Summer School

Forget Crane, I couldn't even understand what Fred was saying. I wondered if we'd read the same story. I hated to speak in class in general, and especially when I didn't know squat about the topic, but inaction would not serve me well, so I raised my hand.

Temma was a little amused and a lot befuddled.

"There are only five of us here, Rodney -- you don't need to raise your hand."

I blushed. "I don't know about the war theme or anything like that. To me it just seemed kind of pointless. There were a couple of battles, he ran away after one, went crazy in the other, and none of it changed anything. But did anyone else think he started as a guy who had some really simple ideas about what he faced, kind of thought his life would be easy, and then he found out that everything was a lot more complicated than he thought. He had no idea."

"Loss of innocence," Summer said.

"I guess something like that." I looked into her deep gray eyes and smiled. "I know how he feels."

She scoffed and then chuckled.

"I think that's the main theme too. He's a romantic when the story begins, he makes impulsive decisions throughout, but he learns and by the end he knows more about himself." She looked at me coolly. "He may be wiser, but he's still not evolved enough to be admirable."

Ouch. Message received. But at least it was a start. And I had a framework to use going forward. I may not understand literature, but I was subversive enough to use anything I could find in our readings as a stalking horse for talking to Summer about our relationship.

About "Huckleberry Finn":

"Huck is pretty ignorant, and he tries a lot of different identities and admits to a lot of selfish thoughts, but when he takes action it's always with good intent. You have to give people who don't know better a chance."

About Robert Frost's "Birches":

"It's like the guy does a lot of destruction, bending down all the trees, but he's not thinking about that part, he's climbing trees and then swinging down because he likes it. I think he'd choose differently if someone made him aware of the harm he's doing. I think we owe it to each other to help us see what we're doing wrong and how we might do better."

About Sinclair Lewis's "Main Street":

"I admire Carol. She works very hard to help people who don't get things the way she does. She's better than her town deserves, but she puts that aside in her efforts to make something better. Not everyone is unwilling to grow though, and there might be someone in the town worth redeeming."

My reading of literary classics remained unencumbered by true insight and understanding, but my reading of Summer Thomas seemed to be making slow headway. She went from sighing at my classroom contributions to rolling her eyes and shaking her head and finally to smiling at times. She always had a quick rejoinder, letting me know that while the characters may show some growth they still fell short in the end. I got her point -- I am actually kind of smart -- but I sensed some grudging acknowledgement that I wasn't entirely the loser she initially thought. So, yay me!

In retrospect, I may have been too optimistic about my esteem in her eyes. We were about halfway through the class when I again approached her after class.

"Um, Summer?"

She looked up and gave me her full attention, but gave no other indication she'd heard me. She was definitely leaving me to do the heavy lifting.

"Um, would you like to get coffee? I think I'm still making a mess out of this class, and I could use another dose of your perspective."

"I don't think so. I have a ton of stuff to do, and I don't see the point for me."

"Well, you do have to eat. How about dinner tonight or tomorrow or Friday?" The volume strategy hadn't worked at all in high school, but I had no other tool in my toolbelt, so I went with the familiar.

"No, thanks."

Up went her backpack and out the door she went.

I had to admit that so far our relationship wasn't going exactly how I envisioned it.

Javy and I weren't exactly friends, but Temma shot him down gently within a couple days of starting class, and maybe my intentions toward Summer were more transparent than I thought, so he had kind of bonded with me over our mutual woes. He wasn't a bad guy, but we didn't have a ton in common. He wasn't super bright (he was making up for dropping English last semester), but his saving grace was that he knew an awful lot of people. And before class he told me about a party that was happening just off campus that evening. So that's where I went after another mediocre chicken stir fry in the student center.

The party was just like every other party I'd been to since summer school began: a couple dozen people perched on the front steps of a house or a porch swing or the porch railing, drinking beer from red cups sweating fat drops of condensation. The conversations and even the laughter was quieter than the school-year parties; no one needed to raise their voices. I hadn't gone to many of these parties, but even so I'd met most of the people before. I found myself talking with Ruth Klein, she of the prodigious chest and very round bottom. She was studying linguistics, but she wanted big bucks in speech-recognition technology, so she also took IT classes, which is why I knew her.

