When Summer Ends

A Gift

That night after dinner, I sat on the edge of the feather-soft bed in my room and gazed around me.  The whole house was decorated in nautical themes, but this room was in a whole other league.  The kitchen was decked out in red and white stripes, light houses and life preservers serving as décor.  The living room’s focal piece was a huge, antique anchor.  But this room was soft and feminine.

A wispy mosquito net hung around the bed, which I was thankful for; I felt comfortable leaving the French doors open and allowing the soft sound of the ocean to lull me to sleep.  The walls were a soft rose gold, like sunlight reflecting off the dunes covered with tiny butterfly shells. 

Cream-colored shelves were staggered along the wall, each elegantly displaying some sort of artifact of the sea.  A sand dollar on one, a pink and white conch shell on another; my favorite, though, was a piece of coral that had been bleached by the sun.  It twisted into a delicate shape, forever frozen in time.

This place wasn’t that bad.  Sure, it was quiet.  It wasn’t a bustling metropolitan beach town, crawling with sunbathers and surfers.  But it wasn’t awful.  

I knew that I only believed that now thanks to the man I’d met today.  If it hadn’t been for him, I’d likely still be brooding.  Now, though, I had daydream material to last me the whole two weeks, possibly longer.

I was already zoning out thinking about those eyes; my mom had noticed it during dinner, too.  She’d asked me, with that all-knowing look as she took a bite of the pizza we’d ordered, how I’d liked exploring the town.  I had been purposefully vague, much to her chagrin.

I sighed, then pushed back onto the bed and shimmied down into the covers.  Between the morning we’d spent traveling and the miles I’d clocked walking down to the boardwalk and back, I was exhausted.  It didn’t take long for the constant shooshing of the waves outside to calm my racing mind and put me to sleep.

I’d never had the experience of lucid dreaming before; but I recalled, upon waking, that I knew I was very lucky to have the visions that fell upon me in my slumber.

There were only snippets that I recalled the next morning, no matter how hard I tried to go back to sleep.  But those little tidbits were enough to leave me flustered and warm as I dragged myself out of bed.  I was pretty sure, as I studied my reflection and pulled a brush through my hair, that it was the dreams that had me still thinking about the mysterious man from the day before. 

Under any other normal circumstances, I might have just forgotten all about him.  He was clearly older, after all.  I didn’t engage with him beyond our very short meet-cute, and I didn’t even know his name. 

But those dreams.  Those steamy, barely remembered dreams… They had cemented him into my consciousness, and I didn’t think he’d be going away so easily.

One thing I definitely didn’t foresee, no matter how badly I wished it, was that I’d run into him again.  So imagine my surprise when I did.

I had pulled on my swimsuit and thrown a long, cotton dress on over it; a towel was thrown over my shoulder, a large hat and sunglasses finishing my summery outfit and shielding my eyes.  The beach here may have been more pebble than sand, and it may have had wafts of fish coming from the nearby fishermen, but it was at least uncrowded.  I figured I could enjoy some relaxation, plug my earbuds in, and get some sun.

As I walked past an ice cream parlor that I’d briefly glanced at the day before, I heard a vaguely familiar voice call out.  Stopping in my tracks, I turned toward the source of the sound and felt my heart give a leap. 

“Come on, let’s see it.  How’s the wound?”

His smile was broad and dazzling, and I was momentarily caught by it all over again.  He stood just past the counter of the ice cream display, a half-apron slung haphazardly over his hips while he fidgeted with a towel in his hand.

“Do you work here?” I asked, somewhat stupidly.  I realized what a dumb question it was, then shook my head as I took a few steps toward the shop.  I could see now that I was studying it with more attention that the entire storefront was open, like a garage with its doors rolled up.  It was kind of nice; it made sense for an establishment that was here on the boardwalk. 

In fact, now that I took the time to really look around, most of the shops were a little more lively.  I begrudgingly admitted to myself that maybe I hadn’t given this place the benefit of the doubt yesterday.  It was kind of late on a Sunday; surely a lot of these places had been closed.  But now, it looked more cheerful and alive. 

“Working here is kind of an understatement,” he replied, his expression easy and carefree as he tossed the towel over his shoulder.  “I work here, live here, play here,” he continued, pausing in his smile as he gave me a more puzzled expression.  “That sounded better in my head.”

