The Summer's Child Read online

  “I’m calling Janine the second we get to the US to tell her off about how she taught you to surf.”

  “It was like five years ago. I think she was trying to show off.”

  “She’s too reckless,” Samantha decided. Roelle snorted.

  “I can’t believe you’re calling Janine reckless.” Samantha rolled her eyes.

  “Are you feeling stretched?” She asked, several minutes later.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, do you know what rip currents are?” Roelle frowned.

  “What?” She asked, amazed.

  “A rip current is a strong and narrow current of water which moves directly away from the shore, cutting through the lines of breaking waves-”

  “I know how to swim,” she interrupted, frowning.

  “I know, but rip currents are one of those things every surfer should always be aware of.”

  “Oh. Well, I mean -”

  “Do you know how to recognize a rip current?”

  “No.”

  “Okay -” While Samantha explained how to spot rip currents, she took off her top. Roelle knew that she should do the same - it meant they were about to go into the water. But somehow, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Samantha. She pulled off her top, revealing a perfect stomach with beautifully toned abs and the barest hint of a tan. She was wearing a red bikini, and it made her tanned skin look perfectly sun kissed. Samantha raised an eyebrow at her, and Roelle flushed.

  “I like-” she coughed- “your bikini,” she muttered, looking down at the sand.

  “Thanks! I got it from Target. Anyway, did you hear what I said about rip currents?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Let’s get started,” Samantha hummed, grabbing her board and walking towards the water.

  “How do we start?” Roelle asked, following with her giant board.

  “First thing I’m going to teach you is how to catch a wave.”

  “Okay. That sounds...manageable.”

  “We’re going to catch our first few waves in a prone position.” Roelle cocked an eyebrow. “Lying down,” Samantha explained. “First, we’re going to paddle.”

  Learning to surf was a surprisingly difficult affair - much more difficult than one day in the shallows with Janine’s surfboard had made it look like. The first few waves that they caught consisted of Roelle lying down on the board, pointing it toward the bean, and when the white water hit her she leaned back (jumping on the board prone) and rose it towards the shore. Samantha was pleased with her, though she quickly got bored with this, and challenge to Roelle to the more complicated aspect of standing on the surfboard.

  It turned out that although Roelle’s surfboard was large, and heavy, and stable, she still fell off every time she tried, tumbling into the waves and being caught up in the swirling movement of the water. By the fourth time she fell, she was intensely grateful for her surfboard leash, and for the fact that Samantha was there, making sure she was alright.

  “I’m getting kind of tired of this,” Roelle admitted, an hour later, frowning at her board. Samantha grinned.

  “Wanna go lie on the beach and rest for a bit? There are some great waves coming in back there, and I kinda want to catch them.”

  “Okay.”

  Roelle paddled to the beach, her arms surprisingly tired and dragged her board up. She lay down on the beach, propped against her board, so she could watch Samantha. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding Samantha back for the last hour until she saw Samantha twist into the wave, steer around it, and then zoom out at the end, laughing. Roelle gaped.

  She’d grown up in California - of course she’d seen people surf before. But there was an elegance and efficiency she usually only saw from Samantha on the pitch in Samantha’s surfing, and she realized she kind of loved it.

  Oh no.

  She pushed down those feelings, closed her eyes, and focused on the beach around her. She didn’t need this.

  She fell asleep, napping in the warm sun, and didn’t wake up until Samantha came in from the water.

  “Oh man, that was sick.” Roelle opened her eyes, and then immediately wished she hadn’t. Samantha was standing between her and the sun, dripping water, and looking like some sort of goddess. Or perhaps a water nymph? Roelle wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t stop herself swallowing, and thinking several impure thoughts.

  She collapsed next to Roelle.

  “Oh man, everything’s going to hurt tomorrow,” she admitted, stretching. “But that was so fun.” Roelle grinned.

  “I’m happy,” she hummed, looking up at the sky, trying to estimate the time. She couldn’t figure it out though - and squinted at Samantha instead.

  “Do you want to grab some food?” Samantha asked, grinning at her.

  “Yes please. I’m starving.”

