It’s Not Summer Without You
: Chapter 7

At Taylor’s house, the front door was almost never locked. Her staircase, with its long banister and shiny wooden steps, was as familiar to me as my own.

After I let myself into the house, I went straight up to her room.

Taylor was lying on her stomach, flipping through gossip magazines. As soon as she saw me, she sat up and said, “Are you a masochist, or what?”

I threw my duffel bag on the floor and sat down next to her. I’d called her on the way over; I’d told her everything. I hadn’t wanted to, but I’d done it.

“Why are you going off looking for him?” she demanded. “He’s not your boyfriend anymore.”

I sighed. “Like he ever really was.”

“My point exactly.” She thumbed through a magazine and handed it to me. “Check it out. I could see you in this bikini. The white bandeau one. It’ll look hot with your tan.”

“Jeremiah’s going to be here soon,” I said, looking at the magazine and handing it back to her. I couldn’t picture me in that bikini. But I could picture her in it.

“You so should have picked Jeremy,” she said. “Conrad is basically a crazy person.”

I’d told her and told her how it wasn’t as easy as picking one or the other. Nothing ever was. It wasn’t as though I’d even had a choice, not really.

“Conrad’s not crazy, Taylor.” She’d never forgiven Conrad for not liking her the summer I brought her to Cousins, the summer we were fourteen. Taylor was used to all the boys liking her, she was unaccustomed to being ignored. Which was exactly what Conrad had done. Not Jeremiah, though. As soon as she batted her big brown eyes at him, he was hers. Her Jeremy, that’s what she’d called him—in that teasing kind of way, the kind that boys love. Jeremiah lapped it right up, too, until she ditched him for my brother, Steven.

Pursing her lips, Taylor said, “Fine, maybe that was a little harsh. Maybe he’s not crazy. But, like, what? Are you always just going to be sitting around waiting for him? Whenever he wants?”

“No! But he’s in some kind of trouble. He needs his friends now more than ever,” I said, picking at a loose strand on the carpet. “No matter what happened between us, we’ll always be friends.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. The only reason I’m even signing off on this is for you to get closure.”

“Closure?”

“Yes. I can see now that it’s the only way. You need to see Conrad face-to-face and tell him you’re over him and you’re not gonna play his games anymore. Then and only then can you move on from his lame ass.”

“Taylor, I’m not innocent in all this either.” I swallowed. “The last time I saw him, I was awful.”

“Whatever. The point is, you need to move on. On to greener pastures.” She eyed me. “Like Cory. Who, by the way, I doubt you even have a chance with anymore after last night.”

Last night seemed like a thousand years ago. I did my best to look contrite and said, “Hey, thanks again for letting me leave my car here. If my mom calls—”

“Please, Belly. Show a little respect. I’m the queen of lying to parents, unlike you.” She sniffed. “You’re gonna be back in time for tomorrow night, right? We’re all gonna go out on Davis’s parents’ boat, remember? You promised.”

“That’s not until eight or nine. I’m sure I’ll be back by then. Besides,” I pointed out, “I never promised you anything.”

“Then promise now,” she commanded. “Promise you’ll be here.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why do you want me back here so bad? So you can sic Cory Wheeler on me again? You don’t need me. You have Davis.”

“I do so need you, even if you are a terrible best friend. Boyfriends aren’t the same as best friends and you know it. Pretty soon we’ll be in college, you know. What if we go to different schools? What then?” Taylor glared at me, her eyes accusing.

“Okay, okay. I promise.” Taylor still had her heart set on us going to the same school, the way we’d always said we would.

She held out her hand to me and we hooked pinkies.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Taylor asked me suddenly.

Looking down at my gray camisole, I said, “Well, yeah.”

She shook her head so fast her blond hair swished all around. “Is that what you’re wearing to see Conrad for the first time?”

“This isn’t a date I’m going on, Taylor.”

“When you see an ex, you have to look better than you’ve ever looked. It’s, like, the first rule of breakups. You have to make him think, ‘Damn, I missed out on that?’ It’s the only way.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t care what he thinks,” I told her.

She was already rifling through my overnight bag. “All you have in here is underwear and a T-shirt. And this old tank top. Ugh. I hate this tank top. It needs to be officially retired.”

“Quit it,” I said. “Don’t go through my stuff.”

Taylor leaped up, her face all glowy and excited. “Oh, please let me pack for you, Belly! Please, it would make me so happy.”

“No,” I said, as firmly as I could. With Taylor, you had to be firm. “I’ll probably be back tomorrow. I don’t need anything else.”

