Twenty
River
Two hours later and after I finally kicked Moose’s ass in Mario Kart, everyone heads to bed. Bethany is in Moose’s room with him, while Chris and Thatcher are splitting the couch and recliner, and I’ve finally allowed myself to sleep in the same bed as Summer.
It’s nearing two in the morning but neither Summer nor I have yet to fall asleep. My back is against the headboard while Summer sits between my outstretched legs. My fingers run through her damp hair, braiding the dark strands.
Summer and I used to have moments like this all the time. A quiet peacefulness. Me brushing her hair. Music or a movie usually playing in the background but right now there’s a gentle silence between us.
Moments like these are starting to feel rarer by the minute.
Before it was because of our kiss. Now it’s almost as if there’s this unfamiliar weight pressing against us.
Like we’re not allowed to exist like this without having sex.
It’s almost as if every interaction, every quiet moment needs to be followed by something physical to balance out the chances of crossing any lines.
I don’t know why, tonight, this quiet ache in my chest is hitting me harder or cutting deeper than it usually does.
The desire to be the first person Summer goes to when she’s sad or even happy is gnawing at me. I want things from her I shouldn’t. Things that I’m not good enough to have. Not from her.
Earlier tonight in the bathroom, I found myself wanting to ask for more from her. That’d be selfish of me.
I’m stuck in life and Summer is in full momentum.
She’s on a fast-moving train and I’m glued to the railway platform.
Not because I’m being held back by any external force but because as the train keeps moving faster, I remain standing with my feet planted in place.
Afraid to get on. Afraid to move at all.
Something about sitting in a dimly lit room with your best friend at two in the morning really makes a person have epiphanies.
“You’re being awfully quiet.” Summer’s voice comes out soft. Tired.
“I’m thinking.”
I feel the light shake of her chest from her laughter. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
She hums, sinking further into me. Her head lulls to the side as I continue to gently braid her hair back.
My fingers comb through the strands effortlessly, despite Summer’s constant complaint of her hair always being dry.
She says it’s worse during the season, but I think her hair is one of the softest things I’ve ever touched. And it smells like coconut.
“Summer?” I don’t even know why I say her name. Maybe I simply just like the sound of it.
What do I want to say?
Everything. Nothing.
I want to keep this peace between us, but I want to push for more at the same time.
“Summer?” I repeat. “Do you think that if it weren’t for Lils, that we’d still be friends?”
She freezes for a moment and then tries to turn her head to face me, but I gently redirect her to continue facing forward under the guise of finishing her hair.
She lets me.
“Do you mean if we weren’t friends with Lily?”
“No.” I don’t even want to entertain that idea. It’s outrageous. No matter what happens between Summer and me, there’s one thing that’s for certain.
We’ll always be friends with Lily.
I continue speaking as my hands move through the practiced rhythm of folding strands of Summer’s hair over the other. “I just mean that if Lily hadn’t introduced us. If she never talked you into hanging out with me. Do you think we would’ve ever crossed paths any other way?”
She remains quiet for a moment. Her shoulders rise and fall with each gentle breath. My fingers pause, mentally preparing for her to tell me that we never would’ve had any reason to come together.
No reason other than Lily.
Why else would Summer have ever given me the time of day?
“I think—” She shakes her head. “No, I believe there always would’ve been something that brought us together. In this lifetime that just so happened to be Lily.”
My breath hitches. Summer turns to look at me and I finally let her.
“And do you think it’ll always be that way?”
Are you sure you won’t grow out of me?
I’m prepared for her to ask me where all of this is coming from. Or for her to tell me that I’m being ridiculous. Or that maybe we shouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Not until the fall. Not until we’re back to being strictly friends again.
“I know that for me, no matter where I go or what I do or who I’m with, I’ll always want you there, River.
When you’re not around, I feel it in my body.
Almost like…alarm bells going off. When there’s a lack of you, I notice it immediately.
I don’t really want to know a life without you.
I think it’d be pretty boring.” Summer smiles.
Boring doesn’t even sum up what a life without Summer would be like, but because I don’t even know where I’d start to try and put it into words, I agree with her.
“Yeah.” I smile. “I think it’d be pretty boring too.”
“Good.” She’s now the one holding her palm face up, waiting. “Let’s stick together then, okay?”
I tap my palm against hers.
Pull away. High-five. Fist bump.
“That’d be more than okay.”