Summer Nights

I snuggled into Jake as the previous day’s occurrences flashed into my mind. It seemed oddly distant, and I realized that was because I felt too calm and safe beside him.
“Are you awake?” he whispered gently.
I nodded my head into his chest, loving the sound of the thud-thud, thud-thud of his heart. My head was throbbing slightly, and my fingers were resting peacefully on his shoulder. I felt his hand sneak up around my back, rubbing it comfortingly.
“Mmh,” I sighed. “I don’t want to be awake...”
He chuckled once, and his chest softly rumbled.
Finally, I opened my eyes and twisted my aching neck to look up at his face. He was staring at the ceiling, his expression thoughtful. He hadn’t shaved in a couple days, and I had a strong urge to run my hand over his ever-present stubble again as I remembered the feel of it from last night. He shifted his gaze so that his green eyes were looking at me. A smile spread over his lips.
“You look like hell.”
If anyone else would have made this remark, I probably would either have slapped them or flipped them the birdie. But coming from Jake, I knew it wasn’t intended to hurt me. So I ignored it, smiling as best as I could, considering. “Gee thanks. It’s what every girl wants to hear.”
I reluctantly disintegrated myself from him. I stretched myself out like a cat, and then tried to adjust the dress. Thankfully, it had ridden up, so my breasts hadn’t spilled out while I’d been sleeping. On the other hand, my grandma undies were in plain view.
“Don’t look," I muttered, and before he could change his mind, I stood up. I adjusted my dress quickly, but the throbbing in my head turned to a full on headache that felt almost fatal, and I groaned, pressing my hand to my forehead. “Fuck me!”
“Are you-” Jake started worriedly, then stopped abruptly. “I see you went against your noble brother’s wishes. I’ll get the Advil and coffee.”
After a moment or two, the headache seized and I straightened myself. He returned immediately with a paper cup filled with the brown liquid and a tiny gel capsule.
“Thanks,” I muttered. I downed the liquid and pill, and when my eyes met Jake's, I shivered. "What's wrong?" I asked, not liking the turbulent green of his eyes.
"You drank," he said flatly.
I gulped. "Jake, you couldn't expect me not to. I'm not a kid," I added sourly. This was always the problem, what Jake and I's relationship would always culminate to - me being younger by an entire four years.
"Wynter, none of this would have happened if you wouldn't have drunk."
"Fuck no," I said, even the truth of his words hit home, embarrassing the shit out of me. "None of this would have happened if Jack wouldn't have been drunk. Hell, if you didn't have that fucking ulcer, you would have drunk too!"
He shook his head aggressively. "Your brother frigging told you. He told you, didn't he?"
I nodded sheepishly, ashamed out of my wit. "Jacob-"
"Fuck," he said, looking at the ceiling. Like yesterday, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Absentmindedly, I wondered if this was one of his telltale signs of frustration. "When I saw you out there with him, I thought I would kill both of you." He paused, then said, barely audible, "When I saw it was him - fucking Jack, the fucking guy I call my friend-" His Adam's apple bobbed. He couldn't finish.
"How did you know we were out there, anyways?" I whispered.
He lowered his hand. He was pretty dark-skinned so it was hard to tell when he blushed. I had a feeling that he was flushed, though, as he responded, "I saw you step around the wall."
It was my turn to remember how he'd been flirting with that girl, how jealousy had flooded me.
"Thank you," I said, anyways. If he hadn't shown up...I closed my eyes tightly. I wasn't going to think about that.
Suddenly, we were interrupted by the sound of heavy knocking. Jacob glanced at me, at the door, and then back again. Finally, he hesitantly started towards the door, paused before it, and then opened it.
Jack was standing there, the whole side of his face bruised and his lip busted. His eyes flashed from Jake to me. “I want to talk to Wynter.”
“If you think I’ll let you get anywhere near her again, you’re deeply mistaken,” Jacob said in a forcefully calm voice that was way worse than if he had been shouting.