I responded with a lifted brow, and he continued.  “It’s my shop; I live in an apartment upstairs, so I feel like sometimes I’ll just eternally be here.”  His smile faltered, eyes dulling ever so slightly.

I nodded in understanding.  It made a little more sense, too; I couldn’t quite picture this deliriously beautiful man slinging ice cream cones like a high schooler on summer break, but to know that it was his shop made it significantly more impressive.

“All healed, by the way,” I finally told him, smiling as I held up my palm for inspection.  His grin returned, and he didn’t hesitate for one moment before reaching out and taking it his large, warm hands once again.  My breath hitched, a flash of dream-memory coming to the front of my mind.

“Well of course it did, I’m a master of splinters,” he replied.  His thumb rested against my palm, squeezing gently; I noted that he didn’t really examine my “battle scar” but instead kept eye contact with me.  Furthermore, he didn’t release my hand.

“I’m Liv.  Olivia.” 

The words left my lips before I had a chance to talk myself out of it.  I knew that if I thought too much about how to introduce myself, I’d lose the nerve.

“Olivia,” he repeated, slowly releasing my hand.  I reluctantly brought it back toward my body, fidgeting with the earbud cord hanging around my neck.  I held my breath, waiting to hear if he would return the favor and tell me his name.  “What’s your poison, Livvie?”

He turned, moving back toward the long display case of ice cream.  I felt disappointment flood my body as I took a slow step forward, watching while he made quick work of grabbing a small cup and an ice cream scoop. 

“Uh…” I frowned, looking down the row of flavors and feeling very on the spot.  Would I be boring if I told him chocolate?  Was chocolate even my favorite flavor?  I couldn’t be sure, not when there were all of these flavors staring back at me that I’d never even tried.  “I don’t even know,” I finally admitted, feeling overwhelmed.

I tapped at the glass, adopting a slightly mocking expression.  “Banana split flavor ice cream?  Come on, that’s kind of a cop out, right?”

He rewarded me with another one of those rich, warm laughs.  “Fair enough.  All right, let’s see.  Pretty girl, takes pictures of weeds at the beach, slightly prone to clumsiness,” he observed, letting his eyes roam over me.  It wasn’t in a lecherous way, but it still sent a shiver down my spine.

He seemed to think it over, then nodded more to himself than to me and pushed the door of the cooler aside.  He leaned down, dragging the scoop along the smooth top of an ivory-colored ice cream.  Two tidy scoops landed into the cup, followed by a plastic spoon before he handed it over the counter to me.

“Wedding cake,” he explained, gesturing for me to give it a try.

That sounded like a pretty boring flavor, but who was I to turn it down?  He watched, studying my face intently as I pried a tiny bit of the ice cream onto the spoon and then into my mouth.  I was thankfully very wrong about the flavor, as it was delicious.  It was a creamy, mild, almond-infused delight.

“So you have a gift,” I commented, laughing softly as I licked the back of the spoon.  “You read all your customers this well?”

He chuckled in response, then gave a self-deprecating shrug.  “Hit or miss,” he admitted.  “But I had a good feeling about you.”  There were those eyes again, burning right through me.  I felt like I needed to leave, but at the same time I wanted to stay right there in his gaze.  It was a dangerous feeling.

The sound of voices entering the shop pulled me out of my daze, and I was able to find my words once again.

“So what do I owe you…?” I asked, trailing off slightly as I glanced behind him and up at the menu board, searching for a price.  The couple that entered queued up behind me, making me feel that awful anxiety of needing to pay for my goods and get out of the way.

My splinter savior ice cream God merely gave me a wink, then waved at the new customers to come around and order.  “It’s on me, Livvie.”  While the couple chatted and talked about what flavors they wanted to try, he reached across the counter and picked up a business card.  A pen, fished from the pocket of his apron, scrawled onto the back of the card before he handed it over to me.

I clutched it, almost afraid to look at it.  “Lucas, by the way,” he added, almost as an afterthought as he went to tend to the other customers.

I nodded, backing out and bumping into a chair before finally turning and walking from the shop.  In one hand I held the card like a lifeline, and in the other the delicious ice cream.  What the f**k just happened?!