As The Boss once said, Ruth wasn't a beauty, but, hey, she was all right, and that was all right with me (my Dad really liked Springsteen, so I was far too familiar with his oeuvre growing up). She was mercenary, but I didn't judge her for it. I didn't find it particularly attractive either, so we were just acquaintances with no one better to talk with that night. As usual we were discussing computers and AI and speaking versus typing inputs. I was leaning against a door jamb with a warm beer that had long lost its appeal, and Ruth was standing a little close, as was her wont.

Then I looked over her shoulder and found myself looking into the expressive gray eyes of Summer Thomas. And those expressive gray eyes were looking back, but they seemed at first perplexed and then more-than-a-little annoyed. It wasn't clear if her annoyance was at me, my beer, Ruth, or my temerity for showing up at the party. But she quickly turned and stalked out of the house. For her part, I don't think Ruth even noticed. She was trying to convince me that we would be commanding all of our household implements with the spoken word before we graduated. I remained unconvinced.

After several more minutes Ruth and I ran out of things to talk about, neither of us having swayed the other on any topic. I wandered into the kitchen to dump out my beer, then I rinsed my cup and decided water was going to be just fine the rest of the night. I don't like to admit I'm a lightweight, particularly given my twenty extra pounds or so, but the beer-and-a-third I'd already consumed left me feeling pretty well lubricated, and I knew from a couple of other experiences that if I went past that limit I would feel pretty lousy both later that night and then in the morning. It was getting time to leave anyway, so I made my way out of the kitchen, down the hall, and out onto the front porch, where I ran again into Summer Thomas.

I didn't actually decide to say something to her as much as the beer eliminated any resistance to the thought.

"Why don't you like me?"

Her eyes clouded over and I got a dark look that I wanted very, very badly to never see again.

"Are you always an asshole?"

Hmm. I wasn't sure how to answer that, but the beer did anyway.

"Not on purpose."

"I don't appreciate you toying with me."

What? We were clearly not on the same page about, well, pretty much anything so far as I could tell. But that didn't stop the beer, which seemed to have taken over my vocal chords.

"Toying with you? If you think I'm bad at American Lit, you should really see my dating game. I mean, look at me. I wouldn't know how to toy with you if you were a yo-yo."

"Then why all the 'I'm so misunderstood' in class then? You want everyone else to figure you out so you don't have to do it. That's incredibly selfish and manipulative."

I had to grant that she was more than half-right about the manipulation, but she missed the mark badly on all the rest.

"I really am an idiot then, because I've been trying to say that it's me who doesn't get you. I'm not misunderstood; I'm clueless about how to get you to like me."

That caught her up short. She tilted her head and peered at me with confusion.

"Why do you want me to like you?"

"Because you're the most amazing woman I've ever met. You're so freaking smart. And you're super hot."

That inflamed her. But not in the way the beer was hoping.

"See! You are an asshole! You say shit like that so you can fuck me. Well it's not going to work! I may not be built like little miss Ruth Klein, but I am not falling for some smooth guy with a line!"

It was my turn to be confused, and maybe I really wasn't as good at hiding my emotions as I hoped because I saw some doubt creep in behind her outrage. The beer was undeterred by her anger.

"When have I ever given you the impression I am a smooth guy?"

"You know what I mean! Boys may not pay any attention to me, but I'm not going to fall into bed just because one of them deigns to talk to me!"

"That's not really why I want to talk to you." This beer knew no fear. "For now I was hoping for dinner and more conversation."

Her face was still stormy, but it was moving from rage to sulk.

"Why?"

"I told you why, and you bit my head off." I checked my head with both hands, which drew a glimmer of a smile from Summer. "It seems like it's been re-attached though."

"Tell me again. Maybe I'll listen this time."

"You're an amazing woman. I don't get you at all. I mean, I'm fascinated by everything you say, but honestly I don't understand how you get there. Everything about you exists entirely outside my awareness, and I find that incredibly stimulating. And really appealing. And I think you're the hottest woman I've ever seen."

"I'm flat from all sides, I never wear make-up, and I don't know how to dress for anything but comfort."

"Your eyes are spellbinding, your neck is long and graceful and elegant, and your hands are strong and supple. And I like your long, lean body. You're just incredible, inside and out. I just want a chance to know you better."

