Ann DeFee - Summer After Summer

Only Petey would call SMU Southern Methodist.

“Clint, this is my friend Jazzy.” Petey was grinning as if he’d just won a jackpot. “Her name is really Jasmine but we all call her Jazzy,” he explained, and continued to stare at us as if he was expecting something exciting to happen.

“Miss Jasmine, you are beautiful,” the Adonis said, taking my hand and kissing my palm.

I was almost afraid I’d faint dead away. I didn’t know whether the dizziness came from lust or the waist-cincher that was restricting my blood flow.

“Let’s find a quiet place to get to know each other.” Clint guided me through the crowd to the pool, where we sat in lounge chairs and talked. We interrupted our conversation only to raid the buffet and dangle our feet in the water. It seemed we had everything in common. We enjoyed the same music, books, school subjects, and we even saw eye to eye on politics.

Clint told me he’d just finished his freshman year and that he planned to go to law school. When I explained I wanted to be an architect, he didn’t laugh. I even confided that I’d been drawing houses since I was in elementary school. Very few people were privy to the information that I got off on the idea of designing homes.

Although it was the 1970s, male chauvinism was alive and well in Meadow Lake, and women were not encouraged to step outside the few professions deemed acceptable. Even the school counselors said I should reconsider my choice. What did they know?

Clint, however, said he thought it was a great idea. And that alone sent him to the top of my favorite-people list.

This newfound comradeship was very cool. It felt like I’d known him forever. Petey grinned like a kid in a candy store every time he looked at us. Discretion wasn’t exactly his middle name.

“Cousin Petey is a matchmaker,” Clint said. “He’s been trying to introduce us for over a year. He claims we’re made for each other.”

“Really?” Sounds lame, I know, but what else could I say to his comment?

“Yeah, imagine that.”

What did that mean?

I glanced around and didn’t see either Charlie or Bunny. Darn it! “This has been great, it really has, but it looks like Bunny went off with Charlie so I need to hit up someone for a ride home.” I wasn’t hinting for him to take me home, honestly I wasn’t. Uh-uh.

“I’ll take you whenever you’re ready to go.”

I hated to admit my social shortcomings to a college guy, especially one with Paul Newman eyes. “Midnight is my curfew,” I finally admitted, although it took a few false starts for me to get it out.

“Oh.” Although he looked a bit nonplussed, he recovered quickly. “I’ll tell Petey we’re going.”

And that’s how we ended up parked out by the river in his new Datsun 240Z.

“Petey showed me this place. I thought since we had half an hour to kill, we could talk.”

If that was his euphemism for necking, it seemed like a great idea to me. I couldn’t think of anything I’d like better than to get into a good lip-lock with him. Obviously Charlie would be my first preference, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever.

“Sure,” I said.

So there we were, sitting in the moonlight with the cicadas creating their own brand of soft music. It was romance at its best—if you discounted the damned stick shift between us. I leaned my head back against the soft leather seat and fantasized about what would happen next.

Guess what? Nothing happened, because Clint kept yakking on and on about freshman English.

Freshmen English! I was about to melt into a puddle of hormonal angst and he was analyzing Hemingway?

Enough was enough. If he wasn’t going to make the first move I’d have to take matters into my own hands.

Ignoring everything ladylike that Mama had tried to drill into my head, I launched myself at him.

It took about half a second to realize I’d made a terrible mistake.

As a virgin I wasn’t familiar with erotic sounds; however, even I knew that a yelp wasn’t a harbinger of lust.

After he disentangled our body parts, he planted a kiss on my forehead. Nope, that definitely wasn’t lust.

“Um, Jaz, um, there’s something I need to tell you.”

If it was possible to die from embarrassment, I was about to expire on the spot. By that time I had managed to wiggle back into my seat. Something was drastically wrong.

“What?”

He sighed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”

Oh, my God, he thought I was too skinny, or maybe he thought I was butt-ugly. Or worse, I had a stray piece of spinach in my teeth.

“Told me what?” I managed to squeak.

“I, uh…” He paused. “Crap, this is hard.”

This time I didn’t interrupt him.

“I have a good friend who’s a guy.”

So what? “Some of my best friends are guys.”

He stared at me in amazement and then lapsed into a heartfelt chuckle. “Sometimes I forget about life in a small town.” He gave me one of those looks that said hey, dummy, I’m saying something important here. “He’s a really good friend.”

Oh. My. God! If they gave out stupidity awards I’d have a blue ribbon. “You mean you’re…” Somehow I couldn’t finish the sentence, especially considering the fact that I’d almost ravished him.

“Yeah, I am.” He leaned over the console and looked me in the eye. “I’ve really enjoyed being with you tonight. I hope we can be friends.”

“Sure, I’d love to be your friend.” He was smart, he was funny, he was a great conversationalist—and unfortunately, this major dreamboat wasn’t interested in girls.

If that didn’t beat all!

“Jazzy, is he as scrumptious as I heard?” Misty plopped down on the dock where I was sunbathing. “Can you believe that nerdy Petey has a cousin who looks like a movie star?”

She scooted to the edge of the dock and put her feet in the water. “And I was having dinner with my parents! Are you going to see him again and does he have any friends?”

Oh, yeah, he had friends. But I wasn’t planning to share that even with my good friend. Whether he told anyone or not was his business.

I glanced up from painting my toenails and gave a heartfelt sigh. “He was, uh—he was nice.” I shook my head, pondering the abominable luck I had with boys. That led me straight back to Charlie and my unrequited love. I hated that term. It sounded like something out of a Jane Austen novel.

Oh, Mr. Darcy, my love for you is unrequited.

“So, are you going to see him again? Is he coming back anytime soon?”

“Get a grip, Misty,” I snapped. Uh-oh, losing my cool was a big mistake, especially with our budding attorney. I was never grumpy, not even when it was that time of the month. Now Misty would definitely know something was up.

“What?” She had that crafty look I hated so much.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t you nothin’ me, girlie. You’re keeping a secret and I want to know what it is.”

“Hey, y’all.” Those dulcet tones came from Bunny.

I was saved by my bleached-blond friend. She strutted down to the dock in the shortest, tightest pair of cutoffs I’d ever seen. “Aren’t those uncomfortable?” I had to ask.

“Nope.” She slipped her sandals off and sat down on the dock. “Let’s go riding.”

Cruising was our favorite hobby. Of course, in Meadow Lake, cruising was one of the few things a kid could do for entertainment.

“Sounds good to me,” Misty said. “I don’t have to be home for dinner until seven.”

“And I don’t have to go to work until tomorrow.” In my summer gig as a lifeguard, I worked a couple of days a week. It was a hard job—yeah, right—but someone had to do it.