Chapter 10

July 2003

After the perfection of my sixteenth birthday, I go to bed fantasizing about the amazing summer Fred and I are going to have and all the things we'll do between now and Labor Day, when we'll go to the US Open. I'm filled with happiness, and if life can be better than this, I don't see how. We have nine weeks together, and my mind is filled with kisses and plans and love.

Yes, I'm sure I'm in love.

Nine weeks,I think as I fall asleep with a smile on my face, reliving our kiss over and over again. Nine weeks.

I get one.

It's a week of kissing and holding hands and sneaking moments. A week of making plans for our future, what we'll do when we run out of time this summer and he goes back to Boston.

We can't stop talking about it, where we'll be in six months, one year, five.

Somehow, that becomes our catchphrase.

"In five years, we'll …"

"You'll be about to start your junior year in college," Fred says as we lie on the lawn out of view of the house behind a big oak tree. The summer house is in front of us, and sometimes I think I'll be bold and invite him inside, but most of the time I think it's safer to stay out here on the grass, where the possibility of getting caught keeps us from going too far.

"And you'll be a freshman."

"Will you enjoy that? Dating a lower classman?"

I turn to face him. His eyes look dark blue in this light, wind tossed. "Do you have to go into the Army?"

"The Navy." He runs a finger over my lips. They're dry and swollen from too much kissing. "I do. Even before my dad died, that was the plan. I'll enlist and then I can do the G.I. Bill, and that'll pay for college."

"But it's dangerous. We're at war."

"That's why I want to go."

"Because of the danger?"

He moves his finger to my nose, running it along the bridge, and that pulse starts up in my body again. Then he kisses me, a medium kiss that almost dissolves into a serious one where I want to wrap my arms around him and press him close against me so I can feel all of him and he can feel all of me.

He pulls back. "I believe in service. I want to help my country out. Especially now."

"But you might not end up in Afghanistan. It might be Iraq."

"That's okay."

"But wasn't the reason we went there a lie? No weapons of mass destruction, or whatever?"

He frowns. We agree on so many things, but this is not one of them. "That's not the only reason to go. Saddam's a bad guy. And we can help set up democracy there. Think about it. I can be part of helping to get them on the right track."

"Like America is?"

"Like America can be."

I kiss him, thinking he sounds like my dad on the rare times he talks politics. Or like my dad's friends who voted for Bush and Reagan and Bush again. My mother was a lifelong Democrat, and as far as I remember, it was the only thing they fought about. But it didn't keep them from loving each other, so I don't let it bother me, I'm just worried Fred will go and not come back.

Because even though I haven't known him that long, it already feels like he'll be in my life forever. Like he already has been. I cannot imagine my life without him, or when I do, it makes me so sad I can't handle it. That's how I know it's love. Not just because my body aches for him, but because I have to keep the thought of losing him at bay.

"Promise me you'll be safe."

"I'll be okay."

"Not everyone is."

"I know, Olivia. But—and I know this sounds silly—I just know I'll be all right. You don't have to worry about me."

I tilt my head back. "I will, though."

His lips hover above mine, his breath a soft breeze. "Will you miss me?"

"What do you think?"

He rubs his nose against mine, then kisses me again, teasing at my lips with his tongue. It's after cocktails but before dinner, those lazy hours when he isn't expected back at his aunt and uncle's, and no one's looking for me. I like kissing him at this time of day, but I like kissing him most of all in the dark, when he feels bold enough to explore more than my mouth and I feel bold enough to let him.

"I think you'll forget about me," I say.

"No, Olivia. No."

"Some girl will catch your attention, and I'll get some Dear Olivia letter, and that will be that."

"Never." He kisses me again, his tongue lazy against my teeth. I arch up to meet his body, needing to feel that connection, and he wraps his arms around me. "You're the one who's going to forget me. You'll go to college, and you'll be the star of the tennis team, and everyone will want you." He reaches down and caresses my bare legs. I stifle a moan. "They'll want these legs, and this face, and this mouth. And maybe you'll fight them off for a while, but you'll be lonely, and eventually you'll give in."

"Won't we have shore leave?"

"We will."

"That'll be enough."

"And then in five years …"

I plant kisses along his jawline. "You'll come to college, and we'll find a house and we'll live in sin."

"Would it be such a sin?"

