Summer Love (8 page)

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“SURE,”
you say. “I'll keep you and Gonzo company. But I hope we don't run into too many cars.”

Nik smiles. “Me, too,” he says. His grin is wider than it was before, and you notice that his teeth are remarkably white and straight. You wonder for a second if he wore braces and decide that he probably did. Then you decide that you like that. Braces humble a person. Make it so a person never gets too cocky.

“Let me just quickly text Tasha, in case she wakes up while I'm gone,” you say. You pull out your phone and write:

Found boy to flirt with. Neighbor. Nik.

Be back sometime.

Then you unlatch the lock on the gate and let
yourself out. Gonzo jumps up on your legs and grabs the hem of your bathing suit cover-up in his teeth.

“Gonzo! Stop it!” Nik says, tapping the dog on the nose.

Gonzo lets go of your cover-up.

“He's feisty!” you say, and Nik blushes again.

“I'm sorry. Really, I don't know what's gotten into him.” Nik wraps Gonzo's leash around his hand a few times so that the dog can't move more than a few inches away from him.

“So how long have you had Gonzo?” you ask, figuring that's as good a place to start as any.

“Actually not that long,” Nik tells you. “He's an old guy—seven or eight, they think—but he was a rescue. A car must've done something bad to him, or maybe his previous owner did, I don't know. Sometimes I wish there was a doggie therapist he could talk to who could help him out.”

You laugh. “I love that idea! When I was a kid, I had a crazy hamster. He could've used a hamster therapist, I bet.”

“I've met quite a few crazy hamsters,” Nik tells you as you walk down the street. “Maybe it's the wheel. You know, going round and round and round and getting nowhere might make me a little crazy, too.”

“Poor guys,” you say, holding in your laughter. “And don't forget about the goldfish, swimming in circles all day!”

Nik has a very serious look on his face. “I know! They must get so dizzy. And exhausted!”

You look back at him equally seriously. And then the two of you burst out laughing.

“Are you into animals?” you finally ask after the laughter subsides.

He stops to scratch Gonzo behind the ears before he says, “Yes.” And adds, “Actually, I'm going to major in animal science in college next year. I want to be a veterinarian.”

“No way,” you say, mostly because that's one of the coolest future job plans you've heard.

“Way,” he says, with a laugh. “What about you? Do you know what you want to major in?”

You shake your head. “I'm only in high school. I'll be a junior next year,” you tell him. “I'm not sure yet.”

He nods. “It's a serious decision. I mean, not like life or death serious. Actually, that was the wrong word. It's important, not serious.”

Now it's your turn to nod. You decide that you like the fact that Nik searched around until he found
the exact right word to explain how he felt about the college-major decision. And you like how much he likes animals. And how funny he is. And how he's incredibly handsome. Sexy even. In fact, he's one of the all-around coolest guys you've ever met.

“Did you always want to be a vet?” you ask him.

A car goes by, and Gonzo barks like it's going out of style. Nik rubs him on the head, but it doesn't seem to make a difference.

“I always wanted to work with animals,” Nik said. “And my dad's a human doctor, so being an animal doctor seemed to make sense. Though I think my dad's a little disappointed I don't want to follow his path.”

“Parents get disappointed in the weirdest things,” you say. It's kind of amazing how much Nik is sharing with you, but it doesn't feel strange. It feels as if he should be telling you all of this, as if you've known each other for ages, not just a few minutes. So you respond in kind.

“I can tell my dad's really bummed that I don't like golf,” you say. “Or math. The two things he spends the most time doing are two things that make me so bored I'd rather watch grass grow than talk about them. He pretends he's not disappointed, but I can
tell he wishes it were different. That I was different.”

Nik nods. “I know how you feel. I think parents want to see themselves in their kids so badly that they forget they've created a different, new person.”

“Sometimes I wish I had a brother or sister who loved math and golf, and then I wouldn't feel so bad that I don't.” You've never admitted this to anyone, not even to Tasha, but it feels good to say it to Nik. There's something about him that makes you want to tell him all your secrets. He seems like he'd understand. And would never make fun of you, even if your secrets were silly.

“That would be nice,” he says, and you can tell he's thinking about having a brother or sister who wanted to be a people doctor so he wouldn't have to feel bad.

You've reached the end of the street, where it runs into a marina. “I guess we should turn around,” Nik says to you.

