Page 16 of Summer’s Echo

Summer

“Your ass is definitely crazy, Sunshine!” Echo’s words replayed over and over in my head, blaring like a song I couldn’t turn off.

Unlike Ice Cube’s iconic words, today wasnota good day.

It was one of those Gemini days for me—the kind where nothing felt right.

Two days had passed since Echo and I had spent the evening at what we’d claimed as our hideaway, and his words still had me in a mood.

Abadmood. He’d been trying to get my attention ever since he’d walked me to my lodge that night, but I’d basically ignored him.

I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to deal.

I just wanted to be left alone, though that was nearly impossible when we were responsible for about fifty campers every day.

My roommate and one of my best friends, Trinity, could always tell when I was in my feelings.

She knew the second Mariah Carey’s heartbreak anthems started blaring through the room, with me belting the lyrics from the depths of my soul, as if Iactuallyknew what that kind of heartbreak felt like.

Mario’s “Let Me Love You” played, and I maxed out the volume.

My conversation with Echo played on a relentless loop in my head, tangled up with the saddest love songs I could find.

“Your ass is definitely crazy,” I recalled him saying.

He thought that shit was funny. Of course he did.

I’m not sure why I was surprised. I’d always been the girl guys thought was cute enough to be their friend, little sister, or baby girl , but never sexy enough to be taken seriously as a girlfriend.

Skipping the night’s festivities, I paced the small piece of floor available in my compact bedroom, dressed in pajama shorts and a tank top, my face dotted with skin cream.

I stopped to glance at my reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing my body again.

I guess the figure staring back at me wasn’t what boys my age considered sexy.

Why did I care what Echo thought anyway?

He was just a friend, not a boy I wanted to like me.

His opinion shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.

“Summer, you have company!”Brooke’s voice rang out from the common area, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts.

Company? Who the hell? I sighed, already irritated.

“Who, Brooke? I’m busy!” Before she could answer, Echo strolled into my room like he owned the place, hat turned backward,repping Chicago like always, basketball shorts hangingjust low enough to test my resolve, and a jerseyclinging to the muscles he was clearly working on.

Icrossed my arms, my irritation flaring.

“Yo, what’s up, man? Why are you not talking to me?”His voice carried just enough bite to tell me he wasannoyed, too.

Heat creeped up my face.“Brooke! Why would you let him back here?” She knew I was in amood. She also knew I hadskin cream smeared all over my damn face.

Brooke peeked down the hall, her expression torn. With a shrug, she threw her hands in the air and walked off, wanting no part of the brewing storm. I sighed, turning back to Echo, who was now standing in the middle of my space like he wasn’t about to make my entire evening worse.

“What do you want, Echo? I am not in the mood for—”

“Sun, go wash your face, and bring your ass outside,” he cut me off, his voice low and brimming with frustration.

“Echo, I’m not—”

“Summer!” His tone sharpened, a seriousness I’d never heard from him before.

“Fine,” I grunted, stomping off to the bathroom.

After splashing water on my face and pulling on a pair of jean shorts over my pajamas, I trekked down the hall, throwing another pointed glare at Brooke on my way out.

She just shrugged again, making sure I kept her out of whatever what going between me and my friend .

Outside, Echo was already walking ahead, casting a glance over his shoulder with a scowl to ensure I was following.

We didn’t head to our usual spot by the stream.

Instead, he led me toward the front of the campgrounds.

The stillness of the night amplified every sound and unvoiced word.

A light breeze stirred the leaves, their faint rustle mingling with the persistent chirping of crickets and the occasional buzz of cicadas.

The moon didn’t appear to hang as low in the sky from this purview as it did at our spot.

The silvery light it casted across the trees that faded in the darkness was still beautiful.

But my mood was ugly. The swing we shared sat underneath an aging tree like our tree.

Echo sat leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.

He removed his hat and rubbed a hand down the wavy carpet of hair on his head.

His posture was tense and jaw tight as if he was holding back words he wasn’t ready to say.

I sat back, arms crossed defensively over my chest, eyes cast downward.

I tapped my foot incessantly as I bit my bare nails, irritation simmering.

The air between us felt thick, not with anger, because I had no real reason to be upset, but with confusion and contained emotions that we were likely too immature to name.

In a voice softer than I expected, Echo finally broke the quiet. “What is wrong with you? What did I do?”

“Nothing,” I replied curtly, but it was the truth. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But the Gemini that lived in me wouldn’t tell him that. Instead, I kept shaking my foot, refusing to give him my attention.

“Then why have you been ignoring me?” he pressed.

Because I think I like you. “No reason,” I blurted instead. “I’m cool.” My tone was flat as I continued to gnaw on my nails.

“Would you stop tapping your foot and biting those damn nails and just talk to me, Summer?” he snapped, his voice rising slightly.

“You have one more time to yell at me, Echo,” I said sharply, my tone daring him to try again. My foot stilled, my entire posture shifting as if to demand an apology without uttering another word.