  They walked back to the surf shop, dropping off their boards and Samantha settling their account - Roelle realized that if they had done the vacation package surf lessons, they would have gotten everything for free, and suddenly felt very embarrassed for not thinking about it. As a result, she insisted they got dressed, and walk to a nearby bistro for lunch (it was well past noon, which had surprised Roelle).

  They ate lunch, and Roelle found herself laughing at everything Samantha was saying. She felt relaxed, as if some of the tension in her body had finally left. Sport did that, Samantha observed when Roelle pointed it out, and she rolled her eyes and punched Samantha in the arm.

  She found herself leaning into Samantha, pulled into the magnetic force that was Samantha’s smile, Samantha’s unwavering gaze, Samantha’s small breathless laughs.

  “What have you been stressed about?” Samantha asked Roelle quietly. “Do I scare you?”

  “You couldn’t scare me even if you tried?”

  “Then what is there to stress about?” Was this a trick question? Or was Samantha asking her, in so many words, what was keeping them apart. Roelle couldn’t help herself; her gaze flicked down to Samantha’s lips, and she felt herself pulled in even closer. She licked her lips.

  “Excuse moi, madames,” the waiter said, and they jumped apart. Roelle let out a shaky breath, and looked up at the ceiling for a quick second before she grabbed her bag. “I think I need some air. Can I meet you back at the hotel?” Samantha’s face fell, but she nodded.

  “Sure.” Roelle paused, despite her urge to bolt, and reached out and gently tapped Samantha’s hand.

  “Thank you for an amazing morning,” she murmured. Samantha looked up at her, and smiled.

  “Of course,” she replied softly.

  “I’ll see you in like an hour.”

  “I’m gonna catch the new Game of Thrones episode, so text me if you need anything,” Samantha said with a small smile. “If you want to join me, you can.”

  “Okay.”

  Roelle basically sprinted out of the bistro and then walked quickly further into the village, walking away from the beach and the hotel as she tried to clear her mind. When none of that worked, she pulled out her phone, and speed dialed Julie.

  “Jules speaking.”

  “What am I doing?” Roelle demanded, sitting down heavily on a public bench and burying her face in her hands.

  “I don’t know,” Julie hummed, and then her voice went slightly echoey- she had clearly just switched the phone to speaker. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I really want to kiss Samantha Lee,” Roelle admitted quietly.

  “Well, you know, admitting you have a problem is the first step,” Julie said pragmatically. Alise hissed at her, and Roelle giggled, suddenly grateful both her friends were here to help.

  “It’s not a problem Julie,” Alise scolded: “it’s a beautiful step forward.”

  “It is a problem,” she whined.

  “She wants to kiss you so badly too,” Alise offered. Roelle sat up straight and narrowed her eyes, even though Alise wouldn’t know that.

  “How do you know that!?” She demanded.

>   “Julie texted Charlie and she confirmed,” Alise hummed cheerfully.

  “What?” Roelle gasped in horror.

  “Well, I knew you wouldn’t do this without confirmation so -” Julie started, but Charlie interrupted her.

  “Now Charlie knows?!” She demanded. There was a moment of silence, were Roelle was sure Julie and Alise were exchanging panicky looks.

  “Well, yes,” Alise admitted after a beat.

  “Charlie Brennan knows I want to kiss her best friend this is not good,” Roelle groaned. Julie laughed.

  “I don’t understand what you think Charlie is going to do to you,” she admitted

  “Kill me?” Roelle offered. Both of them giggled.

  “Look. I know she looks terrifying, but she’s really secretly very sweet,” Julie promised. Roelle sighed, sagged on the bench again.

  “I know,” she mumbled. “I’m just - scared.”

  “Of Charlie, or of Samantha?” Alise asked.

  “Both, probably,” Roelle grumbled.

  “You can do this, Roelle,” Alise urged.

  “I can’t!” Roelle whined quietly. “I can’t deal with any of this! I’m too anxious! Why did I do this?”

  “Because you know it’s right,” Alise urged quietly.

  “God,” Roelle muttered as she pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes and rubbed hard.

