"Summer!" Mansa shoves at my shoulder gently and I swat her hand away with a frown. "You guys seriously haven't talked since it happened?"
My gaze flickers to Noah. He's standing next to Nikki and Jerry, talking, I guess.
"Yeah. Why would he talk to me, anyway? He probably thinks I'm a horny little freak."
"Based on your Wattpad reading lists, I wouldn't blame him." Henah mumbles. My heart stops beating as I gape at her.
This is my worst fear. Someone finding my reading lists or comments. Especially someone I know in real life.
Instead of dodging, I go for it. "How did you find my Wattpad?"
She shrugs, looking at Emma for a split second. I narrow my eyes at both of them. Maybe partners in crime. So help me God...
"Well... I may have just, uh. I—" Henah tries. Emma rolls her eyes before giving me a hard look.
"I'm fixing this."
Fixing what?
I open my mouth to voice my internal question when she gives me the answer to that question by throwing her arm up in the air and waving her hand around like an idiot.
With a frown, I look toward where her gaze is aimed and low and behold, the jerk is waving over Noah. He begins making his way toward us as I shoot Emma my deadliest glare.
"I knew I should have never talked to you!" I hiss and she grimaces, mouthing an apology.
But it isn't enough. How the heck could it be? This is probably going to lead to something so exponentially embarrassing that I dive into the lake. No floaty. As in, I will purposely drown myself if I say something stupid.
"Hey." Noah says and I don't move a muscle.
My gaze stays trained on the water and I don't listen as the girls start talking to him. I'm scared to.
But maybe they're talking about me.
No. They're not and I know that, but...
"Excuse me." I mumble and slip past the space between Noah and Henah.
He reaches out for me, but I make it over toward the kids without him touching me once.
Why does this hurt so much? Not talking to him makes me feel like I'm ice cold. I don't feel warm of excited or happy because of him. Because of the fact that him and I aren't speaking right now.
I run a hand down my face, trying not to grown out loud. Why did I ever show him what I was doing?
He thinks I'm gross.
And he's the only person that's ever really made me feel regular. I'm not the girl with the dead mom and workaholic dad. I'm not my brother's permanent babysitter. All I am is Summer and that's been enough for him.
I can't stay out here for much longer. I can't know that he's here within arms reach.
I laugh to myself a little. It's like I've been broken up with or something.
"Ms. Summer?" A small voice says and I look down to find Wyatt looking up at me.
I smile at him. "What's up, little man?"
"Are you okay?"
Because I don't want to lie to him, and I'm not too sure myself—I only shrug and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.
"I've had a tough couple of days, but I'm pushing through." I admit, moving hair out of his face. He grins up at me. "Thank you so much for asking."
He gives me a big thumbs up. "You got this, Ms. Summer!"
As I nod, he snakes his arms around me and squeezes me as tight as he can. I grunt for effect and he giggles before blowing me a kiss and running off. I'm starting to think that this kid has a crush on me.
Heat is terrible. Hot weather is a curse and there is nothing I hate more than summer. Which is funny because my name is Summer.
Summer hates summer. Cute.
I shut the door to the cabin behind me and pull my bag off of my shoulder, unbuttoning my shirt on the way to the bathroom.
Closing the door behind me, I shed the sweaty thing and let it drop to the floor. Then my shorts and bathing suit are long forgotten on the bathroom too. Right now, I don't think I've ever needed a shower so bad.
Because I love to torture myself, I poke my arm when I notice how red it is.
"JESUS CHRIST!" I yell and wince when I hit my arm against the shower door.
"Are you okay?!" A familiar deep voice calls and I freeze in my spot. The concern in his tone is too real. So real that it breaks something inside of me. A thought, a mindset.
He cares and I'm looking for an excuse for this to all be fake. And I'm trying to blame this on him. Miscommunication has ruined too many good things in my life and I'm not going to let it ruin this. I want it too much to let it go.
Why would I drop all of our potentials and hypotheticals because of something as broken and scrambled as my darn brain.
I clamp my mouth shut, unsure of what to say.
Just. Talk. To. Him, I tell myself.
Even if it means pretending like the tension has never been between us, I have to get past this stupid little nag in my gut.
"Sunburn!" My voice wavers, but I hope he thinks it's because the sun tried to cook me and I'm withering in pain and not self-pity.
"When you get out, come out here so we can put something on it!"
I don't say anything because I'm scared I'll cry. It's dumb. God, entirely stupid.
I finish and before I get out of the shower, I wring the water from my hair before wrapping my towel around my body.
Grabbing my clothes, I begin dressing and once I'm done doing that, I turn to look at myself in the mirror.
