The Truth About That Summer

forty-three

"I just remember most Summer Bashes being kind of lame, you know?" Brynn twists bouncy curls into a semi-loose knot atop her head. "I don't want it to be like it was for us, teenagers needing to get wasted to have a good time, you know?"

"Yeah," I flinch a little, the rumors of that summer flooding my mind.

Janet's high pitched gossiping is particularly loud.

You know, if that boy Luke Henson hadn't been drinking, he would've seen that bend in the road. Could've slowed sooner, or something. Hell - if he'd been straight, he wouldn't have gone that route at all so late at night!

What a waste. Such a sad, sad waste.

Blinking myself back to the present, I nod. "I get it."

There's no one who gets it more than I do.

Brynn's eyes soften, her thick brows touching over her nose.

She doesn't perseverate on it, though, doesn't stare at me with that pitying look for long.

"So what would have made it better for us, back then?" She changes the subject, biting the cap of her pen and crossing her legs beneath her.

"Better music, for one." I chuckle. "Talia's dad's 'mixes' are a bit... old fashioned."

"A DJ!" Brynn jots the idea in her binder, listing a couple of people who might be available. "That's a good one."

Laying down, the grass of her lawn prickling the back of my arms, I squint up at the sky, the clouds floating by leisurely, with no cares in the world.

"Another good one: not having our parents literally staring at us on the dance floor."

I smirk. I'll never forget the look on Mom's face when she caught Luke and me dancing a little too close for her liking.

With a "don't be an idiot" look for me and a dazzling smile to distract Mom, Casey was there to intervene before she made a fool out of me in front of all our friends.

"Maybe, like, an under 18 section, somewhere? Better music for them, some 'privacy', the cool photo booth..." I can practically see the gears going in Brynn's head.

Meanwhile, our photo booth remains backdrop-less at present. Apparently neither of us are creative enough to come up with something better than pre-teens squeezing a gorilla nipple.

Yet.

I'm confident we'll get there.

The back door slams closed and I block the sun with my hand, my whole body heating up as Luke comes into view, heavy looking boxes hoisted over both shoulders. My eyes trail down to where his shirt has pulled up, revealing a tan strip of his chiseled abs.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I glare down at Brynn's yard, aggressively pulling grass from the dirt. My guilt makes me sick to my stomach, my revulsion at myself bringing bile up my throat.

Who hooks up with the guy who killed her brother?

Luke trots down the deck stairs, smiling his sexiest grin as he approaches us.

Idiots. That's who.

"Hello ladies," He sets the boxes down, adjusting his ball cap as he peers down at us, limbs and supplies spread out over our picnic blanket. "That should finally be enough paint for whatever that is you've got going on back there." He gestures over his shoulder to our miserable photo booth.

"What about you, Luke?" Brynn tosses her binder aside, laying in the grass beside me. "What was your favorite thing about Summer Bash?"

Luke's eyes flash to mine and I feel a blush spread over my cheeks before he looks away.