Get-Together Summer (10 page)

He made it a few blocks, at least,
staring at his feet, when he heard the sound of running footsteps
from behind him. For a moment he contemplated running, too -- no
matter what insinuations some of his classmates might make, he
wasn't
soft
-- but
he gave that up for useless, and continued just walking at his same
slow pace.

Haley pulled to a stop beside him and grabbed his
arm. Simon continued a few more steps, then stopped as his arm was
tugged out. He turned towards her, but didn't look her in the
face.

"What was that all about?" she demanded, a little
breathless, a little shrill. "What the hell, Simon? You scared
me!"

"Sorry," he muttered, still not lifting his head.

"Talk to me," she said, pleading, and punctuated it
with a shake of his arm. Simon, listless, let the movement jolt his
entire body. She tried to lean into his field of vision, but he
kept turning to avoid her. "Come on, Simon. What's wrong?"

He glanced up through his bangs at her. She was
flushed, her eyes bright, but her brows were drawn together and her
mouth was set in a shaky line. Her chest was still heaving a little
from her run; the movement let him see the outline of her bra
through the thin material of her dress. Embarrassed, he turned his
head away again. "It's not any of your business."

"Um, try again." She squeezed his arm harder, tight
enough that it nearly hurt. "And look at me when we're talking! If
I've done something, at least let me know what it is!"

Simon tried to tug at the hand clutching his arm,
wincing a little. "Haley, it's really not anything you need to
know--"

"Yes it is, if you're going to be this upset at me!
What did I do?!"

"You didn't--!" He took a deep gulping breath and
glanced to the side, where her other hand was. Faster than he
thought he could, he reached down and grabbed it, copying Dirk's
movements from before, and pulled her in close. He looked up in
time to see the surprise flash over her face before she stumbled
directly into his arms.

"Simon--?!"

"It would have been fine if you waited," he said, a
little miserable. "I didn't want to tell you because it wasn't your
fault. I'm sorry, Haley."

He half-leaned in, intent on kissing her, then bit
the inside of his cheek hard and pulled away. The surprise on her
face was the worst part of it; she really hadn't known, after all
this time ... The realization wasn't really a surprise, but it
still felt like a direct blow to the gut. Simon let go as if
burned, stepping widely back; Haley stumbled before catching
herself, still wide-eyed as she stared at him. Her hand half-lifted
to her mouth, and even though they hadn't actually kissed, his own
lips burned.

"See," he muttered. "It's not your fault, it's not
anything. I'm going for a walk, okay? You go home."

"Simon ..."

"I just want to go for a walk, Haley!" he snapped,
harsher than he meant to. She frowned at that, her eyes narrowing
and her chin lifting. That was his cousin, he thought with
something like helpless fondness -- even now, she was hard to
intimidate.

"Are you going to come back?"

He paused for a few long seconds. "I've got money,"
he said finally, hedging. "Probably enough to get a hotel for a
couple of nights. Mom and Dad won't be back until at least the end
of the week, not if it's the same as every year. So if you wanted,
I could do that instead."

"I didn't ask you to get a hotel." She crossed her
arms, now outright scowling at him. "I asked if you were coming
back."

Simon ducked his head, staring at their feet. Haley
was wearing sandals, he saw, though she hadn't bothered doing the
straps for them. "Do you want me to?"

"That's why I'm asking, idiot!" She sighed, running a
hand through her hair. "Look, even if it feels bad, just ... don't
disappear, all right? I'm not angry."

You should be, he thought; instead of say so aloud,
though, he just hunched up both of his shoulders in a shrug.

"I'm really not," she said, firmer now. "And I won't
tell Dirk if you don't want me to."

He flinched at that, chewing the inside of his cheek
again. "See," he muttered. "I can't be friends with him ..."

"Just because I'm dating him?"

"Because--" he has what I want-- "it's just weird,
then, isn't it? Even if you don't tell him, what if he guesses?
He'll think it's sick, and he's not wrong ..."

