Chapter 24
Summer
The paleness of my skin nearly blinds me as I catch sight of it in the mirror. It’s still mid-May and although the afternoons are warm, I’m not sure a bikini is a good idea.
Still, I like the way this one looks. The fabric is green and white stripes, the sides and neck tied with string.
A year ago, I would have died to show this much skin, but I’ve become more comfortable in my body and the idea of sun and sand.
Living here all summer means I’ll probably need a few more suits.
I’m zipping a long, gray hoodie over my suit when I hear a rap against the metal door. I peek out the little window and see a handsome, eager face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, lunging into Nick’s broad chest.
“I couldn’t wait,” he says into my hair. He wraps his muscular, football-playing arms around me and holds me tight. “God, I missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” So much. Nick’s first year was completely consumed by the military academy.
First football, then training and academics.
When he releases me from his grasp, I take him in.
Short, cropped dark hair. He seems taller, maybe leaner since I saw him last, but no less big.
He’s physically impressive. Piercing eyes.
He’s wearing a tight, gray, Citadel T-shirt and black board shorts.
“You get down here okay?” he asks, hands skimming my hair.
“Yep. No problem at all.”
“And you’re all settled in?”
I smile; his questions are sweet. Silly. “Yes, are you worried I can’t unpack by myself?”
He grins sheepishly. “I’m just glad you’re here for a while.”
Nick was the first of the Ocean Beach Boys I’d had sex with.
He was the one that made me realize that these were my people and that I was worth more than the shitty second-class life my ex, Mason, wanted to give me.
Seeing Nick now made me long to touch his skin, to feel that same intensity as we had that day in my bed.
I see the same burn in his eyes, but he says, “I guess we should head over to the beach. Everyone’s waiting.”
I lock the camper and follow him to his battered truck, inhaling the musky scent of Nick in the small cab. He rests his hands on the gear shift and I look at him and say, “Just so you know, I’m glad I’m here for a while, too.”
Nick was kind of right about who was waiting for me at the beach.
Not “everyone” was there, but the ones that are seem happy about my arrival.
Maggie and Ivy, stretched out on wide, striped towels, both seem genuinely excited to see me.
Sibley, now a fully functioning toddler, runs up to show me her shells.
“I’m surprised she remembers me,” I say, holding my palm flat.
“Are you kidding? Anita talks about you constantly,” Bobby says, pulling me out of Nick’s clutches and giving me a hug. “You’re officially part of the family now, Summer, get used to it.”
I stand and scan the distance. A figure bobs out in the distance, floating over the waves on a surfboard. My heart twists at the sight of Justin, at him doing what he loves so much. “Where are Pete and Whit?”
“Pete had to finish up at the marina,” Bobby says. “He’s still splitting his time between there and his internship.”
“Whit?” I ask, having a desire to know where everyone is—see them in the flesh.
Nick shrugs. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
I excuse myself to go up to the house. I pass Anita on the way. She waddles down the boardwalk, nearly nine months pregnant, wearing a red bikini. She has so much courage that I’m jealous and hopeful that maybe some of it will rub off on me.
Inside, I quickly use the bathroom. I’ve only been here for a few hours and my hair already has that crazy beach thing going on. Curls appear where it’s normally straight. I twist it into a knot and secure it at the top of my head, trying to futilely manage it.
I step outside the bathroom into the small, rustic cottage and find that I’m not alone.
Whit’s standing at the kitchen bar, flipping through a magazine.
He’s tall, and it’s still hard to get used to him no longer having long hair.
It’s shorn close, although shaggier than Nick’s.
It’s no surprise he’d let it grow out the instant school was out for the summer.
The Citadel and Whit weren’t exactly a great fit, but tradition and family obligation made that decision for him.
He hasn’t noticed me and I quietly walk across the room, trying my best to sneak up on him.
I focus on the wide set of his shoulders and the long line of his torso under the Ocean Beach Surf School T-shirt.
His shorts are baggy, his feet bare, and his skin a warm brown—already tan, even though summer has barely started.
I’m a few feet away when he looks back and notices me, eyes widening in surprise. He spins and rests his elbows on the counter top, looking me over, head to toe.
The last time I saw him, we were at the Citadel when I came down for his spring formal.
He’d looked breathtaking in his formal uniform.
Different, but stunning. I’d worn a blue beaded gown and we did all the things I’d missed out in high school by dating a teacher.
The whole evening was magical until…well…
the end. I stayed at a hotel in downtown Charleston—a place my mother reserved for me--and when the end of the night came, I thought Whit would come up to my room.
I thought we’d finally make love. But we didn’t—he didn’t even try.
He just kissed me sweetly while standing in the lobby and said goodnight.
There was nothing wrong with what he did. It was gentlemanly. I’d love to think that maybe he wasn’t ready, but I saw the smolder in his eyes then just like I see it now. There’s the same tight set of his jaw, and I know he wants me. So why doesn’t he take me?
“I heard you were in here,” he says, breaking the silence.
“You found me.”
“I figured I’d come say hello without an audience.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Smart.”
He shrugs. “I have my moments.”
The space vanishes between us and I reach for his shirt, twisting the fabric in my hands.
“Hello,” he says quietly.
“Hi.”
He bends down and kisses me. At first gently, and then a little bit more.
He tastes like salt and the sea already and it’s refreshing, familiar, and there’s a tinge of something beneath this skin that feels like a lion ready to roar.
I feel it. I catch glimpses of it, but so far, he hasn’t revealed himself fully to me.
“Come on,” he says, linking his fingers with mine. “We better go out there or the guys will call me a Summer-hog and I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“A summer hog?”
He stops and touches my chin. “Babe, the biggest problem you’re going to have for the next three months is keeping us away from you.”
My stomach flips when he says it—like he’s committing to a promise.
A promise I can only hope he, and the others, keep.