Summer Heat

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Cody

I swim and swim until I’m out of breath. I can’t deal with this right now. Is it my imagination or am I feeling something new from Angie? It’s hard to say. I’ve noticed a slight bit more tension between us in the past little while, but never thought much of it. I simply locked her in my spank bank and figured it would never happen. Not with my Angie. The girl I played tag with, the one who showed me my first R-rated film, my best friend. I’m terrified to start a relationship with her, but at the same time I’m terrified not to. How could you let this happen Cody? This is a disaster! I continue to berate myself as I tread water, waiting to regain enough strength to return to shore.

As I slowly swim back I decide that I’m being stupid. She’d never go for me. I must be imagining it. But then, my mind starts to wander. I think about the night of my birthday, the mixed tape she made me, the way she actually snuggled me back. Since then, she’s been doing little things that I’ve been overlooking, but seem so obviously caring to me in this moment.

She comes over with a romantic chick flick every Friday night. She sits a little closer to me every time. In fact, last night she spent half the movie with her head on my lap, which was needless to say, awkward. What about in January, when I pulled that muscle in my leg? She came over and cooked for me every night that she wasn’t busy, always making sure that she prepared my favorites and didn’t let me strain myself. Oh my God!!!!! Angie feels the same as I do! I’m practically shaking with anxiety as I lift myself out of the water and approach our small area on the beach.

My face falls as I see Angie sitting on her beach towel, arms wrapped around her legs and staring mournfully at the horizon. I sit down next to her; she doesn’t even seem to notice that I’m there. “Ange?” I say worried.

“Huh?” She says as she snaps out of her own thoughts.

She looks at me, the corners of her mouth are pointing down and her eyes are slightly shimmering. I’m overcome with guilt. My suspicions are true; she does have feelings for me.

“Hey. You feeling Ok?” I ask as I try to brush her face.

She pulls away and says, “Fine.” Her tone is cold as ice.

“Cheer up gloomy gus!” I joke in an attempt to cover this tense moment. “I made your favorite for lunch. Beet and goat cheese salad. If you don’t eat it nobody will. God knows it’s awful stuff.”

She doesn’t respond.

“Aw come on Ange!” I reach into the basket and pull out the container. I hand it to her with a pouty look on my face. I sniffle in a mock attempt to cry. She finally cracks a smile and whacks me on the arm.

“Fine, but you better not have forgotten the balsamic vinegar!” She says as she grabs the plastic container.

“I wouldn’t forget. It’s the grossest stuff I’ve ever seen. How could I forget that?” I kid. “I’d only even touch it for you.” She smiles broadly as she digs in and I take out my own lunch, a plain old bologna sandwich. Our tastes are certainly different.

“Cody?” She says softly.

“Yeah?” I say as my stomach flips. Here it comes…

“Thanks.” She says plainly as she continues to eat. I almost fall over with the anticlimaticism of the situation.

After we finish our lunch I lay on the beach sunning myself. Angie heads straight back into the water.

“You should wait a bit, Ange!” I call after her as she runs toward the ocean.

“You wait Old Fogie! I’m gonna have fun.” She yells back over her shoulder. Powerless I decide to enjoy the view of her little bum bouncing with every step.

I sigh as I lay back and close my eyes. The sun feels warm and soothing on my skin as I begin to relax. I decide that I’m going to talk to Ange. I rehearse what I’m going to say in my head as I drift between sleeping and wakefulness. I feel pretty confident with my plan as I sit up to see if Ange is within view. I see her approaching, that was fast. She’s bent almost double with her arms around her waist.

“Argh! I feel sick!” She says as she collapses on the towel next to me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“My stomach! It feels like I’m gonna puke!” She croaks.

“I told you not to go in the water so soon!” I say in a mock scolding tone.

“Ok! Ok! You were right!” She say’s desperately, “Now get off you’re high horse and help me!”

“Alright Angie, just relax.” I say in a calming tone.

She’s lying there, looking totally uncomfortable and exhausted. I don’t want to move her in case she does blow chunks, so I grab her skirt and pull it back up over her legs. I can feel them, smooth and supple under my fingers and begin to experience yet another guilty tightening in my swim trunks. She moans quietly, I’m not sure if it’s because of her stomach or my touch. I prefer to think the latter, but I don’t want to assume…

I gently lift her into a sitting position and carefully pull her tank top over her head. This time she moans a little louder as my hands “accidentally” brush against her breasts. I’m quite sure now that it’s me who’s making her moan. That just increases the pressure in my trunks. I can’t help myself; I lean into her and kiss her gently on the forehead. She weakly smiles up at me as I slowly lift her and head for the car.

“Thanks.” She says as she plops her head onto my shoulder.

I place her gingerly on the passengers side seat, making sure not to jostle her too much, before heading back and grabbing the rest of our stuff from the beach.

I drive home going five miles under the speed limit the whole way. Angie’s pallor is fluctuating between green and white. She’s groaning quietly next to me. No one is home as I carry her up the stairs to my room. I don’t know why I brought her here instead of to her house, but it just seemed the right thing to do. I’ve always taken care of her here, whether it was a broken leg or broken heart that she was suffering from. I try to sit her down on my bed, but she stops me.

“I’m all wet!” She says shivering. I go to my bathroom and start a warm shower.

“Hop in Ange. Shower off the cold before you get a fever too.” I point to the bathroom.

“Thanks Cody.” She says as she heads to the shower and closes the door behind her.

I hear retching as I bound back up the stairs with the Pepto I’ve taken from the kitchen cabinet. The bathroom door is still closed so I knock.

“Ange?” I ask.

“Oh yuck!” I hear. “Cody? I’m really sick. Hang on I’ll be out soon.” She answers

“Do you need help?” I enquire.

“N-no… I’m not dressed.” She replies.

“Ok. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” I sit down on the bed to wait.

I hear a little more gagging then a flush. Angie is groaning as she runs the water. A little while later she emerges. She looks utterly exhausted and so pale, but still beautiful. She’s clad only in her bra and cute Mickey Mouse underwear.

“Sorry.” She say’s a little embarrassed. “It’s the only dry thing I have with me.”

“That’s fine.” I say, trying not to drool. Now is not the time. “Here.” I say gently as I hand her my hockey jersey. She puts it on and looks so adorable I laugh a little. It goes down to past her knees and hangs off of her like she’s a kid.

“Screw off!” She says shortly as she climbs into my bed and covers up.

Before long she’s asleep. I decide to go downstairs to call Mrs. McBlyth and tell her that Angie won’t be home tonight. I can hear concern in her voice and a little skepticism that says that we’re too old for sleepovers, but I explain how ill Angie is and she trusts my judgment. I hang up with promises of driving Ange home tomorrow.