Every Summer After(58)
“Percy?” Sam prodded me with his foot. “I’m sorry. That was far, even for Charlie.”
“You told him?” I whispered. “About last summer?” I swallowed back the lump in my throat and faced Sam, not caring about how much of me he could or couldn’t see.
“Yeah, not about all of it. But he sort of cornered me after Christmas Eve at your place, after he heard you talking about Mason and the bracelet.”
“Great. It wasn’t enough to be rejected the first time around, now your brother and Anita know, too.” I sucked in my breath, feeling the nettle sting of tears.
“I’m sorry, Percy. I didn’t think he’d ever bring it up. You don’t need to be embarrassed—my brother thinks I’m the idiot in this scenario.” I looked up at the stars, and he wrapped both his legs around mine, drawing me closer.
“Hey,” he whispered, putting one of his hands on my waist. I went stiff.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I just really want to hold you,” he said, his voice strained. “I hate that he upset you.” We floated there for a moment before he spoke again. “Can I?” There were a million reasons I should say no, or at least two good ones: I had a boyfriend, and that boyfriend was not Sam.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Come here,” he said. We swam closer to shore to a spot hidden from the view of his house, standing where the water came up to the middle of his chest and my shoulders. We faced each other, maybe a foot apart until Sam stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me. He was warm and slippery, and I could feel his heart beat in impatient thumps against my chest.
“Charlie’s right, you know,” he said. “You are beautiful and smart and funny.” I curled myself against him more tightly. His hands slid up and down my back, and he whispered, “And any guy would fall over himself to have you.”
“Not you,” I said.
“That’s not true,” he rasped. He bent down and leaned his forehead against mine, cupping my face with his hands.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he said. I closed my eyes. Ice dripped down my spine as a fire blazed in my middle. I loved Sam, but this wasn’t fair. Maybe he didn’t know what he wanted, didn’t know how cruel he was being, but I couldn’t let myself be played with while he figured it out.
“You’re confusing me,” I said and pushed him away. “I should go home.”
* * *
I BARELY SLEPT. Sam let me go home without a word of protest—without any words, actually. Shortly after two a.m., I pulled out the notebook he’d given me for my fifteenth birthday, with the inscription For your next brilliant story, turned to one of the empty pages and wrote, Sam Florek is a fucking lunatic, before I started to cry hot, angry tears. I had spent the past year trying to move on, and I thought I had moved on. Was I kidding myself?
Sam didn’t say anything when he came by after his run. We barely said more than a word to each other that morning. It wasn’t until I cut my swim short and climbed up on the raft to maybe take a nap that he spoke up.
“I’m sorry about last night.” He was sitting next to me, his feet in the water. What part of it was he sorry for, exactly? Was he sorry for almost kissing me? Sorry for jerking me around?
“Okay,” I said, keeping my eyes closed and my cheek pressed to the warm wood, rage coiling up from my toes.
“I know you have a boyfriend, and it was a dick move,” he continued. He didn’t get it. I pushed myself up to sit beside him. His face was full of apology.
“Whether I have a boyfriend or not is for me to worry about, not you,” I sneered. “What you need to think about, Sam, is how your actions are in complete contrast to your words.”
He took a deep breath. “You’re right, Percy.” He lowered his face so that our eyes were level. “You said I was confusing you, and I’m sorry for that. Can we just go back to how things were?”
“I don’t know? Can you?” My voice went up an octave. “Because I’ve spent the past year acting like things are normal between us. You didn’t want me, and that’s fine. I’m seeing someone. I’ve pretended that nothing happened between us, because that’s what you wanted. And I think I’ve done a pretty great job.” I stood up before he could respond. “I’m going to go home. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I need to take a nap before work tonight. I’ll see you then, okay?” I dove off the raft and swam toward shore without waiting for a goodbye.
There were ominous-looking clouds in the sky by late afternoon, so Charlie and Sam picked me up in the truck. I squeezed into my usual spot between them, in no mood to make small talk with either one.
“Think any more about that offer, Pers?” Charlie asked with a dimpled smile, his vision locked on Sam.
“You know what, Charlie?” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Screw you. You want to piss off Sam, that’s fine. But leave me the hell out of it. You’re too old for this shit!” Charlie blinked at me.
“I was just joking around,” he mumbled.
“I know!” I cried, hitting my hands against my thighs. “And I’m sick of it.”
“Okay, okay. I hear you,” he said. “I’ll be good.” He pulled the truck out of the driveway, and none of us spoke the rest of the ride.