“Yeah, I guess,” you answer, but you'd rather he invite you to have an ice cream cone with him at the marina. You think about extending the invite yourself, but decide not to, mostly because you'd be too embarrassed if he said no. Even if he turned you down in the nicest way possible.

You start walking back up the street, and another car goes by. This time you crouch and pet Gonzo, trying to calm him down, and it seems like maybe it's working.

“Are you a secret dog whisperer?” Nik asks, squinting at you.

“You got me,” you say.

Gonzo pulls against his leash, trying to jump into your arms. You pet him again and then stand. “Want me to hold that for a while?” you ask, indicating the leash.

Nik shrugs. “Sure.” He slips the leash off his hand and onto yours. When his fingers touch your fingers, you feel a tingle go through you, like getting splashed with ice-cold water on a crazy hot day.

You look at Nik and notice the soft pinkness of his lips against his white teeth and olive-dark skin. You wish for a moment that you were a good artist, because if you were, you'd draw him right then.

As soon as Nik lets go of the leash, you wrap your fingers around it tight, letting Gonzo run a few feet ahead of you two.

“Nik,” you say. And then stop. You're not sure what you want to say exactly, but there's something about him, something kind and caring and
vulnerable that makes you want to get to know him better. It makes you want to call your parents and ask if you can stay at the beach the whole summer, just so you can spend time with Nik.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking at you with a question in his eyes.

Before you can open your mouth again, a car comes racing down the street and Gonzo goes bonkers. He yaps and yaps and runs toward the car and away from the car, making circles around you and Nik. Nik bends to stop him, but Gonzo's too fast, and you can already see the leash getting tangled in knots around your feet and Nik's. Nik goes to take a step, but before you can warn him about the tangled leash, he trips and falls right into you. You try your hardest to keep your balance, but you wobble, and then the two of you tumble to the ground, a pile of arms, legs, leash, and dog.

The way you've fallen, you're somehow on the bottom of the pile and Nik is on top, his stomach resting on yours. His chin is inches from your lips. His eyes look down at you.

“Hey,” you say to him.

“Hey,” he says back.

But neither of you moves. It's like there's this
force field keeping you in place.

You get the feeling that Nik's not the kind of person to make the first move, so if you want to kiss him, you're going to have to do it yourself. You take a deep breath, tilt your chin up so your lips are aligned, and then move your head slightly forward.

Your lips meet his softly, and the tingle you felt from his fingers touching you before spreads throughout your entire body. Nik pulls himself up into a sitting position and tugs you up with him, so now you're on the sidewalk, kissing, his arms wrapped around you.

The kiss gets deeper, and he runs his teeth along your bottom lip. In spite of the summer heat, you shiver.

“Nik,” you whisper.

He kisses you harder.

A car goes by, and Gonzo barks, but you can barely hear it. All your senses are wrapped up in Nik—the taste, the feel, the smell, the sound of him. It's like the rest of the world has disappeared.

He catches his fingers in your hair and breaks off the kiss.

“Wow,” he says.

“Yeah, wow,” you agree.

And you know, deep down inside, the way you know to stay away from the edge of a cliff, the way you jump at loud noises, that this isn't the only time you're going to see Nik. You feel as if you've connected with him. Like he understands you. And like you understand him. You can tell that he'd be more than a good boyfriend—he'd be a good friend, too. And that if you have it your way, he's going to be a part of your life for a long time to come.

He leans in to kiss you again, and you think,
Thank goodness I didn't kiss Tyler Grant. Tyler Grant couldn't hold a candle to this boy.

You stand up and hold Nik's hand. Gonzo dances around you both, looking for someone to pay attention to him, but you and Nik only have eyes for each other.

“I'm glad you came to the beach this weekend,” he whispers.

“Me, too,” you tell him, squeezing his hand. “Me, too.”

CONGRATULATIONS!

YOU'VE FOUND YOUR HAPPY
ENDING!

YOU
sit back down in your chaise lounge by the pool as quietly as you can so you don't wake Tasha, but all the trying to be quiet ends up being a waste, because when you lean back, the hook keeping the backrest in place comes undone, and it clanks onto the brick patio. Tasha wakes up.

“Are you okay?” she asks, snapping up in her chair.

“I'm fine,” you tell her, as you get up to see what happened. “Minor chair malfunction, that's all. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

She stretches, and you can already see a tan line forming at the edge of her bikini bottoms. Tasha sees it, too.

