The Summer We Believed (Denim Days #1)

Day 4 -- Melody

Yesterday afternoon dragged by, but every minute with Duncan was a minute with Duncan that I wouldn't have in another four days. The thought crowded my brain and my heart. Between that and the rain I felt claustrophobic.

We'd fought and I wished I could rewind and start the afternoon over, but the real events played on a loop in my mind—the games we played, the movies we watched, Duncan spending . time on Instagram with his adoring fans. Then, Mom suggested we play Pictionary, which was okay. Mom teamed up with me and we won, mostly because she's good at little sketches, but I think Cody was sick of losing or something. He started ranking on Duncan's drawings and then he kind of jumped on him. Cody and Duncan do that all the time, wrestle around like puppies. Usually one gets nipped, most often Cody, and leaves, which was exactly what happened after their roughhousing session.

Until then, everything was maybe not a-okay, but at least normal. Then, out of the blue, Duncan asked my mom, "Don't you think Mel should come to Florida with me? She's always wanted to travel and to work in travel. The travel industry is huge in Florida."

Mom looked at me, confused, but not nearly as confused as me. "It's late in the game, we'd probably have to hustle to get her enrolled and she might have to miss the fall semester, but I guess that would be okay if that's what Mel really wants to do."

Duncan looked at me, a satisfied expression on his face. "I don't want to go to Florida, Duncan. I want you to stay here."

His expression fell. "You know I would love to go to the U. All our friends will be there. You'll be there. I bleed crimson and gold. It's not gonna happen. We talked about the scholarship money. My dad's mind is made up."

"You could ask your dad to co-sign a loan," Mom suggested.

"Right! Then it won't cost him anything."

"He won't agree to that."

"You haven't even tried."

"And your Mom said okay to Florida. Just think—palm trees, sandy beaches, tropical drinks..."

Mel's mom shook her head at me.

"Virgin tropical drinks," I amended.

"Why can't you understand? I. Don't. Want. To. Go. To. Florida."

Duncan leaned backwards like I'd taken a swing at him. "But that's where I'll be." His voice was small and hurt.

"Just man-up and ask your dad about the loan." Mom's eyes flew open and I knew I'd gone too far, but I didn't apologize, because...I suck at apologies and he shouldn't have blindsided me by asking my mom about my future.

Duncan got up slowly and thanked my mom for putting up with him and Cody all day, then left.

How did things unravel so fast? Where was the rewind button?

That I'd fought with Duncan depressed me. It was made worse by the countdown until he left. Magnified by the rain. The thought of another day of Netflix made me want to climb the walls, yet the weather refused to cooperate. The downpour was steady and relentless. I was ready to face a pup tent filled with mosquitos if it meant I didn't have to spend another day inside. I tried to immerse myself in travel plans, but even that wasn't working as a distraction.

Duncan knocked at the screen door and I looked up from my spot on the couch, where I was trying to focus on reading about the Gasparilla Pirate Festival in Tampa on my phone. He didn't ask if I could come out to play, but instead asked, "Can I come in?"

"You don't even need to ask."

The door squeaked open and slammed shut on its own.

He sat at the other end of the couch, and I bookmarked the site and added it to a folder of things to see and do in Florida. I'd decided that would be my next travel scrapbook. Mom walked into the room and did a quick about-face.

Finally, Duncan said, "The weather sucks." Followed by: "What are you doing?"

"I'm working on a finding things for a Florida scrapbook."

"Does that mean you're thinking about coming?"

"It means I'll know what we should do when I come to visit you." I didn't add "at some undetermined point in the future." I closed out the site I was looking at and set my phone on the coffee table.

"We can't be fighting, Mel. I leave in four days."

My heart cramped when he said that. Worse than my calves do when I forget to stretch before a run. It felt like real pain, so I pressed my hand against my chest.

"Are you okay?" Duncan scooted closer.

"I don't know." I paused. "I hate that we fought. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I get why you think I should come to Florida. I do. But when I make a change like that it's gonna have to be small steps. You know I don't like the Jet Ski. Changing my plans like that feels that the fastest Jet Ski ride ever. Like a Jet Ski with wings. It scares the shit out of me."

"You'd be fine."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Duncan moved next to me and took my hand. "I believe in you."

I rubbed my forehead and willed myself not to cry. Why couldn't I make myself get on the flying Jet Ski?

Duncan squeezed my hand gently. "I talked to my dad about the loan."

"Really?!" The cramp in my heart eased.

"He won't sign. Look, Mel. You've known him as long as I have. You know he's a control freak."

He was. But I hoped he'd loosen his hold now that Duncan was an adult. "What if my mom co-signed?"

"Do you think she'd do that? Because I'm uncomfortable even asking. And I don't think she'd drive a wedge into her relationship with my mom."

"I could ask."

"Right. No." Duncan picked up my phone, tapped in the password, and opened up an amateur surgery game that he'd played ever since Operation had gone kaput. He swiped his finger across the screen, playing at open heart surgery. Maybe if he got good enough he could fix mine. It was definitely breaking.

I looked at the rain drizzling down the outside of the windows, unrelenting. "We'll figure it out," I said. "Are we going to run?"

"Can we skip it?"

It wasn't like Duncan to skip. He must've been more depressed than me. "Of course we can. Why don't you pick a movie? Cody and I picked yesterday's," I suggested in a wave of sympathy.

Duncan seemed grateful to be rummaging through the cupboard with the DVDs, like the distraction was better than wallowing in melancholy or self pity. He methodically sorted the DVDS into four stacks.

"What's with the piles?"

Duncan pointed to tallest. "These are the rejects." Then the second tallest, "These I would like," then third, "chick flicks for you." Finally, he pointed to the pile with only three in it. "We both would like these."

I was skeptical that Duncan had found something we'd both enjoy. Generally speaking, our taste in movies and TV shows was really different. I sorta became obsessed with Breaking Bad, but that was me moving closer to his style. "What's that?" I asked.

"The Toy Story movies. All three of them."

"Awww...I loved those. I haven't seen them in years."