Read Online Last Summer by Rebecca A. Rogers - Free Book Online Page A

and we can ‘part ways,’” I say, adding
air quotes around the last bit.
    Her head jerks back slightly, but she’s
quick to cover up her offended expression with a more neutral one.
“All right.” She even fakes a smile.
    I nod.
    “Um,” she says, breaking our stare by
glancing at her notepaper, “tomorrow it is, then. Bright and early,
we’ll go running. How does that sound?”
    “Good.”
    “I’m just going to . . .” She points toward
her bedroom door and smiles, partially.
    “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”
    The door closes behind her and I want to
beat the shit out of myself. How am I not going to fall for this
girl over the next two months? She cute, sexy, and smart—and she
has no idea she’s any of these things. I bet a guy’s never told
her, either. Has she even been kissed? What if I’m her first?
    Lose the idea, Logan. It can’t
happen.
    But it can happen, and that’s what
I’m afraid of. I’m afraid that, for once in my life, I’ll
accomplish something great, I won’t be a failure, and, as it always
happens, that something will be ripped from my arms—and my heart,
if we get that far. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from
our short meetings together, it’s that my heart is definitely in
trouble.
    Chloe returns with two sandwiches and two
bottles of water.
    “I was trying to hurry,” she murmurs. “I
didn’t want Mom asking why I had two of each. Fortunately, she
didn’t even look up from the TV.”
    “Well, that’s good.”
    “Yeah, so . . . I was thinking . . .”
    We sit down on her bed, and I rearrange my
towel so I won’t flash her like earlier, even if that was
intentional. She and I need to be able to hold a serious
conversation without my junk interfering as a sideshow.
    “About what?”
    “About your sleeping situation,” she says
slowly. “You don’t plan on staying in the old cottage, do you?”
    I lift my shoulders for a couple of seconds,
and then let them fall. “I guess. I mean, I don’t have anywhere
else to sleep.”
    “That’s what I thought you’d say,” she says,
in between bites of her sandwich. Her eyes dance, like she’s up to
no good. “What if I asked you to stay here and sleep in my closet?
There’s plenty of room.”
    I don’t know what worries me more: the fact
that I’m concerned, at first, about how much closet space she has,
or the fact that I don’t question staying here before I question
the closet space. And if these two thoughts aren’t dire enough, I
actually glance toward her closet to assess the amount of room
available.
    She follows my line of sight and stands up.
“Want me to open it?”
    “Nah, that’s okay.” Stay away from her,
man. You guys cannot sleep under the same roof.
    “You sure? It’ll be a lot comfier than
sleeping on those wooden boards.” She transfers weight from one
foot to the other and clasps her hands in front. “I’m serious,
Logan. Think about this. You’ll have food and water and shelter,
which is better than what you’ve had for the past . . . however
long you’ve been living like this.”
    I nod. “I’ll think about it, but no
guarantees and no promises, got it?”
    She purses her lips and nods in return. “Got
it.”
    The next thirty minutes are spent talking
about our lives, how we ended up here, where we want to go. Chloe
opens up regarding her past, and I tell her little regarding mine.
I know it’s selfish, but I don’t want her becoming attached and
then toss me aside when she finds a new toy. My mind tells me
Chloe’s different; she won’t do that. The other half of me is
arguing that it doesn’t matter. Once she’s gone for the summer,
with the way her living situation is, she’ll be gone forever.
    She runs downstairs to get our clothes and
returns with a ball of mismatched items. Separating my clothes from
hers, I actually hold mine up and sniff the fresh scent; it reminds
me of home. My mom always washed laundry on weekends and, after
they finished drying,