Page 12 of The Summer of ’98

“All right, then. Love you.”

The phone base quietly clicked when I hung up. Jacob and Eleanor were in the living room talking over the television, gently arguing about what to watch. I tiptoed out of the kitchen and crept up the staircase.

The shower was running as I walked past the bathroom door upstairs. My steps faltered for a moment, listening to the sound of Leroy’s upbeat humming. My imagination built up the sight behind this door. His built torso dripping wet, his hair damp and unkempt. Heat filled my cheeks at the images and I forced my eyes to the floor to hide the shame, although there was no one to see it.

Fleeing to the spare bedroom and shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it and giggled, placing my flat palms on either side of my warm cheeks before fanning myself. I had never thought about sex this much before. Ever. But since we shared that night together, May 28, 1998—a night I would never forget—I hadn’t been able to rid myself of the constant hot flushes or the sinful thoughts that plagued me without mercy.

I shook it off and changed into a yellow spaghetti-strapped dress with a white T-shirt on underneath it. An old pair of black Docs that I’d found dumpster diving completed the look. Next came mascara, lip gloss, and a spritz of hairspray to tame my natural waves, and I felt as ready as I ever would. I hadn’t felt nervous about the night before us, but I did get a little onslaught of butterflies when I thought about the fact that I’d be meeting Leroy’s friends. Would I make a good impression? He said he was looking forward to showing me off and it excited me to know that he felt I was worth showing off.

Just as I finished folding the clothes up that I’d chosen and organized to wear tomorrow after a shower, there was a light tap on the door.

“Come in.” Leroy came in and paused at the threshold. “Ellie, you look—stunning,” he said, his stare lingering on my bare legs.

“You look great too,” I returned the compliment, because he did. His fitted faded-blue jeans flirted with the top of his black Chuck Taylors. The color of his shoes coordinated with the loose black T-shirt that was tucked at the belt of his jeans.

“I suppose we should head downstairs,” Leroy murmured as he gazed to the left. I couldn’t see whatever it was that held his attention in the corridor, but his attention moved between myself and the outside of the bedroom, repeatedly, in a matter of seconds. “Noah is coming with us. I’m driving.”

“That’s fine,” I smiled and waited for him to suggest that we leave. But once again, he stared off in the direction of the staircase and then back at me. His expression turned to desire as he gave me another once-over and in a fast moment, too quick to prepare for, he stepped over the threshold and tucked his hand behind my neck.

“I need to do this before we leave,” he mumbled, not giving me a lot of time to be confused before his mouth was moving against mine. I melted into his embrace, wrapping my hands around his back and reveling in the sheer perfection that came with his touch.

His breath was minty fresh and the scent of cologne invaded the last sense I was aware of. All else had fallen victim to his presence, to his kiss, to his hold. He was gentle, but from the light tug that he gave my hair, it was obvious that he was in charge and I was more than willing to allow it. Just as I had been the first time.

His tongue slid against my own, and although I had done this before, I still worried that I wasn’t good at it. But when a low groan of approval sounded at the back of Leroy’s throat, I felt a little more confident. His hands slid down my back, his warm fingertips brushing the exposed skin before they settled on my butt.

When we parted—reluctantly—he stared at me with a longing and desire that I had never experienced with a boy before. He had assured me on more than one occasion that this wasn’t something brief or non-committal. He’d unequivocally assured me that what he felt for me was pure and true. And I believed him without a doubt. I know because I felt it too.

A voice startled us from the bottom of the staircase, and I jumped with the unwanted interruption. “Hurry up! I wanna bounce!”

“Fine, asshole!” Leroy shouted over his shoulder; his hands still rested on my lower back. “We’re coming!”

“So is fucking Christmas!”

He turned back to me, rolling his eyes with a frustrated sigh. But the moment that our gazes met, his entire expression and demeanor softened. “Ready then?”

I took his hand, our fingers lacing together. “Let’s go.”

Ellie

We arrived at the house that was located at the end of a cul-de-sac full of other beautiful, large homes. I wasn’t expecting anything less, though—the rich mingle with the rich. A wave of unease rolled over me as we parked a few houses down and walked toward the rave. I didn’t belong around such high-society teenagers. I worried they’d be able to smell my barely-there bank balance. The people hanging out on the front lawn and large wind-around patio were all wearing expensive dresses, leather platform shoes and boots, bomber jackets, and brand jeans.

My outfit wasn’t poorly put together; I knew how to dress. But it was purchased from the thrift store and I was sure that it was obvious. Especially from the judgmental once-overs that I received as I walked hand in hand with Leroy. Of course, there could have been another reason for the subtle scowls: to these girls, some outsider was on the arm of the school’s quarterback.

We walked through the home and into the large backyard where people were spread out, talking, drinking, doing keg stands, and dancing. A few people were in the large pool—which wasn’t surprising considering the heat. Leroy was greeted continuously. He was brief with his exchanges—he spoke few words and moved on as fast as he could after introducing me. I reminded him that I didn’t need to be introduced to every person that we passed, but he insisted that he wanted everyone to know that he was dating the most beautiful girl there.

We stopped beside a group of people who sat in a circle on outdoor garden sofas, passing a few joints between each other. A familiar lean boy with golden-brown skin and black, curly hair stood from the couch with an inviting and kind smile. “You made it,” he exhaled a cloud of smoke and offered the joint to Leroy, who declined.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Leroy said. “Ellie, you remember Eric from our weekend in Waco.”

“Nice to see you again, gorgeous,” he winked and I noticed that, even though his jaw was a bit uneven, he had the most charming and charismatic smile. He waved off someone’s offer for another drag on the joint. “Where’s Noah?”

“Probably balls-deep in his own ego,” a girl with light-brown ringlets said from the sofa below us. She glanced up and flashed an innocent grin. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Lee. Your brother is an absolute self-obsessed knob jockey dickhead.”

“Ellie, this is Cass,” Leroy explained. “Cass, this is Ellie.”

“Ahh, the famous Ellie,” she stood up with an energetic spring, causing the ringlets on her head to bounce. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Leroy here won’t shut up about his girl, which is a miracle—he’s a man of few words.”

Leroy was watching me with that same soft gaze, and I wondered how it was possible that he was the same man with whom I had spent hours every single day on the phone. Paranoia set in, wondering if I’d been the one doing all the talking during our phone calls. That seemed impossible, though—I wouldn’t feel like I knew Leroy as well as I did if that had been the case.

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