Summer was staring into my eyes the whole time I was speaking. I didn't look away. How could I? Her eyes mesmerized me.

"You really can't lie to me, can you?"

"Why would I lie to you?"

"I don't know. I just always assumed that I look like a boy, so if a guy showed any interest in me it had to be a lie. But everything you think shows in your eyes. So you really think I'm beautiful?"

"What gave you that idea?" I waited a beat and then laughed softly, and after a stunned moment she chuckled too. "Yes. You're beautiful. I can't think of any more ways to tell you that."

"Are you ready to leave? I have an early start tomorrow."

"I was just heading out too."

So we walked back to campus together. She was quiet to start, and the beer seemed to have dozed off too. The night was calm, the air thick and comforting, and crickets serenaded our walk.

"No one has ever thought I was beautiful. I don't know what to do."

"Hang out with me."

"Okay."

And just like that we started, well, a relationship, I guess.

I didn't kiss her that night or for a few more nights either. I wanted to, but I just couldn't find a natural way to close the distance. But we talked and talked and talked and talked, and she showed me the breadth of her intellect and the novelty of her thinking. Every day she surprised me with something I had never ever considered. And every day I told her how amazing she was.

We would meet for dinner at the student center, and then spend the evenings reading or writing. We'd talk, then retreat into our own thoughts, then come back to share what had occurred to us in the quiet. Her thoughts were always more interesting, more stimulating than mine. And her eyes -- those enchanting eyes! -- distracted me. So much so that doubt crept in.

I hadn't had any beer since the pivotal party three weeks prior, but I guess I have a low tolerance for uncertainty, especially when my heart is in play, so I didn't need it.

"Summer?"

"Mmm." She looked up from her book, and my breath caught as her eyes met mine. She smiled, and my breath caught again.

"Do you like me? I mean, more than as a friend? Because I really like you. As more than a friend, I mean. I really -- " She put an elegant finger to my lips as her smile spread widely.

"Yes, Rodney, I do like you. As more than a friend." My whole body sagged in relief and I even teared up, much to my mortification. I cleared my throat to cover it, but I saw Summer smile even more brightly. "But if you're interested in me romantically, why haven't you tried to kiss me yet?"

My face went red. "Uh, I didn't know if you wanted me to. And you're so incredible, but I don't think I bring as much to you."

"What do you mean?" She tilted her head and looked into my eyes. I blinked and looked down, but she lifted my chin until our eyes locked again.

"You said in our first conversation that you didn't get anything from me. I worry that you'll get tired of me because I can't hold your interest."

Those strong and supple hands gripped my cheeks, and Summer leaned in and kissed me gently on the mouth.

"I've been a very bad girlfriend if I let you believe that."

Girlfriend?

"Uh."

"I'm the lucky one here." She stared into my eyes. "Every day you compliment me and tell me I'm wonderful, and I haven't told you how I feel. I'm sorry for that. I just assumed you could see it for yourself, but of course you're looking at a lot of other things too and filtering them through your own perceptions. I guess this is why communication is the most important element of a relationship."

She sighed and smiled again and began tracing her fingers lightly over my face and neck. It felt relaxing in one sense, but it was erotic too, and my body was responding that way too.

"Rodney, you are the most open person I've ever met. You can't lie to save yourself, but lying just doesn't occur to you. A lot of people have doubts about their partners' feelings. But I know you tell me the truth, so I have no doubts. I trust you, so I can get emotionally close to you."

I couldn't help but grin at her. She liked me! She really liked me!

"The other thing about your honesty is that I can see you don't harbor jealousies or resentments where I'm concerned. You are completely supportive of me. You listen to everything I say, and then you compliment me, and I can see that you mean it. You really do think I'm smart and creative and original. To have that kind of unconditional love and support is about as affirming as life gets."

I hadn't thought about our relationship that way, but of course she would. And she was, as usual, right. I did think she was smart and creative and original. And hot.

"I know you think I'm intellectually more capable than you, but I'm not. We just think differently. You're very open about how impressed you are by the way I process and synthesize information. You have your own way, and it's brilliant. I don't say it out loud the way you do, but you impress me too."

