Page 64 of Seven Summer Weekends

Even with that warning, Ben lit up. He looked up at the overcast sky and approached.

The closer he got, the more charged the space between them felt.

“Let me take this girl for a beach walk first, before it rains.”

Standing there on the sidewalk, not touching him, felt brutal. It was as if they hadn’t spent the entire weekend binge-reading each other’s bodies. The longing in her was immense. She took a step back to breathe.

“All good—whenever,” she said, trying to sound casual, even though games didn’t seem necessary. She was struck by how after six weeks of flirtations and miscommunications, their coupling suddenly felt like a given, as if they were an old couple now. As if she were home.

Addison watched him walk down the block with Sally and fought the urge to follow them. She had things to do. Things just for her. She would sneak in a morning meditation in between tackling the scones. This time, she would set the oven timer for fifteen minutes. Twenty had been a disaster.

She followed the recipe exactly and put the perfectly shaped spheres in the oven, set the timer, and went out back to meditate. Within minutes of doing so, a bolt of thunder literally rocked the room. The studio darkened, and the sky opened up.

Her mind went to Ben and Sally on the beach.

She already felt possessive of them both, like they were hers.The feeling swallowed her until the timer buzzed, breaking her out of it.

Ben and Sally walked in while the scones were cooling, and stood in the doorway—soaked, but safe.

“Oh my God—come in, come in,” Addison cried.

She threw a kitchen towel at Ben and then ran off to get bigger ones.

“I should have gone home first, but I couldn’t take another step,” Ben said, apologizing for the puddle at his feet. “It came out of nowhere.”

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” Addison threw a large bath towel over his shoulders and got to work on Sally with another one. A few minutes later they were sitting at the kitchen table—Ben happily dressed in one of Gicky’s caftans, sipping tea and tasting scones, Sally at their feet.

Ben cautiously took the first bite while Addison looked on. The pressure was palpable.

“Do you want me to tell you the truth?” he asked.

“No, I want you to lie to me.”

“OK. They’re too dry. And kind of grainy.”

“I just told you I wanted you to lie to me! I’m a very literal person!”

“Sorry.”

Addison dumped the batch in the pail and all out moped.

“Want to climb into bed and watchLove Is Blindagain?” Ben asked with the confidence of a sixteen-year-old girl.

She weighed whether to give in to his delightful request or to finish packing up and organizing. It was pouring out, after all—the perfect day to do either.

“Or we can finish boxing up Gicky’s stuff and then take the leftover boxes and tape to your house to do the same.”

Her cell rang, and she grabbed it. She barely got out “Hello” before the voice of Nan, the real estate agent, blasted out of it.

“Great news. I have a hot buyer coming on the ten o’clock ferry tomorrow. They’re looking for a double lot—so it’s as good as done! Have it clean, please, not that it matters.”

And she was gone.

Ben had obviously heard.

“So, you’re selling?”

She contemplated telling him how she had reached out to the real estate agent right after they had their falling-out at the block party, but the insanity of selling a house because your crush hurt your feelings seemed too great to admit.

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