The Summer of Summers

It smells like fish.

Usually, I find the ocean to smell a little bit like heaven, but not tonight. Tonight, it smells like fish, stale beer, sweat, and smoke. North Edge looks a lot different in the dark than it did a few years ago.

Marla is across the fire, leaning on a guy who could be attractive. Only if you have had more than three cups of beer, though. Marla has had at least double that. Keeping a close eye on her, I sit on a rotting log, digging my feet into the damp sand. My cup of beer has gone untouched and I have no desire to take even the slightest of sips. It looks to be all foam, anyways.

There are around twenty teenagers gathered around this tiny fire, all incredibly drunk. A few of them I remember playing at the beach with when we were little. Now they're half naked and hammered. It's funny how things change.

I set my cup in the sand and stand up, brushing the back of my thighs off. They're left indented by the stump that was currently my seat. I quickly leave the awful scene, Marla taking no notice to my absence. She's kissing the boys neck, their hands roaming.

I walk over to the edge of the water, sitting down. The smell of smoke lingers in my hair that I tie up into a pony tail.

"I really hate these stupid bonfires, don't you?"

I look over my shoulder to see a boy towering over me.

"Yeah," I stutter, "I do."

He's really cute in that surprising kind of way. Where you just want to stare at his face for a really long time, surprised someone could be that cute. His hair is messy and dark brown. It's the nice kind of messy that makes him look even more attractive.

"Mind if I sit with you?" His voice is deep and warm.

"Go ahead." My voice comes out slightly choked, as if I'm going to cry. I've never been skilled in the boy department, I'm awkward and shy around them. The boy sits down next to me, not too close, but close enough to smell chlorine radiating off of his tan skin.

"What's your name?" He asks, not glancing at me. He gazes off into the water and I get a pang of deja vu.

"I'm Georgia, you?"

"Finnegan, but I go by Fin. Georgia is a pretty name, do you live there?" He isn't joking around, his face straight, only a trace of a smile gracing his lips.

I shake my head, "No, I live in Ohio."

Now he looks at me, his eyes large and green, "Really?"

"Yeah," I gulp at the intensity of his stare, "I come here every summer."

He breaks into a little smile, "You look familiar." There's a small gap in between his front two teeth, the rest straight and white.

"You do, too." I respond, biting my lip. I try to recall where I could have seen him, but I come up with nothing. I guess he doesn't either because we both fall into an awkward silence.

"Do you know what time it is?" Fin asks. Great, way to go Georgia, why can't you be appealing.

"Almost two. You have to go?"

He nods, standing up, "Curfew is two fifteen. My mom will kill me if I stay out any later." Fin holds out a hand to help me up. I take the offer, his hand engulfing mine.

"It was really nice meeting you Georgia, maybe I'll see you around?" He sounds as if he genuinely means it.

"Yeah, of course." Fin stares at me for a few seconds, just barely smiling, before walking off.

As he's walking past the bonfire, he turns around and lifts a hand towards me, waving me over. Confused, I jog to him, my feet getting lost in the sand.

We're standing close to the fire, the heat radiating onto my calves. I have to look up to meet his large eyes.

"So, I realized I probably sounded like the biggest douche bag ever, do you have a phone number?" Fin asks with a grin, extending his phone out towards me. I try my best not to smile like an idiot as I enter my number into the device.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later, Georgia." He flashes me another grin before jogging off. I let myself smile largely before searching for Marla.

I find her leaning on a log, looking ill and heart broken. I help her stand up and she begins to cry. I'm surprised her tears aren't a water-beer solution.

"What's wrong, Mar?" I ask, trying not to sound annoyed as I lead her away from the fire. She sniffles, erupting into multiple sobs.

"Mark left, saying he had a girlfriend." I think is what she says. Her voice is thick with tears and hiccups.

"Who is Mark?"

"The boy I was talking to. We were in love, Georgie!" Marla cries, letting all of her weight fall onto me. I groan, pulling her back up. As we near our houses, I set her down near the water and let her finish crying. It takes twenty minutes for her to compose herself, and five minutes after that to begin throwing up.

We are not going to any more bonfires.