"Simon." Haley stepped forward, and
then again when he cringed away. She reached out and put her hands
on his shoulders, squeezing loosely. "It doesn't matter what he
thinks about this, because that's not
his
business. It's yours and it's
mine. Okay?" She squeezed his shoulders again. "And even if he
doesn't like it, that doesn't mean he gets any say in it. I do. I'm
all right, Simon."

He bit his lip instead now, breathing hard through
his nose. "Haley ..."

"Promise you'll come back." She gave him a brief
little shake. "Look at me and promise me you'll come back."

For a moment he thought he would try to outwait her,
just staring at their feet until she lost patience ... but she'd
always been the more patient of the two of them. Slowly, a degree
at a time, he peeked up at her, mostly through his lashes. She
didn't smile, but she raised her eyebrows when his eyes finally met
hers, and her expression was expectant.

"... I promise," he muttered finally. "If that's what
you really want."

"How many times do I have to repeat myself? Idiot."
She let go of him finally, stepping back. He regretted the loss of
her touch instantly, but at the same time, he was relieved for the
space. "All right. We'll be waiting. We weren't actually planning
on going out today, so we'll be home the whole day."

He nodded slowly. Haley waited for a few moments
longer, as if to see if he would say something else, but finally
she turned and walked away. Simon waited until he couldn't hear the
sound of her footsteps any more and lifted his head finally. He
could still see her, her back straight and her gait easy, and then
she turned the corner into the driveway of their summer home and
was lost from sight.

He rubbed at his arms briefly, then
at his shoulders, where she'd touched him. He'd come so close to
kissing her, he thought, a little miserably; if he was going to be
trapped like this, between her sympathy and the knowledge that he
wouldn't ever have that chance again, he should have just taken it
when he had that option. He should have just -- for once, let
himself kiss her, and if there were consequences after that, he
would take them, but at least he would have
done it
...

Simon turned away from the house and began to walk
himself. He walked slowly, barely lifting his feet as he went,
kicking loose gravel until his feet settled themselves naturally
into his shoes. The sun beat hot and unrelenting across the back of
his neck; he could feel the telltale beginnings of a burn, but
other than occasionally stretching his shoulders against the
growing vague discomfort, he didn't do anything until the
neatly-cropped trees and manicured lawns around him gave way to the
taller buildings of the downtown shopping area. He began to drift
towards the theater they'd gone to the other day, then stopped
himself and chose to take refuge in a diner instead.

It was nearly empty: other than Simon there were a
few weathered men sitting at the counter, with chipped cups of
coffee and newspapers, as well as the bored-looking waitress. She
caught his eye as he entered and plastered on a bright smile,
sashaying forward. Her uniform skirt cut off just under her knees
and the neckline dipped in a coy shallow V. She had tanned skin
with just the faintest orange edge to it and pale blonde hair that
was a familiar shade.

"Mornin', darlin'," she said. "Just one?"

He nodded a little, relaxing his shoulders and
lifting his chin a little. Even if he didn't feel up to the act, he
was still an Oakley; once he settled into the role, it was
surprisingly effortless. "Please. A seat by the window would be
good."

"Sure thing." She winked, taking up a laminated menu
and gesturing. "This way."

She walked off with a deliberate
sashay to her hips, almost rolling them; it was a gesture
calculated to draw attention, and Simon did look as she walked,
considering. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty -- she had a soft
sweet face and a body that appeared to match -- but she wasn't the
right
sort
of
pretty. It was soft, yes, but it was also thin and weak, like it
didn't really have any strength behind it, shored up by the weight
of makeup and fine fancy clothes. She was the sort of pretty that
was easy to forget and easy to ignore, especially when one was used
to finer things. It was a blunt and unrefined sort of grace, the
sort that always trembled on the cusp of growing into something
great, then overshot it.