“Would you mind reapplying me?” she asks, holding out a bottle of sunscreen.

“Not at all,” you say.

Tasha squirts some sunscreen in your hand and some in her own. She starts on the front of her body, and you move to her back. “What SPF is this?” you ask her.

“Thirty,” she replies. “I always start with thirty at the beginning of the summer and then work down to fifteen once I have a base tan.”

You wonder if that's a real thing: a base tan.

As you rub the lotion under her bikini strap, she keeps talking. “You know, I read an article that said that all the higher SPFs—the ones like fifty and eighty and whatever—it's just marketing. They don't work any better than thirty.”

“Is that true?” you ask her. You're a bit incredulous. How would the companies be allowed to say that the sun protection factor was higher if it's really just a lie?

Tasha shrugs. “That's what the article said. I didn't fact-check it or anything. Want me to do you?”

You nod, and Tasha reapplies sunscreen to your back while you do your front. The fastest way to ruin a beach vacation is to get sunburned the first afternoon you're there. You know this from experience.

When you're done with the sunscreen, Tasha
picks up a copy of
Entertainment Weekly
you've brought out. You grab a copy of
People
.

“Okay,” Tasha says. “Here's the game: whichever one of us finds the least flattering picture of a celebrity in our magazine wins. Go!”

That seems sort of mean. “How about most flattering,” you say.

Tasha rolls her eyes at you. “You're really nice, you know that?” she asks.

Sometimes you are, but not always. You don't say that, though. What you say is, “I just wanted two chances to win.”

“Fine,” Tasha says. “Most flattering and least flattering. And winner decides where we eat tonight.”

“Deal,” you say, opening your magazine.

But before you can get too far in, you hear the gate to the street open. You turn around, and two muscular guys without shirts walk into the backyard.

“Um,” you whisper, “Tasha? Who are they? Did you order them for my birthday?”

She looks up from her magazine, and her face lights up. “Luke! Scott! Hey!” she says. Then whispers to you, “They're the pool guys. Brothers. Their dad owns the pool-cleaning company. We've used their family's company for years.”

“Hey, Tasha!” one of the brothers says as he puts down the pool-cleaning equipment. “Our dad said you guys wouldn't be here until next week.”

“That's when my parents are coming, and when I'm coming officially,” she tells him. “I'm here unofficially with my cousin. It was just her sixteenth birthday.”

“Hi, there, Tasha's cousin,” the first brother says, walking toward you. “And happy birthday. I'm Scott.”

You shake his hand. “Hi, and thanks,” you say.

“And I'm Luke.” The second brother walks over to the rest of you. “I turned sixteen a few months back, so I guess we're in the same grade. You thinking about college yet?”

You groan. “I should be,” you say, pulling a towel over your head.

Luke laughs and sits down on the edge of your chaise lounge. “Tell me about it. Scott's heading off to UMass in the fall, and now my parents are all on my case.”

“I want her to come to school with me,” Tasha tells the brothers. “It would be so much fun!”

“Maybe,” you tell Tasha. “I haven't ruled it out.”

“But you haven't ruled it in, either,” she says. “It's all rather tragic.”

Scott laughs, and Luke smiles. You smile, too.

“Hey,” Luke says, picking up your
People
maga-zine. “Have you done the crossword puzzle yet?”

You squint at him. “How do you even know that
People
magazine has a crossword puzzle?”

He shrugs. “It's totally not just for chicks. They have great movie recommendations and stuff.”

He flips to the crossword puzzle page. “I know the first one,” he says. “You got a pen?”

You hand him a pen from Tasha's bag and then can't help but look over his shoulder at the puzzle. After he fills in number one across, you give him number one down. And number two down. Then he gets number five across. And you get five down.

“I don't mean to brag,” Luke says, “but I think you and I are pretty much pwning this crossword puzzle.”

You nod, with a mock-serious expression on your face. “We take no prisoners. We capture and kill all crossword puzzles we find.”

Everything's quiet for a second, and you realize that Scott and Tasha are looking at you and Luke. Scott clears his throat.

“Luke, as much as you're enjoying your take-no-prisoners crossword-puzzle session, we actually have work to do here.”

Luke jumps off your chaise lounge. “Right!” he says. “Okay, let's go.”

You look at Tasha, and she does an eyebrow raise. Then she mouths the word:
Later?
You bite your lip to let her know you got her message. But now you have to decide if you want to act on it.