31. Ryan
CHAPTER 31
Ryan
I slide a deep-blue button-down short sleeve shirt over my shoulders and make quick work of the buttons. I clasp my dark, slim-profile watch onto my left wrist and take a cursory look in the mirror. I’m supposed to grab Summer for the Springview Fourth of July festival in less than ten minutes. We’re meeting my sister and her family there. I’m running a little behind because my sweet, elderly next-door neighbor had some issues with her wiring again.
I smile to myself at the memory. I’m pretty sure nothing is wrong with the wiring of her house. She’s clearly loosening her lightbulbs to give me a reason to come over. When I suggested that it appeared two of her lightbulbs just needed to be tightened (and how odd that it’s a different set of lightbulbs than last week) she adopted a confused look, brows drawing together while she put on a show of leaning heavily on her cane.
I told her I’d be happy to spend some time with her whenever I was available, but she just said, “I’m not sure what you mean young man. Are you suggesting I did something untoward to get you over here? Alone?”
“Yes,” I said, laughing. I told her again that I would stop by in a few days. I caught her sly smile before she covered it with a cough into her elbow.
“Well, I never. See you soon then,” she harrumphed and ushered me out the door, demanding that I change my clothes before picking up my “lady friend.” She reminds me so much of my Nonna that it hurts a little to interact with her.
I shake my head and chuckle while getting in my truck. In just the few months I’ve been here, I’ve felt so at ease. I had been so starved for an actual community these last few years. It feels so nice to have one again.
I feel a sense of purpose and belonging I haven’t felt in a long time. I let Lydia cut my tethers and I’d been drifting ever since. I’m feeling more than happy to tie myself to this place. To Summer.
When I pull up to Summer’s house, she’s sitting on her porch stoop, freckled legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. She has her phone out and her eyes rapidly scan back and forth, devouring her ebook. She bites her lower lip (red of course, because my girl loves a theme) and her eyebrows raise in this particular way she has where I know she just read something spicy.
I pop the truck’s door open and hop out. She looks up at the noise and her cheeks color prettily, confirming she just got to the good part in her book and knows she’s been caught. I raise my eyebrow playfully. “They finally did it?”
“God, yes. Finally! I’m, like, eighty percent of the way through the damn book. I like a slow burn, but this was downright glacial.” She stows her phone in her small purse and stands. I get the full view of her now and it nearly knocks me on my ass. She’s wearing jean shorts and a red sleeveless top studded with tiny metal stars. It's tight over her chest and flares out over her hips. The bare expanse of her legs is distracting and I’m about to suggest going back inside so I can peel those shorts off her.
“Ah-ah,” she chides, seeing the look in my eye, “We are not missing the festival and my chance to meet some of your family because you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”
“Who said anything about hands?” I smirk as she stumbles a little on her way to me.
Her lust-blown eyes close and she shakes her head, poking me in the chest. “No. Nope. You’re not going to use sexy words against me. You know they’re my weakness.”
I laugh and wrap my arms around her, inhaling the clean scent of her shampoo, and say, “Okay, fine. I was going to suggest a reenactment, but I see you’re not interested.” I lean down and capture her lips with a kiss and feel my pulse quicken. I wonder when or if it’ll ever feel routine to kiss her. I hope it never does. I love that even after months with her, it still feels brand new.
She pulls back, “I have to actually read it first before it can be reenacted.” She pouts, twisting her fingers through the hair at the base of my neck, giving me goosebumps.
“Do you want me to give you twenty minutes before we leave so you can finish reading?” I ask earnestly. “I do need to spray the weeds again.” I look over the front lawn with a critical eye, seeing a few pesky but resilient weeds creeping in from the edges.
She beams up at me, “I love that you asked that and meant it, but no. If I pick up where I left off and you’re here… Well, I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere.” When she sees my pleased smile she says, “I want to go to the festival and meet Layla, Hudson, and Todd. If I stick around here, it’s just going to make me sad that Emma isn’t with me. This will be the first holiday of hers that I’ve missed. I need a distraction.”
“Festival it is,” I say before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s get going. I doubt parking is going to get any better.” I tug her toward the truck and open the door for her.
Once we’re both settled in I ask, “Do you know what Emma is doing with her dad today?”
“She’s going with him to his parents’ and I think they’re going to have a barbecue and shoot off fireworks. She’ll have a good time,” she says with a tight smile. I know today is going to be hard for her, so I’m working overtime to make it special. I know nothing can replace spending holidays with her daughter, but I hope I can at least take her mind off it and make it fun.
“Sounds like she’ll have a blast. Let’s try to do the same, okay?” I reach over and squeeze her thigh, letting my hand rest on her warm skin. Her smile turns more genuine, and gives me what I need to put the truck in reverse and head out.
