The Summer's Child Page 4

  “I’m an actress,” Samantha said, trying to get out of the conversation as smoothly as possible. His eyes lit up with interest.

  “Theatre? Television? Or cinema?” He asked. Samantha’s smile tightened.

  “All three actually,” she admitted.

  “Oh! Wow! How cute.” Samantha gritted her teeth and stopped herself making some snarky comment. “Were you in anything I would have seen?”

  “Yeah, probably quite a few actually,” she mumbled. She shifted uncomfortable and tried to spy over the other people in the cafe - what was taking so long? It was 10AM - what else was everyone buying?

  “Wow, I’m so impressed! Like, who knew?” Samantha ground her teeth.

  “Well, I mean, I was recognized a few times. I did play a role in a major award-winning film,” she pointed out, fighting to keep her face straight.

  “No way!” He gaped at her.

  “Yeah, it’s kind of a big deal,” she admitted casually. “Do you really not know about it?” The line shifted, and finally it was Samantha’s turn. She ordered three scopes, and handed over the euro note as she bounced in excitement. The man smiled at her indulgently, handed her change, and she walked back outside into the sun.

  “I hope you’re not offended by my ignorance,” Ralph-Lauren shirt said, following her out. “I’m a movie buff myself, so I don’t really pay attention to serious stuff.” He was eating a tiny ice cream - only one scoop. He was probably watching his figure or something.

  “Sure, it’s cool,” she said, shrugging, and walking into the direction Roelle had indicated when they split up. “It’s pretty interesting to watch though.”

  “Yeah, I mean, you’re right… I’m James, by the way.” Samantha nearly snorted into her ice cream. He was almost too stereotypical.

  “I’m Samantha,” she replied, shaking his hand. He smiled at her expectantly, and she realized he wanted her to continue this conversation. She sighed inwardly. “What do you do, James?” She asked dutifully.

  “I’m in Sales,” he said, his chest puffing up with pride. If there was one thing Charlie had taught Samantha, it was how to talk to men, making them think she was interested. The rest of the face paced walk to catch up to the rest of the tour group, Samantha made the exact right amount of sounds that James didn’t stop talking once. He told Samantha about what it was like working for a startup - did she know the kind of risk that entailed - no probably not, actresses get everything, right? - how complicated sales really was, and how he’d won the lottery with the position he had. He talked to her about golf - why was it always golf with men - and how he’d gotten to where he was through hard work alone. “No one ever gave me an easy way out,” he explained, nodding sagely.

  Once they caught up with the group, Samantha noted with panic that Roelle was talking to someone who was wearing her sweater draped over her shoulders too.

  Oh no.

  “Looks like our women like each other!” James exclaimed cheerily, elbowing Samantha. Samantha gave him a small high-pitched laugh, and then jogged over to Roelle, grabbing her elbow.

  “Babe, what did I miss?” she asked. Roelle looked up at her, surprised for a second before she recovered, consciously relaxing into the touch.

  “Katherine was just telling me about her consulting business,” she said with a false smile that showed too many teeth. Samantha immediately got the distress signal.

  “Wonderful,” she looked around wildly. “Wonderful.” There was no exit. No side street. Nowhere to go. “Can - can you hold my ice cream? I need to tie my shoe.” Roelle smiled in relief.

  “Of course,” she took Samantha’s ice cream, and then waved at Katherine. “Go on without me, Katherine - I’ll catch you at lunch!” Samantha stayed crouched on the ground, pretending to tie her shoelaces. Roelle crouched next to her, and giggled quietly.

  “They’re so terrible!” she whispered, licking Samantha’s ice cream.

  “Oh my god, her husband -” Samantha agreed, swiping back her ice cream.

  “Thank you so much for saving me,” Roelle said with a grin

  “Of course,” Samantha replied. “Even if you did repay me by swiping some of my ice cream.”

  “That I bought for you,” Roelle pointed out. She glanced over their shoulder. The tour group was out of sight. She sighed in relief and straightened up.

  “Whatever,” Samantha hummed. “At least we’re safe.”

