Summer Love (10 page)

You turn in Luke's arms so you're face-to-face now. The kiss that felt so wonderful on your neck feels wonderful times a million on your lips. Luke's strong arms pull you close, and you feel as if you're melting against him.

In that moment, you forget about Tasha, you
forget about the barbecue, you forget about the hamburgers and hot dogs and the grill in front of you. The food could burn, and it wouldn't matter. Because Luke's kiss is all you'd need to keep you feeling satisfied the whole night long.

CONGRATULATIONS!

YOU'VE FOUND YOUR HAPPY
ENDING!

YOU
look over at Luke. He and his brother have a pool vacuum out and are lowering it into the deep end of the pool. His arm muscles pop as he does it. His brown hair is falling in his eyes. He has dimples. He's pretty much fourteen flavors of adorable. But you're not really feeling it.

“I was looking forward to a quiet night tonight,” you tell Tasha. “Maybe we can host a barbecue tomorrow night? We'll see how we feel?”

“Sure,” she says. “No problem.” Though you do notice her eyes darting to Scott and lingering there.

You look down at your crossword puzzle. You're stuck on “A 2013 film that completes Richard Linklater's romantic drama trilogy about Jesse and Céline.”

“Tash,” you say, “you know about movies. Do
you know the answer to seven down?” You pass the crossword puzzle her way.

“
Before Midnight
,” she tells you. And then adds, “Have you seen those?”

You shake your head.

She sits up on her lounge chair. “Oh, you have to! They're so good! Want to see if we can stream them tonight and have a marathon? Maybe invite Jade? She loves those movies.”

You nod. “Yeah, that sounds good.” A night home with Tasha and Jade is really more what you had in mind. You can always go out and party tomorrow night, if you want.

You keep flipping through your
People
, reading articles and doing that game where you circle things that aren't in one picture but are in the other. It's always harder than you expect it to be to find the differences between the two.

After that you close
People
and pick up
Teen Vogue
. There's a big headline on the cover that says “Are You Ready to Find Your True Love?”

You flip to the contents page and then turn to the article. There's a quiz, and you decide to take it.

The first question asks what you're looking for when you go out on a date. The choices are: (a) some
fun, (b) someone you connect with on many levels, or (c) the person you hope to spend the rest of your life with. You think about your train conversation with Tasha and choose (b)—but then you're not so sure. Maybe it's (a). Or maybe it's both. You circle both and decide that you'll average the two answers and count that as your points. Then the quiz asks how much you think about sharing a future with any guy you go out on a date with: (a) not at all, (b) sometimes, or (c) I can't stop thinking about it! You decide to average (a) and (b) for this one, too. Though you're leaning a little more toward (a). Then it asks about how much you have to connect with someone before getting physical: (a) as long as he's hot, that's fine with me, (b) I have to think he's got a great personality, too, or (c) I would never kiss anyone unless I respected him enough to marry him. For this one you circle (a)—that's what the kissing challenge was about after all. Then it asks how well you know yourself: (a) I'm figuring out who I am, (b) I'm on my way, but still need to work a few things out, or (c) I know myself inside and out—I know where I'm going and how I can get there. For this one you circle (a) for sure. It's (a) times a million.

After tallying up your score—(a)s get 1 point,
(b)s get 2 points, and (c)s get 3—you find the paragraph that's supposed to pertain to you and read through what it means. The gist of it is: you're not ready for a serious relationship right now; you need to figure yourself out first, and once you do that, you'll be better at connecting with someone else romantically.

You think about that. Maybe
Teen Vogue
is right. Maybe before you start flirting with boys and kissing boys and trying to date boys, you should know who you are and what you want and where you stand. That sounds like good advice, actually. You want to know what you're capable of and feel sure of who you are.

“I choose me,” you say out loud.

“Hmm?” Tasha asks. Her eyes are closed, and she's soaking up the sun.

“Nothing,” you say, smiling to yourself. Because on the inside, it doesn't feel like nothing at all. It feels like everything. Before you find a boy, you vow to find yourself.

CONGRATULATIONS!

YOU'VE FOUND YOUR HAPPY ENDING!

“YOU
sure you don't mind?” you ask Tasha.

“Not at all,” she says, getting up from the bench. “I'll be at the towel when you're ready to go.”

“So that's a yes?” Jackson asks.

“That's a yes,” you say.

You walk with him off the wharf and back to the parking lot.

“So how did you like the lobster roll?” he asks you.

“Oh, it was great,” you say. “And so was your mom's cookie. Does she run a bakery or something?”

He shakes his head. “My dad runs the Lobster Shack down the road,” he says. “And my mom's been cooking there with him since they got married. She always wanted to bake, though, so
about five years into it started making the cookies they sell there, too.”