When we get to the multi-block festival in downtown Springview, parking is just as I suspected: Terrible. We end up having to park several blocks away and walk hand-in-hand towards the booming music and red, white, and blue bedecked crowd. I have an old backpack slung over my shoulder with a few essentials.
We missed the start of the parade, but it looks like we’ll catch it in the middle. Intricate floats featuring local clubs and interests roll by, interspersed with dance teams, fire trucks, cheerleaders, and the local middle and high school bands. Everything is classic Americana, down to the cherry-red vintage Mustang acting as a float for the previous years’ prom king and queen.
Once we reach the main road, I scan the crowd for my sister and find her with Hudson on her lap in a camping chair by the road. I tug Summer with me, glad that Layla and Todd seem to have saved us a small bit of real estate near them. The entire street is packed as tight as sardines, most people sitting or standing shoulder to shoulder in the blistering heat. “Layla, this is my girlfriend, Summer,” I say when we get close enough to be heard.
“I’d get up to hug you, but this barnacle is a little people-shy and his favorite person had to run back to the car for more water. Nice to meet you, Summer. I’ve heard so much about you,” Layla says warmly, tucking Hudson in closer when it seems he wants to be back inside her skin at the appearance of a stranger.
“No problem. It’s great to meet you, too. Ryan has also told me a ton about you and this little cutie,” Summer replies, waggling her fingers at Hudson who has peeked one eye out from the refuge of his mom’s neck.
“Don’t listen to anything he says unless it’s glowingly positive,” Layla jokes.
I playfully flick Lay’s ear and spread out a picnic blanket under one of the last shady trees available near my sister, glad at least that they seem to be hitting it off. Both women are amazing, so I wasn’t really worried, but it’s always a little scary introducing your girlfriend to family for the first time. I’d never tell Layla this, but her opinion matters more to me than anyone else’s.
Summer and I take a second to arrange ourselves on the blanket before we down an ice-cold water bottle each. After we cool off as much as possible, I pull Summer in front of me so she can lounge back on my chest. She comes willingly and instantly relaxes into me, despite our sweat-dampened skin.
“Hey, Ryan,” I hear Todd’s deep voice say from behind me. Summer and I both turn our heads to see him heading for the open camping chair next to my sister. I say hello and make the introductions between him and Summer. I catch Summer giving Layla an approving nod and a thumbs up.
I try to hold in my snort of laughter and tickle Summer’s side briefly. She grabs my hand and kisses the back of it before placing it back around her waist. Hudson careens from Layla’s lap to Todd’s and watches the parade in wide-eyed amazement.
Looking around at the festive chaos with Summer snuggled up to me and my family nearby, I feel a moment of pure peace. This is what I’ve been looking for. I didn’t know it at the time, but she is the reason I came back to Lakeland.
I’m pulled out of the moment when one of the high school band members trips over her feet, tuba letting out a loud squawk as she rights herself. I’m impressed by the way she throws her shoulders back and keeps going. We watch the rest of the parade in comfortable silence. When the last float goes by, long silver streamers reflecting the setting sun, we get up to stretch and walk around.
Summer shakes out the picnic blanket and we work together to fold it quickly. “Want to go check out the booths?” I ask, looking across the street at the pop-up tents that seem to stretch as far as the eye can see.
Her face lights up when she says, “You mean you’ll willingly walk around, mostly window shopping and potentially paying an exorbitant amount for something that you could find anywhere else for much less?”
“As long as I’m with you. You should know by now that I’ll follow you anywhere,” I say, lessening the sentimentality with an eye roll. She grins in response and grabs my hand.
“You guys want to come?” Summer asks as Todd and Layla work to get their chairs folded and put in the carrying bags.
“We have to get these back to the car, but how about we meet you guys for dinner? That way we don’t slow you down,” Todd suggests.
“Sounds good. I know there’s supposed to be a big line of food trucks somewhere. Want to meet there in an hour or so?” I ask, slipping the straps of my backpack over my shoulders. Todd and Layla agree and then lead Hudson back toward the side street to find their car.
We spend a long time weaving through the labyrinth of booths. It feels part farmers market, part craft fair, part music festival. Summer pauses at most of them, running her navy-tipped fingers over shirts, crystals, jewelry, and all manner of handmade tchotchkes. She picks up a tiny bracelet dripping with a rainbow of rhinestones for Emma and definitely pays more than I thought possible for such a small thing.
I get swindled into purchasing a handmade beard oil when Summer says she likes the scent. The man behind the booth (sporting a fantastic beard himself) looks at me and winks, saying, “Trust me, you’ll be going to our site for more as soon as you run out. Women are addicted to the scent and the softness.” He gives me a knowing look and slips his business card into my hand.
