Chapter 19 #3
Out in the ocean, Justin catches a wave and floats across the water as if it’s nothing. Pete nods at him. “I love him like a brother, but in the end he’s like any other guy. He’ll push you away if you give him a chance.”
“I apologized. And I think he accepted it, but there’s still something lingering that he can’t get past.”
Ivy comes in next and the two of them splash in the water. They act like two kids. Justin only stops to dunk her under water before dragging her out again.
“They dated, you know.”
Anita hinted to as much. “Really?”
“Back before she and Maggie hooked up. It was hard on him and Maggie. They were jealous of each other.”
“I can imagine.”
“They grew up together and shared so many experiences. Maggie didn’t think she could compete with a history like that and Justin wasn’t completely ready to let her go.”
Justin stands up in waist-deep and shakes the water out of his hair. He looks like a merman. “He shouldn’t have to let her go. Not completely.”
“That’s what Ivy said. Her relationship with Justin was before she figured out what she really wanted. It took them a long time to be friends, but that’s more about Justin’s trust issues than anything else.”
“How did he take it, when he found out she…” I searched for the words.
“Didn’t like dick?” Pete offers.
I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah, I guess that works.”
“At first he was hurt, but I think in the end he accepted he would rather have her in his life than lose her out of some false sense of pride.”
I lean over the railing. “I’m glad they worked it out. I’m just not sure if what happened to them applies to our situation. Ivy can’t help who she is. I’m not sure Justin is willing to look past some of my choices. There’s a difference.”
“Maybe,” he says, pulling me against his chest. The pair has finally gotten out of the water and started up toward the house. Whit and Nick stay out in the water. “But if he’s this scared, you can bet you mean a lot more to him than he’s willing to let on.”
Justin follows the two women down the boardwalk with a towel wrapped around his waist. We’ve steered clear of one another all afternoon, but now he comes over and Pete whispers in my ear, “Give him time,” and walks off with the girls.
When Justin gets within touching distance, I avert my eyes from his broad shoulders and chest. I also do my best to keep my eyes away from all his hot parts.
Like the area between his belly button and his towel, or his biceps.
Or really anywhere at all. Why did he have to be so good-looking?
“Sure you don’t want to try?” he offers, holding up his board.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Maybe next time,” he says, passing by me so close that his hip brushes against mine.
I raise an eyebrow. Next time.
Justin Hawkins may not be done with me after all.
By the time the sun starts to set, everyone has pink cheeks and shoulders, even the year-rounders.
“Need any help?” I ask Anita as she and the other moms shower their kids off outside. She gives me a grateful smile. “Take Sibley up to Bobby, please? I’m going to rinse off once everyone clears out.”
“Sure.” I take a fresh-smelling Sibley up to her dad, passing her over the porch railing. “Da,” she says, smiling and grabbing when she sees him.
Like a local, this time I brought clothes to change into after the long day. I make it to the shower just as Anita turns off the water and gets out. “Perfect timing,” I say, passing her.
“Hope there’s still hot water left.”
The shower can only be described as rustic.
The door latches with a rusty eye-hook, and wooden boards with wide slats make the floor.
The walls are made of a wavy, cream-colored, plastic material that provides enough light but also a sense of privacy.
I say sense, because I can easily hear the others laughing upstairs and the roar of the ocean in the distance.
Anita was right, there’s not much hot water left, but it doesn’t matter.
It’s still warm out and my skin needs cooling.
Paranoid about so many people around, I step under the water in my bathing suit.
I’ve got shampoo in my hand when I hear a knock on the door.
“Yeah,” I call out.
“It’s me.”
I see Justin’s bare, tan feet under the door.
“Um…I’m in here?”
“Can I come in?”
I unhook the latch and open the door. The rusty springs holding it to the wall groan. He’s standing on the other side, looking guilty and I ask, “What? Is this some kind of last chance booty call or something?”
“No, I just need to rinse off—thought you may let me share the last of the not-so-hot water.” He holds his hands up innocently. “Anyway, you’re the queen of the booty call, not me.”
I push the door open enough for him to slip inside.
“You’re not even naked,” he scoffs.
“There are a lot of people around. I’m afraid one of these walls is going to blow away with the next strong wind.
