Southampton Spectacular (19 page)

“Anyway, Spain
is
a beautiful place,” he whispered, and he kissed her again. Which was exactly what she needed, except that she discovered she actually needed slightly more than one second, maybe a few more seconds. So she decided that the best thing to do would be to just turn herself slightly, ever so slightly this way, so that they could more easily –

She was suddenly floating, suspended over the granite of the monument in a way that didn’t seem possible, except that she could feel both of his hands on her waist easily enough. As if it were nothing to him, the simplest, easiest thing, she found herself lifted up and carried and turned and placed gently before him, so that now she was facing him, sitting on his lap as he sat on the stairs, and she was straddling his torso in a way that would have seemed unthinkable only an hour ago. Her dress was up at her waist now, but she told herself that this didn’t matter, that they were only talking and kissing, and that this way of sitting was simply the most comfortable. The most practical.

“You should come visit me,” he said, and he kissed her, pulling her in close to him this time, because he could, and because she wanted him to.

She spoke to him without pulling away, to show him that they could have a conversation without interrupting the kiss. She said, “At Dartmouth this year?”

His hands were on her back, and on the back of her neck, on her waist, low, and he said, through her lips, and her tongue, which were pressing urgently into him now, “Spain.”

She put her hands through his hair, on his head, so that she could bring his mouth to hers, get to his lips better. She wasn’t listening, could barely understand  English anymore. She needed his lips.

They were both suddenly aware of voices nearby.

They leaned back from each other for long enough to see that they were embracing in a way that was very familiar. A way that was not well suited for public viewing. Devon’s arms and legs were wrapped around Austin as if she were clinging to him in a storm. And if her dress was covering her, it was
barely
covering her. She was aware of the feeling of his pants’ material on the backs of her thighs, and of the thought that it would be easy, so easy for him to just let his hands come down off her back and hold her, hold her under the place where her thighs met her bottom and lift her, lift her up just a foot and then –

The voices were closer, almost on top of them now, and Devon got up hurriedly.

She was glad that she had, because here came a family of four, with a mother and father and a little girl and boy who were perhaps five and seven years old, children who would have stopped and looked and pointed without a trace of self-consciousness, waiting only long enough to take in the scene before demanding of their parents, in loud, clear voices, what was that girl doing to that boy, and why was she attacking him like that, and should they do anything to help him escape?

But she had moved quickly enough, so instead of having an awkward moment she and Austin were able to smile indulgently, and nod, and agree that it was a lovely night. Their faces may have been more flushed than one would have expected in this cool evening air, but that might have been from the low sunset light coming through the trees.

Devon stood up and took a breath. She forced herself to stare out at Agawam for a slow count of five, and not at Austin. She smoothed out her dress and touched the back of her head, to be sure the hair clip was still in place. Then she turned to him with a smile, and she suggested that they walk a bit along the shore. To say hello to the ducks. And the swans.

And maybe to find another quiet place.

But Austin looked up at her as if she had suggested they strip their clothes off and jump into the lake.

“If you think I’m standing up right now, you’re mistaken,” he said, with eyebrows raised.

She studied him for a moment, and then understanding washed over her face. “Ah. Yes. Sorry.”

She sat back down next to him, adjusted the hem of her dress again, and gave his knee a pat.

There, that was perfectly natural. Just a little pat, like a friend would do. And we can sit, and look out over Agawam, and talk about –

“You really need to stop that,” Austin said. “Or I’ll never be able to take you home.”

Devon looked at him, and then she looked down and saw that her hand had betrayed her. The patting plan had been abandoned; she was gripping his knee, massaging it, and now moving higher up his thigh and massaging there, and –

“Seriously,” he said, louder now, though he was smiling at her. “Give me a minute to breathe.” He took her hand gently off his leg and put it on her own lap. Then he reached out and gave
her
leg a squeeze, but higher than she had been holding him. Much higher.

Devon felt a wave of goodness come up from that leg, and she put her hand over his hand, keeping it there. “I don’t see what the problem is,” she said, and closed her eyes. “We don’t need to get up. We can stay here as long as we want.”

“Your parents would send a search party out for us.”

Devon opened her eyes, and she turned to grin at him. “I think you’re in pretty good shape with them right now,” she said. “What with saving my dad’s life and all.” She shrugged after saying this, as though life-saving were roughly on par with getting a pair of baseball tickets for her father. Points for effort, but nothing really remarkable. Except she knew he really
did
have carte blanche with them; she could tell how much they liked him. Or the notion of him, at least, since she hadn’t even let him come inside the house when he had picked her up. “I could call them right now,” she said, “and tell them you were taking me to Maine for the night. They’d probably just tell me to make sure I had enough warm clothes.”

Austin nodded and kept massaging her thigh. She hoped he wouldn’t stop. “That’s good,” he said, and Devon couldn’t be sure anymore what he was talking about. She had lost the train of the conversation. “So they won’t mind if you come visit me in Spain in a month and a half or so,” he said.

Her eyes were closed again, and she nodded gently; it seemed as though the best thing was simply to agree. To agree to anything. Anything at all, as long as they could just sit here and massage each other’s legs, and kiss now and then. That was all she needed. All she would
ever
need. Although if that family of four would just get going, give her a little bit of space in what might technically be a public park but really was supposed to be
her
park tonight, then she thought she might decide she had additional needs.

