Summer Nights

All of us were in my room, sprawled across different pieces of furniture. I was on the bed besides Emma, while Jake and Braxton kept pushing each other off the bamboo loveseat. Vaughn was sitting on the table, and Jack was lying on the floor, his head in his hands, stretched on his tummy. We were watching White Chicks.
“I wish I was black,” I heard Emma sigh, and I laughed.
As the movie ended, we yawned and stretched. We didn’t have many days left at the beach; in fact, half of our time here had flashed before our eyes.
“It’s gonna rain tomorrow,” Braxton said.
“Yeah, I was watching the forecast and it said that there was a small hurricane in Georgia, and the aftereffects are coming,” Jacob added.
“Shoot. It’s nothing bad?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know. It just said it would rain and that there would be heavy winds. It’s all right, since we don’t have a gig anyways, and we can just stay inside,” Jake said.
“You know, I love the beach, but it’s good to stay inside every once in a while. Do you guys have any plans?” I asked.
Vaughn, who had been quiet up until now, responded. “Nope. But there’s a bunch of facilities in this hotel."
“Facilities?” Emma asked.
“Yeah. There’s a gym, a pool table, an arcade room,” Vaughn explained.
“A pool table!” Jack exclaimed.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Jake laughed.
My eyebrows shot up, looking for Jake to clarify.
“Jack’s our little gambler. Sometimes he has problems from betting too much. Especially at pool.” Jack gave him a glare for saying this.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, Jack is the one with gambling problems.”
“What, you’re acting like Jacob’s all saintly! He’s the one who’s been cheating on his girls!”
There was an awkward silence in which I avoided eye contact with everyone in the room.
“Jack, you are the biggest fucking idiot I know,” Jake hissed. “Think before you say something!”
“What, I don’t got a right to expressing myself?” As Jack got angrier, his American accent was fading, and a new one was surfacing. He was Russian born, after all, though he had moved here when he was seven.
“Okay, guys, break it up,” Vaughn interrupted.
“Come on, it’s time to go to sleep anyways. It’s almost eleven,” Braxton said, standing in the still-awkward silence.
Vaughn stood too, and offered his hand to Jack as means to help him up. As they passed Jake, Jack ignored him, while Vaughn patted him on the back. “See ya tomorrow,” he mumbled.
Braxton followed suit, pulling Emma with him. She said bye timidly, and Braxton muttered a goodnight.
In seconds, I was left alone with Jake.
I didn’t know how to react. I hadn’t had many boyfriends, and certainly none that were older than me – and much more…experienced. I just hoped that the statement Jack had made wasn’t going to start a whole string of confessions from Jake. We could just ignore it, right? …Though, maybe, deep down…I wanted to know the truth, the real truth.
“Wyn,” Jake said softly.
My heart froze. I really, really liked Jake. I knew right then that I was willing to forgive almost anything he’d done just so we could be together. But I might need a couple moments to straighten myself. After all, hours ago I’d been defending him and his supposed innocence.
“It’s all right, I don’t really care,” I lied as I stood up and got under the covers. I turned my lamp off, leaving us in complete darkness.
“No, it’s not all right.”
There was a pause. I thought he was going to say more, and I held my breath. Inside, I was begging him with all my might to say, “They’re liars! None of it’s true!” and then to continue with a logical explanation that accounted for all this.
Instead, the first words out of his mouth were, “What if I told you, ‘I can’t explain?’’
I froze.
“It only happened once, though, so I don’t understand why everyone’s killing me about it. Don’t I get a second chance or somethign?”
I didn’t respond. I had just released the breath I’d been holding, only to stop breathing yet again as a tear slid down my cheek. Why had I chosen to like this guy, of all guys? It was such an impossible romance. Not just that he had a bad history - notorious for being a player and now a cheater - but for god's sake, why my brother's best friend?
“Wynter,” he said my name again, still softly only with a little more force. “Look, can’t you just trust me?”
I Inhaled sharply and was glad that I was on my side, facing away from him. “Jake. That doesn’t make any sense. How can I trust you when you cheated?”
“It’s not like I cheated on you!” he exclaimed, anxious, and I flinched.
