We'll Always Have Summer

It was Valentine’s Day. I was sixteen, and he was eighteen.

It fell on a Thursday that year, and Conrad had classes until seven on Thursdays, so I knew we wouldn’t be going on a date or anything. We’d talked about hanging out on Saturday, maybe watching a movie, but neither of us mentioned Valentine’s Day. He just wasn’t a flowers and candy hearts kind of guy. No big deal. I’d never been that kind of girl either, not like Taylor was.

At school the drama club delivered roses during fourth period. People had been buying them all week during lunch. You could have them sent to whoever you wanted. Freshman year, neither of us had boyfriends, and Taylor and I secretly sent each other one.

That year, her boyfriend, Davis, sent her a dozen pink ones, and he bought her a red headband she’d been eyeing at the mall. She wore the headband all day.

I was up in my room that night, doing homework, when I got a text from Conrad. It said, Look out your window. I’d gone to look, thinking there might be a meteor shower that night. Conrad kept track of that kind of thing.

But what I saw was Conrad, waving at me from a plaid blanket in my front yard. I clapped my hand to my mouth and let out a shriek. I couldn’t believe it. Then I jammed my feet into my sneakers, put my puffy coat over my fla

“I can’t believe you’re here!” I couldn’t stop hugging him.

“I came right after class. Surprised?”

“So surprised! I didn’t think you even knew it was Valentine’s Day!”

He laughed. “Come on,” he said, leading me by my shoulders over to the blanket. There was a thermos and a box of Twinkies.

“Lie down,” Conrad said, stretching out his legs on the blanket. “It’s a full moon.”

So I lay down next to him and looked up at the inky black sky and at that shining white moon, and I shivered. Not because I was cold, but because I was happy.

He wrapped the edge of the blanket around me. “Too cold?” he asked, looking concerned.

I shook my head.

Conrad unscrewed the thermos and poured liquid into the lid. He passed it to me and said, “It’s not that hot anymore, but it might still help.”

I got up on my elbows and sipped. It was cocoa.

Lukewarm.

“Is it cold?” Conrad asked.

“No, it’s good,” I said.

Then we both lay down flat on our backs and stared up at the sky together. So many stars. It was freezing cold, but I didn’t care. Conrad took my hand, and he used it to point out constellations and co

“Wa

“I’m not going in until we see a shooting star,” I answered him.

“We might not,” he said.

I wriggled next to him happily. “It’s okay if we don’t.

I just want to try.”

Smiling, he said, “Did you know that astronomers call them interplanetary dust?”

“Interplanetary dust,” I repeated, liking the feel of the words on my tongue. “Sounds like a band.”

Conrad breathed hot air on my hand, and then he put it in his coat pocket. “Yeah, it kinda does.”

“Tonight, it’s—the sky is like—” I searched for the right word to encapsulate how it made me feel, how beautiful it was. “Lying here and looking up at the stars like this, it makes me feel like I’m lying on a planet. It’s so wide. So infinite.”

“I knew you’d get it,” he said.

I smiled. His face was close to mine, and I could feel the heat from his body. If I turned my head, we’d be kissing. I didn’t, though. Being close to him was enough.

“Sometimes I think I’ll never trust another girl the way I trust you,” he said then.

I looked over at him, surprised. He wasn’t looking at me, he was still looking up at the sky, still focused.

We never did see a shooting star, but it didn’t matter to me one bit. Before the night was over, I said, “This is one of my top moments.”

He said, “Mine too.”

We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two teenagers, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. So no, he didn’t give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.

Chapter Fifty-seven

He knocked on the door once. “It’s me,” he said.

“Come in.” I was sitting on the bed. I had changed back into my dress. People would be arriving soon.

Jeremiah opened the door. He was in his linen shirt and khaki shorts. He hadn’t shaved yet. But he was dressed, and his face was unmarked, no bruises. I took that as a good sign.

He sat down on the bed next to me. “Isn’t it bad luck for us to see each other before the wedding?” he asked.

Relief washed over me. “So there’s going to be a wedding, then?”

“Well, I’m all dressed up and so are you.” He kissed me on the cheek. “You look great, by the way.”

“Where did you go?”

Shifting, he said, “I just needed some time to think.

I’m ready now.” Leaning toward me, he kissed me again, this time on the lips.

I drew back. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I told you, it’s all good. We’re getting married, right?

You still want to get married?” He said it lightly, but I could hear an edge in his voice I’d never heard before.

“Can’t we at least talk about what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jeremiah snapped. “I don’t even want to think about it again.”

“Well, I do want to talk about it. I need to. I’m freaked out, Jere. You just left. I didn’t even know if you were coming back.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m always here for you.” He tried to kiss me again, and this time I pushed him off.

He rubbed his jawline roughly. Then he stood up and started pacing around the room. “I want all of you. I want every part. But you’re still holding back from me.”

“What are we talking about here?” I asked, my voice shrill. “Sex?”

“That’s part of it. But it’s more than that. I don’t have your whole heart. Be honest. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“No!”

“How do you think it makes me feel, knowing I’m second choice? Knowing it was always supposed to be you two?”

“You’re not my second choice! You’re first!”

Jeremiah shook his head. “No, I’ll never be first. That’ll we’ll always have summer · 283

always be Con.” He hit his palm against the wall. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

“You can’t what? You can’t marry me?” My mind was spi

Gary’s apartment, the one you wanted. I’m fine with it.

We can move second semester. Okay?”

He didn’t say anything, and so I said it again, this time more panicked. “Okay, Jere?”

“I can’t. Not unless you can look at me right now—

look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t still love Con.”

“Jere, I love you.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. I know you love me.

What I’m asking is, do you love him too?”

I wanted to tell him no. I opened my mouth. Why wouldn’t the words come out? Why couldn’t I say what he needed to hear? It would be so easy to just say it. One word and this would all go away. He wanted to forgive and forget it all. I could see it in his face: all he needed was for me to tell him no. He would still marry me. If I would just say the word. One word.

“Yes.”

Jere inhaled sharply. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then he inclined his head.