I close my eyes and feel the slow circle of his fingers just below the hem of my shorts. I'm not ready for sex—so I've told him and so I tell myself—but my body is. Oh god, it is so ready.

I put my hand on his to gain some control. "I'm speaking for William."

"He likes me, doesn't he?"

"He does."

Fred came to cocktails the day after my birthday and spent an hour talking to William on the veranda, turning down drinks and sipping on a Coke. When Aunt Tracy called us into dinner, he was invited to stay, and my father even gave him the tour of the house, trotting out his old stories about how the Taylors had acquired the acreage and how much money it had taken to build the house. "You'll not find a parcel like this anywhere on the shore. Not one with this much land and this much beach."

Fred had shown as much interest as any seventeen-year-old could in real estate, and I'd left them alone, amazed William seemed to be taking an interest in him. Charlotte whined to me that it wasn't fair because he barely talked to Wes when she'd brought him to the house the day after.

"I'm glad," Fred says. "Wouldn't want it to get all Shakespearean up in here."

"Ha. That's what Ash said."

"She thought it was going to be a Romeo and Juliet situation?"

"Not exactly … That's more Charlotte's situation."

"What's your dad's problem with that guy anyway?"

"I think it's because he doesn't like having a better-looking man named Taylor around."

Fred laughs. "Oh, so you think Wes is good-looking?"

"Not as good-looking as you."

"Good. Hmm. Maybe it's because he's not actually a Taylor? No Mayflower, no fancy house."

"That's probably it. God, I'm so sick of my father acting like he did something important with his life because he was born with money."

"It's what he knows."

"It's gross."

Fred checks his watch.

"Do you have to go?"

"I've got a few more minutes. I can stay until the first firefly, at least."

I squeeze his hand and we turn on our backs, our bodies lined up next to each other. The sun is still up, but it's slipping down the horizon, casting long shadows across the lawn. I can hear the waves against the shore, the slow beat of them cresting, then sucking out again, like the slow beat that builds in me whenever Fred touches me.

In the dark, he tells me that he's never felt this way before. He hasn't gone into the details, but I know there's been at least one girl before me. I don't want to know how far they went or if they went all the way. Thinking of him with someone else breaks me.

"What shall we do tomorrow?" I ask.

"What's tomorrow?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten our one-week anniversary."

Fred catches at the bracelet on my wrist. I never take it off, not even during tennis. "Didn't you want to go to that party on the beach?"

"Not really."

"Isn't Ash expecting you?"

"Yes, and she complained again today that I've abandoned her for you." My Ash time has been reduced from five hours a day to two—we do the pool till lunchtime, but then after I go to the beach and hang with Fred. I know it's wrong to abandon your friends for a boy, but I can't help it. I want to be with him every second of every day. I even thought, briefly, about cutting back on tennis practice, but quickly tossed that idea away. I can love Fred and tennis in equal measure—they're both going to be part of my future, and Fred understands that.

"Let's go, then," Fred says. "It'll be fun."

"But you hate all those guys from work."

"Not hate, exactly."

"Okay, we'll go. But not for too long."

I turn my face toward him and he's right there, his lips inches away. "Not for too long."

"Hurry up, Fred will be here in a minute." It's after dinner, and Ash and I are in my room, getting ready.

"I thought he was meeting us there." Ash is trying to get her slippery hair to stay in a high ponytail to match the "fifties look" she's decided on for the evening—a halter dress in a bold print that twirls when she spins.

"What's the big deal? Here, there?"

"Because the minute he gets here you're just going to start ignoring me." Ash holds up her hand. Her nails are the same bright pink as her dress. "And don't bother denying it. You know it's true."

"I'm sorry."

She pouts. "I miss you. This was supposed to be our summer together. Now I barely see you, and when I do, all you talk about is him."

"I'm not that bad, am I?"

"You are."

"Better than talking about tennis all the time, right?"

"I mean …"

"I'm sorry."

"You already said that. What about all our plans? What about the list?"

"What list?"

She spins in her chair. "My point exactly! The only thing you've ticked off has to do with kissing him."

"We never finished the list."

"That's even worse."

"Okay, okay. What do you want to do?"

"We were supposed to learn how to surf."