“Jake.” My voice was quiet and begging.
He turned to me. “What?”
“Let me talk to him. There’s something important I want to ask him.”
His eyes widened. “Are you crazy? The motherfucker will-”
“Go, Jake,” I said, more forcefully.
“Fine!” Jake snapped, like I was choosing Jack over him. “I’ll be outside.”
He was still in his clothes from last night, so he just grabbed his jacket, purposefully bumped shoulders with Jack (making Jack stumble backwards), and slammed the door shut.
Jack stepped into the room.
He looked horrible. The bags under his eyes were humongous, and the bruise wasn’t adding to his charm. He, too, was in his clothes from last night, only the seam at the shoulder of his jacket had ripped.
Another fucking shiver rippled over my skin, but I ignored it and wrapped myself in the sheets on the bed.
Suddenly, in a pain filled voice – “I’m so sorry, Wynter! I was drunk, and I forgot you were my best friend’s little sister, and I was fucking turned on by that stupid fucking dress and I-”
“Shut up,” I said, wondering how I was going to handle this. “It’s fine, ‘cause nothing really happened.” I looked down. No. It wasn't entirely fine. But shit, what could I do? Have him arrested? Tattle on him to my brother? “Look, there’s one thing I have to know and you have to be completely honest with me, okay, Jack? I need your word.” I finally lifted my gaze from the ground.
“I swear. Anything.”
I was relieved, I realized, that this was going so smoothly. I hadn't been expecting him to apologize, to admit what he'd done, which would have made things a thousand times more awkward. But we were talking it out. This was good. Especially since, last night, right before falling asleep, a crazy thought struck me.
I hesitated, then trudged on. "Think back to the seventh grade. Right before the school dance. Someone cut up my dress. You know what I'm talking about? It was a pretty long time ago, but....Who was it? Who cut up my dress and posted the pictures of me on Facebook?”
Jack flinched, looking up at the ceiling. "Shit. Why are you bringing this up now? I thought you knew...I thought..."
“Answer the question Jack!” I snapped, finally loosing my temper. Five years. Five fucking years that I’d totally misjudged a person who was a totally prominent part of my life.
“Me,” he muttered finally. "I changed my Facebook name to Jake's, and you actually fell for it. Shit, Wynter, I thought you knew it was me? It was supposed to be a stupid prank, but it turned out to be a horrible thing. I'm sorry I keep fucking up your life. Shit."
I felt free. For the first time in years, I didn’t care about those pictures, the dress, whatever. They were in the past, and I realized I had wasted all this time fussing over them. What was the big deal about them anyways? I had been over dramatic about it.
I nodded brusquely, then sidestepped him and walked to the door. I opened it, and waited patiently as Jack turned and got the message. As he stepped over the threshold, he said, “Wynter, again, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have-”
But I didn’t care anymore. “Jack. Shit. You know you're not one of my favorite people in the world. You've always been a jerk to me, and now I find out all this crap about you, and you expect everything to be alright. Well, fuck it, it's never gonna be completely alright. The only reason I didn't fucking report you for attempted rape is because you are my brother's friend. But don’t push it. I’ll need some time to pass before I can look you in the eyes again and think of you as something close to a human being.” I spun ‘round and entered the bathroom.
I took a deep breath as my eyes locked onto my reflection. Jake hadn't been kidding when he'd said I look like hell. Ignoring the deep feelings of resentment, I shook myself out. It would be no use to keep dwelling on this. I had two choices - the first to tell my brother what had happened, while the second was to sweep it all under the rug and live with yesterday's consequences. I couldn't ruin my brother's friendship with Jack, even though the guy was an asshole. They'd known each other for forever. And besides, Jacob was right. I'd drunk too, so I was partially to blame. My resolve made, I began stripping, eager to get out of yesterday's clothes. I stepped into the warm water falling from the shower, almost purring as it washed away yesterday's troubles.