“I’m sorry, and I’m not yelling,” he said, his voice rising slightly with exasperation. Then he threw his hands up, his eyebrows pulling together in frustration. “Why are we arguing?”

It was a great question; one I didn’t have an easy answer for. The tension between us felt like an unwelcomed third wheel, sitting heavy in the middle of a conversation that had somehow grown far too intense for two people who had only known each other a few weeks.

“Echo, I’ve just been in a bad mood. Sometimes that happens. I didn’t want to talk to anybody, so that includes you. I just needed a day to myself,” I huffed, turning away from him, pouting like a toddler.

“Man, you’vehad days to yourself. Plural. You wouldn’t even come to our spot with me to chill. What’s up with that? Who pissed you off?” He pointed at himself like he thought he was the problem.

I shook my head, desperately wanting to end this. “Nobody pissed me off,” I snapped. “Maybe I just need a break from ‘chilling,’” I said, throwing air quotes around the word.

“Sunshine. Come on. Be real with me. What’s going on?” Echo’s baritone was tender.

I sat silently for a long moment, my thoughts churning.

Did I really want to tell him what was on my mind?

In just a few weeks, we’d already peeled back so many layers, sharing dreams, fears, and truths we hadn’t spoken aloud to others.

He’d told me how strict his father was, how his mother wanted to work but was essentially forced to stay home because of tradition.

I’d confessed my fear that my parents wouldn’t have enough money for me to attend Spelman, and even if they did, I was terrified to go that far away from home. But this? Did I want to share this revelation with him?

“I’m tired of being the chill girl or the crazy, cool friend with the cute face and pretty smile,” I said finally, my voice trembling as I stood abruptly. Feeling tears threaten, I whispered, “I’m sick of that shit, E.”

The words stung more than I expected. My frustration wasn’t just about Echo—it was much deeper than him. It was about every guy who’d crossed my path, slapping the same label on me like it was all I could ever be. But unfortunately for him, he stood directly in the path of my rage.

“What does that mean?” he asked, as he tried to understand. “You are chill. You are cool. You are the friend with the cute face and pretty smile,” he said, his voice steady while searching my eyes for agreement.

My fingers toyed with my earlobe, twisting my stud earring between them, wishing I could press reset on this moment.

Wishing I could rewrite it, reshape it, make him see.

But he didn’t understand. Maybe he couldn’t.

How could I explain that I wanted to be more than just the crazy, cool friend?

That I needed him to see me differently—something more than comfortable and familiar.

That I wanted him to see me as…sexy, too? As… his.

“What else do you want to be, Sunshine?” he asked, stepping closer, brushing his shoulder against mine. His voice was calm, but there was something deeper in his tone, something I couldn’t place.

I want to be yours, I thought, the truth hitting me with an intensity that made my heart hurt. But I shook my head, trying to push it away. I couldn’t let myself go there. Echo had made it clear that we were friends—onlyfriends. Nothing more.

I was angry, emotional, and confused, but as I stood next to him, I couldn’t ignore the warmth of his presence.

Echo had this way of making me feel safe and comfortable to just be me.

Even when I was treating him like crap, he came to find me, pushed me to open up, to talk to him.

And as much as I’d lied to myself these past few days, convincing myself I needed distance, one truth burned brighter than all the lies: I didn’t want to be away from him.

Even if it meant I’d always be his forever friend.

Shaking my head, I finally answered his question.

“Nothing. I’m good. I guess I just needed to talk.

” I went silent, swallowing hard to find my voice to continue.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my tone tinged with fragility, but my eyes stayed connected to his.

My words hung in the air, raw and honest, carrying a burden I wasn’t ready to face.

Instinctively, I turned to walk away, needing space to sort through the whirlwind of emotions.

But before I could step away, his hand gently caught my arm.

The touch was light, barely there, but it was enough to make me pause.

He held me tighter, and I hesitated, resisting the silent plea in his gesture, my back still to him.

For a moment, I considered ignoring it, pretending I didn’t feel the pull.

But finally, with a deep breath, I turned to face him.

At almost seventeen, I was used to being fierce, full of fire and defiance, my resolve clouded, my breath unsteady with unshed tears I couldn’t hide.

Echo’s face softened. Without a word, he draped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into him.

It was our first hug, and it felt like home.

His touch was warm and steady, familiar in a way that made me want to fall apart and stay whole all at once.

He towered over me, resting his chin gently against the top of my head, like a shield of protection.

With the lightest touch, he nudged my chin upward, drawing me into something neither of us had words for.

It was too deep, too overwhelming for hearts as young as ours to fully grasp.

But we felt it anyway—wild and crazy and all-consuming.

“So, we’re friends again?” he asked softly, his voice the calm to my storm.

I nodded, the lump in my throat making it impossible to speak. When the words finally came, they were barely above a whisper. “Yeah, E. Forever friends.”