I don't remember this being on the list, but now's not the time to bring that up. "Let's do it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure. Where should we go?" I stand behind Ash and check myself in the mirror. My hair is loose to my shoulders, which are bare in the dusty pink, strapless cotton dress I'm wearing. I've got a bulky sweatshirt out for the beach too, but for once I'm happy with the way I look.

"I think there's a place we can learn in Montauk."

"Okay, sounds good."

"Tomorrow?" Ashley presses.

I'm about to agree when I remember. "I can't tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Because I'm supposed to go to Fred's house for dinner."

"Reschedule."

"I can't, Ash. I'm meeting his aunt and uncle for the first time. It's a big deal." I put my arms around her neck. "Come on, I can go any other day. Just not tomorrow."

"You promise?"

"I do."

"Just us, right? No Fred."

"No Fred." He has to work anyway, and I assume we'll be back by dinner time.

"And then you'll sleep over?"

I meet Ash's eyes in the mirror. She's testing me. "Sure."

"Great. I'll set it up tomorrow morning."

"Olivia!" Aunt Tracy calls. "Fred's here."

"Remember," Ash says. "You promised."

I smile at her and go greet Fred. He's wearing broken-in chinos and a faded blue sweatshirt that I love, and he smells clean and fresh from his shower. I want to drag him to the backyard and hide inside the summer house forever. Instead, we walk hand in hand to the beach, Fred on one side and Ash on the other.

When we get there, there are about twenty kids gathered around a bonfire. One of them is playing DJ with his iPod and a large speaker like they did on my birthday. Inevitably, the shore police will break up the party later, but for now, it's early enough that they'll let us have some fun.

Fred gets us each a beer, and then I spend the next hour trying to pay him less attention and Ashley more. It's hard, because instead of wandering off as she usually does, she's glued to us. I'm not sure how Fred feels about it, I've never asked him if he likes Ash or not, but I can tell that Ash is still not satisfied. She's being loud and pushy, the way she gets when she's frustrated, and she keeps encouraging both of us to drink. I don't want to, and Fred almost never does, so we walk around, each with a beer caught in our fist, feeling them go warm while Ashley downs one after another.

"Maybe slow down a little?" I say to Ash two hours later. She's started slurring her words.

"I'm having fun! You two should have some fun too!"

"I am having fun; I'm just worried about you."

Ash waves her arms around. "I know you're just waiting for when you can go off to your kissing place."

"Ash." My eyes flash to Fred's.

"What? Fred doesn't mind that you tell me about the kissing, do you, Fred? That's what girls do. Talk about kissing their boyfriends."

"Maybe I should get you a Coke," Fred says.

Ashley walks up to him, the beer sloshing out of her Solo cup and onto the sand. She puts her hand on his chest. "Do you know that you're the first boy Olivia ever kissed?"

"You don't have to answer that, Fred."

"Why not? Why shouldn't he answer that? That was the whole point of the list, right? Right there in the number-one position. Kiss a boy on your sixteenth birthday."

Fred goes pale. "Is that true, Olivia?"

The pain on his face stabs at me. "Not the way it sounds, no."

"It wasn't a … challenge?"

"It was. But that's not why—"

"It was my plan," Ash says proudly, biting the edge of her cup. "I got Olivia to leave the club and go to the beach to find a guy, and I saw you first and I introduced you, remember? I did that. I get the credit."

Fred takes Ash's hands gently and lowers them off his chest, then steps away. He turns to me. "Is what she's saying true, Olivia? This was all some game? It didn't matter who it happened with?"

I'm fighting tears. What is happening? "Of course not. Fred, how could you think that?"

"What am I supposed to think?"

"That I met you and I liked you and everything that's happened since then is because we both wanted it. Please believe me."

"I … I don't know what to think."

"Fred, come on. Ashley's drunk. You can't … This is not a big deal."

His eyes are so dark they're scary. "It is, Olivia."

"Please don't be mad."

"I'm not …" He shakes his head. "I need to go."

"What?"

"I can't be here right now. Take Ash home."

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

He doesn't answer me. He just turns and walks up the beach, dropping his beer into a garbage can, leaving me there with Ash, who's swaying by my side.

"Was it something I said?" Ash giggles, and I rush past her. I want to go after Fred, but my stomach is rolling, and instead of catching up to him, I bend over when I hit the dunes and hurl.