Boyfriend for the Summer

“I can wait,” I say.

She sighs. “We’re adults, Eric. This sucks, but we need power. I can spend a couple of hours in a car with you, even after everything.”

I manage a small smile at that. “All right. I appreciate it. Let me grab my wallet.”

“I’ll go get my keys.”

I want to pull her back as she walks away. Circle her in my arms and kiss her. I love you. It’s always been you. Always.

We meet in the parking lot, and we slip into her little blue sedan. I didn’t know she had a car here. Most of the counselors don’t. It’s easier to just use the camp vehicles and leave their cars for their families to use over the summer. But I’m glad that this one is here, whatever the reason.

It’s silent at first. Neither of us know what to say right now. And it grates on my nerves. The atmosphere doesn’t seem particularly tense, but it’s not comfortable either. Finally, I reach forward and press the button for the stereo. Music suddenly blares from the speakers. Loud and brassy and bright. It’s summer pop. A more recent artist. In fact, the artist that I played the other night for the bonfire.

I loved playing that song. But this doesn’t really seem like Seph’s type of music. I glance over at her and smile. “Really?” I’m imagining her driving and singing at the top of her lungs, widows down and hair swirling, and I love that image.

“Don’t judge me for my music choices,” she says. But the words aren’t sharp. “I know you love her too.”

“She’s a good musician. And very kind.”

Seph suddenly looks over at me, before jerking her eyes back to the road. “How do you know that?”

“I met her.”

I watch Seph’s eyes fly into her hair. “On the music circuit I guess?”

“You could say that,” I smirk. “That song that I played. The first one at the bonfire.”

“Yeah.” Seph reaches for the radio and clicks through the songs on the album until the beginning of it supposed to play. “What about it?”

“I wrote it.”

“What?” Her voice fills the car. “Are you serious?”

I laugh. “Completely.”

“Eric, everybody knows this song. It’s one of the best ones out there right now.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

She shakes her head. “It should be yours. Why isn’t it yours?”

I shrug. “Because in music you have to pay a lot of dues, and record labels don’t always take chances on brand new artists, even if your songs are good.”

“It should be you.”

“I’m still hoping that it will be,” I say quietly.

We return to silence, the ballad filling the air between us. But the atmosphere in the car is more relaxed than it was. “Let me know if you need to crack some heads,” she says. “I’m more than willing to come to New York and kick some ass.”

I laugh loudly at that. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“They’ve never come face to face with true Georgia stubbornness,” she says as we pull into the parking lot of the hardware store.

“I don’t know,” I say. “New Yorkers are kind of known for their immovable personalities.”

Seph steps out of the car. “Try me.”

“I believe you,” I say, grinning.

Why can’t it always be like this? This kind of thing between us is sweet and easy, and it’s always been this way. We’ve never had trouble talking.

Thankfully the part I need isn’t hard to find in the store. Generators are commonplace out here. It only takes a few minutes, and that’s good. Things are hot enough as it is, I don’t want the kitchen staff to be out of power for too long.

Heading back out to the car, I glance at the sky. The clouds are darkening, and I bet that the rain is coming soon.

This little hardware store is on the outskirts of the little town, and other than the clerk inside the store, there are no other cars, and no other people in sight. Sometimes it’s shocking to remember how truly isolated we are out here.

Seph is leaning against the car, looking at me, and she has a bright little package in her hands. I stop in my tracks. Starbursts. She remembers the Starbursts. “Where did you get those?”

She points to a vending machine on the outside of the building. “Thought it might be a little peace offering.”

My soul sags in relief. “I’ll take it.”

She hands me a red one, and she takes a pink one, and we chew them together, and I don’t look away from her eyes. The space between us feels tight, and we reach for each other at the same time. Our mouths crash together, tasting of fruit and sugar, and I devour her. She devours me too. It’s desperate and angry and sad and a thousand things at once. It’s so good to touch her, but at the same time…