” I step back under the water and wet my hair.
He also steps in, lifting his face into the water.
He takes the bottle of shampoo off the small bench and pours some in his hand.
Instead of washing his own hair, he bumps me out of the water and starts lathering mine.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” He continues, scrubbing and massaging my head.
I want to protest but it feels nice. He pulls me into the water so my back is to his chest and rinses us both of us.
When he wrings my hair out and washes the soap off my arms, I blame the chill of the water for the goose bumps.
I turn around and see he’s washing his own hair now. It takes half the time and he uses the extra soap to wash his face and body.
“What is this?” I ask, talking about the two of us sharing a shower. I hold my hand up to his chest but stop short of actually touching him. He catches it in his own as I drop it to my side.
“I don’t know.” His eyes drop to my lips and then my chest and back up. I can see a hint of playfulness but something else, too. Confusion? Possibly, but then again, maybe that’s just what I’m feeling.
He drops my hand and turns around, getting a face full of water. With a glance backward and a smile he says, “You better turn around if you don’t want to get flashed. I gotta get rid of all this sand.”
I’m not sure what his game is, but he never really makes a move. Instead of hanging around for things to get complicated, I grab my towel and clean clothes off the hook. I dart out the squeaky door, but not before I hear him say, “Thanks for the shower.”
Fireworks over the ocean are the highlight of my summer vacation. The local business association puts on a display from the end of the pier, and although they aren’t as grand as other shows I’ve seen back home, overall, it is a perfect night.
Strangely, the shower broke the ice between me and Justin.
We relaxed back into the easy relationship we’d had before things heated up between us.
We eat dinner side by side, laughing at the stories Bobby tells about past Fourth of Julys.
Apparently when he was fifteen, Justin singed his eyebrows on a roman candle.
“I still have a scar,” he says, leaning over for everyone to see.
He shares his non-crappy beer with me. He and the others tell stories about how afraid of the water I am, about how skittish I was when I got here and a million other tales about Summer that pulls me in and makes me one of their own.
There seems to be an unspoken agreement between the guys to give Justin the night to work through his emotions.
They don’t ignore me but they’ve given us space to reconnect.
From the outside it would look like I was here with him, and when the fireworks start he doesn’t hesitate to pull me into his lap and share his blanket.
I don’t know what’s louder. The fireworks or my heart.
Once it’s time to leave, my mother finds me at the car. “I’ll meet you at the Waffle Hut at nine,” my mom says, giving me a hug and a kiss. She’s going to Richard’s for the night. She doesn’t say so and really, I’d rather not hear it out loud. We’re close, but that’s closer than I want to be.
“Alright, Mom, see you in the morning.”
Mom gives Justin a hug also and then it’s just the two of us standing by my SUV in the driveway.
“Thank you for sharing the night with me,” I say.
“That’s the best Fourth I’ve ever had.” A sort of wistful smile appears and he pulls me into a hug.
He smells clean but salty, like the ocean never fully washes away.
His fingers are still linked in mine and I hope he kisses me.
I want him to kiss me. For a tiny beat, when he stares at my mouth, I think he may do it, but he steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets. I’m rocked by disappointment.
When I get home, I find the campground is having fireworks of their own, small ones, down on the water’s edge. I change into my pajamas and turn off the lights. From my bed, I watch the colorful shadows through tiny windows.
I had just enough beer at the party to get spacey, so I jump when I hear a knock on the door.
My mother’s story and the encounter with Mason feels fresh enough for me to peek out the window before even considering opening the door.
All I can see is a shadow in the decorative lights strung around the canopy.
No way I’m opening the door. I’m searching for a weapon when I hear, “Summer, open up, it’s me. ”
I freeze on the bed; well, everything except my heart. It’s pounding like a drum.
Justin knocks again and calls my name.
“Hold on,” I tell him, momentarily pacing around the trailer trying to calm my nerves. Ultimately, when I open the door, I’m more pissed from being scared to death than anything else. “What the hell, Justin? You scared the shit out of me.”
“Can I come in?”
“Haven’t we done this already?” I jerk my thumb toward the bathroom. “I don’t think we’ll both fit in there.”