Page 3 of Along Came Summer

“Not that I need to justify our friendship to you, but you're way off. It’s clear that you’ve never been friends with someone from the opposite sex. Dare to wonder why that is. And all those things you have just checked off are normal things best friends do together. Again, you would know if you had one. Dev and I have been sharing a bed since we were five. There isn’t, nor has there ever been, anything…sexualbehind it. Hell, we used to bathe together. And all those hours we spend behind closed doors, wearestudying, so you can shove your little air quotes up where the sun doesn’t shine, all right, King.” Mira rebukes indignantly and spins on her heel to hightail it out of my bedroom door, but before she can take a step, I curl my fingers around her upper arm and stop her.

“Whoa, hold on a second there, fireball. I have a follow-up question.”

Mira sighs and turns her peeved gaze to meet mine, “Yes?”

“Wyatt is one of your best friends, too, no? Yet I don't see you spending nearly as much time or sharing a bed with him?” I add with a cocky smirk.

Mira narrows her eyes and inches closer, decreasing the space between us. “Why are you so obsessed with whom I share a bed, Levi?”

She's got you by the short and curlies. Go on, dig yourself out of this one, you dipshit.

“Obsessed?” I laugh lowly and draw her closer until her chest lightly grazes mine. “Don't flatter yourself, Evans. I couldn't care less. And if I were obsessing over you, you’d know about it, trust me.” I say, lifting my hand. I brush a strand of her hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “I’m simply calling you out on your bullshit.”

Mira swats my hand away from her face, her eyes glowering at me. “Hm, now whose bullshitting whom? From where I’m standing, you seem to care quite a bit,King.” Smiling, I swipe my tongue along my lower lip, momentarily drawing her eyes away from mine to my lips so I can think straight before I say something stupid and put my foot right in it.

“Why don't you come closer and take a better look, Evans?”

“Why don't you bite me?” Mira carps, placing her hand on my bare chest and shoving me back.

“Because I won’t just stop at biting,” I answer, wagging my brows at her suggestively. “And you’ll like it too much.”

“Tinks?! Hurry up, we're going to be late for registration!”

“Oh, you better go. Your boyfriend’s getting testy.” Mira rolls her eyes before she turns and storms out of my bedroom.

Laughing, I poke my head out the door, watching her stomp off. “No need to get so defensive,Tinks. Oh, and thank you for the wake-up call. I’ll be sure to leave my door unlocked more often if you ever want another gander at mygoods.”

“Bore off, Levi.”

Chuckling amusedly while she mutters under her breath, I pick up my shirt and walk to the bathroom to wash off the remnants of my hangover before it kills me.

“Levi, are you listening to me, son?”

Lifting my eyes from the bowl of untouched porridge sitting in front of me, I nod and force myself to look at my father.

“Yes, Dad, I'm listening. I’vebeenlistening to you repeat yourself incessantly for the last year. I already told you. I have no interest in working in the publication industry, much less working for you and Uncle Noah. That’s not what I see myself doing.”

My father stares at me, regarding me seriously, while sitting back in his chair at the breakfast table. Those deep brown eyes narrowing incredulously. “All right, so tell me what you do see yourself doing? You don’t have much time till you finish up with college. Have you thought about what you are going to do after? Have you applied to any universities?”

Sighing, I rub the back of my neck, “Right now, I’m focussing on getting through my exams. I don't want to jump into doing a job I’m going to hate. I’m not a suit-wearing, working nine-to-five, sitting-in-an-office type of guy. I want to be out there, travelling and working on my art.”

My father leans forward, placing his forearms on the table. “Look, son, I’ve always told you and your brother to follow your hearts and live your life in a way that makes you happy. Do I want both my boys working alongside me and, hopefully, one day taking the reins? Of course, I do. What I don't want is for you to piss away your life on a pipe dream or jump from job to job with no aspirations or a clear career path. I get that you’re passionate about your art, and you’re talented, but you need to be realistic.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. “You didn't have any aspirations either at my age. You were working in a job you hated, and you were miserable. I remember growing up how unhappy you were. All you did was come home and complain. You found your passion for publishing later in life. I’m only nineteen. I have time to figure out who I want to be.” I say, pushing my chair back from the table and standing. “I do know I’m not going to figure it out sitting behind a desk, spending each day wishing someone would just come along and put me out of my misery.”

I can tell my dad is doing his best to keep a straight face and play his part as the concerned father, but the amusement glittering in those brown eyes gives him away. “I’m giving you a year to figure it out. If by this time next year, you’re still fart arsing around with this art stuff and not signed up to a university or found a job, you’re coming to work at Evans and King. Is that fair?”

Fair is letting me pave my own path without a closing date, but beggars can't be choosers. I’ll take it. “Fine, if I can't find my way by next year, I’ll come and work alongside you at E and K.” My dad holds his hand for me so we can shake on it.

God, adulting really smarts.

I have exactly 365 days to figure out what I want to do with my life.

* * *

Two weeks go by excruciatingly. And I've had my nose buried in textbooks and test papers, cramming for my A-Level exams. A few more days. Three more exams and I'm a free man… well, at least until I figure out if I want to go to university or get a job. I spent the last two years studying art and design. Growing up, I’ve always had a love for drawing and designing. Of course, when I told my father I wanted to be an artist, he outright snubbed the idea.

According to him, it’s not a viable career. It’s a hobby.

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