleep, his breath growing slow and steady, and I let his rhythm lull me to sleep, too.

  Chapter 28

  Sixteen hours. That’s how long it’s been since I last thought of Storm, since I last wondered what she would be doing if she were still here. Sixteen hours since we sat on that trolley, hearing about the ghost tours she would have loved. Sixteen hours spent curled up next to Cameron, shutting out the world, the memories, everything but each other. I can’t believe I let myself forget.

  I didn’t, though—forget Storm. I could never, really. But as I sit here, in the passenger seat of her car, watching Cameron from the corner of my eye, I’m in awe that last night could have happened at all. That we could find so much joy in the sorrow we’ve been sharing.

  “You ready?” Cameron asks, breaking the morning’s silence. We’re in the car, newly fixed and ready to go, still in the mechanic’s parking lot.

  “Ready.” We pull onto the road, and I dig my phone out of my purse. “I’m going to call Aunt Morgan real quick, all right?”

  Cameron nods, switching lanes while I dial. She answers almost immediately, her voice way too chipper for how early it is. “Banana!”

  “Hi,” I say into the phone, stifling a yawn.

  “You’re calling early.”

  “Yeah, thought I would check in. We just picked up the car—”

  “How much did that cost you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Cameron tried to share the cost of the repair, but I refused. My bank account is feeling the effects of that decision now. Still, between the two of us, we have enough to finish our trip, so we’re fine. “Anyway,” I say, “we’re going to head down the coast today to Wilmington and Carolina Beach, and I don’t want to forget to call when we get there.”

  “Do you need me to find you a room?”

  “That’s okay. I think we can manage. I’ll call if we need help.” We plan to check off #13: Sleep in the UNCW dorms, but if we can’t find a way in, we will figure something out.

  “Sounds good. Did you guys have fun this weekend?” I blush at the memories of yesterday and look sideways at Cameron. He raises an eyebrow in question. “Yeah, it was great,” I tell Aunt Morgan.

  “I’m glad. You sound happy.”

  “You know what? I am.” A smile creeps up at the corners of my mouth.

  Aunt Morgan laughs softly. “Good. You deserve to be. Oh—and, banana?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You guys were safe, right?”

  I groan and roll my eyes, not that she can see the expression. “Of course we were,” I whisper.

  “Just making sure.” Her voice is full of laughter. “Hey, I gotta go. My shift starts in an hour and I still have to shower.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. And I’m really happy for you, Anna.”

  “Thanks.” I hang up the phone and drop my head against the passenger seat, rolling it to look at Cameron. “She totally knows.”

  “Knows what?” He keeps his eyes on the road, navigating our way to the outskirts of New Bern.

  “You know… knows.”

  Red flares in his ears, and his shoulders hunch slightly. “Oh,” is all he manages to say.

  “Don’t worry about it, though. Aunt Morgan is totally cool.
She won’t tell the parentals, so you’re safe.”

  We stop at a red light behind an old, blue truck with a rusty bumper. Cameron grabs my hand and places it into his lap, tracing the lines of my palm with a finger. He looks at me mischievously. “What do you think they’d do if they found out? That I deflowered their little girl, I mean? I probably wouldn’t be invited over for Monday night dinners anymore, huh?”

  The car slowly rolls forward as the truck ahead of us struggles its way through the intersection. “Well, you didn’t actually deflower me, remember? I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad know I’m not their pure princess anymore. They just like to pretend I still am. But all bets are off if they find out about you and Storm. She was still their little girl.”

  My voice chokes in my throat, a noise somewhere between surprise and sadness. Cameron’s hand freezes above mine, and then he grips the steering wheel hard. Clears his throat.

  “Sorry,” I say, barely able to force my voice out. “That was…”

  “It’s fine.” But his voice tells me it’s very much not fine.

  She’s been here, with us, all morning. Reminding us of our loss, weighing heavily on our shoulders. Are we allowed to be this happy without her? It seems wrong, like we did something we shouldn’t have. But I can’t help it; even as I feel the guilt, my insides bubble with excitement and attraction and a ridiculous need to be close to Cameron. Last night wasn’t enough for me. I want him, always.

  “It wasn’t fine,” I say. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Suddenly, Cameron turns in his seat, checking behind us, then jerks the car to the side of the road and stomps the parking brake.

  “Whoa. Is everything okay?”

  He turns to face me, pain etched across his features. “Anna…,” he whispers.

  My heart stops, my shoulders tense, creeping up toward my ears. This is it—I can see it in his eyes. Last night was a mistake. I was a mistake. I brace myself for the letdown, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he stares at me, his face a jumble of emotions, unsure of which will win. I feel sick, disbelief and amazement crushing me. He still says nothing, until I can’t stand it anymore. I would rather just get it over with and move on. Just pull it off fast, Mom always told me when I had to remove a Band-Aid as a kid, and it won’t hurt as much. So I say, “Listen, last night wasn’t a big deal, okay, so you don’t have to—”

  “What?” His shock stops my words before I can finish my sentence. “Last night was a huge deal.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. We can just pretend…”

  He leans across the car and touches his mouth to mine, hard and hot. This kiss is unlike any of the others. This one isn’t sweet and tender, exploring new territory, nor is it the rushed, lust-filled kisses we shared yesterday. This kiss is a declaration, firm and unmistakable: he wants to be here, with me, no questions. We break apart, and I gasp for air.

  “Will you just shut up and listen?” he says.

  I nod.

  “Anna…” He pauses, his eyes searching my features, trying to read my thoughts as he finds the right words. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have done it.”

