Summer Skies and Ocean Eyes

Humming off-tune, I zipped Tommy’s sweatshirt over my tank top. It was wonderfully big on me, the lower hem of it almost covered my butt and the sleeves hung all the way to the tips of my fingers. I squeezed my arms tightly around my torso, grinning and grinning and grinning as I made my way down the stairs.

Sure, it was stupid for allowing myself to be so incredibly happy at something like Tommy giving me his hoodie, but at least I was at home where no one else could-

“Why, hello.”

I resurfaced, coming to a complete stop at the entrance to the living room. There, seated on the suede couch as if she owned it, was a supermodel. Posed with her hands folded neatly in her lap and mile-long legs gracefully crossed, Kendall’s mom blinked at me.

She was completely gorgeous, lithe in that way you could really only capture on the runway. Kendall reminded me of a Barbie, but it was like Veronica was somehow prettier than a Barbie. Her hair was perfectly blonde and pin-straight, flowing fluidly to her shoulders. I was suddenly all the more aware of my half-curled shower fresh hair and bulky sweatshirt.

“Hi.” I remembered what I was supposed to do when meeting someone for the first time and smiled, shuffling over with an extended hand. “I’m Calico.”

Veronica rose from the couch, her white cotton dress falling effortlessly into place without her having to adjust it. She was about two inches taller than me as she walked over, something which I wasn’t used to from being taller than the average girl. Her fingers barely wrapped around mine, like they were highly delicate. “Ah, yes. I have heard a lot about you.” The woman’s smile could put CoverGirls to shame. “I’m Veronica Dubois, Kendall and Griffin’s mother.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” I couldn’t say that I had heard that much about her. She was still smiling at me in that warm, open way as we took our hands back. But I could see it in her eyes, that same look Mr. Rose had given me, and the same way Kendall and Tommy had looked at me when I first got here: she was trying to measure me up. I was sure she had already come to some kind of opinion of who I was the moment she saw how beat-up Tommy’s sweatshirt was.

“Why Griffin and Kendall not downstairs?” Lilia emerged from the kitchen, holding a teacup smaller than my fist in her wrinkled hands. “I tell them ten minutes ago their mother is here.”

She waddled to Veronica, handing her the cup. The smell of sour tea wafted by, surrounding me with its tendrils. Ms. Dubois was taking the kids for most of the day, then they were going to spend the night where she was staying.

“It’s fine, I’m in no rush. Our reservation at the restaurant isn’t for another hour.” She sounded like royalty when she talked. Veronica raised the tea to her lips, every movement of hers was trained and practiced like someone was constantly taking pictures of her. She retreated back to the couch as Lilia straightened out her shirt with a frown.

“Of course you are not in a rush. You are never in rush. It took you three months to come see them, didn’t it?”

My eyes popped wide at Lilia’s absolute bluntness. Of course she had never restrained her true thoughts before, so I wasn’t sure why I was so surprised at the reprimanding way she had said it. Veronica, on the other hand, looked unaffected.

“Mmm, thank you for the tea, Lilia. I forgot how delicious you make it.” She calmly took another sip. I always thought that Lilia had a moody look about her, but that was nothing compared to the glare she was giving Ms. Dubois. It made me want to sink through the floor and it wasn’t even aimed at me.

Shaking her head, she muttered loudly to herself in Spanish while going to the base of the stairs. “Ay! Griffin y Kendall! Vamos!” Continuing to rant, sometimes looking at the ceiling like talking to a higher power, she went back to the kitchen.

Caught in the aftereffect, I seriously debated making a break for it back up the stairs. Would that be rude? I didn’t know how else I was going to follow-up that little exchange.

“So Calico, what do you think of Florida? If I remember right, Jon said that you and your mother moved here all the way from Michigan.” Veronica’s voice was velvet as she looked over her shoulder at me. It sounded like only a polite kind of interest, and I didn’t miss the way she had lowered her voice on the word “mother.”

