Past
I’VE ALWAYS CONSIDERED myself lucky to have Victor for a friend. He’s been selfless, ruthless, and above all, loyal. When I didn’t have any place to go after I graduated and my lease was up, Vic didn’t hesitate for a moment.
“You’re living with me,” he’d said.
“Okay, let me know how much I owe you. I only need a place to stay for a couple of weeks,” I’d said, and he’d looked at me like I was crazy.
“You’re my brother. You don’t owe me shit!”
And that was how I ended up sleeping in the small cottage beside the house he’d been renting for the summer. Summer break—the last hurrah, he was calling it. The last hurrah before I left for medical school, and he settled down in law school at UCLA. Life was good during those weeks—wake up, catch some waves, eat something, drink, party, and hook up with the girls that hung around. We were treating grad school like some men would treat their last weekend as bachelors, which was funny because we’d been self-proclaimed lifers. “Who needs one woman when we can have ten?” those were Vic’s words, followed by Jenson’s, “Bros before hoes.” Junior was the only one who couldn’t participate in our crazy summer, since he’d been tied down to the same girl since the first semester of school. As much as we made fun of him, I think we were all slightly jealous that he’d found a girl he actually wanted to be with every day.
I dressed that night, much like I did every other night, but I was exhausted from being in the sun all day, and I needed to get up early the next morning to start hauling my stuff upstate. One drink . . . maybe two . . . then sleep, I promised myself as I walked over to the main house, where the party had already started.
One drink, maybe two, then sleep, I repeated, the mantra becoming like second lyrics to the song bumping off the speakers. One drink, maybe two, I was about to tell myself again when I spotted Estelle walking into the house. I felt a slow smile creep up on my face as I watched her finger comb her hair, wild from the wind outside. Her lips were pressed into a sexy pout as her eyes wandered over the room. She shrugged off the jacket she was wearing, which revealed a low cut black shirt that pressed her tits up, and a short sequined skirt that showed off every curve of her legs.
I guess she felt me staring, because her eyes caught mine a beat later, and she smiled that wide smile of hers. It told me she was up to no good tonight and that she wondered if I was fair game. One drink, maybe two, then sleep, I said to myself again, this time kicking the frontal lobe of my brain, in the hopes I’d knock some sense into myself before I reached her. My treacherous feet walked toward her, as they always did, and she stood there waiting for me, as she usually did.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” I said, my eyes taking in those marbled orbs of hers, as she slowly looked me over from head to toe. “What’s the verdict?” I asked when her eyes finally stopped at mine. She blushed slightly and looked away, laughing.
“You look good,” she said, turning her gaze to mine again.
“You look great,” I said, and she smiled. “How have you been?”
It had been maybe two months since we’d last seen each other. Two months since our tongues did the song and dance they usually did whenever we were at one of these parties . . . or at the movies . . . or anywhere that afforded our sneaking around. We’d never gone too far, usually kissing and touching over clothes before we were interrupted by one thing or another. Our hiatus wasn’t a coincidence. I’d been going to Cal parties instead of Vic’s because the guilt of everything I felt whenever Estelle was around was starting to weigh down on me. Like the time I saw her at the mall a couple of months ago and cornered her in a long hallway that led to the bathroom. I only wanted to talk to her about stopping this madness between us, but then she pulled my face to hers and kissed me so deeply, I forgot my fucking name right then. She was dangerous for me. What I felt when I was around her wasn’t right. I had my life planned out, and the things she made me want didn’t fit into them. Not yet.
“I’ve been pretty good,” she said. We started walking to the kitchen and grabbed red cups with beer when we reached the table. “How about you? I heard you’re leaving for Berkeley soon. I knew you would get in.”
I smiled. The last time I saw her, I was still waiting for my application. “It almost seems surreal.”
She tilted her head and looked at me for a long moment before her lips turned into a small, warm smile. “I’m proud of you, Oliver.”
My heart thumped a little at that. I smiled and drank some beer.
“You still all about having fun?” I asked. I didn’t necessarily want to hear about her love life, but I wanted to know everything she was up to. Everything I’d missed.
Elle laughed as we reached a bench outside and sat down. “I guess you can say that.”
“Still haven’t met the one?” I asked, hoping my voice sounded light—unlike everything I felt squeezing inside me.
“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t. How would I know if he’s the one?” she said with a smirk and a shrug.
I looked away, out into the distance where I knew the beach was just steps away. “I’d like to think we know when we meet that special person.”
“Have you met her? The one?” she asked.
I swallowed, closed my eyes, drank more beer, and let out a breath.
“I decided a long time ago to avoid meeting her until the time was right,” I said in a low voice, as if I was confessing a crime to a priest.
Estelle scooted closer to me, until our arms were touching, then she rested her head on my shoulder. “Is there ever a right time?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, turning my face to smell her hair.
“I met a guy,” she said suddenly, quietly, and my heart dropped.
“Yeah?” I said, drinking the rest of my beer.
“He’s . . . different. He’s nice. Older.”