The Season of You & Me (21 page)

THERE WAS MAGIC IN THE WORD
YES
. I FELT IT AS
I took Gavin’s hand. A surge that made everything sharper. Like the first time we ran through the woods. It was so thrilling I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a glittery trail on the air behind us, our own private Milky Way, as we raced out of the rec center. Our smiles contained it. I felt it when I slid into the passenger seat of the Jeep and Gavin said,
Let’s go.

Nothing mattered. The last six weeks a speed bump as we tore out of sleepy little Crest Haven, with its horse-drawn carriages and quaint houses and fudge shops, windows down, wind in my hair. The feeling consumed me, made me giddy.

And it lasted all of about twenty minutes.

It was at that point I started to think about Hunter. What would he think of me leaving? They probably wouldn’t tell him right away. Would he notice me missing after the show?
Would he overhear something, perceptive little kid that he was? He just took everything in, even when you didn’t think he was listening. I’d never taken him to the arcade to play Whack-a-Shark.

I turned to Gavin. He chewed his upper lip in thought, nodding along with the song that was on the radio. Driving for him was a way to get from point A to point B. So different from Bryan and the way his face lit up when we drove fast, the way his eyes had darted to me, then back to the road. His howl. I felt like I’d caught a glimpse of a secret part of him. Gavin didn’t have the same joy on his face as we drove into the night. We hadn’t spoken since we left.

We left.

I’d missed Hunter’s song.

Tori was probably pissed I wasn’t there to help her.

Leslie.

Dad.

Bryan.

His words stung.
Just fucking go.
He’d been hurt, and rightfully so. Running away from him wouldn’t change that. It wouldn’t change anything. Why was I doing this? How was I going to make it right?

Gavin had done it again. One look in those eyes and I’d caved. It was my own fault, my desire to dive headfirst into adventure, as if he was the person who could lead me there. What had felt good in the moment—that after everything he still chose
me
—had worn off. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t
going to Penn. I didn’t want this anymore. I didn’t want him.

I was about to speak up, when Gavin placed his hand on my knee. “Have to make a pit stop,” he said, giving it a squeeze.

I nodded. “Sounds good.”

Twenty minutes later we pulled up to a rest stop for gas. Gavin asked the attendant for twenty dollars’ worth. I had to make my move.

“Hey, um, I’m going to head inside.” I reached for the door handle.

“Sure,” he said, leaning over for a quick kiss, “everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine, I just have to go to the bathroom.”

I slipped out of the car and made my way toward the rest stop.

A man carrying a cardboard tray of drinks held the door open for me. I walked into a wall of frigid air. The sudden drop in temperature made me shiver. The line for Starbucks stretched across to the small gift shop. I cut across and went into the ladies’ room.

A stall opened up. I went in, locked the door, and leaned against the wall. I still didn’t know how to tell Gavin; maybe I could just hide away and forget about it. We were only forty minutes away from Crest Haven. Could I even depend on him to drive me back?

No.

He’d start the sweet talk, the one that would make me think about all I’d be missing. He’d somehow justify going to
Ship Bottom, like he did for skipping out of school, or blowing off dinner with Mom and Nan, or any of the other times I chose him over something else in my life. Maybe he would surprise me, but I doubted it.

A good ten minutes passed before I finally left the bathroom. Gavin was across the hallway, leaning against the wall next to a crane arcade machine that contained small stuffed bears with “I
♥
NJ” shirts and fluorescent rubber balls. His eyes were on me, and he stood up straight as I walked toward him. My stomach clenched. He had a Frappuccino in his hand and held it out as I got closer. The whipped-cream peak sagged.

“Java Chip. Your favorite. It looked better ten minutes ago.”

I took the drink from him. He slipped his arm around me, kissed the top of my head. We took a few steps toward the exit.

I stopped, turned back, shrugged off his arm.

“Cass, c’mon,” he said.

I shook my head, looking at the drink instead of into his eyes. “Gavin, I can’t go.”

He put his arm around me again, gently ushering me away from the flow of people heading out.

“What’s this about now?” he asked.

I forced myself to look at him, which was a mistake. Memories, the best ones, flooded me. I loved our story. That run through the woods that started it all. Gavin was my junior year, and it had been incredible—until it wasn’t. It would never be the same. Why couldn’t I let go? I picked his hand off my shoulder, stepped back.

“I’m sorry all this shitty stuff is going on with your father,” I said, “but it doesn’t change anything, does it?”