Clearing my throat to find my voice again, I walked behind the loveseat so I could see her face better. “I like it. I mean, it’s hot, but, there’s the ocean.”

Damn it. She sounded so eloquent with every word, and I had awkward written all over my sentence. More blinking on her part, like that was nowhere near the full answer she was expecting. Feeling the pressure, I continued to babble.

“And I’m making some friends, and there’s this guy that I’m- well, this is his sweatshirt.” I held my arms out, knowing I sounded ridiculous but unable to stop. She blinked some more. “I mean, it’s kind of really complicated, but I don’t know. He gave me his sweatshirt.”

Finally, the words stopped pouring out. It hadn’t been much, but it was enough to embarrass me. Veronica crossed her legs again, they were so smooth they shined in the lighting of the living room. Professionally pausing a beat, she rubbed a little smidge of her lipstick off the cup and smiled complacently.

“Only here for two months, and you have already snagged yourself a boy?” Her tone was teasing at first, making me feel a little less stupid. That is, until she continued. “You and your mother sure know how to work fast.”

She was still smiling at me, like saying that last part in some kind of joking, offhand way would make it acceptable. My jumbled head snapped itself back together. The initial feeling of embarrassment at her biting words morphed into anger. I knew what she was implying. I knew it in the way she looked at me, and the way she talked.

God, I would have given anything in that moment to be witty: to be able to come back with something that would shove her words right down her throat and make her realize I wasn’t going to let her walk all over me and my mom.

The two of us were still staring at each other—her smug and me dazed—when Kendall and Griffin came down the stairs. Kendall had managed to get done everything she had initially been stressing about. Her hair was perfectly trimmed, not one piece of it out of place, and her nails were freshly painted from an emergency appointment at the salon. With no time to go shopping, she had borrowed clothes from her friend Sara that were the newest arrivals at the designer stores.

Griffin was wearing something that was eerily coordinated, and his hair was actually gelled and combed in a way that looked strange to me. Kendall must have wrestled him into it: that must have been what the kerfuffle I had heard earlier was all about.

“Oh.” Every single bit of Veronica that had been so practiced completely faded as she stood up, looking at her children for the first time in three months. She messily sat the teacup on the coffee table before bustling over to the two of them. Bending down, she gathered the two of them into her arms. Half-elated and half-unsure, Kendall and Griffin carefully hugged her back. “I have missed you two so much!”

Feeling it was a good time to make my exit, I speed-stepped past them. Normally I would have waited to politely say goodbye, maybe tell her it was nice meeting her, but all I wanted to do was get away. Firmly shutting the door behind myself after I reached my room, I looked down at the gray sweatshirt I was enveloped in.

Sure it was grubby and too big, and of course it wasn’t the most fashionable thing, but it was mine. Reminding myself of the whole reason I liked the sweatshirt in the first place, I swore to never let Veronica Dubois make me feel so insignificant again.

I had to warn Mom.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

Awakened by the gentle zipping sound of my sliding door being opened, my eyes groggily parted. This time, even as Tommy stumbled into my room—clumsily shutting the door behind himself—I still couldn’t decide if I was dreaming or not.

“Scooch.” Was the simple command Dream/Real Tommy seemed inclined to say. I remained motionless, trying to clear up the smoggy feeling floating through my brain.

Since I was otherwise impaired at the moment, Tommy took it upon himself to put his hands on my left leg and shoulder. He flipped me like a burger onto my stomach. I heard the patter of two shoes drop to the ground, then felt the rustle of sheets and comforter as he climbed in beside me.

I let out a low, disapproving sound at the rush of cold air as I tried to turn back around. There was a mess of tangled blankets as I faced him, only to find his mouth curved impishly in amusement. He was sitting there, back against my wall like this was his bed.

My eyes were only half-adjusted to the dark while my arms were still asleep, but I managed to reach up and gently flick my fingers against his face. I couldn’t connect the words to scold him yet.

