The Summer of '98 Page 2

“It could be a quiet place to talk?”

  His shoulders relaxed and the fact that he was such a gentleman was a major comfort. He’d already alluded to the fact that he wouldn’t kiss me if I was drunk and now it was clear that whatever we did, was up to me. I felt totally safe with him.

  The bedroom was tidy, thank goodness. I leaned back against the headboard and spent hours talking to this gorgeous stranger who had stumbled into my life, and somehow, after such a short time together, I felt like I couldn’t remember what life was like before I knew him.

  “What about college?” he asked, sitting against the wall with his legs outstretched, mine crossed on top of his. “You going?”

  My cheeks warmed. “Can’t afford it. Mom was in high school when I was born and I never knew my dad. He took off, which is fine—I’m not hung up on it at all. But it’s been a struggle for Momma ever since. It’s no big deal; I’m going to do a small business course. I want to run a skincare line when I’m grown.”

  “You don’t need some sort of beauty diploma or something for that?”

  “Nope. I’m a bit of a guru, to be honest. I do a lot of research at home. It’s science of the skin and I know a thing or two.”

  “Is that why your skin is so perfect?”

  I touched my cheek, my stomach twisting. “I know what products work for it, so, maybe?” The tremble in my tone exposed how nervous he was making me.

  “What about your mom? What does she do?”

  “Manages a small sporting goods store for her uncle. She’s waiting for him to retire and hand it over and then she’ll sell it when she takes ownership, but I have no idea what else she would do. She started working there when she got pregnant with me.”

  “You get along with her?”

  “I guess,” I admitted. “She can be a bit overbearing.”

  “How so?” Leroy asked, watching me while his hand reached out and his fingers ran along the top of mine, as if he was completely unaware that he was doing it. It made it hard to focus on the answer I wanted to give him.

  “Amber calls her a helicopter mom. She’s got a way that she likes things to be. You know? She’s big on respect and if she doesn’t feel respected, she gets . . . frustrated. But she’s okay. She wants the best for me and she’s all I’ve got.”

  I didn’t want to tell him that my momma wouldn’t let me out of her sight without knowing where I was going, but when I was home, she was emotionally distant. It was a weird combination, a lonely one. As if she didn’t particularly want me around, but she didn’t want me out having a life either.

  “Do you get along with your parents?” I asked.

  “I do,” he said. “They were opposite in the age department when they settled down to have kids. Did the career thing first. Mom was forty-five when I was born. Forty-seven when she had my brother, Noah.”

  Wow, that makes his mom . . . sixty-three. I decided not to point out the obvious.

  “What’s he like? Your brother.”

  “He’s a bit hard to mesh with.”

  “How come?”

  “He’s a bit arrogant, defensive,” Leroy said. “Makes it hard to have conversations with him that don’t end with him acting the victim. He likes to tell me that I’m the favorite son, too, which is bullshit. I just decided to follow the family career tradition and he didn’t. Somehow, he’s conjured up this idea that dad is disappointed in him. No matter how often Dad tells him that he’s not.”

  “Sounds like he needs more hugs.” I tapped his hand when I remembered an earlier question. “Oh, you never did tell me what you’re doing at Baylor?”

  “College football,” he said. “I’m aiming for the NFL.”

  I grinned. “That explains the bod.”

  “The bod?”

  “I know that you know I’ve been staring at your arms all night.”

  He laughed, and with a quick shift of position, he was on his hands and knees, hovering in front of me, so close that I felt his breath fanning my face. “You should know,” he murmured, his gaze moving between my mouth and eyes, “that I’ve been staring at all of you. All night.”

  My heart thumped. It was almost painful how fast it was beating as he moved in closer. I was sure that he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me. But being me, my mind went into overdrive.

  “You’re leaving tomorrow,” I said, causing him to pause. “I mean, you’ll be back. But—”

  “We don’t have to do this, Ellie.” He started to distance himself, but before he could move away, I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck, holding him in place as I fought through rapid breaths.

