Summer Love - 1. Chapter 1

Summer Love
Part 1

God was talking to me.

“Hey dude, can I borrow summa your lotion, man?”

Of course, I didn't know it was God until I put my book down and rolled over on my towel to look at him. Big mistake number one.

I'd been watching him all morning. To me, he stood out from all the other surfers out there, not because of his skill or anything (since I wouldn't know great surfing if it bit me), but because he was so short. All the other surfer “dudes” seemed to be 6 feet tall or more (at least, to my 5'6" perspective), but this guy was a head smaller than them, and still out there keeping up. Now he was standing over me, all tanned, hair bleached nearly white from the sun, cute all over, and those bright green eyes watching me stare at him.

“Dude? You there?”

Whoops, stop collecting flies, dangit! “Oh, um, sorry, uh, go ahead, sure.” Yay, that's eloquent, yeah.

“Thanks, I left mine at home this morning.”

I nodded dumbly, then realized I was still watching him (big mistake number 2) and quickly rolled back to my side and back to my book. Not that I didn't want to watch him, especially with him crouched down right there at the end of my towel rubbing the lotion into that so-smooth tanned skin with perfectly formed hands... urp. And that's why I had to be anywhere but on my back with my shorts trying to pop open. I knew my cheeks were burning, so I shifted the rest of the way over onto my belly and hid myself in my book.

“Hey man, you might wanna put some more lotion on your legs before they start to burn. Here...”

My brain barely registered that before I was hit with the dual shock of the cold sun lotion and the feel of his hands spreading it along the back of my calves. My voice almost squeaked when I blurted out, “Uh, okay, thanks, I can take care of it!” Great, the finishing touch to making myself look like a complete nerd in front of him.

The feel of his hands disappeared again, and I heard, “Oh, 'kay then. Thanks for the lotion, anyway, dude.”

It was quite a while before I finally rolled back over and sat up to finish the aborted lotion application. When I finally raised my head to look back out to the water, my eyes immediately sought him out; he was straddling his board talking to one of the other surfers. A moment later, the other surfer threw his head back - looked like they were laughing. “Probably at you, you four-eyed geek,” I thought to myself, and redirected my attention to getting my legs properly protected.

Finished reading, I carefully slid the well-loved paperback into the pocket of my backpack, put my glasses back on, then checked my watch. (I know, I know, only a nerd wears a watch on the beach. Big news flash there.) Getting close to lunch time, but I didn't want to eat out in the sun, so I sat up, scooted off the towel to fold it up and shove it into the pack, then closed the umbrella I'd stuck in the sand for shade and slid that in, too. Standing up, I brushed the sand off my legs, looked around to make sure I got everything, then grabbed my backpack and headed down the beach towards the pier.

Yes, of course I looked out at the water, but I couldn't see him. I gazed at some of the other surfers for a bit, then shrugged and went back to watching my feet like I always do.

Once I was in the shade of the pier overhead, I lifted my head and looked around for a good spot to sit, far enough away from the smokers that they hopefully wouldn't decide I was a target. I ended up down at the high tide mark, sitting cross-legged and leaning back against one of the massive wooden logs holding up the pier. As I rooted through my pack for the sandwich Aunt Edie had made for me, I listened to the circus-like organ music floating down from above.

I looked at the paper-wrapped sandwich I'd pulled out, and pried the bread apart. “Ugh!” Tuna salad. My hand holding the sandwich dropped to my lap as the back of my head hit the pole behind me. I hate tuna salad. It's one of the most disgusting types of so-called food products that exist, along with Cheerios and cheeze-whiz (sorry, but I like cheese, and cheeze-whiz is not cheese!).

I considered heading up to the pier to buy a hot dog or something. Considered it, but decided to suffer through trying to eat the sandwich. I only had forty bucks to last me the month I was going to be here. That forty bucks was enough for 10 books at the mall, for when I ran out of the ones I brought with me. (Yeah, I read a lot. Nerd here, remember?) Besides, if I went up there, I'd want to ride the roller coaster, and that'd be even more of that precious book money wasted.