  “Go back to your hotel,” Julie instructed.

  “No,” Roelle grumbled.

  “Do it now,” Alise warned.

  “Can I call Janine and get a second opinion?”

  “Don’t make me come to France to kick your ass,” Julie warned, and Roelle chuckled despite herself.

  “Fine,” she grumbled.

  “What are you going to say?”

  “Something dumb probably. And she’ll say no, and I’ll leave.”

  Roelle spent the entire time walking to the hotel trying to think of something smart. Something that said “hey I like you,” and also let an exit strategy in case Samantha didn’t like. In case Charlie had meant a different Roelle. In case it just wasn’t right.

  Samantha sighed, and looked up from the bar. Charlie had texted her to remind her that the holiday package included a drink at the bar, she had decided to park herself there. It helped that her whole body was tired with the usual comfortable feel of exhaustion. She sipped at her pint, and watched a game on the TV, though she found herself checking her phone every thirty seconds.

  This was so dumb, and immature. Why was she hoping Roelle would text her?? She had needed some space, some time to walk.

  Samantha forced herself to tuck her phone in her back pocket and watch the players running across her screen.

  “Are you here for Arsenal or Manchester United?” Samantha looked up, and then smiled at Sylvie as the old woman sat down next to Samantha at the bar.

  “Arsenal,” she said with a small grin. “I’d never stoop so low as to be a Manchester City fan.”

  “It’s so funny - Franz and I have six grand children, and all of them love football a lot. My son and his daughters are at this game right now,” Sylvie said, smiling at the screen. “I always try and watch the games they attend, in case they come on screen.”

  “They live in London?”

  “Oxford.”

  “Oh man, that’s so cool. I’ve only been to one live game, but it was a lot of fun.” Sylvie smiled softly.

  “It is,” she agreed.

  Samantha looked up from her drink, and smiled at the older woman. “Thank you for this whole vacation, by the way. It was pretty awesome.”

  “You’re so lucky to have a woman as special as Roelle to share it with,” she replied. Samantha smiled wryly.

  “I know,” she murmured, looking down at her drink. “I am so lucky. And I’m so lucky she loves me back.”

  “You make such a good couple,” Sylvie said. Samantha smiled.

  “She’s just so talented,” she said as she traced the water droplets in the condensation of her Guinness. “Such an amazing actress and person. So thoughtful, and kind, and understanding, and genuinely brilliant?” She looked up and caught Sylvie’s knowing gaze, and laughed. “Like she’s one of the most thoughtful and gentle people I know.”

  “The dulcet tones of young love,” Sylvie said wisely. “You’re lucky, Roelle - Franz never compliments me like this!” Samantha spun around in her seat - she hadn’t noticed Roelle was standing behind her.

  “Hey Samantha,” she said with a small wave. Samantha felt a knot form in her chest, even as she returned the wave.

  “Hey Roely Poly,” she mumbled. Had Roelle heard all of that?

  “Can - can we talk for a minute?”

  “Okay.” Sylvie indicated that she would watch Samantha’s beer, and Samantha mutely followed Roelle as she lead her to the washrooms. It turned out that the first floor washrooms included a full powder room - sofas, brightly lit mirrors and all. Samantha looked around, amazed.

  “Samantha, Sam - wait. Okay. I promised Julie I would do this.” Roelle sat down on the sofa dramatically. Samantha remained standing in the middle of the room, frowning. Roelle looked up and scowled. “Sit down,” she ordered. Samantha stumbled over herself in her speed to sit down on the small coffee table in front of the sofa.

  “What?” she asked quietly. Roelle stared into her eyes. She was so beautiful. They were such a beautiful color. She couldn’t get enough of her. Roelle swallowed, looked up at the ceiling, and then forced herself to look down again.

  “Samantha Lee,” she murmured, “Turns out I really liked pretending to be your girlfriend.” Samantha laughed wryly despite herself.

  “Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Roelle. “You’ve been super anxious all -” Roelle put her index finger on Samantha’s mouth and gave her a small glare.

  “Don’t interrupt,” she warned. Samantha grinned under Roelle’s finger.

