Page 19 of Stony Point Summer
The sandy area right beneath the boardwalk is shadyandprivate, concealed from both the sun and from onlookers. Pressing his hands onto the top of the wall, Kyle semi-lifts himself up for a look into the shadows there. “Come on,” he tells Lauren after lowering himself. “I’ll give you a lift.”
“A lift?”
He nods, then motions to that protected area directly under the boardwalk.
Lauren backs up a step. “I’m not going under there.”
“Why not?” Kyle asks her. “It’s a cool spot to take a little break.”
When Lauren looks to the sheltered space beneath the boardwalk planks, Kyle slips his hands around her bare waist. It’s not until she nods, though, that he lifts her so that she can scramble atop the low wall and into the shaded, sandy area. Once she’s crouched beneath the boardwalk and turns back to him, Kyle passes her the bag of water bottles. A second later, he puts his hands on top of the concrete wall and hoists himself up there, too.
“Shit, it’s hot,” Kyle says, his voice quiet as he fans his tee’s fabric on his chest. He sits low and reaches for a water, unscrews the cap and takes a long swallow. “But nice under here.”
Meanwhile, Lauren settles beside him, sitting with her legs folded beneath her. In the shade, her fingers toy with a black-and-gold stone pendant hanging from a chain around her neck. “Listen!” she whispers, motioning to the boardwalk planks just over their heads.
The boom box blares there. Voices come to them, too. Voices, and swishing paint rollers as the friends move to a new section of boardwalk to paint. Their feet are heavy; their painting slow in the heat.
“Where’s Lauren?” one of the friends asks.
“That’s Neil,” Kyle whispers against Lauren’s ear. “He’s looking for us.”
“She went to get water at the ice-cream truck. With Kyle,” Jason tells Neil.
Kyle and Lauren sit stock-still when Jason’s work boots clump above their heads. Though they can’t see him, he’s leaning over the seatback, looking toward the ice-cream truck in the parking lot—clueless that they’re right beneath him.
“They’re not there,” Jason announces, turning back to the friends.
“Are they on the beach?” one of the girls asks, her voice muffled.
“Shh,” Kyle says to Lauren. He’s sitting next to her, their sides touching, their perspiring bodies still. “Don’t say anything.”
Lauren squints up at him in the shadows. When she does, he presses a finger to her lips. But just for a moment. Just until he tips his head with a small smile. And in their private hiding space, he slides that finger down her chin to the necklace she wears. He touches the long chain all the way down to where the stone pendant hangs, and stops. His fingers then, they loop into the V-neck of her bathing suit top, brushing the rise of her breasts before sliding along her skin, up her chest to behind her neck. Which is when he silently pulls her close, bends and kisses her once, then again, deeper.
Much to Lauren’s liking, apparently. Her hands reach up to Kyle’s shoulders and she shifts her body to face him in the cramped, shaded space. But when their friends above them continue questioning where they went, Kyle briefly stops kissing her.
“Over here,” he whispers, scooting ten feet to the left. He’s beneath an area of boardwalk wet with fresh paint, so no one’s above them. Jason, Neil, Eva—noneof the friends can hear them now, or catch a glimpse of them between the boardwalk planks.
“Is this okay to do, sitting under here?” Lauren asks as she settles in beside Kyle again. Her long blonde hair is woven into a French braid, with butterfly clips holding back loose strands. Her bare shoulders are freckled from the sun.
“It’s okay with me,” Kyle whispers before looking from the dark shadows out to the boat basin beyond their secluded spot. When he looks back to Lauren, he raises his hand to her neck and kisses her again. This time, Lauren’s mouth opens to his and she presses close up against him. And Kyle does it. He raises his other hand behind her neck where his fingers loosen the strings of her bathing suit top.
Now nothing seems to stop them. Not the perspiration beading on both of their bodies. Not the distant noises coming from families on the beach—the laughter and casual chatter carrying on a sea breeze. Not Lauren’s bathing suit top slipping half off. Not their friends sounding annoyed while looking around for them.
Alone in their sandy hideaway, it seems Lauren and Kyle hear none of it, see none of it, care about none of it.
A seagull cries then, as it swoops over the boat basin. The ice-cream attendant jangles the truck’s bells. And all the while, being careful in the small shaded space, Kyle’s hands cradle Lauren’s face as he kisses her again. His kisses are slow, as though he’s also listening carefully so as not to get caught. His hands, though? They don’t quit, feeling every curve of her breasts, her hips, and slipping around her as he and Lauren go at it—necking in earnest—hidden right there under the boardwalk.
nine
— Now —
AFTER PLOTTING A SCHEME WITH Kyle from their diner stools, Maris is craving a cool dessert to end the night. A cup of Scoop Shop’s chocolate ice cream will do the trick. She’ll bring it home and have it on her deck overlooking the bluff. An easy end to a long, hot day. Maybe she’ll watch a little TV later, then off to bed.
But all of her evening plans are upended when Maris pulls into Scoop Shop’s parking lot.
Because there’s Jason.
He’s sitting alone at one of the outdoor tables at the far end of the store. Paper wrappings and some take-out food are spread on his table. Of course, his phone is there, too—with Jason scrolling and typing as he eats. He’s so focused, when Maris gets out of her car and shuts the door, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t look up from his cell phone. Doesn’t glance away from the dripping, overstuffed sandwich in his other hand, either.