My birthday was tomorrow, and the past was the past. I needed to fucking enjoy my vacation, my time here at the beach, and if that meant sweeping shit under the carpet, I would do it.

The five of us met in the breakfast area, and of course Braxton and Emma had a panic attack when they saw Jack’s destroyed face. He covered quickly by saying that he’d gotten drunk and tried to make a move on someone else’s girl. I kept my eyes down through this scene, and of course, Emma, who knew me really well, pulled me aside to ask what had really happened. I swear, I was a horrible actor and was surprised that Emma caught on while Braxton didn’t. He was my goddamn brother. Was he really that oblivious? But I coudln't bring myself to tell her, especially since, for some reason, she was acting really friendly towards Braxton. When she was younger, she'd admitted to crushing on him, but I'd thought that was over. Maybe hanging around him so much was resurfacing old feelings? I'd have to talk to her about it.
Jacob behaved too. As soon as I'd gotten out of the shower, we'd talked about whether or not to tell Braxton, and we'd both come to the same conclusion.
Vaughn arrived an hour later, and we spent the rest of the day, all six of us, on the beach, swimming, tanning, playing volleyball, and eating hot dogs. Before eight o’clock at night, when the guys had another gig, Jake and I visited Fuzz and Giovanni in the animal daycare the hotel had. We walked them around the building, chatting, throwing a tennis ball, and waiting for them to come back with it. Fuzz was really happy to see me, and I felt sort of bad for ignoring her all this time.
Then it was time to go to the club for the Fluke’s next gig. I was more reluctant to go with them, but Jake swore he’d stay with me at all times, except when he was on stage; then Emma would take over.
The event was boring (yes, my brother’s band was very good, but that didn’t mean I had to be excited about them every time I heard them play). We left the club at eleven at night, and by the time we got to the hotel, I had twenty minutes to go until it was my birthday.
Everybody wished me a happy early birthday and then we parted ways, because I told them I didn’t want them to waste away twenty minutes of perfectly good sleep.
Still, I was so excited, my stomach was churning; I had that same feeling as a kid trying to go to sleep the night before a huge school field trip.
Jake followed me into our suite and I tried to calm myself. A big grin was spreading over my lips as I grabbed my pajamas from the armchair and called dibs on the bathroom. Jake grunted distractedly, so I proceeded to change. When I returned, he was already in the bed. I got in beside him – yes, I’d ‘forgotten’ to put up the pillow barrier – and turned off the light on my side of the bed. Darkness encompassed the room.
I held my breath, waiting for something.
A minute passed.
Two minutes.
Three.
I groaned, shooting up in bed.
“What?” Jake asked in a panicky voice, sitting up and looking around wildly.
“Jacob,” I started. "Shit, I'm sorry but I can't go to sleep...I'm going to be eighteen! Can you believe it?” I shot out of bed. “Hmm, what should we do?”
“What? Slow down there, horsey. I’m really tired. Maybe we should call it a night.” He plopped down into his pillows and massaged his temples.
I shook my head. “Nuh-uh, you’re coming with me, and nothing you say will stop me.”
I jumped in the bed and began to felt around for Jake’s hand. I grabbed it and pulled him out from underneath the covers. He groaned loudly as I did so, but I laughed.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m being selfish, but right now, there’s no one else I’d rather spend the day with.”
Our eyes met, and that twinkle was back with the green. He sighed dramatically, then hoisted his feet over the side of the bed. He gave one more yawn before shaking himself out and saying, still sleepily, "Okay, let's get this over with."

“Okay, what do you want to do first?” Jake asked me, scratching the back of his head. We had driven downtown, parked the car in front of a gas station, and decided to go for a stroll. We were just passing a seven-eleven store, when a mischievous grin spread itself over my face. I pretended to wring my hands as I gave my best imitation of an evil laugh. “Cigarettes!”
“What?” Jake seemed to be taken totally aback.
“I’m eighteen, and I want a cigarette!”
“No! I won’t let you. Come on, Wynter, your brother would kill me if he found out.”
