August Love: a Memoir

         Without the sun shining, it was the perfect temperature. Humidity and light breezes alternated with perfect timing so that one could never be too hot or too cold. Heavy cumulus clouds blotted out the sun, causing the sky to look slightly dreary, but it was obvious there wouldn’t be a storm.
         I sat on a picnic table with my feet resting on the bench, passing my cell phone from one hand to the other and back again. Every few minutes it would vibrate a message alert and I would open it, my eyes scanning the text, and reply, my thumbs moving expertly over the keys.
         Chris was twenty minutes late, so I saw him ride up on his bike, park it in front of the pop machine, and walk around the shelter to sit beside me. The blue color of his eyes, so much like the water of Crystal Lake in the springtime, washed away my frustrations.
         “Hey,” I said, my voice an octave too high, another result of those eyes. He grunted a response.
         A woman was entertaining two young girls in the park where we sat. One was trying desperately to hop into a swing that was an inch too high, and the other was sitting on top of one of the several sets of monkey-bars screaming for help. The woman seemed torn between which of them she should assist first, and was also watching us. The look on her face suggested we were likely to begin tearing each other’s clothes off and having hot sex at any moment, although we were only fourteen.
         My phone vibrated again, and the message there reminded me of my anger. Chris noticed.
         “What’s your problem?” he asked, the first words he had pronounced since arriving.
         “Shayna seems happy for a girl that was just dumped,” I replied tersely. He gave me a guilty look but didn’t say anything.
         “I feel awkward,” I said after a moment. “Let’s go somewhere more private.” I got up and walked toward the baseball field, to the little shelter that housed the team that was up to bat. Chris followed, and for someone reason I felt sure he was watching me walk. I put a little extra swing in my step for his benefit.
         I sat on the bench and he sat beside me, keeping a good eight-inch distance. We exchanged a few comments about a mutual friend.
         Suddenly I said, “Well if you’re going to cheat on my best friend with me, you’re going to do it right.” I slid closer to him, picked up his arm, and draped it over my shoulders. He smiled, leaning in to kiss me. I was surprised; Shayna had told me he rarely made the first move.
         I leaned forward, breathing in his scent, but turned away at he last second.
         “What?” He sounded honestly confused.
         I couldn’t bring myself to kiss him, not while he was still my best friend’s boyfriend. And Shayna was my best friend, despite the fact that I had secret meetings with Chris.
         “You’re still with Shayna,” I explained, my voice barely above a whisper. He said nothing but met my gaze with seductive intensity. “But…you are going to leave her, right?”
         “Yes,” he persisted. I believed him, letting myself be content with the idea that as long as he had concrete plans to leave her it wasn’t really cheating.
         Nevertheless I turned my back to him, hoping to decrease the temptation. I turned to look at him, to try to read his expression, and he was leaning toward me again. Our lips came within a tenth of an inch, electricity coursing through my veins ---
         “Dammit!” I whispered, leaning forward to hide the tears that were about to overflow. An image of Shayna had flashed into my mind.
         Chris rubbed my back lightly, his fingertips drawing icy hot lines along my spine. I leaned back into him, my back against his chest. He put his left arm around my stomach, drawing our bodies closer. I put both of my hands on his, tracing his veins with trembling fingers. With his right hand he stroked my right arm gently from shoulder to elbow. Chills that had nothing to do with cold raced through me.
         We sat that way for over an hour, not speaking much. I didn’t need to talk; Chris could sense my every emotion.
         At quarter to three I made up a lame excuse for why I had to leave. I think he knew I was lying, but he didn’t say anything. We stood and walked toward the parking lot. We were moving slowly, the seconds dragging on for me the more I thought of Shayna.
         Once in the parking lot he stopped and put his arms around my waist. I slid my arms up to his shoulders, our locked gaze boring through my defenses. I would have been able to pull away, to resist the urge, if not for that smell. It surrounded me, a suffocating cloud of sweet odor.
         Suddenly his lips were on mine, and I couldn’t refuse. I opened my mouth, greedy for the taste of his tongue as he pressed against me.
         But before he could, I broke off, regaining control. I hugged him, whispered, “We’ll do this again sometime,” to which he nodded fervently, and started off towards home.