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“Come on!” she chides. “It’s your first date all summer! Wear it with those strappy heels you have. Your legs will look like they’re a mile long.”
James doesn’t look over but I see the tightness in his shoulders and neck that tells me he’s listening. And unhappy.
“Fine,” I smile. “I promise.”
“And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she warns. “Although Nick is super hot, so that’s a pretty short list.”
Max barks a laugh. “Just for the record, Elle, what that really means is you should feel free to talk about quadratric equations, economic theory, and instability in the Middle East. You’re fine as long as you’re having no fun whatsoever.”
After they leave, I drag myself off to get ready, made sluggish and heavy by ambivalence. In truth, all I want to do is curl up and sleep. I plow through solely out of guilt: it’s bad enough that I don’t want to go out with this guy. I can’t double down by looking like shit when I do it.
I suggested meeting him out somewhere, but Nick insists on picking me up. It could mean he’s a gentleman, or it could mean he figures he’s got a better chance of getting laid if we’re returning to the same place. My guess is that it’s the latter.
“Wow,” he says, when I open the door. “You’re … wow. All cleaned up.”
“Come in,” I tell him. “I just need to grab my purse.”
He glances around nervously. “Is James here?”
I laugh. “Are you scared of James?”
“He’s kind of a scary guy,” says Nick. “He’s big and he’s also … I don’t know. Just scary.”
“He’s not here,” I assure him. “And you don’t need to be worried about him in any case. He’s all bark.”
I don’t actually know if that’s true. I’ve never heard of James beating anyone up. Then again, he’s sure looked like he’s wanted to a few times this summer.
We grab a quick dinner before the movie. He’s sweet and engaging, someone I might even like, under other circumstances. In the negative column, however, is the fact that he keeps trying to look down my dress. That his hand moves to my leg during the movie, his fingers beginning the climb up my inner thigh. That when I remove his hand he tries again.
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t find this as irritating as I do, but I feel like I’ve been groped or hit on enough this summer to last a lifetime. I even suspect I’m being unfair to him, until he suggests returning to his apartment when the movie ends. “You know,” I say. “I’m not feeling great.”
“Just come over for a little while,” he says.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s something I ate. I really need to lie down.”
“I have a bed too,” he says.
It’s this, oddly, that’s the last straw. Not for Nick, but for my summer at the beach. I’m sick of the effort. The effort of refusing people I don’t want, the effort of wanting someone who won’t allow himself to want me back.
It’s only 10 p.m., which means I can be back in DC by 1:30. It’s best this way. They’re all at work, so there will be no awkward half-truths to offer in explanation. My car, for once, isn’t parked in. It’s best this way. I consider the possibility that I will never see James again, and it produces a sharp pain in my chest. I do my best to ignore it – if one thing’s been made abundantly clear this summer, it’s that James Campbell will cause me pain no matter what I do.
**
Nick walks me to the door. My silence in the car appears to have convinced him that I’m truly ill.
“Well,” he says awkwardly. “I’d, uh, kiss you but I don’t want to get sick.”
“Probably for the best,” I agree.
I enter the house, shut the door behind me, and nearly jump out of my skin. James is waiting on the stairs.
“Jesus, James,” I gasp. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I heard you pull up,” he says quietly. “I wanted to make sure I spoke to you before you went upstairs.”
He’s so reserved, so serious, that a seed of anxiety takes root in my stomach. “Is everyone okay?”
He nods. “How was your date?” he asks. He doesn’t sound interested, or sour. Instead, he sounds hollow, as if some integral piece of him has gone missing.