“We might not like each other a month from now,” she said softly, as though this were a romantic thing to say. A little giggle escaped her, though she still had her eyes closed. “I may have used you up. Worn you out.”

“No problem,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll try to stay in shape, keep my stamina up.” He paused and gave her leg another squeeze.

She could feel herself getting dizzy again, and she worried that in a minute or two he would be able to convince her of anything he wanted. Not just Spain but other places, too. He would start making plans to
move
to Spain. Or to somewhere in South America. Brazil. He would suggest that they forget about school, buy a house and start a family in Venezuela. No matter what he said, it would be something she would agree to now, because she would say yes to anything; and then she would be forced to have long, sober discussions with him later about how she could never take a trip like that, about how she was only going to be a junior in high school next year even if he was going to be a big old college freshman, and how these were not things she could talk about or even think about on a summer night by the lake in Southampton. It was too complicated.

Not that he was actually proposing anything so dramatic. A trip was only a trip. A week or two weeks at most. Still, the idea made her nervous somehow.

This is our first real date, if you don’t count the carnival. We shouldn’t even be considering things that might happen a month and a half from now. What about next week? What about tomorrow?

So she spoke up. In desperation.

“Are you going to do anything for the talent show?”

His hand was still on her leg, but now he stopped massaging. “What?”

Damn it.

“Um,” she said. She opened her eyes and tried to bring her brain back on-line. To make it seem as though this were a normal thing to talk about all of a sudden. “Oh. I mention it because it’s a big deal at the Meadow club. And it’s coming up.”

He leaned over and kissed her again, to reassure her that she wasn’t weird. That she could say anything she wanted, tell him that talent shows were important events and that everyone said so, and he would still kiss her. He smiled. He didn’t look confused now. Only amused. “The talent show is a big deal?”

“Well, not the acts, necessarily,” she said quickly. “The acts are – ” She paused and looked at him. He was waiting patiently, still smiling at her.
Yes
, his eyes said.
Explain it to me. Take your time.
You're not weird.
“Well, they’re actually usually pretty awful,” she said. “But Mr. Mahlmann organizes it every year, and he’s a professional planner. So it’s a spectacle.” She sighed and picked up his hand. To thank him for being patient with her. “It’s hard to explain,” she said, feeling hopeless. “You have to see it. You never know what’s going to happen.”

“I’ll be there,” Austin said. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. Once, lightly. “And you’ll be performing something?”

She looked at him in shock. “No, I’m too old now. Most of – ”

“I’m going to Dartmouth next year, Devon. Doesn’t that make
me
too old?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Well, yes. Good point. I was just trying to get us off the trip-to-Spain topic, is the thing.

But then something moved behind his eyes, and he seemed to discard his own objection. “How much time do I have to prepare?”

“Um,” Devon said again, and she wondered if she were doomed to talk like this whenever she was around him. “Four days, I think.”

He nodded slowly, as though calculating. “Okay,” he said. He put down her hand and rubbed her shoulder. It was an affectionate gesture, but it was also a friendly gesture. A
chummy
gesture. Devon could feel what was coming, and she cursed herself silently.

“We should really start walking back,” he said. As if to emphasize how truly ready he was, he stood without hesitation. He put a hand out to help her up. “I don’t want to jeopardize your parents’ pristine impression of me.”

She let him help her to her feet, and then they were walking down the steps of the monument, across the grass bordering the north end of Agawam, and finally to the left shoulder of Pond Lane. The light was very low now, and frogs were beginning to sing to each other along the banks.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Devon said, suddenly afraid that she had made his participation in the talent show seem like a requirement for their now three-day-old relationship.
All of my potential mates perform. It’s one of the key metrics by which I measure creativity, spontaneity, and compatibility. Don’t worry about the swimsuit portion, though. The judges have already conferred, and you have been unanimously approved in this category.

“I don’t know if I will or not,” he said casually. He was holding her hand now, and she liked the way it felt. As if they had been holding hands for days. Weeks. Why would they ever walk anywhere without holding each other’s hands? It would be dangerous. One of them could get hit by a car. Swept away in a hurricane.

She let his words percolate all the way up to her processing center, and she realized he had said he might
not
perform. “Wait,” she said. “You asked me how long you had to prepare.”

He nodded, and he pulled her gently so that they were walking closer to the bank, farther from the road. The moon was coming up from the east, and Devon could see Austin smiling in the white light reflected off the lake. “Right, and I’m going to need those four days. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be performing.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“That doesn’t… what?”

“You’re really very, very beautiful.”

Devon let her head drop to her chest as she kept walking along the grass, letting him lead her along. She looked up as she felt him stop, and she kept walking so that she would bump into him again. He was waiting there to take her into his arms so that they could feel each other’s warmth once more, just for a minute, and he kissed her there with the frogs singing to each other, to them, and when he finally let her go she had again forgotten what they were talking about. But it didn’t matter, because she would have the rest of the walk back home to remember.

They didn’t talk. They strolled in the dark up along Pond Lane, and then to the darker, shaded area toward Ox Pasture, where they turned left onto First Neck Lane with its huge hedges and its wide pavement. It was darker here, with the trees blocking the moon; they walked in perfect silence along the broad grassy shoulder, weaving in and out of the oak trees along the way, and when they finally came to Devon’s driveway twenty minutes later she thought they had been walking for miles and hours, because so much had gone through her head while they walked.