  “For the moment,” Roelle said with a small giggle. “And they’re the only other American couple here!”

  “We’re going to have to come up with something to get rid of them,” Samantha hummed, starting to walk towards the tour group again, very slowly.

  “I can’t believe we’re being so dramatic,” Roelle said with a small rueful chuckle. Samantha put her hand over her heart in mock offense.

  “We’re not being dramatic,” she protested. “This is truly terrible! I hate...those kind of people.”

  “White people,” Roelle nodded thoughtfully. Samantha nodded.

  “East coast white people,” she agreed. “They’re fucking terrible.”

  “Want to let the tour get ahead of us, and we finish this on our own? The tour guide is literally quoting Lonely Planet.” Samantha lit up.

  “You’d do that for me?” She asked, grinning at Roelle. Roelle licked her lip, and nodded.

  “Anything to save us from white people,” she promised. Samantha’s grin widened.

  “I think I might marry you,” she decided. Roelle snorted.

  “You’d have to own more than one fancy dress,” she pointed out. Samantha made a face and started skipping in the opposite direction of the tour, back towards the ice cream shop.

  “Perhaps I’ll just be your kept woman then,” she decided. Roelle giggled.

  “You’re crazy,” she said with a small sigh. “Come, let’s cut across here.” She gestured at a small alley on Samantha’s right. “According to this map, we’ll get into some of the cooler, niche food areas.”

  “Are you hungry?” Samantha asked, brow furrowed.

  “No, but you are. And I want another coffee.”

  “You’re just too good to me, Roelle.”

  “I know. I mean, I broke the schedule for you.”

  “A true American hero.”

  They spent the rest of the day poking through the small village. It seemed that Roelle had an instinct on how to avoid busy streets, finding tiny poky little tourist shops and a beautiful little glass store. Samantha bought presents for Charlie and Alise, and a beautiful mobile for Giselle’s daughter who she already adored, despite the fact that she wasn’t named Samantha.

  At four, Roelle decided they should head back; jet lag was starting to make her groggy, and she wanted to have some coffee, and perhaps a red bull or something, before the dinner of the evening. They opted to walk along the beach, kicking off their shoes and walking along the shoreline under the pleasant afternoon sun.

  Roelle was looking out at the sea; she loved Europe, and she loved the fact that she could pretend to see the coast of Africa here. The channel really wasn’t that wide. She grinned as the breeze whipped her hair around her face, and melted the exhaustion out of her posture.

  “I’m really happy you came,” Samantha admitted quietly. Roelle glanced over at her. Samantha was watching her, gentle smile pulling on her lips. Roelle grinned back.

  “Same,” she admitted. “I’m super happy to be here.” She slipped her hand into Samantha’s, and they walked back to the hotel in comfortable silence.

  Best friend charlie: you’re blowing up the internet

  Samantha: how???

  Best friend charlie: check twitter

  Samantha stared out of the view of their balcony. It was nearly 5pm, and the sun was only just starting to sink towards the horizon. She could ignore this message from Charlie, and continue the rest of her week in peace. She could chose to ignore this, and live on in ignorance.

  But the curiosity got to her, and she op
ened the twitter app. And laughed.

  “Wow,” she hummed, amused. Roelle stuck her head onto the balcony.

  “What?” She asked. Samantha giggled again.

  “This is terrible,” she said happily. Roelle sent her a glare.

  “What?” She demanded, getting nervous. Samantha looked up, unfolded herself from her chair, and came back inside.

  “The internet did not latch on to the fact that we’re on a romantic retreat together,” she told Roelle, who sat back down at the desk and continued straightening her hair carefully. She frowned at Samantha.

  “What?” She asked.

  “Well, actually, according to all these articles we were dating before. But anyway, the thing they’re really excited about is SweaterGate.” Roelle gave Samantha a deadpan glare.

  “Please don’t say -”

  “Yup,” Samantha interrupted gleefully. “Someone got a picture of me looking incredibly bored with James, and then a picture of the look you sent me with Katherine, and then us abandoning the tour and sneaking off. People are loving it.” Roelle groaned.

  “Oh no.”

