Boyfriend for the Summer

When I see him, I am going to pounce on that man. Last night, we had so much sex that I thought I would be set for the next few days. One look at this present tells me that I’m wrong.

I toss on comfortable clothes and grab a pen, because I have a plan, and I want to get a move on it. I’m going back to the waterfall. I don’t want to leave a bad taste in my memories there, and so I make my way down that trail and perch on the rock, new book in hand.

And for the first time in forever, the words flow smoothly. I write about love, and about the waterfall and the strangeness of returning to a place after a long time. And the beauty of hope in the darkness. Of dreams and everything more.

I write until my hand starts to cramp and my stomach grumbles in hunger. It’s time for lunch anyway. Maybe Eric will be there. We haven’t talked about whether we’ll be making our relationship public to the rest of the camp, but we need to talk about it. Now that he’s mine—really and truly mine—I don’t want to be stopped from holding hands or kissing him. Though I don’t plan on dragging him out to fuck under the dock again.

Making my way back to the mess hall, I hear a long sound of a car pulling into the parking lot. Nearly skidding. That’s weird. We aren’t expecting any deliveries or visitors today. I step around a few trees into the parking lot and find a sleek black Mercedes parked haphazardly in front of the trail. And a blonde woman gets out of the car.

My stomach drops through the ground. It’s Leena.

“Seph! Hey! Man, this is a fucking trip, isn’t it? It looks exactly the way I remember it.” Her smile is huge, and I remember how that smile used to make me feel warm and safe. But now, knowing what I know, I have to wonder how much of our friendship was just Leena using me as a witness to her life.

Things started to fall into place when Eric told me everything. The lack of concern or checking in about my life. The way she brushed off my problems to focus on hers. The fact that she always promised to help me with publishing but never seemed to follow through. I had always justified it somehow. She had bigger problems, bigger concerns, she was busy. But I think that this is just who she is.

And now that I’ve seen it, it’s all that’s visible.

That same smile now makes me cringe.

“Leena,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. “What are you doing here?”

She grins maniacally. “I was texting Eric and he didn’t answer, so I decided to stop by. I want to see the tramp he’s fucking and show him how much better it could be. I think he needs a little reminder of what he’s missing.”

She brushes past me down the path, and I follow. I’m not letting her out of my sight. Just then Eric comes around the corner of the mess hall and sees me. He starts to wave and then sees Leena, and I’ve never seen him look like that. Suddenly pale, like devastation and shock and horror. I never want to see that look on his face again.

I put myself between her and him. “Now that you’re here, do you want to see our old cabin? I think our names are still carved where we left them.”

The look on her face speaks of bugs that need to be crushed. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“What do you mean that you just wanted to stop by? I thought that you were in Miami?”

She doesn’t answer me, practically shoving me out of her way to stomp toward Eric. “Hi, asshole.”

He’s still frozen, but he manages to speak. “Leena.”

“Listen,” she says, “this is what happens when you ignore somebody like me. I’m the best thing that ever fucking happened to you, and I don’t care what you say, you’ll never be done with me. When I call, you answer. When I dare to send you a sexy photograph, you say ‘Thank you, Leena, for sharing your beauty with me.’”

As she speaks, I have no idea how I called this person my best friend. There’s nothing but poison in her words and in her tone, and there are people gathering now. Leena isn’t quiet, and the campers gathered for lunch are spilling out of the mess hall, drawn by the noise.

“You are a worthless, spineless, piece of shit who doesn’t know how to treat a woman. Show me the person you’ve been fucking around with so I can revel in how low you’ve sunk. I dare you.”

I look at the faces of the campers, and I find them to be troubled and confused. Everybody here loves Eric, and the fact that he’s being yelled at like this isn’t good for them to see or hear. Especially when it’s not remotely true. After the bonfire he’s their hero. That image is evaporating by the second.