A short, muffled chuckle escaped his lips as he caught my flittering hand in his, pulling them down to rest between us on the bed.

“Want to sleep,” I grunted, though as I sluggishly woke up, my annoyance was being traded for pleasure. Tommy’s hand parted from mine as he crossed his arms.

“Then go to sleep,” he whispered like a know-it-all. I frowned, looking at the clock: it was 4:36 in the morning.

“Are you going to sit here?” I asked. It was the only way I could get out the question of “Why did you break into my room, wake me up, then climb into my bed and tell me to go to sleep as if none of that happened?”.

Tommy took in a deep breath through his nose, chest rising then falling beneath a blue t-shirt. I had been with him about three hours ago at our spot on the beach, it was a mystery why he was still awake. Unsettling—like maybe something bad happened when he got home. A vision of his looming dad lit behind my drooping eyelids, pulling me to full attention.

“Did something happen?” I hurriedly sat up, fighting every instinct to turn on my light and check him for bruises. Dark or not, I could still see the flat expression he was giving me through the moonlight.

“No. Nothing happened.”

I stared hard, eyes trying to rip his mind apart. Unsuccessfully. He stared right back in a superior way, like I was being the stupid one. When I realized I was losing, I huffed, dejectedly flopping back to my mattress in the form of a mild temper tantrum.

Pulling the blankets vigorously over my head, I laid still, listening to Tommy’s breathing. I didn’t like that the basics of our relationship—our friendship, even—consisted mostly of unanswered questions or brush-offs.

After a minute of pouting, I felt the sheet move above me, and soon, a black shadowed blob that was Tommy’s head moved beside mine on the pillow. His body was close enough that the mattress slanted in his direction, like it was willing me closer to him.

And maybe I was just imagining the heat pressing off his skin to my own.

“Nice sweatshirt.”

He sounded far too pleased at the fact that I was still wearing his hoodie. Really, I had forgotten that I had it on. Already, it was becoming like a second skin to me.

“I don’t want to talk about the sweatshirt,” I grumped.

“Nice fort,” he commended, breath bouncing off my face. I resisted the urge to kick and/or kiss him.

“It’s not a fort.” This early in the morning, my humor level was running low.

“Hm. Then maybe we should make one.”

Before I could reply, the blankets were pushed away, and Tommy stood to his feet. I sat up, wrapping my arms around my torso as if I could feel all the heat being suctioned away. He grabbed my desk chair, then pulled it to the foot of my bed almost silently.

“What are you doing?” I whisper-hissed. If Jon woke up and saw what was going on, I was as good as dead. Deader than dead. It would probably serve me right, going against his rules, but I thought that perhaps, sometimes, rules were worth breaking.

“Makin’ a fort,” he whispered back, “We need clips to hold the blanket in place, and a flashlight.”

I remained on my bed as Tommy took the comforter and draped it over the chair and two posts of the foot of my bedframe. He was so content with what he was doing, like he did something like this every day.

He chuckled to himself as he failed to keep the blanket on the chair, and I decided to play along. Getting to my feet, I flicked on my bedside lamp and went to my desk to get some hair clips out of a small box I kept by my laptop. Grabbing a fistful of the plastic things, I pulled the Hello Kitty flashlight off the top shelf of my closet.

I discreetly examined him while I returned to him, brushing my eyes over every angle of skin that I could see. After finding nothing, I somewhat relaxed and held out the clips. He smiled, taking a few out of my hand. “How come you don’t wear these anymore?”

“I don’t know, the Barney designs are quite fetching, aren’t they? My dad got them for me when I was six,” I replied. Tommy bent over the chair, clipping the blanket together in all the right places to make it stay.

“He moved to Illinois when you were seven, right?” Tommy had the memory of an elephant. It had been weeks since I mentioned that to him during one of our nights at the beach. He continued without waiting for my reply, knowing he was right. “You miss him a lot, don’t you? I can hear it in your voice every time you talk about him.”