I took a bite. Yup, it was as horrid as I'd thought it would be. Maybe if I ate it fast enough, I wouldn't notice the slimy texture or that awful tuna taste.

I'd just shoved a good quarter of the sandwich into my mouth when I heard laughing behind me. Usually I would have ignored it, except for some niggling feeling about one of the laughing voices. I leaned over to look back around the pole behind me and there he was, along with a few of his taller surfer friends. I quickly swallowed the mouthful of tuna salad, grimacing at the taste so much my eyes squinted shut. When I got them open again, he was standing still, looking at me, but turning away. My heart skipped a beat, then settled down into the pit of my stomach, around where that god-awful sandwich sat, as I watched him take a couple of quick steps to catch up with his friends, shrugging at something one of 'em said. When that one turned to look back at me, I quickly scooted behind the pole again so I wouldn't be caught staring. “Please don't beat me up, please don't beat me up,” my thoughts chanted in my head. When no one appeared, I took another peek around the log, but couldn't see the surfers anywhere.

Shaking my head, I took a look at the rest of the sandwich, then wrapped it back up and shoved it back in my pack. I'd throw it out before I got home, so Aunt Edie wouldn't get upset. I scooped up my backpack and trudged towards the stairs leading up to the street. Maybe Aunt Edie's soaps wouldn't be that bad.

I'd been so excited about this vacation. Mom and Dad said they were going to go on a trip for a few weeks, sort of like a second honeymoon. They decided my brother was old enough to stay home and take care of himself and the house. They gave me the option of staying home with my brother (no way would I put myself in his “loving care” for a month!) or staying down in L.A. with Aunt Edie. I jumped at it. She lived just a few blocks from the beach and the Santa Monica pier, and every time we'd been down to visit her before, I'd spent half a day on the pier, riding the rides, eating hot dogs, and goofing around.

Mom and Dad drove me to her house on their way to the airport. When they dropped me off, Dad gave me some money and said, “Here's your allowance for the next few weeks. Don't spend it all at once - that's all you get. And don't go asking Aunt Edie for more, because she can't afford to give you any.”

Forty bucks, for three weeks. So much for the pier and the rides. So now I was stuck down here, without my computer (my dad had bought one of the first Apple ][ computers four years ago, thus bringing to life exhibit A, The Nerd, me), without cable TV (Aunt Edie had an ancient console TV with rabbit ears, no remote control, and told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to change her channel no matter what), no friends, just the books I'd brought. What a great vacation this was going to be. Oh -- and, to top it all off, I got to sleep on the sofa in the living room, with her cuckoo clock going off every hour. (Looking back at it, that cuckoo clock was one of the coolest things in her house, made in Bavaria and a real work of art. At the time, I understandably wasn't so thrilled about it.)

Oh, those books I keep talking about. I was way into science fiction and fantasy stuff, mostly fantasy. I'd brought a few Heinlein books, but most of the books I brought were Xanth books by Piers Anthony. (Yeah, yeah, I was 13, alright? I didn't know what real fantasy books were like yet.) I'd read them over and over already; the pages were ragged, corners torn, water spots from where I'd spilled drinking water on 'em, everything. I'd read the first book so much it had fallen apart and I'd bought another copy at the used book store my mom and I went to all the time.

I figured those books were the only things that were gonna keep me from being bored out of my skull. I actually planned out which ones I'd read and how long it would take me to read each one (geek, remember?), and figured I'd sweet-talk Aunt Edie into taking me to the mall in the second week to buy some more books with that precious allowance money. Unfortunately, that meant the rides at the beach were out of reach.

I just hoped I wouldn't go too insane waiting for this vacation to end.

Last update: 2008-06-30 20:08:53 PDT