Page 16 of One Last Summer
Marla had always looked out for me as a kid, something I never fully grasped until I was an adult and able to rewind through moments of my life with a grown-up’s perspective. She must have intuitively sensed that my life at home was lonely and strained, my parents distant with each other and only slightly more present with me.
“We’re so glad you’re here,” Marla said, and gave me a smile I knew was genuine. “We’ve missed all you kids, of course. But it’s been so long since you’ve been able to make it up here, Clara! What a lovely surprise.”
“I’m downright shocked,” came a voice to my right.
It was Mack, of course. Even though I hadn’t laid eyes on him in ages, I was certain he was biting his bottom lip in a smirk, which caused his right eye to shut almost completely. He always did this when he wanted to prove a point or get his way.
Marla gave me one last squeeze before releasing me, and I turned to find him there, lips pursed and eye crinkled just so. And around his neck hung a familiar talisman: the circular wooden medal, Color Week Winner 2004 scrawled on it in black ink, looped through a red ribbon that had faded to salmon pink over time.
He’d worn it, of course, to do what he did best—needle me. And so I returned the favor and pretended I didn’t notice.
“Millen,” he said as he showed off his charming, mischievous grin, with that little gap between his two front teeth. The one that said, I’m innocent! But you know I’m really not, in all its slightly arrogant, crooked glory. “I never thought we’d see you back here.”
“Hey,” I said, giving him a smile and a quick once-over as I smoothed out the rumples in my linen sundress. His hair looked like it had been permanently styled by one too many windy rides out in the camp waterskiing boat, slightly shaggy and tousled still.
“Work stuff changed at the last minute,” I said with a quick shrug of my shoulders. “So here I am.”
“Are you sure you didn’t come dressed for the office?” He leaned forward and ran a finger over the edge of the strap of my dress, and even though he barely touched my skin, my stomach still fluttered, warm and wanting. “You know we get messy here.”
“I’m aware,” I said, narrowing my eyes slightly and swatting his hand away. “It hasn’t been that long, thanks.”
“Good,” he said, tan arms crossing in front of his faded, threadbare Pine Lake Camp T-shirt that looked almost as old as Steve. “I was worried you’d forgotten your roots.”
“That’s so weird,” I said, reaching out to tap on the evergreen logo on his shirt, reminding him that I still knew how to play this little game between us. “Because it looks like you haven’t changed at all, including out of the clothes we wore when we were kids.”
“Oh, sick burn, Millen!” He scrunched up his face in exaggerated pain, before pulling me in for a quick hug. His arms were warm against my bare shoulders, and yet inexplicably I felt goose bumps prickle up at his touch.
“I really am glad you’re here, you know,” he said, his lips grazing dangerously close to that sensitive spot just below my earlobe.
For a second the teasing in his voice was gone, and I could hear traces of the other Mack I knew, the gentle, earnest one who’d nervously kissed me back when we were fifteen.
“Admit it, you’re excited to see me,” he said as he pulled away, and then that dumb, perfect grin returned. He shook his head, hair flying in every direction, before he ran a hand through it, looking back at me.
“Oh, very,” I replied, sarcasm hanging on every syllable. To torment him a little more, I averted my gaze to dig around for a hair tie in my bag as if it was the most important task of my life.
“I almost forgot,” he said with a smack to his forehead. “I’ve had this for too long. Time to share.”
He lifted the medal from around his neck and placed it over my head, straightening it out with a gentle tug. “Perfect.”
My eyes desperately wanted to roll to the back of my head and never return, but I just gave him a blasé smile. “I’ll have it back to you shortly.”
“Oh, no, take your time, Millen, please.”
Our snarky back-and-forth was interrupted when Steve came over and gave me a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “Hey, kid. It’s been too long.”
“I know, I’m sorry it took me forever to get up here. And to think, I was going to try to buy this place!”
He chuckled at this, a low rumble, and then cleared his throat and shuffled back a few steps to look at our group.
“So,” Steve started with an awkward nod. “You saw the sign.”
Next to me Mack started humming the Ace of Base song loud enough for everyone to hear. I turned to give him a “not now, you dipshit” glare, and he met my face with a wink, almost like he knew what I was about to do even before I did it.
“I would have thought our dear old friend Mackenzie Sullivan would have said something,” Nick said, sounding hurt.
“Hey, I just found out this week!” Mack raised his hands in the air defensively. “I’ve been dealing with some shit with my parents and their business. I’ve been distracted.”
This caught my attention. Mack’s family ran a successful music licensing business out in Los Angeles. He’d always been upfront about the trust fund they’d set him up with, and how he refused to touch it. Nick once told me Mack had never even taken a dime from them after he graduated college, which definitely earned my respect. Not that I’d tell him that.