He ran a hand through his hair and looked past me, shaking his head.

“How many times am I supposed to say I’m sorry before you believe it.”

“That’s just it. I’m not sure I ever will.”

His face scrunched in confusion and he leaned against the wall again, leg bent, one foot up.

“What’s going to happen when we get to Ship Bottom?” I asked.

“Does it matter? You, me, the place to ourselves, anything can happen,” he said. And I could see it, God, I could see it, feel it, it’s what I’d wanted, but I could also see the fallout now, clearer than before. That any moment my father would realize I’d left with Gavin. How long would it take him to call my mother? Would Nan worry? Leslie and Hunter? How would I get home? The fact that none of that mattered to Gavin was more apparent than ever.

“I can’t. I need to get home.”

“C’mon, I don’t feel like backtracking, Cass.”

“Don’t worry, I already called someone to pick me up,” I lied.

He didn’t know what to do with that information. He sort of huffed and walked away, but then came back.

“Who? Your ride from before?”

“He’s not just a ride, Gavin. I shouldn’t have introduced him like that. His name is Bryan, and yeah, he’s a friend. He’s
more than that actually; you were right. I do have a crush, so does he. And he’s an incredible kisser.”

He laughed. “Really, and what’s going to happen when the summer is over, and you’re home? What are you going to do then?”

“I don’t know, really, but I know it won’t involve you. It doesn’t matter that you’re not going away.”

His hands clenched into fists.

“Why would you do this to me? I drove three fucking hours for you, and it’s still not enough,” he said.

“No, you did this . . . to us. Good-bye, Gavin,” I said, turning fast before he could say anything else. I tossed the drink in the nearest trashcan, and then called the one person I knew who’d pick me up, no questions asked.

I grabbed another drink, then sat down at the far end of the rest stop by the Burger King. People came and went, families, groups of kids. I took out my phone for something to do while I waited. There was a text from Tori.

Everything okay?

Where RU?

I smiled. She cared. I had a place to go back to. Friends. Family.

When I looked up, my ride entered through the doors at the far end. He didn’t see me at first, and I was caught off guard by the expression on his face. I’d expected him to be angry, but he looked . . . scared. Worried. He moved quickly through
the crowd, head turning from the gift shop to the bathroom. I wanted to call out, to end his search, but the words wouldn’t come. His dark eyes found mine. My insides crumbled. Tears of relief flooded my eyes as we moved toward each other. He looked uncertain, but I could see he was relieved too. He opened his arms and I buried my face in his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yes, Dad. Please take me home.”

Gavin is out of my life.

That’s the first thing I thought when I opened my eyes in the morning. I wondered if he ended up going to Ship Bottom, and then realized I really didn’t care. Thoughts of him didn’t dig into me as much as they had. Maybe one day they would stop altogether. I grabbed my kimono and went downstairs. It was ten, the very end of breakfast service. Leslie had made cinnamon buns, and there were a few left on the glass cake stand on the counter. She burst through the kitchen door just as I was about to reach for one.

“Morning, Cass. Go ahead, I put those aside for you,” she said. I grabbed a cinnamon bun and peeled off a flaky piece. Pregnancy had not slowed her down. She placed a tray of empty coffee cups next to the kitchen sink.

“Thank you,” I said. “Where is everybody?”

“Your father took Hunter down to the beach to see the dolphins. We thought we’d let you sleep in. How are you doing this morning?”

“Great,” I said, and it sounded like I meant it. “I’m sorry about last night, Leslie. Did Hunter realize I was gone?”

She shook her head. “No, Cass. He did notice you weren’t there for his song, but six-year-olds are pretty forgiving.”

“I think I owe him a trip to the arcade,” I said.

“He’d love that,” she answered.

We were interrupted by a knock on the back door. Tori waved before coming in. Her dark hair was pushed back with a pink bandanna and she carried a cardboard tray with two drinks in it. She smiled in greeting.

“Hope it’s okay I just barged in,” she said.

“Leslie, this is Tori,” I said.

“I know Tori,” Leslie said, smiling. “I meant to ask you about your mother last night. How is she doing? Business must be great this summer.”

“She can’t complain,” Tori said. Leslie looked at me.

“Tori’s mom owns Hope Depot, a sort of . . .”

“New-age gift shop. She does angel readings and stuff. I know, horrible corny name. I’ve been trying to get her to change it for a few years now.”

