Just Open Up
Summer
Levi has three pronounced freckles on his back, shaped like a triangle. Like the sun itself knew and tried to warn of what would happen with us.
It’s high in the sky, lighting up the tower, and our naked bodies beneath the covers. We finally made it to his bed sometime early morning, where we stayed in each other’s arms, sleeping with requited hearts and eased lungs.
But the reality of this new day after our night together threatens this new life I’ve breathed in, this haven I found when I was seventeen. My someone who really fights for and loves me and who I fight for and love back. Every scar. Every freckle. . .
I sigh into my pillow as I trace them, then jolt, a small scrape of my nail into Levi’s skin, when my eyes drift up and meet his, the smiling bastard awake and watching me. For how long?
Even though I already gave him a scratch— another scratch to add to the others—I also give him a little smack.
He chuckles, the sleep on his face so warm and cute and inviting me closer. “Good morning.”
“It’s finally starting off that way,” I murmur, the lightness and racing beats in my chest taking over the pinch of guilt. I see it, too, in the slight crinkles in the corners of Levi’s eyes, but I also see his own lightness, the crease in his cheek a mix of soft sympathy and quiet cheer for my admittance.
“For a second, I thought last night was another dream,” I admit next.
“ Another dream,” he breathes out, his brows raised and mouth parted, and I chew my lip through a blush. He takes my hand in his, entwining our fingers in the small space between us. “It’s real,” he assures me, squeezing my hand as he did those years ago the first time he gave me this promise. “Everything’s real.”
“Levi…” I say through the sudden old sick clench in my stomach, that creeping uncertainty.
“Everything’s real,” he repeats, stronger, leaning up on an elbow and squeezing my hand again. “You and me. No matter what.”
My inhale is shaky for what those words mean for us all, but relieving for what they mean for him and me.
“We have to talk to him,” I acknowledge, keeping Levi and I together, and this him, Adam.
“We will,” Levi assures me now, and when he leans down to me, a few things happen at once; his lips press to mine and pounding knocks sound on the door, both of us startling apart.
“Summer.”
Adam calls my name and I clutch the covers to my chest with one hand as I run the other over my tangled mess of curls, like I have to conceal more of myself, what I’ve done.
What we’ve done.
We will now .
“Summer,” Adam calls again, with more knocking, as Levi slides out of bed and yanks on his briefs. “Summer. I know you’re here,” he says, lower, the lilt of defeat in his tone sagging my limbs more to the bed. “Just open up.”
I drop my hand, filling my lungs until they feel tight as I prepare to face this.
As we prepare to face this, Levi now yanking on his shorts with his own preparing breaths.
He releases another, this one slow, as he looks at me, questioning. And when I nod my answer, he goes to open the door.
As he swings it wide to reveal Adam, I’m seized by the thought that I should’ve put some clothes on too.
Then I defend myself with knowing it’s not like he’d given us much time. Levi is still half-naked.
Adam knew I was here. And he came to catch this.
His eyes lift from where they were focused on the floor to Levi’s bare chest, then drift over to me and my bare everything, at least still concealed by covers.
I can see an edited version of our fight last night. A flash of one accusation, now a knowing, in the fixed way he stalls us here.
So did you do it?
Yeah, I did.
I can also see how tired he is, more so exhausted, like he hasn’t slept. He’s still wearing the same shorts and shirt. And the frown lines around his mouth deepen with his stare on me.
And I feel my face reflect his, but this is nothing unusual. Nothing that hasn’t been happening all year. This is just how he looks and how I look when I’m looking at him. Everything about me is a reflection of everything about him when we’re together. We’re lost to each other, having lost us and what we had last summer.
His mouth opens with words unspoken, then clamps closed, as he chews and swallows them away, saying instead, like another dropped bomb on our world, “My dad kicked us out. We have to leave—” His voice cuts off with another clamp to his jaw, and as this news is settling in, he himself leaves, hurrying away on a harsh exhale before we can stop him.
“Adam,” I call out anyway, with the same speed off the bed, taking the entire covers with me, at the same time Levi calls out for him, too, halfway out the door before he sighs.
Adam’s already rounded the corner and is pounding down the stairs.
I remember another call out, from last night, from Griffin’s mouth right before I left the house, how thunderous Adam’s dad sounded as he was looking for him.
And when my eyes connect with Levi’s, he sees something there that moves him, a grab for his shirt and his shoes.
I fling the covers off me and back to the bed and start grabbing for my clothes, hoping we can catch Adam before he’s gone.
And, now, he will go.