Page 9 of Same Time Next Summer

Sam lay down flat on her back and let the sun warm her up. She felt the last drips of water on her skin evaporate. She could still feel where Wyatt’s hand had touched hers. She was afraid that if she opened her eyes, she’d stop feeling these things.

“So are you going to tell me?” Wyatt asked.

“What?”

“Whatever you’re thinking about.”

“I was just thinking how nice it felt when you were holding my hand.” Her eyes were still closed.

Wyatt laughed. “That’s not why you’re upset.”

“No, but it’s part of the same basic problem—I’m a total weirdo.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, suddenly aware of herself in a bikini.

“You’re not that weird, Sam.”

“My friends went to a party last night, like a real party.”

“And they didn’t invite you?”

“Well they told me about it but assumed I wouldn’t want to go. Which I didn’t. Because I’m a baby.”

Wyatt didn’t say anything, which she took as a sure sign that he agreed with her. He started scooping sand onto her feet. “They’re getting sunburned.”

Sam stared at the growing mound on her feet. His covering her with sand felt like he was touching her again. It felt protective.

Wyatt kept his eyes on the sand. “Trust me, Sam, you don’t look like a baby.”

Something new fluttered in Sam, but she gave Wyatt a shove.

He smiled at the water.

“Sometimes I just want to go back to playing Capture the Flag,” she said.

“That’s because you’re great at it.”

“I am.”

“You’re like a navy SEAL sneaking out of the water.”

“I am.” Sam was smiling at the ocean. This was true—she was great at Capture the Flag. She loved the beach. Either her friends would slow down or she’d catch up. And Wyatt would still swim with her every morning.

“I’ll race you back,” she said. She took his hand and led him to the shore, because she wanted to feel it again.

8

Wyatt

In the summer, there are a lot of last nights. The last night before the first kid leaves, meaning the last night summer is still intact. On the last night before Wyatt’s family was heading back to Florida, all the kids had a bonfire on the beach, right in front of Wyatt’s house. They sat around the fire on scattered beach chairs and blankets. Wyatt arrived late because the silence between his parents felt particularly charged, and he wanted to help pack up the car and stash the pool toys to smooth things over.

He spotted Sam with her friends but was stopped by Travis and Michael, who, at long last, were offering him a beer. “Did you soothe the savage beast, buddy?” Michael asked.

“At least I packed his car... we’ll see,” said Wyatt, taking a sip. He was surprised at how good this felt, being grouped in with the older guys. He wasn’t going to turn to check, but he hoped Sam was looking.

Olivia, a girl Michael knew from the restaurant where he worked, took Wyatt’s half-full beer away and gave him afull one. He felt like a celebrity. She pulled him down to sit next to her on a blanket by the fire and started talking about the other girls she worked with. It was almost white noise, a series of stories about small sins and failures that amounted to nothing. Wyatt tried to concentrate as the second half of a beer loosened him up. He wondered what Sam and her friends were talking about.

When he finally turned to look, he saw Sam get up, grab her towel, and walk back toward the dunes. She was headed home, and he was leaving at seven the next morning. He sat for a second watching her, knowing he’d get shit from his friends if he went after her, but also not understanding why she wasn’t saying goodbye.She might be coming back, he thought, but he couldn’t risk it.

He got up and followed her onto the narrow path between the tall grasses of the dunes. “Hey,” he said, and she didn’t stop. “Sam. Wait.”

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