Summer of Us

Chapter 12

"Is it weird that I'm supremely bummed about you leaving tomorrow?" I ask, taking another t-shirt out of CJ's bag just as he puts it in. I've been preventing him from packing for the Laurens' annual Sanibel trip for the past half hour, making the whole process last a lot longer than it should.

He sighs, holding out his palm expectantly. "Give."

I pout, holding the shirt behind my back. Yes, I don't want him to leave, but it has more to do with my own loneliness than him actually leaving. Without CJ, I'm alone here, save for the little time Trent and Star have in their schedules to hang out. The next week would likely be spent staring at the walls of my room, arguing with the moms and babysitting Stace.

"Aves, come on," he says, stepping between my legs as he spreads his hands out on his comforter, reaching behind me. "My mom wants to get the car packed up tonight, and she's already bitched me out for not being ready yet."

"Tell her you want to stay," I whine, leaning back. "You can't stay at my place. I'll take real good care of you."

He smiles lasciviously. "Yeah? How come you're only affectionate when I'm trying to leave town?" CJ presses his cheek against mine. "You catching feelings?"

Instead of answering, I willingly hand the shirt back over, pushing both of us up. The smile on CJ's face disappears as he reluctantly takes it, placing it in with the rest. "Did I say something too romantic again?" He sounds hurt, and is referencing to the last few weeks we'd been hanging out. He'd slip up and say something too intimate for my liking, though I had already warned him I didn't want a relationship out of this. School is right around the corner, and the last thing I need is some guy at home pining away over me, making me feel guilty each second I'm gone.

"I just don't want you getting the wrong idea, is all."

"Mm," he says, stacking a pair of flip flops on top of his other belongings. "Like you laying on my bed, begging me not to leave in those shorts isn't giving me the wrong idea already."

"My shorts?" I say, confused, pulling at a thread of the cutoffs. "What's wrong with my shorts? I wear these all the time."

He sighs, dumping dirty laundry into a hamper at the foot of his bed. "Each time you bend over your whole ass comes out. It drives me nuts."

"You never told me that."

"I thought you knew, that's why you wore them all the time," he says, setting down a fallen charger onto the nightstand.

"Oh," I say, catching the waistband of his shorts as he tries to scoot passed me. "You want to have fun, one last time before you go?"

"Not with everyone home," he says. "Besides, I'm mad at you."

"No you're not," I say, my lips hovering a fraction away from his.

"You're like a guy, I swear," he's smiling again, placing his hands on either of my hips. "We just did it."

"But I'm still hungry."

"When I get back, promise," he says. "It's just a week."

Just a week. Maybe the longest week of my life.

I cut through our yards not twenty minutes later, defeated and solemn. Maybe I could get Trent to go with me to the city in the coming week, when Star was at work. Maybe I could convince one of the moms, and then they'd get me new clothes for the upcoming school year. The rest of the hours could be spent streaming shows that I've fallen behind on, working extra shifts or doing something real out of pocket like clean the whole house. If I kept busy, all this extra time on my hands wouldn't be so bad, right?