  “Wouldn’t have—”

  He holds up a hand. “Just wait, okay? I have to say it. If I had known that you and I—that any of this were possible—I wouldn’t have done it. Storm was my best friend. Sometimes I thought she was my other half, that we were soulmates. But I didn’t love her.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  He nods, a smile softening his face. “Of course I did. But not in that way. Not like—not like I love you. I did it because she made me promise. It was a stupid pact, and sometimes I can’t believe I actually went through with it, but you know—”

  I finish for him, talking over his words. “Yeah, I know how Storm was.”

  He laughs, a little forced, but close to the Cameron laugh I love, the one I can’t help but laugh along with. Suddenly, his face turns serious again. “I don’t want her to hang over us.”

  “She’ll always be here,” I whisper.

  “She will. And I am so incredibly happy about that. That’s the only thing that keeps me going without her, knowing that she’s here with us, in our memories. I see her when you smile, Anna, and it breaks my heart and makes me love you even more, all at the same time.” With the side of his hand, he wipes a tear from under my eye.

  “I never thought we looked alike at all,” I say.

  “You don’t.” He laughs again. “Until you smile. Then you two—you’re the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. But, this”—he draws my hand to his mouth, kissing it lightly, then presses my palm flat to his chest, his heart beating fast and strong—“I want this to be just us. I want to be able to be with you and love you and kiss you whenever I want. I don’t want to feel guilty about what happened with Storm. Okay?”

  My breath shudders as I try to calm myself and find my voice. “I feel like it’s wrong to be so happy when she’s gone,” I admit.

  “But it’s not. It’s okay to be happy, Anna. Storm would hate it if we spent all our time moping over her.”

  He’s right, and I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. I love Storm, miss her with all my being, but I can’t believe I’ve let myself forget her—the eight-year-old who hated people to pity her because she was sick, the teenager who believed, more than anything, in following her heart and being herself. She loved life, and she loved love, and she was always more alive than anyone else in the room. And she would never forgive me if I used her as an excuse to push away love.

  Wiping my tears away, not gently like Cameron had, but hard, rubbing my palms against my eyes, I get an idea. “I need to find a party store.”

  His surprise is palpable. “What?”

  “You know,” I say, staring at him, “a party store—I need to get a helium balloon.”

  He nods in understanding, already tapping on his phone screen. He brings up directions on the GPS and, without a word, pulls back onto the road. Nerves and excitement rush at me from all sides.

  The drive takes five minutes, and when we pull into the parking lot, I jump from the car without waiting for him to come to a complete stop. The door hangs open behind me as I run toward the store. I pick the most Storm-like balloon I see, bright green and blue swirls with tiny white polka dots. At the checkout counter, I ask for a notepad and pen. The boy behind the counter, around fifteen years old and acne riddled, watches me curiously as I scribble my secret on the paper. I fold the note into a tiny square, shove it into the balloon, and ask him to fill it.

  Cameron says nothing when I climb back into the passenger’s seat, just looks at me expectantly. “Marina,” is all I have to say, and he drives us there in silence.

  I run along the docks, searching the boat names as I go, Cameron trailing behind me with Polaroid in hand. We race up and down the rows, and I’m just starting to panic, thinking I won’t find it, when Persephone comes into view. I stop in front of the boat, standing in the middle of the dock. I hold the balloon high above my head and watch it dance at the end of its string, waiting to be set free, to soar into the blue sky.

  I hear the shutter clap just as I let go of the string. Cameron steps beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist, but I don’t look at him. I watch my balloon drifting upward, dipping and darting in the slight breeze, until I lose it against the bright blue of the sky. Then I turn into Cameron, looping my arms tightly around his neck and giving him a kiss. Above us, my secret floats into nothingness, set free at last.

  Dear Storm,

  You wrote to put a secret in a balloon and set it free, so here it goes: my deepest secret.

  I was jealous of you. Not of your cancer and how sick you were, but of everything that it brought. The attention, how you were always just a bit more special than the rest of us. I know you hated it, never wanted to be treated differently, but I couldn’t help it. I was jealous. I always felt like I was second-string in our house.

  I love him, Storm. We all do, I know. It’s hard not to lo
ve Cameron Andrews. But with him, I am the most important person in the world, and I love him even more for it. Thank you for giving me Cameron, someone to love and someone who loves you as much as I do. I miss you desperately, and I will for my whole life. I’ll never stop missing you. But I know now that I’ll be okay. I’ll live my life as fully as you always did.

  And I will always love you.

  Chapter 29

  Once we hit the highway, the hum of the tires sings me to sleep. I snooze straight through the drive, only waking when Cameron shakes my shoulder and whispers, “We’re here.”

  I blink away the blurriness in my eyes and watch the scenery pass by the car’s window. An empty field gives way to a smattering of buildings, big box stores first, then clusters of identical brick houses lined up along curving roads.

  The road bends into the city, and we pass tree-filled parks and a huge shopping mall. There’s a tiny burger shack to our right, the line for the order window snaking down the block.

  Cameron guides the car into the turn lane, and we stare straight at the entrance to the University of North Carolina at Wilmington. I can picture Storm here, walking between classes, sitting under one of the massive trees studying. We pull into the parking lot, and I send Aunt Morgan a quick message.

  ME: We made it. Can you look in Storm’s desk for her college paperwork?

  AUNT MORGAN: I don’t see anything. What exactly would it be?

  ME: I dunno. Something that says what room she was assigned.

  Her roommate info and stuff.

  AUNT MORGAN: Sorry, banana. All I’m seeing here is a form for her enrollment deposit.

  I stare at my phone in disbelief. I remember when Storm got the envelope, her acceptance letter and scholarship offer, a shiny class brochure tucked in, too. The enrollment deposit form was in the envelope, way back in January. I watched Dad write the check. He handed it to Storm across the table one morning as we finished breakfast. Why is it still in her desk? Why didn’t she send it in? This was her dream, everything she’d worked for since middle school.