“Jake, just stop,” I hissed. My good mood had flown out the window.
“No, Wynter, don’t be like that,” he begged, desperation leaking from his voice. I felt his warm hand on my shoulder, and he gently turned me so that I was looking at him.
“Let’s just say it was a-a moment of …weakness. But I’ve never cared for someone like I care for you. It would -”
“Jake, we haven’t even been on an official date!”
“But that’s the thing! I’ve always liked you, but you were Braxton’s little sister, you were off limits, I couldn’t have you. Now that you’re mine, I don’t know how to keep you!”
I groaned. “Stop. I feel like you’re feeding me bullshit lines.”
“No! Damn, why can’t you get it?” he grunted. He let go of my shoulder and, after swinging his feet over the opposite edge of the bed, he placed his head in his hands.
There was silence, and I closed my eyes.
“Jake?”
He grunted.
“Promise.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, and I heard him shuffle on the bed, rearranging himself.
“Promise that you won’t do it to me.Cheat, I mean. If we end up together, promise you won't cheat on me.” I knew words and promises were dumb, but at the same time, it would offer me a small reprieve.
There was yet another pause in which I held my breath.
“I promise, Wynter.” And with that, I felt his arm wrap around me and pull me close to him. He snuggled his head into my neck and shoulder, and I sighed. With Jake, the feeling of being so wanted and needed was guaranteed to come with his company, and, for me, it was like a drug. Being there with him – his arm encompassing my body, his gentle breathing stirring my hair – I felt like I belonged. It seemed right.
A deathly silence echoed in the absolute darkness, and at some point we both fell asleep.

A distant noise woke me up in the middle of the night. At first, I turned over and squeezed my eyes shut. I was freaking tired, and the dream I’d been having had left a sweet imprint on me.
But my eyes flashed open when I heard the noise again – and actually realized what it was. Then, another thing made itself clear; in fact, it was not complete darkness, like I’d thought – there was light coming from underneath the bathroom door.
I turned my gaze towards the emptiness beside me, where Jake should have been lying. My eyes darted back to the bathroom door, and, though still sleepy, I stood and made my way toward the light. In front of the door, I raised my hand to knock but hesitated.
“Jake?” I called out, and my voice was still rough from sleep.
The rustling that had been previously heard on the other side froze, and I compelled my ears to hear something, anything.
“I’m fine. Go back to s-sleep,” I heard Jacob say. But his voice betrayed that he was anything but fine.
“Are you decent? I’m going to open the door,” I stated, giving him a fair warning.
“I t-told you I’m fine!”
I repeated my last statement.
“No, wait-” he started, but never finished as another retching sound encompassed me in the dark.
I gasped. “Jake!”
I yelped as I opened the door.
There was blood all around the toilet seat. Jake was hunched over it, his eyes bloodshot, his lips stained with it.
I ran over to him and placed my hand on his back, but he flinched. “Go…g-go back to sleep, Wynter.”
“No!” I exclaimed. “I’m calling nine-one-one!”
“No, you know I-I have an ulcer,” he said weakly, and he tried to point towards his stomach, but another mighty lunge from it caused him to heave over the toilet, and the plopping sound that the blood falling into the bowl’s water emitted was enough to make me sick.
“Oh god, Jake, don’t bullshit me. Ulcers don’t do this. People with ulcers don’t throw up blood, especially when they’ve been taking pills for a week. You’ve been taking your pills, haven’t you?” I added worriedly, standing up, ready to run to get my cell phone and call nine-one-one.
He didn’t respond.
“Jake! Talk to me! Communicate!” I practically shrieked.
He moaned, then turned towards me, still on his knees. “Look,” he said, then paused. “This isn’t the first time this has happened. The doctor told me there’s nothing I can do. I have to – I have to ride it out. Otherwise, I have to stay interned at the hospital.”
“I don’t understand!”
“Go back to sleep!”
I plopped down onto my knees again, and grabbed him by the shoulders. He hadn’t had any more convulsions, and I took it as a sign that he was getting better.
“Jake, please,” I muttered helplessly, “tell me what’s going on.”
He hesitated, and my grip on his shoulders tightened. “I have stomach cancer.”