You've reached the truck with all the stuff in it—you know because it's big and red and has the words
LOBSTER SHACK
painted on the side with an address and a phone number.

“It must be cool to have a lobster restaurant in the family. Do you eat lobster, like, every day?” you ask Jackson.

He laughs and jumps into the back of the truck. “I'll hand the cookies and chips out to you,” he says. “Can you pile the boxes on the dolly over there?” He's pointing to a metal thing with wheels right next to the truck.

You nod. “Sure,” you say. “As long as they're not too heavy.”

“The chips are really light,” Jackson tells you as he hands you a box. You realize he's totally right, and put the box on the dolly.

“And I don't eat lobster every day,” he says. “My parents and I limit ourselves so we won't get sick of it. Good plan, I think. So it's still a treat, even for us. Besides, there are some times of year that are better for catching lobsters than others, so it's not like we have hundreds of lobsters every day all year round.”

You'd never thought about that, but it makes sense. “So when did your dad come up with this truck idea?” you ask. “I don't remember it from last summer, but I was only here for a weekend, so I might not have noticed.”

Jackson does his megasmile thing again, and his blueberry eyes twinkle a little. “This is the first summer!” he says. “It was my idea, so my dad said I could run it. I opened last week, and I'm already making a profit.”

“Really?” you ask.

“Really,” he answers, passing you a couple more boxes of chips.

You're pretty impressed. You don't know anyone who came up with the idea for a business and then made it work.

“That's amazing,” you tell him.

He shrugs after handing you a smaller box, this one filled with cookies. “My parents' restaurant is great,” he says, “but I feel like there are ways to improve it, ways to expand it into something more successful. We do okay, but I know we can do better. I have lots of ideas.”

“Like what?” you ask.

He jumps down from the back of the truck with
another box of cookies in his hand and stacks it on top of the rest of the boxes you've put on the dolly. Then he sits down on the truck bed and pats the spot next to him. You sit down and dangle your legs over the side.

“Like an army of these trucks, one at every beach that allows it. Like a more upscale restaurant on Main Street in town. Or maybe not upscale, but superspecialized. Like only lobster rolls, like the truck. Or maybe only steamers. And then make them the best in the whole area, you know?”

All those ideas sound great to you.

“Is this what you do full-time?” you ask. You're wondering now how old he is. He looks about your age, but the way he's talking makes you think he's out of college or something.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I'm in high school. I'll be a junior in the fall. And then I want to get a business degree and a culinary degree and make my parents' restaurant as famous as the ones Bobby Flay owns.”

“That sounds like a spectacular plan,” you say. You're extra impressed now, knowing that he's the same age you are. You look at him and think that maybe this guy is one of the most incredible people
you've ever met. He's handsome, he's charming, he's smart, he's passionate, he has this incredible life goal—and he seems really close to his family, too.

“So do
you
have a spectacular plan?” Jackson asks.

“Nothing as spectacular as that,” you tell him. “I want to go to college. Maybe major in communications. Or psychology. I'm not really sure.”

“Psychology,” he says. “That's really interesting. And communications. Kind of two sides of the same thing. Interacting with people.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I guess it is. I think people are interesting. The way they act, the things they say, how what happened to them before affects them now.”

“People
are
very interesting,” he agrees. “You especially.” He slides off the edge of the truck and opens up the top box of cookies. He slips a cigar-shaped one out of a wrapper and comes back toward you.

“Me especially?” you parrot.

“You liked my mom's cookie before?” he asks.

You nod. “It was delicious.”

“Then you have to taste this one, too,” he says. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

You do, even though you feel a little silly doing it.

He slips the cookie inside, but before you can bite down, he says, “Let it melt in your mouth.”

So you do. It's some sort of meringue that disintegrates on your tongue.

You open your eyes.

“Good?” he asks.

You nod.

“Can I have some, too?” he asks.

You nod again, but you're not sure what that means. Is he going to break off a piece of it while it's still in your mouth?

As his face moves closer to yours, you realize exactly what it means. He puts his lips around the cookie and up against yours. Then he bites off the piece of cookie that's sticking out of your mouth.

You chew what's left of your cookie and smile. “Cookie kiss?” you ask.

“Cookie kiss,” he answers after swallowing his bite.

But you decide that just a cookie kiss isn't enough. You want more than that.

“Real kiss?” you ask.

He smiles and says, “Real kiss,” as he leans over and kisses you softly.

His lips taste like cookies, and he smells like butter and lobster and beach.

You decide that Jackson is someone you could kiss like this over and over. Maybe even forever.

CONGRATULATIONS!

YOU'VE FOUND YOUR HAPPY
ENDING!