  And then I pushed our mouths together before I could talk myself out of it and I was so glad I did because this kiss felt like no other. His response was immediate. His mouth pushed mine open as his hand came up and wound in the strands of my hair. Every lap of his tongue, each gentle caress of his fingertips against my waist or neck, it was all igniting.

  We made out for . . . a while. I was sure that I’d end up with a make-out rash, but nothing else seemed important. I’d ended up underneath him and his hands explored every inch of me. I was beyond wound up with need. I was still a virgin because I hadn’t found someone who made me feel enough to want to take that step. But with Leroy, I felt it all. I felt so much need that I couldn’t imagine stopping him when his fingers popped open the button of my jeans.

  “Leroy,” I gave him a gentle push and smiled when he gave me an apologetic glance. “I’m—I’m a virgin.”

  His brows raised but he tried to hide his surprise. “I’m sorry. I should have asked.”

  He tried to sit up and move away but I held him in place, wrapping my legs around his waist. “No, no. I just. I just wanted to tell you that. Full disclosure. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to . . . do it . . .”

  He cupped my face and his eyes locked with mine. “I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to do. We can stop right now.”

  I leaned up and kissed his soft, sweet lips. “I want you, Leroy.”

  ONE MONTH LATER

  Leroy

  My leg bounced under the table while I ate a bowl of oatmeal with so much speed that I barely tasted it. In fact, I half-expected to choke. That’d be just how my summer with the woman of my world begins, dying at the breakfast table, being found facedown in a bowl of breakfast mush that doesn’t even have sugar on it because my nerves are so damn fried as it is, sugar would have made it worse.

  “Where’s the fire, son?” Dad wandered into the kitchen, still half-asleep, in his boxer shorts and a tank top. The alarm on the coffee machine had been blaring but the noise was nothing but a hum in the background until the world came back into focus. He switched it off and poured himself a brew.

  “Ellie’s plane lands in two hours.”

  “Ah, Miss Ellie.” Dad dragged his feet until he was sitting at the table, steam rose from his mug and he inhaled, staring out of the kitchen sliding door. The morning sun reflected off the pool surface, still and flat like glass. “You sure you didn’t deposit that letter in the wrong mailbox the morning after that party?”

  “Dad,” I groaned, same joke, different day. After I’d told Dad that I had hand delivered a letter, addressed to Ellie, in her friend’s mailbox after our night together, he came up with the joke that I’d put it in the wrong mailbox. So hilarious.

  “Maybe you’ve been talking to some other girl all month, huh?” he roared with laughter. “You’ll show up at the airport and there’ll be some stranger running into your arms.”

  It was ongoing. Every other day when he knew that I’d been on the phone with Els, he said, “How’s Ellie Maybeston?” It made me laugh, but I didn’t show him that. Instead, I waited until I was alone so that he didn’t get a big head.

  “Good morning,” Mom smiled, her hair done, makeup on, and her clothes immacula
te. She kissed Dad and me on the head and went to pour a coffee.

  Dad’s exhaustion was intensified next to Mom who was, in every sense, a morning person. That had to do with the fact that she was still working as a news anchor. Dad had retired a while ago and he’d adjusted to sleeping in. There was once a time when both were up at four a.m. But after Dad retired from coaching in the NFL, he was at home a lot more. He did the school runs. He helped with the homework and, of course, the weekend football practice in the back garden. Truth is, I knew I’d miss having breakfast together when I was off at college in a few months.

  “The spare room is organized for Ellie,” Mom said, coming to join us at the table. “Fresh sheets and the drawers are empty. I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “You’re acting like the boy has never had a girl around here before,” Dad said as he ran a hand over his tired face.

  “This is different, I know it is. She sounds like an absolute sweetheart. It’s serious. Isn’t it, darling?” Mom looked at me, cup in front of her chin. “It’s serious. I can tell.”

  “I care about her a lot,” I admitted.

  Noah came wandering in, his dark-brown hair standing up. All he wore was a pair of boxer shorts. The conversation continued.