The familiar squeeze hit my heart, the one that turned me back into a little girl that ached for her dad. I nodded, mostly to myself as Tommy reached up for more clips. I placed them in his palm. “I do. He’s fantastic. But I think that’s just something that comes when your parents are divorced. You miss your mom when you’re with your dad, but then you miss your dad when you’re with your mom. You’re always longing to be with the other one.”

I reached over and moved some of his bangs to the side of his forehead. With a click of the clip, I secured the fashion statement in place.

“Thank you,” Tommy sarcastically murmured, though he humored me and kept it in his hair. “Are you going to go back and see him before the summer ends?”

“No.” I followed him like a duckling as he walked to the foot of my bed and started to fix the other end of our fort. As I watched his muscles move beneath his t-shirt, I had the greatest impulse to touch him.

“Why not?” He grabbed more clips.

“He wanted me to get settled first. So I wouldn’t use going to see him as a reason for avoiding adjusting to Naples or something like that. Dad promised that I can pick any weekend after school starts, though, and he’ll fly me out as many times as I want.”

Tommy nodded, listening intently as he finished up. “Sounds like a good deal, as long as you don’t leave too much.”

I nodded, feeling the undeniable pull in my stomach that ran over me like warm water. I wanted to coyly ask what he meant, hoping that he would elaborate something like he didn’t want me to be away from him too much, but I could only get out one word. “Yeah.”

My fingers wrapped tighter around the plastic flashlight. I was still nervous to make the first move. The sting of rejection always felt within reach of Tommy, there were no guarantees for how he was going to react.

He stood perfectly still watching me. We were only two feet apart. Two feet, and I couldn’t move my feet. I shouldn’t be so intimidated to do something as simple as kiss him, yet my bones were petrified on lock.

“Calico.” Each part of my name came slow and deliberately off his tongue. “Are you going to come here, or are you just going to stand there looking at me like that for the rest of the night?”

I could feel a blush spread through me as I embarrassedly smiled. My eyes couldn’t gather the courage to look straight at him anymore. But he still stood there, motionless, waiting. He wanted me to come to him.

Placing the flashlight on the ground, I stood up straight again as the butterflies in my stomach felt like they were on steroids. I had boyfriends before, and kissed more than my own share, but what I had felt then was nothing compared to this.

Stepping forward to close in the space between us, I reached up—willing my fingers to stop shaking—and smoothed my hands over the sides of his face. I could feel the beginning pricks of stubble across his chin and cheeks.

Finding it within myself, my eyes raised to his. The look on his face made my stomach twist. Tilting my face to his, I paused, still feeling completely, utterly shy.

Confidence wavering, our breath mixing, I hesitated.

“Do it,” Tommy said heavily, like he was going to if I wouldn’t.

At his words, the Want overturned the Fear, and I caught his bottom lip between mine. No sooner had we connected when his arms were around my waist, holding me tightly against him. Ever curve of him was warm and solid against me.

Just then, I heard a door open down the hall. Tommy and I froze, our mouths still parted against each other’s as we could distinctly hear footsteps sounding off against the hardwood floor of the hall. Closer and closer to my room.

I let go of Tommy like I had been burned, taking a step back to put distance between us as I frantically looked around my room. It was hard to react properly to the panic when it felt like my brain had been ripped right out of my head.

Luckily, Tommy remained cool.

“Turn off the light,” he whispered. My feet somehow were able to move without my brain’s direction. I was dead dead dead.

As I turned off the lamp, Tommy grabbed the remaining blankets off my bed and climbed swiftly beneath the blanket of our fort. He pulled the flashlight with him, making the comforter surrounding him softly glow. You could see that something was inside, but it looked like a lumpy blanket.

Ooh, he was good.

As I started to bend down to climb inside, the door to my room opened. Heart pounding, I forced myself to look up at the face that was illuminated by the faint light of the cheap flashlight.

