The Summer Before Forever Page 6

  I hate that I have to make this confession, but it’s not like Jenna doesn’t already know. If someone asked me out, I would have told her. We both know this. But my actually voicing the words brings a fresh wash of humiliation and heartbreak.

  Jenna tucks her foot up under her thigh. “The reason guys ask girls out has nothing to do with the way we look. It’s all about the way we carry ourselves. I was born with confidence. How do you think I made it so far on America’s Newest Sensation? We both know it’s not my voice. I mean, I know I can sing, but people who were way better than me were dropped from that show much sooner than I was. You know I’m right.”

  I’m shocked that Jenna is so willing to admit this to me. But it’s true.

  “If you have confidence, you can get anything you want in this life, Chloe. You need confidence. You’ll need it for college and then for the real world.”

  She has a point. I don’t enjoy not being able to find my voice and averting my gaze when a boy looks at me in the hallway. “It’s not like I don’t want to have what you have. I have no idea how to get it.” God, I can’t believe this conversation. I can’t believe I’m saying all these words, these thoughts, these deep-driven revelations.

  She looks around the room. “We need to make a list.”

  She flies out the door and reappears seconds later with a spiral notebook and a pen. “This is your summer, Chloe. This is the summer you will become Chloe 2.0.”

  “I can’t do any of this,” I say.

  Jenna points her marker at me. “Yes you can, and you will.”

  I point to the list which has now made its way to a piece of poster board Landon was able to drum up at Jenna’s request. “Look at number one. Go up and talk to a boy at a party. There’s no way. I went up and talked to Trevor and look where that got me.”

  “We are not going to let Trevor Jones ruin this summer. You are going to see that you can go up and talk to a boy and not owe him a thing in return for his time. If he wants to move too fast too soon, then that is his problem, not yours.”

  I hear her. I really do. And she is right. Still… I’m totally freaked about having to do these things. I can’t. I won’t. There’s no way.

  The expression on my face must betray my thoughts because Jenna squares me up in front of her. “This list will make you a stronger person. There’s nothing on here I haven’t already done and won’t do again this summer…with you. You are not alone in this, my friend. What do you say?”

  I glare at her, and then focus on the list.

  1—Go up and talk to a boy at a party.

  2—Wear a bikini to the beach.

  3—Take a self-defense class.

  4—Sing karaoke.

  5—Send a plate of food back at a restaurant.

  6—Express your true feelings to someone.

  7—Have a real conversation with your dad.

  8—Say no to something you would otherwise say yes to out of convenience of non-confrontation.

  9—Stand up to someone.

  10—Kiss a boy you like.

  Jenna snaps her fingers. “Cake.”

  “For you, maybe. This stuff is hard for me.”

  She collapses on the bed. “That’s the point. But with each task that you mark off this list, your confidence gets a big boost.”

  I slump back onto my quilt. “I’m not comfortable with sending food back. What if they spit in it?”

  “Then we’ll hit a burger joint after dinner. But if you are nice about it, likely they won’t do that.”

  I can’t even discuss number ten with her. I never want to even consider number ten again.

  “Are you thinking about number ten?” she asks.

  “Quit doing that!”

  She lies on her side, resting her head in her hand. “Doing what? Reading your mind?”

  “Yes.”

  “Number ten is the reason for the list. I want you to see that they aren’t all like him, and when you kiss one who likes you back, and knows the limits, and he still wants to kiss you, it’s phenomenal.” She lies on her back, grinning at the ceiling.

  I inhale a deep breath and close my eyes. She moves to my bed, wraps her arms around me, and shakes me. “It’s going to be fine. You’re going to leave this town and arrive back in Cliff Ridge a changed woman.”

  “Don’t count your chickens,” I say.

  “With that attitude, I won’t.”

  I look over at the laundry basket. “Are you really going to do his laundry?”

  “Hells no. I’m just going to wait until he leaves and set it back in his room. Unless you want to do it.”

  I nod and head toward the basket. As I’m picking it up I look back at her and drop it. “Actually, no, I’m not going to do it. You need to follow through with what you said you would do. You do it.”

  She consults the list and looks back at me with a grin. “Number eight. Nicely played. But that’s the only one I’ll let you do on me. The next one is going outside of this house.”

  One down, nine to go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Chloe

  I grab beach towels from the shelf in the mud room and meet Jenna who is resting against the back of the living room couch flipping through her phone.

  My dad comes out of the kitchen. “You girls headed to the beach?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jenna says, pocketing her phone.

  “Chloe,” he says. “Can we plan on lunch just the two of us one day later on this week?” He turns to Jenna. “Would you be okay with that, Jenna? Are you comfortable here with Cynthia?”

  I let out a snort. Jenna doesn’t know the meaning of the word uncomfortable.

  Jenna scrunches up her face. “Yeah. Of course.”

  “Great,” my dad says and turns to me. “That okay?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  He nods and heads toward his office. I can’t help a little smile. Lunch, just the two of us. No movie or show to distract us. Actual face-to-face conversation over lunch. This is sort of major.