How am I going to do this? Talking isn't always this hard. I mean, usually it is when it comes to strangers, but not with Noah.
With a breath, I finally leave the bathroom, tossing my hair over my shoulder so it's cascading down my back. I always let my hair air dry and the feeling of sopping wet hair sticking to the front of my shirt is beyond incredible.
"Noah?" I call when I don't find him in the living room like I expected.
"In here!" He replies and I turn for the hall.
It's only now that I realize that I haven't been in his room. Not since I got here and saw the empty room when scoping out the place.
I push open his door and peak my head inside like I'm scared something will pop out and chew at my face. I'm pretty sure the only monster in the vicinity is Noah, but he's sufficiently harmless as far as I know.
"Hi." He says, looking up at me with a smile. One that tells me he's relieved. Because of what, I'm not sure.
"Hey."
"C'mere." He mumbles and I step forward like I've been hypnotized.
All the bad thoughts are gone and it's just him, luring me toward him.
I sit down and pull my legs up onto his bed. He sets his phone down on the dresser tucked into the corner and swaps it for a green gel.
His room smells like him, but more. Not so intense or anything, but it's enough to drive me crazy. It's mostly like mine. Bed in the center of the small room, a single nightstand, some shelves. The only thing that's different is the placement of his dresser, and it's bigger than mine. Newer looking too.
I look over at his bedding and smile. Silk pillow cases and a white comforter. My cases are just regular.
"Are those silk?"
He hums. "Yeah. Better for your hair."
I chuckle and his gaze flicks to mine, his eyes a little shiny with amusement as he starts rubbing the gel into the skin of my shoulders.
"What's so funny?" He asks, a smile gracing his lips.
"Nothing." I shake my head. "I love that. The silk for your hair. It makes sense, actually. You're hair looks really soft."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Good to know."
I laugh. "For sure."
His thumb digs into a part of my shoulder that I've never noticed to be sore, but suddenly feels incredibly sore.
I moan in pain and a little in relief to. Against my better judgment, I let my eyes shut and say:
"Do that again."
It's only a mumble, but he doesn't question anything, he just keeps kneading my shoulders. Firm yet gentle.
He hits that spot again and my head lolls, my forehead to his shoulder.
"Were your shoulders really sore?" He questions and I can't work up the will to answer him verbally, so I only shake my head. "Hm. Maybe it's a superpower. Being able to handle pain so well that it doesn't even phase you."
"I think that's called being a woman, Noah."
He laughs and his hands travel lower, pressing his thumb into another spot that makes me gasp out loud.
"Noah."
Then he pulls away, standing up and the loss of warmth has me frowning up a him as just stares at me, his chest falling and rising like he's out of breath.
"Are you okay? Did I..." I shake my head, uncertain of what else I can possibly say right now.
He clears his throat. "No, no. I just... You, uh, are making me nervous."
My frown, somehow, deepens. Me making him nervous? This must be a joke. There is no way that I'm making him nervous. He's probably got his feelings mixed up.
Wow, okay. Denial is great.
"I'm making you nervous? How?"
"W-well... I don't want to make you uncomfortable, so..."
I shrug. Can't be too bad, right?
He looks away from me, suddenly so interested in the appearance of his socks. What is up with him?
"The noises you were making were a little—"
"Oh, my God!" It seems the ultimate revenge has been presented to me. "Are you... turned on by this?"
He gives me a look that makes me laugh. He knows I'm mocking him. Using his words, from the night with the laptop, against him.
"It's not a bad thing, Noah." I say, still recietting his words from mere memory. That moment was so mortifying, God forbid I ever forget what we both said.
I push myself up so I'm balanced on my knees on his bed. "Honestly, me too."
My face falls at that last part. Not me too, not me too!
He starts laughing uncontrollably and I just scowl at him. Messing up is not funny, and him having such an amazing laugh is making it really hard to keep the thoughts of strangling him alive.
"You walked right into that!"
"Did not!" I object and that only makes him laugh harder.
This might be very embarrassing, but at least we talked. At least we're laughing at the other and the tension is beginning to fade altogether.
"So, you guys finally talked?"
It's the weekend and that means that I have nothing to do. No kids, no responsibilities other than my brother.
Noah is... Noah. He left in the middle of the night to someplace I can't be bothered to keep worrying about. I'm sure he's fine. He's an adult; he's capable of handling himself.
Why am I so worried all of a sudden? It's like recently I've been trying to keep this guy safe. He got a paper cut yesterday and I could hardly contain myself. I'd held my breath so much that when I made it back to my room, I passed out, exhausted.