“Why don’t you two hang out on the side porch; it’s a gorgeous morning. We’re supposed to get rain later, so you might as well enjoy the sun while it’s shining,” Leslie said, heading back out to the dining room.

Tori followed me to the side porch. There was a couple sharing breakfast at one of the small tables. I smiled in greeting as Tori and I found two open rocking chairs in a quiet
corner. We sat side by side. I curled my feet up beside me and took a sip of the mocha.

“So, you really missed a bitchin’ time last night,” Tori said. For some reason we both found this hysterical.

“I’m sorry I bailed like that, Tori, I just . . . went a little—”

She held up a hand. “Apology accepted. I handled it pretty good; the parents loved me,” she said.

“How’s Bryan?”

“Oh, you know, he thinks you’re a total benny skank and never wants to talk to you again.”

She laughed at my horrified expression.

“Cass, come on, you could puke in the guy’s lap and you’d still rock his world.”

“I screwed up, big-time, in so many ways.”

“That’s why I’m here,” she said. “We’re hitting the beach this afternoon. Bryan wants to surf.”

“He does?” I asked. “When did he decide that?”

She shrugged. “He said something about being inspired by Colby, that if he could get up and sing and not lose it, he had nothing to lose either. Following his own pep talk advice. I’m just happy he’s trying it. I stopped by to invite you.”

“I’m not sure he’d want to see me.”

“Cass, believe me, he wants to see you. So we’ll be there around five-ish, sound cool?”

“I’ll be there.”

I COULDN’T REMEMBER THE LAST DAY I’D SURFED.
Sometimes it bothered me because it seemed like something that should have left more of an impression. Had I known it was my last time in the water on two feet, would I have paid more attention? Would I have spent as much time practicing my bottom turns? Or would I have ridden as many waves as I could? I didn’t have one distinct snippet, like barreling or a particularly awesome cut back, that stood out.

Instead, the memories ran one after the other, which wasn’t as awful as it sounded because it was like one long, uninterrupted dream. Kind of like the ocean. What I remembered was cutting school with Wade to catch September swells. The stoke when everything aligned and it was me and the wave and nothing else. I used to be fearless with it. I knew
the danger, but it didn’t matter. Even when I wiped out, rag-dolling, not knowing which way was up or down, I’d trusted the ocean. Trusted myself. Loved that hard-earned tired feeling that came from a day in the water.

Fear, though, was real this time. I hated it. Bit it back. It didn’t help that my mother—who imagined everything from a jellyfish sting to me ripping my foot open on the ocean floor—made me wear my full suit with Reef booties.
Should we put him in a shark cage?
Matt joked. Mom shut him down with a glare. I begged my parents not to come with us—I didn’t want fanfare. I just wanted to go in the water. Wanted it to be normal, natural. It was after five, regular beach hours over, the tide coming in. They came anyway, along with Owen, set up beach chairs and an umbrella a little bit away from where we’d put our gear. They were there but not with us. And I guess I was a little grateful to see them, cool to admit or not.

Nick and Wade were surfing too. Matt was going to help propel me from behind when the wave broke and Tori and Jena, who was there on Nick’s invite, were on the shore to help if I needed it. Jena had her board with her but sat out for now, I think waiting, watching, in case I needed rescuing. Those feelings of vulnerability, of not wanting help, were still there, but I fought them too. My friends weren’t gawking at me, they were here to experience it with me. We’d borrowed the all-terrain wheelchair from the rec center. Nick carried my board. I was piggybacking on Wade again.

“So I’ll carry you beyond the breakers; think you can paddle out?” he asked.

“I can out-paddle you, bro,” I said, holding on to him. He laughed.

“Can’t wait to see you try.”

Nick held the board steady as I grabbed the handles. Wade sort of hoisted me and helped position my legs so they were in the concave dip and wouldn’t flop around. The waves were small but it was different than being in the pool. It was a rush, being there, the water surrounding me. The water was alive, active, ready to play.
Why had it taken me so long to do this?
I paddled out with them—my swim training had paid off—and waited, getting used to just being there. Nick grabbed a smallish wave first.

“How does it feel? You okay?” Wade asked.

“Yep,” I said, watching a swell grow beyond him.

“Any time you’re ready, Bry, or we can just hang out today, if you want.”

Instinct took over.

