Every Summer: Book One In The Love Through The Seasons Series

Chapter 1

SONG(AGAIN): Stay Ready- Jhene Aiko, Kendrick Lamar

I wake up suddenly and not to the usual sound of my radio alarm blaring reggae, but to the pounding of tools and wood. Then I remember that I'm here, all summer, in Laeville. With annoyance in my steps, I hop out of my unreasonably comfortable bed. I walk over to my window overlooking the strawberry field, glistening with dew. On the backporch steps, undoubtedly fixing something, is the handsome Jeremiah Sulka.

Jeremy's pits and back is lined with sweat, and he couldn't look more happy about it.

This is his element, I guess.

I yawn and start towards my bed, considering a second attempt at sleep. But, instead I hear the chattering of guests being let in and I know it would be shaming my granddad to not be a good grandson and greet some strangers.

I hold in another yawn and make my way over to the conjoined bathroom to the left. In seconds, my clothers are on the ground leaving me stark naked. I step into the shower, relaxing in the water I had let warm up. I scrub and groom and get out. I brushed before bed, so I only swish some (most-likely overdated) Listerine in my mouth. There's no hope in taming my curls and I prefer it left wild, anyway.

Two minutes later I'm dressed in a pair of faded darkblue drawstring sweatpants and a green and grey university shirt I found in a storage bin in my garage. 

I leave my room and walk pass the several others on this floor before getting to the wooden classical staircase. I make it down and enter the east wing family room decorated with lacey curtains and delicate china, the room I wasn't allowed in as a kid. There's a group of ladies ranging from mid-thirties to early sixties. 

"Hello," I say. They all snap their heads to me as if about to attack anyone that interrupts their oh-so-important gossip session. I wonder why they don't...

"Hello," replies the youngest one. She has blonde hair and a kind smile, but her eyes seem to be waiting for me to say something wrong. Which is impossible, because, I'm me. "I'm Clarabell. You may have heard about me from your aunt. Lord knows, she has loads to tell." She glances around, daring anyone to say that she's right.

"I only got here yesterday and we've done more eating than catching up, I'm afraid. But, I'm sure if Gran had mentioned having such a beauty for a pal, I'd have paid more attention in the conversation," I declare. Clarabell looks to me, impressed, as if I'm the first worthy opponent she's seen in a long time. I want to tell her I'm much more than that. I'm a challenge.

"These old bones ain't as strong as they used to be," Clarabell starts. "Keep it up and I'll swoon."

"Shush, Clara, you're a sucker for a cheap compliment and a pretty face," sasses Gran, walking in with a tray of mince pies.

"You sure tell it like it is," Clarabell says bitterly. "You're nephew, here, sure is a charmer."

"He could charm the tail off a rattlesnake, that one," Gran says humoredly, looking to me.

"Or the briches off a nun," says a lady with mousy brown hair who must've thought she whispered.

"Now, you all leave Davey here alone. He don't go for classy women like yourselves."

"So, I've heard," Clara comments, finally getting to talk about what she wanted. Probably, what this whole meeting was called for. "It's true, then?" I raise my eyebrow, forcing her to say it aloud. "That you're gay."

Another lady gasps as if Clarabell just called me out of my name. "Of course not! A sweet, handsome boy like David has no business likin' men." Here comes my temper.

"My business," I begin loudly, catching all the ladies' attention, "Is actually none of yours. But, if you must know, Clara, yes. I'm gay."

Gran supresses a smile and I get the feeling that she knew this was coming, maybe why she had the meeting here in the first place. The gasper lady gasps again, like I slapped her mother. The lady who made the comment about the nun's briches is blushing, but looking more lustfully at me than ever. Eew. Clara, oh Clarabell, looks like she just struck a gold mine. I'm sure to be the talk of the town again. Great.

"I'm surprised you didn't know already! I'm not exactly discreet about it," I say with a smile. "Now, if you'd all excuse me have to go make a call."

"Boyfriend?" Clara noses.

"Maybe," I ease leaving them all in shreds, fear, lust and anticipation. That's how Davey does.

I walk cooly out into the hallway, taking a left for the kitchen. It's empty. My throat is suddenly dry. Probably, from all that strained sweet-talk with the wicked witches of the country. There's four gallons worth of strawberry lemonade in jars and slabs of vegan strawberry shortcake with words scribbled on a card on top of the container. I dissmissively throw the card and take a nice sized shortcake and a pink-colored lemonade jar with a cute little checkered handkerchief strapped over it.

I take a seat on a highchair by the island and spread out my 'well balanced' breakfast. Right before I open the jar, I hear the porch double-doors swing in and I turn to the sound. It's a red and sweaty Jeremiah who looks like he's about to walk straight back out into the sun, but I pop the jar open with a single twist and he seemed to think better of it. Excellent, intimidation, what a great way to get someone to want to bone you. "Goodmorning," he says. I'm surprised that he starts the conversation.

"Morning," I reply softly. "Want some lemonade? You look like you were working hard out there."

"Oh, thanks." Jeremiah doesn't even hesitate to take the jar out of my hands and sip it up. "You gonna eat that?" he asks, pointing to my plate of cake. What hunger will do to a man, ridiculous.

"Well, I was. But, you can have it. There's more in the fridge," I answer. Jeremiah's face suddenly turns guilty.

"No! I can't take your food. I'll just go get myself one."

"Don't sweat it," I assure him. "You have this one."

"No, don't do that for me-"

"Really, it's not that big a deal," I press, starting to get annoyed.

"Exactly. You sit and I'll get another-"

"Fine, we can just share!"

"But," Jeremiah tries.

"'Miah?" I call testily.

"Yeah," he answers.

"Either sit down and eat this dumb cake with me or I'm going to shove it in your face." Jeremiah gives the first direct smile he's ever done around me and I like the sight of it. "Good, now, here's a spoon." The smile widens and he takes the spoon graciously before shoveling cake into his mouth.

I smirk a little before doing the same. Jeremiah and I are making progress. Slow, but still progress.