She wasn't beautiful. Her hair was the right color
but her eyes were a dull shade of blue and her mouth was too red
from lipstick; up close he could tell she had liberally applied
perfume, to the point where it made the back of his throat tickle
just to breathe. She was garish and gawky and her flirtation just
made him feel awkward all over again.

"Here you go," she said, turning to him, throwing
another wink his way. It was a booth seat by the window, as
requested -- the nicest one in the diner from the looks of it,
whose leather seats were mostly intact beyond a thin gash in the
side. Simon obediently slid in, all the way close to the window.
The waitress leaned down as she placed the menu before him, enough
that her shirt gaped, and he could see the round soft curve of her
breasts. They were nice, but again like the rest of the package --
just not really the sort of thing that could stir him. When she
straightened, she tucked loose hair behind her ear and flashed him
a dimpled smile.

"What can I get for you to drink, darlin'? Water?
Coffee? Juice."

He glanced at the menu. It didn't offer tea at all.
"Just some orange juice for now, please."

She licked her pen, showing off the pink flash of her
tongue, and wrote something with a flourish. "Right away, sweetie."
She sashayed off again, leaving Simon to sink low in his seat again
with a low disgruntled huff. If she was going to spend the entire
time awkwardly flirting with him, he thought, he would much rather
just eat quickly and get out before it went on for too long.

As promised, she returned after a few minutes,
bearing a tall glass of orange juice, which she set down before
him, again bowing gratuitously low. She turned her head before
straightening, which left her face uncomfortably close to his. "So,
thought about what you might want off the menu?"

There was enough innuendo in her voice to make him
flush. He shook his head and looked away. "Not yet, no. I'd like a
few more minutes."

She straightened with a huff; he
could feel the irritation radiating from her in waves, where before
she'd been so interested. "All right, darlin', just take your time.
I'll come back and check on you in a bit." With that, she flounced
over to the men at the counter, the sway and bump gone from her
hips. Simon almost felt bad about shooting her down, but at least
it meant he could probably stay here longer than however much time
it took for him to eat and pay and escape. It wasn't really her
fault that she had competition too strong to live up to; even if
Haley wasn't perfect -- and Simon had known her too long and too
well to believe that -- her
looks
certainly were. It was the Oakley blessing, his
father liked to say, and one that Simon believed wholeheartedly
in.

He looked down at the menu, chewing on his lip. It
had a fairly basic list of dishes -- pancakes, various preparations
of eggs, toast, hash. They all looked like things that would be far
too heavy for his stomach, especially now, but he'd already ordered
his drink; leaving with just that would feel awkward and impolite
of him. After a few minutes of deliberating, he glanced up and
waved to the waitress, who rolled her eyes before coming back.

"Decided what you wanted?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, and internally winced at the
way her eyes flashed at that. "Just the pancakes and eggs, please.
Um. With the bacon if possible."

"We'll see what we can do, darlin'," she said,
scribbling on her notepad again and walking off. Simon waited until
she disappeared through the swinging doors of the kitchen before he
let out a sigh, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

As he stared out the window, he could see the crowds
of tourists wandering past -- men of various heights and builds,
some with pretty girls on their arms (but still, again, none as
pretty as Haley, especially when she'd arched her back and cried
out at Dirk's touch) and some in groups of two and three, easygoing
and confident in their ability to conquer the day. Seeing them
especially left a sour taste in Simon's mouth, remembering the way
Dirk had been, the first couple of days he'd been in the Oakley's
vacation home.

Some of them, darker-skinned than their companions on
the sidewalk, he studied more closely. Most of them were rather
generically attractive, the same way the women were -- there was at
least one or two things about them that could be complicated, and
some more than others. But even among the ones who were, there was
nothing about them that really compelled him to keep watching; he
studied one and found his eyes sliding away to the next before he
really felt he could comfortably describe any of them. It wasn't
like looking at Dirk's face sidelong, curious and annoyed about
that easy toothy smile, or the fascination of his long graceful
fingers at work, in the kitchen or on Haley's body ...