  “See,” Mom nodded. “None of his other girlfriends lasted more than a couple of weeks.”

  Noah scoffed from where he stood with the fridge door wide open. “Let’s see how long it lasts when she’s here and has to put up with him.”

  Noah hadn’t been quiet about the fact that he thought my relationship with Ellie was a joke. He assumed that we’d lose interest in the phone calls and I’d forget about her. When I told him that she’d be spending the next seven weeks with us, he almost blew a fuse. Noah being jealous wasn’t new, though. He couldn’t stand it when I had girlfriends because it meant that I wasn’t available to jaunt around to parties with him whenever he snapped his fingers.

  He snatched a bottle of water and let the fridge door shut again, starting toward the door. “See you in seven weeks, whipped bitch,” he mumbled.

  “Noah—” Dad said.

  But I stood up and faced Noah myself. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Noah glared. “It means that nothing else exists when you’ve got a girl. Oh, that’s right, then it’s off to college. It’s been a fun run,” he saluted. “Nice knowing you. Later.”

  I watched him leave the room, listened to the sound of his heavy footsteps padding upstairs, and then I sat down again.

  “He loves spending time with you, honey,” Mom said.

  “He’s being bloody ridiculous,” Dad grumbled and finished the last of his coffee. “Damn dramatic.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” I shrugged. “Never have a relationship because Noah feels abandoned? Not my fault he bounces from one girl to another and doesn’t understand commitment.”

  “He can do that right now. He’s seventeen,” Mom said, “No need for him to settle down at the moment. You’re both very different. It’s just the way that it is. How about making some time for him over the summer? It’d mean a lot to him.”

  “Yeah, sure. Can do.”

  “You’re a good boy.” She leaned across the table and patted the top of my hand. “Now, do we need to go over house rules again before Ellie gets here?”

  “Nope.”

  “No sharing a bed,” she continued, as if I hadn’t declined her suggestion. “Ten p.m. curfew—”

  “Door open,” Dad added.

  “Yep, door open. No sex.”

  “Mom,” I groaned.

  “Eleanor,” Dad spoke with amusement, “the boy has been wrapped around this girl’s finger for a month. The no-sex ship has sailed.”

  I buried my head in my hands. The lingering silence prompted me to peer up and I found Mom glaring at Dad. “Are you telling me that our son needs sex in order to remain interested in a girl?”

  Dad cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. ’Course not.”

  “Regardless of whether you’re sexually active,” my mom said, “these are the rules that her mother required when I spoke to her on the phone. I have to respect rules when it comes to someone else’s child.”

  “I get it, Mom,” I said.

  “You do use protection, right?” she asked.

  Even though talking sex with Mom and Dad was high on my list of things I aim to avoid, the discomfort was only mild. We’d always kept an open line of communication, which is how they knew that I had been sexually active for a couple of years now.

  “Most of the time.”

  Dad leaned forward with a stern expression. “The answer is all of the bloody time.”

  “Yes, all right, all right, all of the bloody time.”

  He shook his head and turned a light shade of red. “Boy, I swear. Don’t be acting stupid.”

  “I get it, Dad, chill out.”

  Upstairs, I went to brush my teeth and found Noah coming out of the bathroom in a towel. He looked more awake than he had before. No less pissed off, though.

  “You seeing Cass tonight?” I asked.

  Cass was a mutual friend that we’d known since middle school. She and Noah were in the same grade, he’d introduced her to me, and we’d gotten along well for the simple fact that she had no issue filling in the quiet that I provided. Noah and I ran in different circles and the only time that he socialized with my friends, was if I was there too. However, Cass could bounce from group to group and show up wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted. That was Cass. She got along with almost everyone. Although, Noah’s friendship with her was a little different than mine.

  “Maybe,” he shrugged. “Why?”

  “Could you introduce her to Ellie? They’ll probably get along.”

  “So Cass can ditch me for the new girl as well? Cool as. Does she wanna steal anyone else from me too?”