Taylor ignored me and disappeared into her walk-in closet.

My phone rang then, and it was Jeremiah. Before I answered it, I said, “I’m serious, Tay.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it all covered. Just think of me as your fairy godmother,” she said from inside the closet.

I popped open my phone. “Hey,” I said. “Where are you?”

“I’m pretty close. About an hour away. Are you at Taylor’s?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Do you need me to give you the directions again?”

“No, I’ve got it.” He paused, and for a second I thought he’d already hung up. Then he said, “Thanks for doing this.”

“Come on,” I said.

I thought about saying something else, like how he was one of my best friends and how part of me was almost glad to have a reason to see him again. It just wouldn’t be summer without Beck’s boys.

But I couldn’t get the words to sound right in my head, and before I could figure them out, he hung up.

When Taylor finally emerged from the closet, she was zipping up my bag. “All set,” she said, dimpling.

“Taylor—” I tried to grab the bag from her.

“No, just wait until you get wherever you’re going. You’ll thank me,” she said. “I was very generous, even though you’re totally deserting me.”

I ignored the last bit and said, “Thanks, Tay.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, checking out her hair in her bureau mirror. “See how much you need me?” Taylor faced me, her hands on her hips. “How are you guys even planning on replaceing Conrad, anyway? For all you know, he’s under a bridge somewhere.”

I hadn’t given that part, the actual details, much thought. “I’m sure Jeremiah has some ideas,” I said.

Jeremiah showed up in an hour, just like he said he would. We watched from the living room window when his car pulled into Taylor’s circular driveway. “Oh my God, he looks so cute,” Taylor said, running over to the dresser and putting on lip gloss. “Why didn’t you tell me how cute he got?”

The last time she’d seen Jeremiah, he’d been a head shorter and scrawny. It was no wonder she’d gone after Steven instead. But he just looked like Jeremiah to me.

I picked up my bag and headed outside, with Taylor right on my heels.

When I opened the front door, Jeremiah was standing on the front steps. He was wearing his Red Sox cap, and his hair was shorter than the last time I’d seen him. It was strange to see him there, on Taylor’s doorstep. Surreal.

“I was just about to call you,” he said, taking off his hat. He was a boy unafraid of hat hair, of looking stupid. It was one of his most endearing qualities, one I admired because I pretty much lived in constant fear of embarrassing myself.

I wanted to hug him, but for some reason—maybe because he didn’t reach for me first, maybe because I felt shy all of a sudden—I held back. Instead, I said, “You got here really fast.”

“I sped like crazy,” he said, and then, “Hey, Taylor.”

She got on her tiptoes and hugged him and I regretted not hugging him too.

When she stepped away, Taylor surveyed him approvingly and said, “Jeremy, you look good.” She smiled at him, waiting for him to tell her she looked good too. When he didn’t, she said, “That was your cue to tell me how good I look. Duh.”

Jeremiah laughed. “Same old Taylor. You know you look good. You don’t need me to tell you.”

The two of them smirked at each other.

“We’d better get going,” I said.

He took my overnight bag off my shoulder and we followed him to the car. While he made room for my bag in the trunk, Taylor grabbed me by the elbow and said, “Call me when you get wherever you’re going, Cinderbelly.” She used to call me that when we were little, when we were obsessed with Cinderella. She’d sing it right along with the mice. Cinderbelly, Cinderbelly.

I felt a sudden rush of affection for her. Nostalgia, a shared history, counted for a lot. More than I’d realized. I’d miss her next year, when the two of us were at different colleges. “Thanks for letting me leave my car here, Tay.”

She nodded. Then she mouthed the word CLOSURE.

“Bye, Taylor,” Jeremiah said, getting into the car.

I got in too. His car was a mess, like always. There were empty water bottles all over the floor and backseat. “Bye,” I called out as we began to drive away.

She stood there and waved and watched us. She called back, “Don’t forget your promise, Belly!”

“What’d you promise?” Jeremiah asked me, looking in the rearview mirror.

“I promised her I’d be back in time for her boyfriend’s Fourth of July party. It’s going to be on a boat.”

Jeremiah nodded. “You’ll be back in time, don’t worry. Hopefully I’ll have you back by tonight.”

“Oh,” I said. “Okay.”

I guessed I wouldn’t need that overnight bag after all.

Then he said, “Taylor looks exactly the same.”

“Yeah, I guess she does.”

And then neither of us said anything. We were just silent.