  “#Samelle Rejects Middle America,” according to this Buzzfeed headline.”

  “Noooooo,” Roelle groaned, burying her face in her hands. Samantha snorted.

  “I think this Huffington Post article think we’re anarchists now,” she hummed happily.

  “Samantha!”

  “What?” Samantha smirked gleefully. “This is isn’t my fault!”

  “Why isn’t there more tame news? Like when we held hands?” Roelle pouted, desperate. Samantha chuckled, and shrugged.

  “Okay, lemme see what I can find. Let’s search “Samelle” and Hand Holding. Oh.” Roelle was starting to really hate the wordless exclamations.

  “What?”

  “Well, the one girl we saw at the airport claimed that we kissed in front of her.”

  “Really?” Roelle made a face.

  “Yeah, she also wrote a 12 page long description of our meeting. She claims I smell like sandalwood.” Samantha’s face scrunched up, displeased. “What does sandalwood smell like?”

  “No idea.”

  “That’s the only result though.”

  “Ugh. God. I can’t believe this. Now we have to keep our faces as neutral as possible about James and Katherine. And find whoever is putting all these pictures out there and ask them to stop.” Samantha giggled again.

  “Isn’t that the plot of Gossip Girl?” She asked. Roelle couldn’t help herself, she smiled back in mirror and scrunched up her face.

  “Oh man, how would I know?” She asked. Samantha lay back on the bed with a dramatic sigh, and held her phone over her face, scowling at her contact list.

  “Daria loves that show, doesn’t she?” She asked thoughtfully.

  “I don’t listen when Daria talks television,” Roelle admitted sheepishly, going back to straightening her hair.

  “She once tried to get me into the Bachelor,” Samantha agreed, humming. “It did not work.” They had an hour before dinner, and Roelle spent most of that hour preparing for dinner, while Samantha napped. When it was 10 minutes before go time, she woke Samantha, and Samantha picked through the clothes in her suitcase with a sigh, until she found something that made her yelp in delight.

  “What?” Roelle asked.

  “We need to send Marlene a thank you postcard - she packed me slacks.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes!” I won’t have to wear the same outfit for every meal.”

  “What a relief.” Samantha ducked into the bathroom and changed quickly, walking back out in her slacks, a t-shirt and a cotton sweater. Roelle frowned.

  “Are you wearing that shirt tonight?” She asked, skeptical. Samantha looked down at her outfit.

  “Yes?” She offered. Roelle shook her head.

  “No,” she countered. Samantha’s face fell.

  “No?” She asked, disappointed. “Is it the slacks?”

  “No, it’s the shirt. You gotta at least wear a dress shirt. Here, look, okay…” Roelle opened the closet and pulled out her own white blouse.

  “What?” Samantha frowned. “Is this not cool enough?”

  “If you’re my date for the weekend, I can’t have you looking like a tramp. It reflects badly on me.”

  “Roelle!” Samantha stared at her, and Roelle stepped forward and smirked, pulling the blouse over Samantha’s shoulders carefully. Samantha immediately slipped her arms through the sleeves, and Roelle smoothed the crisp fabric out in the shoulders. It was a little bit big for Samantha

  “What?”Roelle asked, smirking as Samantha gave her a questioning look. “I just want you to look your best.” She started buttoning up the blouse for Samantha.

  “I can’t believe this,” Samantha muttered, and was Roelle imagining this? Or was her voice slightly higher than normal? Breathier? Roelle made the mistake of catching Samantha’s eyes, which seemed to be a deeper brown than normal, and she felt her own breath hitch in her throat as her heart skipped a beat. She hurried, finishing with the blouse.

  “There you go,” she hummed. “Now I can be seen with you.”

  “Wow, thanks, Roelle,” Samantha said, her voice a little hoarse. Roelle turned around and walked back to the desk that she’d made her vanity.

  “I can’t help the fact that I have street cred,” she said, touching up her lipstick and smirking at Samantha in the mirror.

  “Please,” Samantha scoffed. Roelle grinned and finished with her makeup, sliding the lipstick into her clutch bag. She handed Samantha her the room key. Samantha frowned down at it.