“Come on Matty, push,” I said, paddling a bit. I felt the lift of the wave. The urge to pop up was so strong, as if I’d just been in the water yesterday. I held on to the handles and used my shoulders to turn into the wave as best I could. It was rough, and small, and over before it started, and more like boogie boarding, but I’d done it. I got caught up in the white water, but Jena was there to help me turn around. Matt met
me halfway, and helped me back out.

No, it wasn’t the same.

But it was still freakin’ awesome.

Wade caught the next wave. Nick, Matt, and I watched as he rode down the line.

I’d missed it. So much. Why could my friends see that and I couldn’t? I thought about what Nick and Matt had done, the night at Sip N’ Freeze. How I’d reacted.

“Hey, guys,” I said.

“Yeah,” Nick and Matt said at the same time.

“Thanks.”

Matt grinned.

“No worries,” Nick said, and gave me a shaka sign.

I tried a few more times, once actually wiping out, and Jena and Tori were right there.

“I can swim, you know,” I said. Jena smiled, giving me a hand.

“Hey, someone else stopped by to see you,” Tori said, helping me back on the board. She motioned behind her. Standing in the surf, hands covering her mouth, eyes wide and thrilled, was Cassidy. Whatever had happened, whatever jagged feelings I’d had from last night, were forgotten. She was there.

I may not have remembered the last day I surfed, but that day, I etched in my memory.

Later we sat on the beach, watching the others surf. I’d taken off my wet suit and was in my board shorts, wrapped in a towel. I sat in the beach wheelchair, while Cass was cross-legged next to me on a blanket. Now that I’d finished with the scary surfing part, my parents and Owen had left in search of a lobster dinner. The others were juicing every last second out of the sunlight, but looked ready to pack it in soon. Cass and I were alone. Neither of us had brought up the previous night so far. Maybe there was no real need to, but I didn’t want to leave anything unsaid.

“I’m sorry about last night, Cass.”

She looked up at me. “What? Why? You didn’t do anything, Bryan.”

“But what I said—”

“You had every right to say that. You were angry. I did treat you differently with Gavin around. I chickened out. I’m the one who’s sorry. The whole thing caught me off guard; I didn’t really know how to handle it.”

“Yep, pretty awkward, but . . . you’re here . . . so I guess . . .”

“I’m over him. No games. Nothing. I actually have a crush on this cute surfer guy with a hot black car.”

I let that sink in, but tried to play it cool.

“For what it’s worth . . . I told him you were more than a friend to me.”

“Really?” The corner of my mouth had a mind of its own, totally blowing my “I’m going to be a cool aloof guy” cover.

“Yep.”

Tori stood by the surf as Wade jogged out with his board. He stopped by her and shook out his hair, like a dog. Tori yelped and backed away. Cassidy laughed.

“So, when do you think those two are going to realize they are madly in love with each other?” she asked.

“Ya think?”

“Uh, yeah, totally,” she said. “Not much rattles Tori except Wade.”

They began walking toward us. My moment alone with Cass was fading. “So, this guy in the black car, have you told him yet how you feel?”

She shifted and stood up, leaning across the chair. Her eyes looked amber in the setting sun, like they had a light all their own. I placed my hand in hers and she wrapped her fingers around mine.

“I’d rather show him,” she said, leaning over to kiss me. I put my hand on her shoulder, pulling her closer. She leaned into me, mouth soft and open. When she pulled away, there were tears in her eyes. Not exactly the reaction I’d expected.

“What’s wrong?”

“How is this going to work, Bryan?” she whispered.

“I thought it was working pretty well. What do you mean?”

She sat back on her heels, swiping a tear and putting on a smile for Wade and Tori as they got closer. “This. Us. Summer is practically over, but this . . . you and me, it feels like
we’re just getting started.”

“It’s not like you live halfway across the world, right? What are you, three hours away?”

She nodded.

“I drive; there’s phones, email; you can visit your dad, right? Or you can post pictures on StalkMe to show me what a good time you’re having without me.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

We kissed, but pulled away as Wade and Tori approached.

“You don’t have to stop on our account,” Wade said. Tori elbowed him.

The others came back from the water. Jena trotted up to the blanket and dropped her board. As she dried her hair with a towel, she grinned and pointed at me and Cass holding hands.

“Look at you two love otters.”

We laughed. The others looked at her like she was crazy.

“Otters? What do you two do down in that pool?” Wade asked.

I squeezed Cass’s hand.

“Don’t let go,” she said.

“Never.”