Jon squinted into the room, staring at the fort with a very confused look. His eyes traveled to me as I stood there, trying my best not to look guilty.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice strained with fatigue. I took in a couple deep breaths to buy myself time, attempting to focus on the thought of not letting my voice waver.

“I made a fort,” I dumbly replied, procuring yet another questioning expression from Jon. It took him a minute to chew on what I had said, he looked down at the blanket and frowned like it was some sort of mirage. “I couldn’t sleep.” Like that would help.

I looked at the seemingly unimportant lump of blankets casting shadows against the walls of the fort, it was completely motionless.

“A fort.” Jon sounded like he didn’t want to believe it, wrinkles horizontally edged their way across his forehead.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” I added. Jon closed his eyes, leaning his head against the doorframe as he tried to conjure up another sentence.

“You didn’t. I had to get up early this morning to finish some things downstairs before heading to work. I heard some thumping in your room and just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he murmured with a raspy voice. That would have loosened me up if it wasn’t for the fact that Tommy was within five feet of him.

“Oh.”

Jon nodded incredibly slow, trying to think of something else to say. But, apparently, nothing came to mind as he stood up straight, raised his right hand in some kind of way of saying goodbye, then shut the door behind himself.

I couldn’t move for a minute or two, listening as his shuffled footfalls distanced themselves. My lungs didn’t take in a full breath of air until I heard the sound of the shower in his bathroom starting up.

I waited an extra sixty seconds, the lump of blankets remained motionless. Finally, deciding it was clear, I let out a relieved sigh and lifted my comforter.

The little hill shifted until a head of brown hair resurfaced.

“Clear?” The voice barely traveled to my ears, but I understood enough of what he had said. Nodding, I took the clip out of his hair that was now barely dangling by the end of a couple of his hairs.

“Yeah.” A small, nervous smile graced my lips. I was still shaky, like Jon might burst into my room again at any moment and be all “HA! I knew he was in here the whole time! Prepare to die!”

“Jeez,” Tommy lowly whistled out, looking like a kid with the blankets pulled tightly around his shoulders. We shared an anxious chuckle, glancing around the walls of the fort. The top of it barely grazed the hairs on the tallest part of my head, and the sides were perfect enough to fit two teenagers without limbs sticking out.

With a freshened zip of fear still sending reverb up and down my spine, I sighed. Trying to play around with a couple words in my head, I decided there was no better time to ask.

“Tommy, why are you here?” I carefully asked, because there had be be a reason as to why I could have gotten in trouble with Jon. As much as I wanted him here, I wanted to know if it was worth possibly getting in deep crap if Jon were to ever find out. Not many guys sneak into girl’s rooms in the dead of the night just to say hi, or fall asleep like Tommy had been doing.

The stony look that I had associated with Tommy when I first moved here started sliding on his face. Frustrated, I put my hand over the side of his face, leaning in closer to him so he could read the expression on my face better. If I had to spell out my worry, I would.

“Please, tell me.” I slid my thumb over his cheekbone. Tommy remained still, all except for his eyes that swept over my face. For once, I felt like I had a bit of control and swing as I watched his hard look melt away.

“Nothing, really. I guess my dad had noticed when I snuck out to get to the beach tonight, and he was waiting for me when I got home. He probably had a couple drink while he was waiting, which is never a good combination when he’s pissed off.” Tommy paused, pulling an arm from his cocoon. Pulling my hand from his face, he held it tightly in his. “He yelled for a minute, but I left before anything could happen. Usually, after he goes to bed, he won’t remember what happened the next morning.”

Like usual, I had no clue what to say. The hesitance to actually open up radiated off of Tommy, thickening the air between us. The fort suddenly seemed so much smaller, like maybe we were too old to be sitting in something like this.

“Anyway, that’s why I came here. I mean, I can stop coming if you-”

“No!” I exclaimed in a burst, then remembered Jon was still here. Containing the intensity, I tried relaxing again. “No. I actually like this. Whatever it is.”

And this time, he was the one who closed in the distance and kissed me.