She was, for a change, wrong. I was actually kind of smart, but she was off-the-charts. But I didn't get a chance to correct her before she stunned me once more.

"So it's not me who's out of your league. I'm the one playing catch-up. You're fascinating on an intellectual level, but it's your emotional honesty that makes you truly special. And I need to meet your honesty if I'm going to be worthy of your love."

Love?

"Uh."

Summer kissed me lightly again, but when she pulled back she didn't go far. Her eyes held mine, and I could see mirth and passion and curiosity and even a little fear. She'd just laid bare her feelings for me, and now a little bit of her wondered if she'd gone too far.

She hadn't.

"You are the most amazing person in the whole world, and I will never, ever get tired of you," I said. And then I kissed her for the first time.

It evolved into a very sloppy kiss. I had never had more than a peck, and I'm pretty sure Summer was a novice as well. Our teeth banged together, but that didn't tamp our passion, and soon we were panting and our lips were twisting, retreating, surging, and retreating again. Our tongues soon engaged, and again we showed more enthusiasm than technique. But it was honest enthusiasm.

I think Summer grew extra arms, because I felt her hands stroke my cheek, comb through my hair, knead my shoulders, rub my back, seemingly all at the same time. I couldn't get close enough to her, so I pulled her from her chair and laid her on my twin bed. I pressed myself against her to feel as much of her as I could, and I felt her push back. Our bodies mashed while our lips wrestled, and suddenly I had my hands full of her thin and bony ass. Her legs were rubbing up and down mine, and I'm sure she felt my erection. But then maybe not -- she seemed as lost in her senses as I was in mine. I heard moaning, but I couldn't tell who was doing it. Probably both of us.

Her hands found my bare skin underneath my t-shirt. My skin felt hot, and her hands played over my back, pressing and squeezing and caressing, and every touch seemed to cool me. At least I shivered, which caused Summer to giggle with delight. I think she liked that I was putty in her hands. Her shirt had ridden up, and her midriff was bare now too. My erection pulsed when I discovered it, which was almost painful given how hard it was already.

I put my hand on the skin above her denim waistband, and when I ran it up her side it went beneath her shirt. I went all the way up and found she was braless. I gasped, and she giggled again. My cock gave another painful surge. I couldn't help myself from running my thumb around to her breast until it popped over her hard nipple. That made her gasp, and I smiled into our kiss.

I was fascinated by the rubbery feel of her nipple, and I explored until I found its mate. My manipulation of it brought more of the same reaction from Summer. Gasps, moans, writhing about. She pulled at the hem of her shirt until she could yank it over her head. My mouth immediately went to where my hands had been, and she seemed to like that even more. I know I did. Her breasts were small, but her crinkled nipples were dark red and stood out provocatively.

Her hands held my head, firmly but without pressure. I gorged on her tiny tits, and she responded with a soundtrack of sighs and groans and sharp breaths that made my cock feel like it could cut glass. My hands slipped down her back and under her shorts to cup the bare cheeks of her ass, and I pulled so her pussy rubbed against my stomach, which brought more moans from Summer. I reluctantly disengaged from her nipples and moved up to my knees.

Her magnificent eyes were closed but the rest of her was in motion, even if the moves were subtle contractions and squirming. She was as beautiful as I thought, topless, flushed, aroused, and I could think only of stripping her. Somehow I unbuttoned her shorts with my first attempt, then I skimmed them off her legs, taking her panties too. Her pussy was unshorn, with sparse dark hair, and the smell of her was divine, musky but sweet too. I wanted to taste her, but I felt her hands pushing at the bottom of my shirt, so instead I helped her pull it off me. She pushed at my shorts, so I unbuttoned them and kicked them off.

We were completely naked. As I lay down next to her we looked at our bodies, noting the imperfections, but appreciating them nonetheless.

We moved our hands to the other's junction at the same time, and we laughed briefly before returning to our explorations. Her long, cool fingers nearly caused me to cum, but she must have sensed it because she slowed her stroking and gently fondled my balls instead. My fingers moved up and down her cleft, spreading the slickness, finding a small nub at the top that made her squirm even more whenever I caressed it. My middle finger found an opening and slid inside, which brought a deep gasp from Summer.