  Jenna lounges with her head back, sunning. “Looks like we’re going to have to tack on bikini shopping for tomorrow.”

  “God, please, Jenna. I’m already having to shop for a bride’s maid dress for my new mom’s wedding. Why don’t we stop by the dentist and have him extract a tooth while we’re at it?”

  “You’ve got a killer figure,” she says.

  I sink deeper into the beach chair, and cover my belly with my arms.

  “Stop it,” she says. “So you’ve got boobs and an ass. Look at that girl—the one in the green bikini.”

  A group of twenty-something girls sashay down the beach in front of us, sipping cans of beer. The girl Jenna refers to rocks a teal bikini. Her boobs are too big for the top and threaten to spill out. I imagine her gluing them to the fabric like a celebrity to a red carpet dress. It helps me in my belief that they won’t topple out of that thing today.

  “Yeah, what about her?” I ask.

  “Do you think she looks good in that bikini?” she asks.

  “Well, yeah, if that top was a little bigger.”

  “Your body is similar to hers. That’s what you’d look like in a bikini.”

  I roll my eyes. That girl is thinner than me and Jenna knows it. But it’s nice of her to say.

  Jenna holds up a single finger. “Trust me on this. I just want you to try some on…for me.”

  I realize she’s not going to shut up until I agree to this. “Yes, dear.”

  She beams at me. A couple of boys around our age walk along the shore.

  “Ooh, boys. Should I call them over?” Jenna asks.

  “No, we don’t even know them.”

  “How will we ever get to know them if we don’t say hi? We’re only here for two months. We’ve got to work fast.”

&n
bsp; Jenna plasters on her come and get me smile and magically, they look in our direction. She finger waves at them and they both hold up a hand, pleased as punch. They consult one another on the matter, and then head our way.

  I don’t know what else I was expecting when I invited Jenna Quigley to the beach.

  “Hey guys,” Jenna says, welcoming them with the first move.

  “Hey,” they both say in unison.

  They gauge the two of us, moving from Jenna to me and back to Jenna.

  “Are you here for the week or are you one of the rare breed of locals?” Jenna asks.

  Their expressions fall a bit in shame. “We’re just here for the week,” says the slightly taller one. They’re so similar looking to one another that I otherwise can’t really distinguish them.

  Jenna lifts her chin, and then drops it with a grin. “That’s okay. We’ll let it slide just this once.”

  Both guys light up like a kid who has just visited Santa Claus. It’s amazing what Jenna is able to accomplish with just a look.

  “I’m Jenna.” She extends a hand and they both reach for it at the same time.

  “Matt,” says the tall one.

  “Mark,” says the other one.

  The shorter one meets my gaze, and I attempt a smile. Out of nowhere, images of the pontoon boat night come crashing into my mind in Technicolor, and Trevor is in my ear. “You’re lucky I’d even talk to you, much less want to fuck you.”

  I squirm in my chair, my smile falling flat. I divert my eyes to my feet, which are buried in the sand.

  “That’s Chloe,” Jenna says.

  They both wave half-heartedly, and I nod. Wonderful.

  “What about you? Are you a local?” one of them asks.

  Jenna kicks back in her beach chair. “Of sorts. We’re here for the summer. Where are you guys from?”

  “Little Rock,” the shorter guy says.

  “I haven’t been there,” Jenna says. “Have you, Chloe?”

  I shake my head. I’ve given up on trying to redeem myself here, so I start digging in my bag for absolutely nothing while I will Jenna to shut up and send these guys on their way.

  “You should stop by later on if you hear of anything cool to do at nighttime this week,” Jenna says.

  The guys nod at each other in consultation. “Sure,” one of them says.

  Jenna nods. “We’re down. Good to meet you.” She lays her head back on the chair, dismissing them.

  They head down the beach with more than one glance back toward us…I mean, her.

  Without moving a muscle she says, “And that’s how it’s done.”

  Jenna’s finesse with the opposite sex truly is something to be studied. It’s amazing how at ease she is talking to them.

  “I don’t know how you do that,” I say.

  “Talk to people? Let’s see, I believe I learned that somewhere around the age of one-and-a-half.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She sits up and faces me. “Actually, no, I do not. What was so terrifying about them? They weren’t even that cute.”

  “They weren’t ugly.”

  “Would that help? If they were ugly?” she asks.

  I run my toes through the sand. “They had no interest in me.”

  “Of course they didn’t. I didn’t have interest in you either while they stood here. You were about as open as Fort Knox.”

  I shift in my chair. “Guys are always drawn to you.”

  She adjusts in her seat to face me. “Do I need to remind you about our little experiment?”

  I have to admit it feels amazing that someone actually thought I was hotter than Jenna.

  “It’s all about how you carry yourself, I’m telling you,” she says.

  “I know, but it’s not like I can manufacture courage.”

  Jenna pulls out her phone. “Okay, I’m over this. We’re knocking something else off the list this week.” She starts paging through Facebook, I assume. “Here’s one. Sing karaoke.”

  My eye twitches at the idea of me on stage…on display. I peer at her phone. “You’ve got the list on your phone?”

  “Duh. I want to have fun this summer.”

