I don’t know what’s louder. The fireworks or my heart.
Once it’s time to leave, my mother finds me at the car. “I’ll meet you at the Waffle Hut at nine,” my mom says, giving me a hug and a kiss. She’s going to Richard’s for the night. She doesn’t say so and really, I’d rather not hear it out loud. We’re close, but that’s closer than I want to be.
“Alright, Mom, see you in the morning.”
Mom gives Justin a hug also and then it’s just the two of us standing by my SUV in the driveway.
“Thank you for sharing the night with me,” I say. “That’s the best Fourth I’ve ever had.” A sort of wistful smile appears and he pulls me into a hug. He smells clean but salty, like the ocean never fully washes away. His fingers are still linked in mine and I hope he kisses me. I want him to kiss me. For a tiny beat, when he stares at my mouth, I think he may do it, but he steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets. I’m rocked by disappointment.
When I get home, I find the campground is having fireworks of their own, small ones, down on the water’s edge. I change into my pajamas and turn off the lights. From my bed, I watch the colorful shadows through tiny windows.
I had just enough beer at the party to get spacey, so I jump when I hear a knock on the door. My mother’s story and the encounter with Mason feels fresh enough for me to peek out the window before even considering opening the door. All I can see is a shadow in the decorative lights strung around the canopy. No way I’m opening the door. I’m searching for a weapon when I hear, “Summer, open up, it’s me.”
I freeze on the bed; well, everything except my heart. It’s pounding like a drum.
Justin knocks again and calls my name.
“Hold on,” I tell him, momentarily pacing around the trailer trying to calm my nerves. Ultimately, when I open the door, I’m more pissed from being scared to death than anything else. “What the hell, Justin? You scared the shit out of me.”
“Can I come in?”
“Haven’t we done this already?” I jerk my thumb toward the bathroom. “I don’t think we’ll both fit in there.”
I can tell he’s about to argue when I hear laughter from the boardwalk. Lucky for him, I don’t want anyone to see him hanging around outside. Not with the way these people gossip. “Get in here.”
He squeezes through the door, too big for the space. Too big to avoid. When we’re both inside I ask, “It’s been a long day, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
“You already said that once tonight. Try something new.” There’s only one small lamp on in the camper and it’s hard to make out his expression.
“I don’t, Summer. I don’t know what to do.” He grimaces. “I promised myself I’d never do this—get involved with someone who broke the rules. My rules about violence and cheating. That’s the reason I agreed to the Pact with the guys in the first place.”
“Are you really here to remind me of all the horrible things I’ve done? If so, I’m not really into that. I’d rather go back to bed than hear about why I ruined our relationship. Again.”
“Just,” he starts, resting his hands on both my shoulders, “listen. I need you to listen to me. You broke my cardinal rule, but you’re everything I ever wanted, right here, dropped in my small-ass town like a miracle. But…”
“I’m not perfect.”
He looks at the floor. “No one is…”
“I know that, but do you? Do you understand people make mistakes? That we do stupid things? That we deserve second chances? Because if you don’t, it doesn’t matter. You’ll never find that person.” I stare at him hard so he understands my words. “I cannot be that person. I’m flawed. The other guys seem to get it. They accept that and are ready to grow up and move on to riskier things, like a real relationship. But you and I both know it won’t work unless you’re in, too.”
“I’m scared, Summer.”
“Yeah, and I am, too,” I tell him. I reach out to touch his cheek. “But you don’t have to be afraid of me.”
He presses his face into my palm. “What if I’m the one that hurts you?”
The truth in his words cut deep and to the core of the problem. He’s not only worried about being cheated on, but being the cheater. He’s never been in a real relationship. The Pact kept them from exploring that side of things. I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “I think we have to trust that we’ll take care of one another.”
“My dad was as bad as my mom. They destroyed one another.”
“It sounds like they had a lot of problems,” I say. “But look at Mom and Richard. They’ve been through the hurt and pain and have come out the other side. I think they both regret the time they wasted. I don’t want a lifetime of regrets. I have too many already.”
He nods. This serious side of Justin is new. Heartbreaking. But something I said must have resonated, because the air around him shifts.
“I want this,” he says, quietly. “I want you.”