  “Shut up,” I said. If he gave a real damn about Cass, I might have apologized for the suggestion. But she was nothing more than someone he slept with and tossed aside on a regular basis. “You wanna come for a drive to the airport?”

  He flinched with surprise. “No,” he said and left it at that, stalking down the hall to his bedroom, where he slammed the door. His attitude was getting old.

  My fist pounded on his door until he opened it and stared at me.

  “I like this girl,” I said, keeping calm so that I didn’t set off his short fuse. Noah was hard to understand at the best of times. Mom was right: we were different. He was noncommittal, I wasn’t. He preferred academics, I didn’t. He didn’t know how to communicate his shit, I did. Most of the time. “Can you just not be a dick about it? She’s nice. You’ll like her, honest. Just chill out, man, okay? We’ll still have time to hang out.”

  “Whatever, man. I need to get dressed. I’ll see you later, when you get back.”

  It’s hard to say when things became distant between Noah and me. Beginning of high school perhaps. Our interests shifted; our friend groups changed. There are only sixteen months between us—we were best friends as kids. We did everything together and then we stepped out of our home, out of our comfort zones, and the way that we handled the shift was different. We stopped navigating life together and we did it on our own. I suppose that’s when we lost who we were as a brotherhood.

  Denver International Airport was a rush of tourists, traveling locals, and tired children. It was never quiet during summer peak. The white, pitched ceilings reminded me of circus tents. When Noah and I traveled with Mom and Dad for football coaching as children, I used to imagine that was what it was: a circus. The sheer size of the airport compared to my three-foot self was enough to leave me in awe. But there was a novelty about the shape of the ceiling—it was mesmerizing, the sort of fascination that only a child can feel. It’s nostalgic to think back on an emotion that no longer exists apart from
the ghost of a feeling that’s tucked away for safekeeping.

  My heart was beating hard as I read the board of flights. Flight 998 from Dallas to Denver had landed. She was here. It sent a chill right through me to know that she’d be walking through those electric sliding doors any minute now. The last month had felt like forever. But I couldn’t complain; it was a blessing that she could come at all. I would have waited, though. Waited until I was in Waco at college, close to her again.

  It happened then; she wandered out with her shoulder-length blond hair in a disheveled bun, a pair of shorts, and a Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt on. I grinned. She had insisted that I listen to them a few weeks ago, so passionate about her love of music. I was a fan. She had great taste. She looked around but couldn’t see me. So I took the time to watch her, to admire her teeth worrying on her bottom lip, her gaze moving from left to right as she walked closer to the exit, a small bounce in her step that made my heart thump. She had this adorable light sprinkle of freckles across her button nose, and round cheeks. Her green eyes flicked up like a feline at the outer edge and made her look insanely sexy. Her beauty was impossible not to notice, but who she was, that was the real prize.

  Ellie

  Dearest Ellie,

  I hope this doesn’t startle you. I sat outside and wrote this in the car after our incredible night together. I should have asked for a phone number, but I didn’t think about it until you had dashed that pretty behind inside. You see, I’m a little senseless when you’re in my presence. You’re such a stunning vision, a whisper of perfection, a blossomed beauty. I hope that we can keep in touch. If you’re interested, perhaps phone me? I don’t want to lose touch with the girl who has stolen my heart. It may come across as strong, but I feel more than I ever believed I was capable of feeling when I’m with you. You’re an embodiment of an angel, and I’m counting down the days until I’m in Waco and close to you again, Ellie Livingston.

  Sincerely,

  Leroy

  At the bottom of the letter that Leroy wrote me was a phone number. A jumble of digits that set us on the course to a whirlwind romance. We spent hours on the telephone. We got to know each other through conversation that may have been long-distance, but the smoothness of his voice and the gentle tone of his sweet nothings made me feel so close to him. Now, a month later, the paper was wrinkled and tearing at the corner from how often I reread it because the feeling that it gave me was the same as it had been the first time. Butterfly central.