Page 6 of Be My Summer

“Dinner, Summer? Eight. Solo ArtHouse. There’s silence and art and books and wine and food and all the things I imagine you’d love.”

She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. The gloss sparkled under the sun’s light. She was contemplating. Weighing her options. Considering a yes. Banking on a no.

“Don’t think about it. Just meet me there if you’re most comfortable… but, I’d much rather show up to your door. Take the stress of driving or parking or thinking off your plate.”

“Saul–”

“I won’t inconvenience you– or waste even a second of your time. Let me wish you a happy birthday. Prepared, of course. Because, frankly, I’m caught off guard but I still feel like I should’ve been more prepared.”

“This–” she paused, waving her hand over the setup, “This is more than enough.”

“But, you deserve better.”

I wasn’t above pleading with a woman of Summer’s caliber. The moment I noticed her I knew I needed her. So, it wasn’t a matter of if for me. It was a matter of when, and there was no need to waste time. Time waited for no one and nothing. Not even love.

She pushed out a stream of air before placing the glass to her lips again. Her eyes left me briefly as her head tilted backward to consume the liquid. I assumed she was completely oblivious to the fact that she’d consumed me too.

Mentally and physically.

I didn’t rush her process. I just hoped it ended in my favor. Instead of dwelling, I gave her room to weigh the options she had in mind. Though it was hard, I quieted my head and listened to my heart. It assured me there was nothing to worry about.

“Seven. Solo ArtHouse. I’d like to be in bed by nine-thirty. I won’t neglect my bedtime and freshly pressed sheets for a stranger I don’t know from a can of unmarked paint.”

I lowered my glass, unable to conceal the budding smile. She was definitely southern, and she was definitely necessary in my world. The slight roll of her neck, passion in her tone, and strict boundaries told me so. She was sweet, but the sass rolled off her tongue like liquor after a drunken night.

“Seven,” I agreed, “Solo ArtHouse. I’ll have you back by nine so you won’t miss that date with your dreams.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Saul. Rest is fundamental in my world. I have to have it… and the more the merrier.”

“I understand. Will I be picking you up?”

“You won’t be. But, you’ll see me at seven.”

“I’ll see you at seven.” I nodded.

“Not a minute later.”

“I don’t plan to make you wait, Summer.”

“I won’t,” she stated as a matter of fact.

And, then, there it was again. Silence.

What’s hurting? I thought, peering at the pain radiating from her pretty features.

Under my watchful eye, she leaned over and grabbed one of the nectarines from the center of the blanket. Her teeth sunk into the fruit. A chunk ended up in her mouth. As she chewed, she stared aimlessly into the openness.

“How many years have you been blessed to see?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-eight,” I whispered, plugging the information into my head.

“And you?”

“Thirty of those things.”

“Alright old man.”