When I Met Him In The Summer

Sixteen

If I had known that I would be meeting my future husband and the father of my two children, one boy and one girl, Korean and Ethiopian today, I would have put so much more effort into the way I looked when I was getting ready this morning.

Fuck emerald eyes, ivory skin and all that poetry shit. I need just three words to describe him. Tall, dark and handsome. Not talk, dark and handsome as in David Gandy...tall, dark and handsome as in Michael B Jordan. Chocolate skin,thick, black curly hair, brown eyes, beautiful smile, great body.

Okay, so maybe I need a little over three words. Sue me.

Usually, I like to get to know someone first before I draw any conclusions about being with them, but he is so superficially handsome that I could not care less about his personality.

He could literally be anyone—Kanye West, a serial killer, or a fuckboy, and I would give no shits. Hell, I'm already fantasizing about being railed by him as I look over the outline in his shorts.

But before I can get all excited by him, I need to know that he is actually gay first.

"Is that a yes?" he asks me again, and I clear my throat and wipe the soda that has spilled out of my mouth and onto my shirt.

I shake my head. I don't only want to give him a soda. He can have my body at the discount price 'free' if he wants.

Yes, I'm being a slut. Go on, sue me.

I reach into the cooler and fish another soda out for him and he takes it, his fingers brushing mine for the briefest second. He kicks off his flip flops and sits down beside me, and again, his arm brushes mine. If I didn't know better, I would think he was flirting with me.

But I do know better, and I know he's flirting with me.

"I like your hair," I blurt out, and groan audibly. I do not know why I said that, but I know that I want to run my fingers through his curls right now.

He chuckles, and pushes the curls from his face. "Thanks. I like yours too."

"I'm gay," I say out of nowhere again, and I want to die as he literally just stares at me. He's not disgusted or anything. Just amused.

"Oh no, is it contagious?" he teases, and I hide my face in my palms.

"Sorry, I'm not usually this nervous around guys I'm attracted to."

What the actual fuck?

Crap. I know exactly what's going on here. No matter how much I try and convince myself that I'm just trying to avoid any awkward silence, I know the real reason I can't stop talking is so that he thinks I'm interesting and chatty.

The problem is, I am saying all the wrong things and making myself seem boy hungry and desperate instead. I mean, I am, but he doesn't know that.

He takes a sip of his cherry cola, staring out at the sea, and I use the chance to take a picture before he looks back at me. If I'm being a creep, I might do it all the way through. Besides, today is probably going to be the last time I see him after the way I've acted.

"You're attracted to me?" he asks, and holy shit, he has dimples.

I sigh. "Come on, I know you heard me the first time. You just want me to say it again."

He smiles, and my bones melt. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says, and looks genuinely confused.

"Fine. Yes. I'm attracted to you," I tell him, my voice hushed and again, he smiles at me.

"I know. I heard you the first time. I just wanted you to say it again."

Bastard.

When I stop trying to control the conversation, we have an actual, real conversation.

He listens quietly and attentively as I talk about my family, and school, and my job—I leave out all the messy parts, because that is already all way too much information for a first....meet cute or interaction, whatever. I don't know what this is.

He doesn't tell me much about himself, except that he's from New York and is in Los Angeles on vacation with his family, and that he's also gay, before his phone rings and he has to go.

It feels like my heart has been given an atomic wedgie in my chest as he stands up and I try my best to hide my tears and smile at him.

I so badly want to thrust my phone in his face, and ask him for his number—not that I cannot find him without it, I just don't want to look like a creep, dm-ing him on Instagram—but I've done enough embarrassing shit for one day. Welp, there goes my summer romance.

"Okay, fine. You win," he says, and I arch an eyebrow, confused.

"Can I have your number?" he asks, with a shake of his head before he adds, "gays nowadays."

It is the fastest I have ever said my number in my entire life, and that life momentarily leaves my body when he leans down and kisses my cheek.

"I had fun today. Thanks, for the soda, and I'll definitely think about that discount on your body," he whispers, and my cheeks burn as he straightens and walks away.

I cannot believe I had said that out loud, but I'm too happy to be embarrassed right now. Jake and Austin come back soon after and we snap the pictures, and I look absolutely love struck in all of them.

When we get home, I pirouette all the way to my room, take a shower and change. It's going to be a long night staring at my screen, waiting for him to text, but I don't care. 

Romeo and Juliet died for love. The least I can do is risk throwing my entire week off to wait for a single text, which might not even come.

I'm going to die if I do not tell someone, so I finally break and text Val. I've not completely forgiven her, but I need her right now.

Selfish it may seem, but I'm actually thinking about her here. I'm doing this for her, because if I die, she will have no best friend to come back home too.

I send the wave emoji and two minutes later, she opens it, and leaves me on read. Great now that's two texts I am going to be chewing on my nails all night waiting for.

Just as I think this night could not get any worse, Austin throws my door open, walks in and closes it behind him.

"Who was your little friend from the beach today?" he asks, and my heart stops.