This has happened before. When bad things have happened, specially. I remember this feeling the whole month leading up to my mom committing... you know. Felt it when I realized that Dad wasn't going to be coming home so often and that Mason was now my responsibility.
And I can't help but wonder if I'm going to lose Noah. If he's going to willingly leave.
That makes me instantly tense in my spot and I curse myself for it. I'll be fine if that does happen. I've been fine every other time someone has left me. What's the difference now? There is no different. He's just some guy I met.
That I really, really like.
I clear my throat, shrugging and shifting in my seat. "Yeah."
Then when I don't expand upon that, Mansa groans and Henah drops her head against my bed.
"What?" I say and Emma practically glares at me.
"Bud, you're great and everything, but your abilities to explain to us each little detail of your love life so we can live vicariously through you, suck."
I roll my eyes, leaning back against the cheap, creaky headboard behind me. "Whatever."
Henah frowns up at me, pushing up against my pillow and reaching out for me. Her hand slayed on my knee, she rubs it soothingly, her eyes creased with sympathy basically pouring from them.
"Did something else happen? What did he do?"
"Nothing." I shrug and tuck my chin into my shirt as I look down at her hand on my knee. I reach for her hand and begin fidgeting with her thin fingers. "I just think that something not good is going to happen again. It was a little easy to pretend that what happened didn't happen, and to pretend like nothing was bothering me..."
"Mm-hmm." Hums Emma.
"But something is bothering you." Mansa finishes for me and I nod.
I nod because if I speak I might actually start sobbing uncontrollably. Maybe even flood this whole cabin, and if I'm lucky, only my room.
"We need to talk about it, I know we do. But that means bringing up that what's worrying me is that he think I'm just—" my voice wavers and I shake my head, bringing my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I let my head loll against my forearms.
"Aw, honey." Emma speaks up and then she has her arms around me.
I hug her back when I lift my head, sniffling.
"This is so dumb. I'm crying over a boy who read smut to me."
That makes us all start laughing, and I'm grateful for the momentary distraction from the reality of my feelings.
"It isn't that, though, Summer." Mansa tells me and I frown. Sure seems like it is. "You're scared that whatever you guys have isn't going to last, but you know how to keep that from happening. You're scared. But why?"
I haven't told them much of anything about my family. I'm not worried they'll judge or pity me, but I don't know how to know that I'm ready.
I was ready almost as soon as I met Noah, I remind myself. But Noah's different.
"My mom killed herself when I was six." I blurt and Henah blinks at me. "And my dad completely delved head first into work, so it's always someone leaving or looking away. I haven't ever really had friends since I was in kindergarten either and that made me feel like maybe I wasn't enough.
"I just keep worrying that he's going to realize that I'm not worth it. I don't know what it is, but you know. Maybe he'll wake up one day and decide that whatever this is, it isn't enough. And I don't know if I can handle not being enough in his eyes."
Then the tears finally push past and I have to look away and toward the wall.
"Summer..." Mansa trails off, trying to find the right words, but there aren't any. What do you say to something like that?
I should have kept my mouth shut.
"Sum, whatever happens, you'll get through it. You're strong and determined. Pave your own way if your so worried about letting nature do it for you." Henah tells me and I know she's right. She's always right.
"Did your mom really..." Emma trails off and Mansa smacks her arm like she's just said something stupid.
She didn't. Sometimes I ask myself the same question. It happened so long ago, yet it feels like it was a bad dream and she'll come through the door and everything will be fine. She won't be sick and she'll be alive.
I nod my head.
"She was a paranoid schizophrenic, they say. And she was really depressed after having Mason. So, one day after school, I had to walk home with one of the neighbors' kid because she hadn't come to pick me up and it had been nearly two hours since school let out. My dad wasn't home and when I got inside, Mason was screaming and crying. He was in the basinet in the living room all by himself, which was weird.
"I kept yelling for her and she wouldn't answer. I looked all over the house for her, and finally decided to look in the garage because she arranged flowers and stuff for work, so she was usually doing that in there. I opened the door and she was in Dad's old truck. It was on and the garage was closed so..."
"Oh, my God." Mutters Mansa.
I shrug.
Oh, my God is absolutely right. I couldn't sleep for that whole year without having a dream about me opening the car door and her body falling right out of the car and to my feet.
"That must have been traumatizing."
"It was." I confirm. "But when your dad leaves you alone with a nanny and baby brother, there isn't time to be traumatized. You deflect and ignore until it catches up to you."
"Did it catch up with you?"
"A few times, but the nanny was long gone by the time I made it to middle school. So I played house while Dad played doctor."