  I glare at her and lay back in my chair. I’d be pissed if I didn’t agree with her. I’ve never been the picture of confidence, but I didn’t used to be this boring. I tried out for the basketball dance team my freshman year. I didn’t make it, but I tried. I was an extra in the production of Our Town sophomore year. And I did go up and talk to Trevor. Obviously, that was the worst mistake of my life, but I did that, and it took guts. I had waited for two years for him to talk to me and finally took the matter into my own hands. I used to do stuff like that. Now I can’t even look at some random guy from Little Rock who I’ll never see again in my life. I’ve become unbearable even to myself.

  I realize if I don’t make a change, I’m going to live the rest of my life like a hermit. I want my old self back. I don’t want to sink further into a hole and let Trevor stomp on my grave.

  I finally utter, “Let’s do it—the karaoke.”

  Jenna nods, the corners of her mouth curling up.

  “I’m thirsty. Do you want anything?” I ask.

  “Sprite, please.”

  I trudge up the sand toward the Longneck Eel and get in line at the bar. I figure I should go to the restroom while there’s one right here. I try the door, but it’s locked, so I lean against the wall while I wait. The door opens, and I stand up straight giving the lady plenty of room to get by before I go in.

  Out of nowhere, this twenty-something girl slides in front of me. “Sorry, I’ll just be a quick sec.” She gives me this huge fake smile.

  I open my mouth to protest, but words don’t come. She closes herself into the bathroom, and I’m left dumbstruck.

  I can’t believe she just did that. I can’t believe I didn’t say something. Why didn’t I say something? What is so wrong with me wanting to keep my place in line when it’s my turn?

  As it turns out, she doesn’t take just a sec. She takes a long damn time. And the longer I wait, the more outraged I become, not at her, at me for allowing myself to get run over, for getting in the car with Trevor that night.

  The door pops open, and she shrugs, another fake smile on her face as she scoots past me. She’s almost out of earshot when I finally find my voice.

  “Next time just ask.”

  The girl turns around with a clueless expression. “Excuse me?”

  “I would have said okay, if you just would have asked.”

  She knits her eyebrows together, all confused, and I shut myself into the bathroom. That wasn’t that hard. And the world didn’t come to an end. I feel justified and somewhat vindicated. A little freaked out from the confrontation of it all, but I know I would have felt worse if I had said nothing.

  I face myself in the mirror. Maybe I will survive karaoke.

  Landon

  I’ve successfully stayed away from the girls for the past few days. I’ve been busy with my job this week, and Monica has been helping me with my online math class at her house. Working with her is so different than when Ashley used to help me. Ashley would get frustrated when I would miss the problem. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t get basic multiplication and division. She never tried to make me feel like an idiot, but it was there, clear as day in her eyes. Monica takes a totally different approach. She’ll say stuff like, “You got a lot of that right, which is so awesome. You just missed this one tiny thing.” It’s better, but I still feel like an idiot.

  I don’t want Chloe to find out I can’t do math or the extent to which my learning disability affects my life. She will one day, I’m sure, but I want to put that off as long as I can. Years, if possible. I can’t take the pitying looks of yet another female I like.

 
I tried to see Monica in a different light this week. There’s no denying she’s hot. Mike and Pete both think I’m crazy for not hooking up with her. I can’t explain it to them. Once a girl knows your worst weakness and how to exploit it, being attracted to her flies by the wayside.

  I stop the tram at the crosswalk for a family loaded down with beach chairs and bags.

  “Would you folks like a ride to the beach?” I ask.

  They all look at me incredulously. “Would you mind?” the mother says.

  “It’s my job, ma’am,” I say.

  I hop out and help them load their chairs on the lipped top, and they all collapse in the seats.

  “It’s our first day. I didn’t know there was shuttle service at this resort,” the dad says.

  “Yes, sir,” I holler over the engine as I make my way toward the beach.

  We pass over my favorite bridge, and I check for my frog. He’s sitting on his lily pad. I nod, and he lets out a croak. I guess there are worse jobs.

  I pull the tram to the side of the road and load the family up with their equipment. As I send them on their way, the mom keeps dropping stuff. I’m not supposed to leave the tram, but the husband is already thirty feet ahead of her, and I can’t idly stand by and watch this.

  I jog to her and pick up the contents of her beach bag that are scattered along the wooden walkway.

  “Oh, thank you. I appreciate that so much,” she says.

  “No problem, ma’am,” I say as I relieve her of her beach chair as well.

  I walk with her down to the beach and drop her bag and chair where her husband is setting up camp. I try to walk away but the woman grabs my arm. “Please wait a minute.” She turns to her husband. “Jeff, give me your wallet.”

  “It’s not necessary, ma’am,” I say as I take a step away.

  She gives me a stern look. “Please,” and then turns to her husband. “Jeff!”

  I glance away to avoid the awkward situation, and I catch sight of wavy, auburn hair. I smile at the sight of Chloe laying on a beach towel, by herself. She’s got a pair of shorts pulled up over her one-piece bathing suit, and her phone in her hand by her side, cords dangling from the earbuds in her ears.