  “My bad,” she mumbled. Roelle breathed out, and then moved her hand so she was cupping Samantha’s cheek gently.

  “I liked it so much, I kinda want to continue,” she whispered. Samantha’s brow furrowed.

  “You want to con another couple’s vacation?” she asked, perplexed. Roelle rolled her eyes, growled in annoyance, and leaned forward and kissed Samantha.

  “Oh,” Samantha whispered.

  “Yes, you idiot. Oh.”

  “Can I kiss you again?”

  “Yes please.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “No, Samantha, we can’t bow out of this,” Roelle said, glancing at Samantha who was lying in the bed, pouting. Her shirt was slightly askew, and her lips were swollen, and Roelle forced herself to look away as she stepped into her dress.

  “Are you sure?” Samantha whined quietly.

  “Yes!” Roelle fretted at her hair, sliding into her seat in front of the vanity. “This is the farewell dinner!”

  “Well,” Samantha offered, sliding out of bed and walking over to Roelle, “we could go down for a farewell desert, but…” She snaked her hands around Roelle’s hips and rested her chin on the top of Roelle’s head. Roelle glared at her through the mirror.

  “Samantha no,” she warned. Samantha grinned, and gently kissed Roelle’s neck.

  “Samantha yes,” she whispered into Roelle’s skin. Roelle audibly swallowed. It didn’t help they’d spent the last hour making out; she could feel her eager body yearn for Samantha’s touch.

  “Stop it,” she hissed, “you’re - you’re just exploiting me.” Samantha nipped at the border between Roelle’s neck and her skin playfully before she looked into the mirror, catching Roelle’s eye again.

  “Yes, yes I am,” she whispered, and then she pushed the fabric of the dress aside, and Roelle knew what she was going to do.

  “Don’t - ah.” Before she finished the protest, Samantha had bit down on the skin, sucking gently, and Roelle’s dumb body betrayed her, arching into the touch. She grabbed the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white as she tried
to resist the renewed rush of desire.

  “Don’t?” Samantha asked innocently.

  “Samantha, you’re a terrible person,” Roelle hissed, unclenching her hand from the table and reaching for her eyeline. Samantha nuzzled her neck and grinned.

  “Mmh, I know,” she purred, kissing her neck. Roelle glared at her through the mirror.

  “Are you trying to leave a hickey on my neck?” She demanded. Samantha grinned guiltily. “No! No, we’re going.”

  “Just because I tried to leave a hickey on your neck?” Samantha whined, and Roelle huffed. “Yes,” she decided. “Don’t you want Hashtag Samelle Hashtag Confirmed?”

  “I never want to hear you utter those works again,” Samantha grumbled, straightening up, though her hands lingered on the back of Roelle’s neck, playing with the tiny hairs there.

  “Good, then take me to dinner. Now, zip me up.” Samantha blinked, clearly only now realizing that Roelle’s dress wasn’t meant to be this backless - it just needed to be zipped up. Roelle released a moment too late that she’d given Samantha the ideal open.

  “No.” Samantha fell to her knees behind Roelle and slid her hand along the smooth skin of Roelle’s back. She kissed the arch of her spine, and Roelle huffed in a tone that Samantha already recognized as a combination of arousal and annoyance.

  “You’re terrible,” Roelle groaned.

  “I don’t want to go to dinner,” Samantha whispered, sitting up on her knees so she was nuzzling the space between Roelle’s shoulder blades. Roelle smelled so nice, and her skin was so smooth, and perfect, and warm, and Samantha didn’t ever want to stop touching it. She traced the shape of Roelle’s muscles, traced her lat, skimming the edge of her breast, and then rested her hand on Roelle’s taunt stomach. She glanced over Roelle’s shoulder, and caught her eye.

  “What do you want to do instead?” Roelle asked quietly, and Samantha grinned at her, all too aware that she’d won. She stood up slowly and sat down on the edge of Roelle’s seat next to her.

  “Kiss you,” she whispered, and leaned forward and kissed her. Roelle’s hands came up to rest on Samantha’s cheeks - warm hands, and Samantha wanted me.