  “I usually lose room keys,” she admitted, sliding it into her back pocket. “Charlie never trusts me with them.”

  “You’re a mess,” Roelle said, sliding her arm through Samantha’s, “but I trust you with this.”

  “Really?” Samantha grinned at her. Roelle smirked.

  “Solely because there’s no opportunity for you to run off this evening,” she promised.

  “Ugh, I forgot about that,” Samantha said with a dramatic sigh as she flicked off all the lights in the room and then held the door open for Roelle.

  “Don’t complain,” Roelle teased. “There’s fancy champagne.”

  “But also our favorite Middle American citizens,” Samantha pointed out as the door swung closed behind them.

  “They’ll be more bearable if we have alcohol in our system,” Roelle promised, pressing the button for the elevator.

  “Mmh, especially fancy alcohol,” Samantha agreed, grinning.

  “I have high hopes.”

  Roelle’s high hopes were honored; the party really was fancy. Waiters and waitresses in black tie carried around trays filled with small quiches and tall golden flutes filled with champagne. She took a deep breath, and put on her best smile. To her relief, most people were speaking English in the room. She did a once over, and then focused on an older couple.

  “Look, it’s the organizers of the competition,” she said, nodding towards them. Samantha’s eyes snapped up.

  “Really?” she asked, surprised.

  “Did you not do any research?” Roelle asked, aghast.

  “Of course I did! I researched the hotel location!”

  “You didn’t do anything else?” Samantha snagged a little quiche as it walked by and ate it in one gulp.

  “Why should I?” She asked through a full mouth.

  “I don’t know why I bother.”

  “It’s because you love me.”

  “Doubtful. Now, let’s get started on that champagne.” The dining hall was far from full; there were probably only thirty or so couples there. Samantha realized that they were probably still fashionably early, and as she grabbed a drink for her Roelle, she felt weird and out of place.

  “Should we leave?” She asked as she looked around at everyone. “I don’t think anyone’s noticed us yet.”

  “We’re getting our money’s worth, thank you very much, Roelle,�
�� Samantha hummed, snagging another quiche.

  “We got this for free,” Roelle hissed back. Samantha grinned.

  “We’re getting everyone else’s money’s worth,” she hummed happily. Roelle sighed dramatically.

  “Well, at least that’s something I can get behind,” she muttered. As they approached a long buffet table, another, equally young couple, came up beside them. They were chatty and friendly, though painfully suburban and unaware, asking Samantha and Roelle whether or not they were a “friend couple,” which made Samantha’s chest seize up in a moment of anxiety before she realized they were just clueless about lesbians, they had not seen through their disguise.

  “No,” Roelle told them cheerfully, winding her arm around Samantha’s waist. “We’re a romantically involved couple.” Samantha twisted in her arm and gave her a light kiss on the check to hide her smirk.

  “Cruel,” she whispered, as the couple exchanged panic looks with each other.

  “We’re so sorry -”

  “We just didn’t know this was that kind of an event.”

  “What kind of event?” Roelle asked, playing dumb. Samantha bit her lip in a valiant attempt to stop herself smiling. “A couples event?” Roelle added when the couple just looked at them, frozen.

  “We have to go,” the woman choked out. “We just saw some friends.”

  “You’re so cruel, Roe!”

  “They need to get with the time.”

  “It’s true. Oh my god, they’re looking over at us.” Roelle did it before she could change her mind. She leaned forward and kissed Samantha. There was a single moment when Samantha stilled, her body freezing against this sign of affection, but just as Roelle was about to pull back, free Samantha from this, Samantha leaned forward, returning the kiss and opening her mouth ever so slightly against Roelle. Roelle gasped against the contact, and pulled away quickly.

  “What did you do that for?” Samantha whispered, her voice hoarse. Was Roelle just imagine the hint of arousal in her voice? She must be.

  “They were looking,” she whispered back. Samantha glanced over, and caught the gaze of the couple. Both of them immediately looked away, lips thinned. “I hate them.”

  “We’re making too many enemies on this trip,” Roelle murmured, stepping back from Samantha, giving her room.