“He wouldn’t; I’m an emancipated adult!” I added a small cheer at the end of my statement for emphasis.
Jake allowed for a smile to cross his face. “I have to admit, that was pretty much the first thing I did when I was eighteen.”
Still grinning, I grabbed his hand and entered the store. An old bell that was hanging above the door rung and scared the hell out of me.
“I'll try to dissuade you one more time,” he asked awkwardly. "Please?"
I looked up at him. “Well, now, you can’t do that.”
“Well, just forget I said anything. But your brother's going to kill me.”
We reached the counter, and an old woman asked us, “How can I help y’all?”
“Can I have a pack of cigarettes and a lighter?” I asked cheerily. Jake hid a snicker.
The woman – her name tag read Lola – squinted her eyes. “ID?”
I nodded, expecting this, and got out my driver’s license. “Freshly turned eighteen.”
The woman got out a calculator and began punching in numbers. When she was satisfied, she looked me in the eyes and muttered under her breath, “What a shameful way to spend the first hours of your birthday.”
“What?” I asked, shocked. Jake began choking on his laughter, and so decided to go examine some irrelevant thing on some random rack.
“What type?” the woman asked instead of repeating her previous statement.
“Marlboro,” I muttered uncertainly.
The money and purchase where exchanged, and soon Jake and I were leaving the seven-eleven store.
I squealed as we reached a bench further down the sidewalk. I situated myself on it and patted the seat beside me. “Sit,” I ordered.
He obliged, and we just stood there as I was gazing intently at the red and white package in my hand. I started to slowly rip the plastic off, when I heard Jake laugh.
“Have you seriously never had a cig before?” he asked.
“No, I had one in eighth grade and another one in tenth. I hated it.”
“So why do you want to do it again?”
“Because I’m a grownup now. My lungs are different.”
He rolled his eyes. “That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard. You’ll hate it just as much as you did the first time. Trust me. I smoked throughout my freshman year in college, and then your brother was a good friend and told me what an idiot I was.” He paused. “He’s really cool like that.”
I guess that was man-talk for how much Jake really cared for Braxton, because his voice was filled with emotion.
“Yeah, you guys have known each other forever. He really cares about you.” I remembered our earlier conversation.
He turned his face towards me abruptly. “You know, I can talk to you about anything now that we’re not ‘enemies’ anymore. You’re really cool too, like your brother.”
Besides the fact that I usually hated being compared to my brother, I shrugged, feeling oddly praised. “Thanks.”
“That’s why I’m going to tell you that you shouldn’t smoke that cigarette, but if you are, give me one too.” He said, smirking his signature lop-sided grin.
I slapped him on the shoulder and said, “You’re such an asshole, Jacob!” Laughing, I took out two cigarettes, gave him one, and then examined mine for about three minutes. Afterwards, I took the lighter and lit the end of the cig.
I shared another glance with Jake, and all that was missing was the suspenseful opera music in the background. I slowly brought the cig up to my lips, and as they encompassed the small cylinder, I pulled in a breath. Previous experience had taught me not to inhale directly, as did most professional smokers. So, I relaxed my throat and exhaled out my nose.
My whole nasal tract burned, and my hand shot up to it. I massaged it and groaned out load as my eyes misted over.
“Shut up,” I said to Jake, whose laughter was unbridled.
I tried again, and this resulted in choking.
I tried another way of smoking the cigarette, but it was extremely uncomfortable. I gave up on the sixth try, throwing the cigarette on the ground and squishing it between the pavement and my foot.
I stared forward into the darkness of the park before us.
“Aw, come on, don’t look so grumpy on your eighteenth birthday,” he said.
He exhaled smoke in my face and I slapped him playfully away, before saying, “I’m not grumpy,” in a grumpy tone. “How come you can smoke and I can’t?”
“I know, I know…I’ve got some serious skills.” He chuckled before grabbed my hand (we really were doing a lot of that lately, weren't we?) and pulling me up into a standing position. “Follow me.”
