One Golden Summer

by Carley Fortune

“It’s you,” he says, mouth arching. His dimples wink. “Whoa.”

A laugh, and then: “Eyes up.” I immediately turn as scarlet as a rose on February 14. His eyes wander to the flaming mass of hair tumbling out from under my hat. “That’s okay, Red,” he says. “I was checking you out, too.”

I hum, not fully agreeing. “She’s family. I did what anyone would.” “I doubt that.” His eyes find mine, piercing as lasers, as if he can see deep inside. It’s unsettling. “I bet you’re not like anyone else, Alice Everly.”

“Let’s just say I owe the universe a few good deeds.” He raises an eyebrow. “And now you owe me.” I’m not sure if he means to be suggestive or if it’s because his voice sounds like foreplay, but I find myself growing pink. “Is that so?”

“It’s nothing personal. You’re just not my type.” He puts a hand on his chest, as if offended. “I’m everyone’s type.” I can’t help it. I laugh. Loudly. This guy is something. Charlie blinks at the sound. Admittedly, I have a bloodcurdling laugh. Heather calls it my witch cackle. “You know, some people consider boasting distasteful,” I say. “Nah.” His eyes flash with mischief. “Not you, Alice Everly. You like it.” His voice is deep and rough. Somehow, he makes my name sound illicit. I imagine him whispering against my skin.

“Message received. Alice Everly: not into faces.” He moves past me and steps onto the end of his boat so he can haul in John’s skiff. I watch the muscles in his back shift as he pulls on the rope. Charlie glances over his shoulder, catching me mid-ogle. Busted. “More of an ass woman, then?” His smile is a brilliant display of straight white teeth and dimples. I know I’m as purple as a beet, but something about him, his lack of modesty, makes me feel emboldened. “I was checking out your shoulders.” My eyes drop to his backside. “But your ass is okay.” Charlie tuts. “It’s exceptional.”

I hear Nan’s voice. “Alice, are you going to introduce me to your friend?” I stare at the deck, where she stands with her walker. “He’s not my friend,” I call back. “Rude,” Charlie says. “Bring him up for tea.” Charlie turns to me, grinning. “Bring me up for tea, Alice.”

I cackle, loud and ugly. But I stop when I see his expression. He’s blinking at me, brows knit. “What’s wrong?” I ask, wiping water out of my eyes. Charlie shakes his head. “Nothing. You just …” He clears his throat. “You have a great laugh.”

“Come on, Alice. I’m not going to laugh at you,” he says, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “You might.” “Okay, I might. But I won’t think less of you.”

“Alice.” He says my name carefully, like he’s keeping it safe.

He stares at me intensely, but it doesn’t bother me that he might be able to peer into my soul. It makes me feel brave.

Kissing someone for the first time is like learning a new dance, and I want to master Charlie’s choreography.

“No, it’s because when you speak, he listens. When you smile, he smiles. When you need something, he offers help. When you give him something, he thanks you. You’re peas and carrots—I think you’ve found yourself a lifelong friend.”

He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days, his eyes have dark shadows beneath them, and I’m pretty sure he was wearing the same T-shirt yesterday. He’s the hottest of trash.

“I’ve never slept in a tree house.” Charlie flashes me a mischievous green-eyed grin. “You’re welcome to sleep in mine anytime, Alice Everly.” Alice Everly. Alice Everly. Alice Everly. Flirting—it’s the distraction I need. “With or without your company?” Charlie’s smile turns dangerous as he leans into me. I shiver at the feel of his lips grazing my ear. My heart beats harder, faster, louder. “I told you I sleep naked.” I can tell from the wry arch of his brow and the way his eyes dance that it’s a dare. “I’ll come by at dusk,” I say. “You can see what I sleep in.”

I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I could make you scream my name.” His admission lands straight between my legs. “What’s holding you back?” Charlie cups my chin in his hand, and stares at me, his gaze stormy. “I was hoping you would.” I shake my head slowly.

I brush my nose against his. A thread of space separates our mouths. I’ve never wanted to lay claim to another person’s lips so badly.

I laugh, feeling my anxiety ebb like it often does once I’m doing the thing instead of thinking about it.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. “There you are. I’ve been trying to find you.”

Charlie has gone still, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off me. He’s listening. He’s always listening. But I hope he’s hearing me, too.

He gives me a long look and says, “Fuck it.” I’d smile, but his mouth is already on mine.

“Are you all right, Nan?” Bennett asks. Charlie and I share a glance. “Not really,” she says. “Let this be a lesson to you all: Don’t let wounds fester. It only gets harder to repair them.”

I sigh. Charlie casts me a quick look. “What’s that sound?” “Just happy.” “Me too.” “Me three,” Bennett chirps from the back. “Me four,” Nan says. “Thank you all for coming with me. It’s a day I won’t forget.”

“I’m scared.” “Yes, I imagine you are.” Nan pats me on the shoulder. “Falling in love is terrifying.”

“Well, too bad for Charlie,” I say to Sam. “Tell your brother I’ll give him a couple days to catch up on his beauty rest, but that I’ll be there on Saturday.” “Good,” Sam says. I can hear his smile. “It’s about time Charlie met his match.”

I hand him the envelope. “These are for you. So you don’t forget.” His eyes move between mine. “Forget what?” “Us.”

He stares into my eyes, and it’s the look from the photos. The look artists write songs and poems and books about.