Page 42 of The Summer I First Saw You
“You’re annoying Harrison,” I tell Oliver. “He doesn’t classify siblings according to hotness.”
“That’s because he’d be last,” Oliver says, toasting him. “Clearly, it’s Matthew, then me, then Harrison. So you’ll bringyour equally lovely sisters to France, and we’ll stay in Provence for a week, with perhaps a visit to Île du Levant.”
“Daisy has no sisters, and you sure as hell won’t be taking her to Île du Levant.”
I love listening to the way French names roll off Harrison’s tongue. I love the way his mouth moves as he says them. It’s just like Harrison to be fucking fluent in French and never even mention it.
“What’s wrong withÎle duwhatever?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Oliver answers. “Harrison is just quite American in his views on nudity.Ithink you’d love it.”
I laugh, but Harrison does not. Hemustknow his brother is simply baiting him, but I think it bothers him anyway.
I tap his foot. “I don’t know about Provence next year. I might make Harrison take me to Costa Rica instead.”
Harrison relaxes, as if the trip is really happening, as if I’ve just solved every problem he had. And my heart gives one hard, audible thump, because I make him happy and that makesmehappy. I already know my heart will break when this summer ends and I’m alone again, but now I’m wondering how his will fare as well.
After dinner, we go to the nearest grocery store as Oliver has purchased nothing but wine since he arrived. We’re standing in line when I run back to the freezer section for frozen acai.
“Hey, didn’t I see you at Zuma Beach yesterday?” asks a guy nearby.
I shake my head. “I just arrived today, so it wasn’t me.”
He grins. “Sorry. You’re blonde and tan…I guess there are a lot of women in California who meet that description. Where are you in from?”
I open my mouth to answer and am silenced by the arm that wraps around me, large and firm and possessive, the handresting on my hip. “Do you have what you need?” asks Harrison, standing closer than he ever would normally, so close that his breath brushes against my hair when he asks the question. My nipples harden simply from his nearness, his touch, his breath, and I resent it. Since when does he wrap his arm around meanywhere?
I grab the acai and force a smile at the guy I was talking to. “Have a nice evening.”
Harrison’s arm falls away, but he remains close to my side as we walk back toward Oliver.
“What was that?” I demand.
“You can do better than a guy who’s hitting on you in the freezer section based solely on your looks, Daisy,” he grunts.
Oliver is laughing as we approach. “Did he save you from the bad man in the Stanford hoodie?” he asks. “I knew once I saw the fruit and paper towels in his cart that he was up to no good. Thank God Harrison stepped in.”
I laugh while Harrison acts as if he hasn’t heard us and starts unloading our cart.
It’s pretty clear that Oliver thinks Harrison’s jealous—and as crazy as it sounds, I’m starting to wonder too.
When we get home, they want to stay up with a bottle of wine, but I’m too tired to join them, and I figure they need some brotherly bonding time anyhow.
I throw my doors open to the balcony as I get ready for bed. The waves crash and their voices from the deck below reach my ear sporadically—laughing and bickering, mostly in French.
And then, clear as day, Oliver speaks. “Deny it all you want,” he says in English. “The only one you’re fooling is yourself.”
I fall asleep dreaming of Harrison’s arm around me in the grocery store, whispering French words that I somehow understand. “Do you see how it is with us?” he asks, and that hand grips my hip hard, a promise of things to come. “This was always meant to happen.”
“I do,” I tell him. “I was just waiting for you to see it too.”
I wake up and stare at the dark ceiling. The words he spoke in my dream are ones he’d never utter in real life.
Whereas the wordsIspoke in that dream have been resting on the tip of my tongue for a decade, just waiting to be set free.
23
HARRISON