Summer assesses me with a critical eye and says, “Your beard could be softer.” I sigh and fork over my credit card.
As we approach the exit of the vendors and move towards the scent of carne asada, funnel cake, and hotdogs, I realize she hasn’t gotten anything for herself.
When I point out as much to her, she tries to wave me off, “It’s no big deal. I’m trying to keep my excess spending to a minimum. I don’t want to dip into my savings more than I’ve already had to. There will always be more time to buy little things I don’t need.”
“Wait, are you saying I didn’t need the beard oil?” I dangle the brown gift bag accusingly in front of her face.
She laughs and pushes it away, “No, you definitely need it. Maybe I won’t get so much beard rash once you start using it.”
I scoff and tug her back to my front, rubbing said beard playfully along the side of her exposed neck. “See? Plenty soft,” I whisper into her ear before pulling back to look at her. She looks up at me, the corners of her eyes crinkling with a barely suppressed smile before schooling her expression with a playful scold.
We break into a clearing lined with food trucks and I spot my sister and her family in line at a taco truck. We wave and then decide on corn dogs and beer to really go for the all-American experience. Unfortunately, it seems like lots of other people have the same idea, so the line feels a mile long. There are at least fifteen people in front of us and the line slows as a large family of eight approaches the window. The parents try to corral their children while also ordering food to feed their small army.
As we stand melting in the heat, I get an idea. “Hey, I’ll be right back, okay? I just have to use the restroom. If I’m not back by the time you’re close to the front, give me a call.” She nods and smiles at me. I give her a quick peck on the lips before dashing back through the vendor booths.
I weave my way back to a stall we spent a long time looking over. There are crystal bookmarks made of obsidian, agate, rose quartz, and ones I can’t even name spread across a section of the table. They’re thin enough to be placed in a book but delicate enough that they have a translucent quality to them. I select a rose quartz one that has a heart-shaped hole drilled through the top of it with a heavy tassel attached. I know Summer didn’t get it because of the price. It wasn’t outrageous, but enough to make her turn away after she spent a few minutes turning it around in the light and playing with the tassel.
“That’s the one your girl was eyeing earlier,” the woman running the booth says with a smile. She’s petite, almost birdlike, with a large nest of dark, curly hair piled atop her head.
“I know. I paid attention,” I say, smiling at her in return.
“Good man. I’ll even throw in a worry stone for free. She looked like she could use it. Clear quartz will help absorb negative energy.”
“Maybe I’ll strap a few dozen to her myself then,” I say with a chuckle. She laughs with me as she carefully wraps the bookmark in tissue paper and places it into another brown gift bag. She picks up the worry stone, wraps that one up too, and sets it on top. “Thank you,” I say, after signing my name on her card reader.
“No problem. Take care of that one. Lots of bad energy hanging around her, but I can tell she’s usually full of sunshine. Stick close to her, I think she’s going to need you.” I smile and nod, a little spooked at the accurate reading. I’m not one to believe in much outside of what I can see with my own eyes, but that damn near sent a chill down my spine. I pause to shove the two bags in my backpack on top of the picnic blanket.
I head back through the booths and am back in the food truck alcove just as I feel my phone start to vibrate. I jog up to Summer and give her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. She laughs, ending the call. “You’re just in time.” She gestures to the food truck ahead just as the couple in front of us steps out of line to wait for their order. I grab her hand and entwine our fingers together while we come up to the window.
A young guy leans out with a harried smile and asks, “What can I get you, folks?” He has sweat beading his brow and I hope he’s had at least a small break today. This heat is no joke.
Summer cranes her neck to meet his eyes and says, “I’ll take a footlong with nacho cheese dip, please.”
“Make that two,” I say, digging my wallet out of the back pocket of my shorts. Layla, Todd, and Hudson join us as the man returns my card to me. Layla and Todd each hold a burrito that looks like it could feed three people a piece.
“Thanks for buying me dinner,” Summer says as we all walk over to the pick-up window on the truck.
“Only the fanciest for my woman,” I say with a cheeky smile. I catch Layla’s eye as she mouths, “ I like her,” behind Summer’s back. I wink at her in acknowledgement and go back to looking at Summer. She laughs at my dumb joke, the setting sun catching the side of her face and making her glow.
I am absolutely fatal for this woman. We haven’t said “I love you” yet, but I know we both feel it. We’ve been in such a whirlwind since we got together that there just hasn’t been a good moment. I know Summer would never ask for it, but I want to give her a book-worthy moment. She deserves to have a few fantasies played out in real life. That’s what tonight is for.