I obliged, twining my fingers with his as he led me to the swings. His hand was warm in the gently cooling air, and of course flutters drifted up and down my spine. I felt so good to be with him here. So safe. What had happened the other day didn’t matter anymore. Right now, it was just me and him under the moon.
“Sit.” He pointed to the swing’s seat.
Again, I acquiesced. He got behind me and started gently pushing me. The hinges squeaked quietly, but I ignored the sound. I focused on the feel of the wind brushing my face. "I haven't been on a swing in forever," I admitted.
"I figured... Wyn, don't be in such a hurry to grow up."
A sparkle of anger fluttered in my stomach. "Jake, I'm already grown up."
He sighed, and, again, I could almost here him rolling his eyes. "You don't understand."
"No, I don't. Explain it to me, then," I pushed, annoyed. I turned in my seat and dug my feet into the ground, looking at him.
He pivoted and walked over to the swing beside me, sitting down in it only facing the other way. He took his time answering, looking off into the distance. "Just, time flies."
That was all he was going to give me?
I hesitated. "Is this about your ulcer?"
His eyes snapped to mine. He chuckled uneasily. "You could say so."
"Jake," I said slowly. I didn't know what to do. I knew something was wrong, and I wanted to ask what. But, truth was that I'd had limited experience with Jacob - with any of my brother's friends. I didn't know whether or not, if I asked him, he would blow up. Shit, I'd hated him, or at least, tried to, until a couple days ago. How had my opinion changed so quickly? I shook my head, trying to organize my thoughts. "What's wrong?" I asked softly, but immediately, I felt pathetic. "I mean, aren't you gonna be alright?"
Seconds dragged into minutes, before he finally shook his head. My stomach clenched together and my blood ran cold. "I don't know," he admitted.
"Jake," I said, standing up and walking in front of him. He looked up at me, and slowly, he placed his hands on my hips. My own fingers latched onto his, than slowly slid up his arms, resting on his shoulders. I began to lean down, slowly, until my knees touched the ground. His hands slid up to my sides, and now it was my turn to look up into his face. I felt slightly embarrassed to have put myself into this position but I was beyond rational thought. The overpowering urge to kiss him was the only thing I could focus on, and I was done denying it.
"Wynter," he breathed out. Something in his eyes - embarrassment, guilt - I don't know.
I slowly leaned in, my eyelids drifting close. I stopped when my neck had reached half way - he was above me, and the only way our lips could join was if he brought his head down the rest of the way. I waited expectantly for a split second, shivers running down my spine and to my fingertips I expected the feel of his soft breath and the caress of his warm lips.
It didn't come. My breath hitched and embarrassment flooded my being as seconds past. One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
I resisted the urge to open my eyes. That would be admitting defeat. There was still a chance, a chance he was making up his mind.
Then, his hands left my sides and gently wrapped my fingers in his. My fingers flitted open, and a magnificent blush started coloring my cheeks.
"I can't, Wynter," he whispered as he slowly brought my hands down from is shoulders. "You know I can't."
I swallowed hard, than retracted my hands from where he was keeping them, clutched to his chest. I used them to push myself up from my vulnerable position, and, wordless, I turned around. I took a deep breath, then used my hand to brush my hair over my shoulder.
This was not how I'd imagined my night turning out.
Of course, I hadn't meant to put Jake into this position. He was right. I knew he couldn't. He was a loyal friend and Braxton was a dumb-ass who would flip if he found out his little sister and best friend were getting it on.
But the hurt was still there, the rejection fresh. I'd offered myself to him, and he'd denied.
I heard the swing squeak as he got up, and I started walking back towards the gas station where his car was. He caught up with me, and we walked, shoulder to shoulder, though the silence was never shattered by a single word. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, though every once in a while, I felt the burn of his gaze.
Tomorrow, everything would be back to normal. The night would extinguish this pain too. Until then, I would swallow in self pity and regret.