Page 14 of The Summer that Ruined Everything

CHAPTER 13

J uly turned into August.

The air grew heavy and oppressive as the temperature climbed into the high nineties and the humidity climbed along with it. Days were spent horizontal, fans whirring constantly and cold beverages dripping with condensation.

Jack complained about it.

“Why is it so hot here?” he asked one morning. They’d tried the beach, but even the breeze off the ocean seemed to have taken a break, and the summer sun was relentless. After an hour they’d retreated into the house, flopped onto the sofas and chairs in their swimsuits, limbs spread wide, trying to expose as much bare skin to the air as possible.

Cal accepted the joint Grant passed him and took a hit. “It’s August,” he said, his voice choked as he tried to hold in the smoke.

“It’s not this hot in California,” Jack whined. “This is like it is in New York in August. But the ocean here is supposed to make it better.”

“It’ll cool off in a few days, once a storm rolls through,” Cal said. He took a second hit, then offered the joint to Jack, who waved it away.

“I’m too high to be hot,” he said. Then he shook his head. “I mean, I’m too hot to be high. Fuck.”

“Your problem is that you’re usually cold,” Cal said. “So you can’t handle it when you’re not.”

“I wish I was cold right now. Bring on the snow.”

Cal hesitated as an idea popped into his mind. Maybe it was the weed, or the heat, or the way Jack’s nose scrunched when he pouted, but he knew exactly what he wanted at that moment.

He handed the joint back to Grant, got to his feet, and stood over Jack.

“What?” Jack asked, peering up at him with a scowl.

Cal hauled Jack up and then, in a quick move, tossed him over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Jack said, smacking Cal’s back and kicking his legs into the air. “What the fuck.”

Cal wrapped an arm around Jack’s thighs and ignored the beating his back was taking.

“You want to be cold, let’s make you cold.”

He climbed the stairs two at a time as Jack sagged against him, running out of energy.

“You’re hotter than I am,” he grumbled. “I’m sweating into my eyes now, and can’t even admire your ass.”

Cal snorted and continued down the hall to the bathroom. He turned the shower on cold, then dumped Jack onto his feet in the bathtub.

“Hey,” Jack sputtered.

“Cool off,” Cal said. Jack shook his hair out of his eyes and pouted up at Cal through the streaming water, and Cal laughed. “It feels good, though, right?”

“Yeah.” Jack’s pout turned into a grin. “Join me.”

He reached out and grabbed the waistband of Cal’s swimsuit, pulling him forward until he stepped into the bathtub, the cool water hitting his chest and stomach. He sighed with relief as the water cascaded over him. He ducked his head under the stream and then smoothed his hair back.

Jack hummed. “You’re always so delicious when you’re wet,” he said.

He leaned in and sucked on Cal’s collarbone, licked his way up his neck, and landed on his lips with a soft kiss.

“It’s too hot to fuck,” Cal whispered against Jack’s mouth, even as Jack yanked his swimsuit down and shimmied out of his own.

“You’re too hot not to fuck,” Jack said. But he contented himself with just running his hands over Cal’s skin and sipping water from his shoulder.

After a few minutes, Jack shivered, and Cal turned off the water and stepped out of the bathtub, pulling Jack with him.

He draped their dripping suits over the faucet and then grabbed a towel.

“Don’t dry off,” Jack said. “We’ll stay cool longer.”

“We’ll drip all over the house,” Cal said.

“So what? It’ll dry.”

“We’re naked.” Cal gestured at himself and Jack, as if to remind him of the obvious.

Jack opened the bathroom door a crack and peered out. “Come on, the coast is clear.”

He grabbed Cal’s hand and darted into the hallway. Cal stumbled after him, cheeks flaming. He looked around wildly as they ran down the hall, the air brushing against his skin and making him shiver.

By the time they reached Jack’s bedroom and closed the door behind them, they were both laughing. They tumbled onto the bed to catch their breath, but every time Cal looked at Jack snickering beside him, another wave of laughter would bubble up.

Finally, it subsided, and they lay side by side, breath evening out and the heat of the day settling over them once more.

“Let’s go to Boston.” Jack said suddenly. He rolled his head to the side and squinted at Cal.

“Now? Why?”

“It might be fun,” Jack said. “And it’s so hot.”

“You’ll be hot there, too.” Cal shifted up onto an elbow. “It’s north, but not north enough to matter.”

“But I’ll at least be hot in a different place. It’ll be a distraction. Come on, I’ve never been.”

“Really?” Cal laughed. “Never? Your whole life? It’s not that far from New York.”

Jack shrugged. “I’m a New Yorker. Why would I need to leave to go to Boston?”

Cal rolled his eyes. “If you really want to, I guess we can go up tomorrow.”

“No, let’s go now. Today. We can stay the night.” Jack sat up. “Let’s get out of here.”

Cal regarded him. Jack looked suddenly determined, fierce. Like this was vitally important. And there was no way Cal could say no to that look.

“Okay,” Cal said.

“Okay? Really?” Jack bounced once on the mattress.

“Yes,” Cal said, laughing. “We can stay at my House. For a night. Two, if it’ll make you happy.”

“Your house?” Jack asked.

Cal reached out and smoothed the confused wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“Not actually mine. Eliot. My House where I live at Harvard.”

Jack grinned. “I’ll get to see where you live?”

“Sure. It’s not very exciting. It’s just a dormitory. And it’ll be mostly empty.”

“Good.” Jack jumped to his feet. “Ugh. This means we have to put clothes on .”

“Yes, Harvard generally prefers that its residents be clothed.” Cal rolled off the bed. “Pack a bag. I’ll run home, set it up, and come back with the car in an hour.”

“It’ll be okay?” Jack asked suddenly. “With your parents?”

“My parents will be thrilled if I tell them I want to go up and meet with my professors early this year.” Cal leaned down and kissed Jack. “Don’t worry. This kind of trip is sanctioned, so long as they don’t know you’re going along.”

Cal didn’t miss the cloud that passed over Jack’s face, even though it was gone in an instant and replaced with a brilliant grin.

“Far out.”

* * *

They drove up in Cal’s car rather than worrying about train schedules. With the top down, the wind whipped by them, and the journey on the freeways was both cooler and exhilarating. It was also loud, with the cars roaring around them. Instead of talking, they sat contentedly side by side, exchanging sunglasses-covered glances and the occasional brush of a hand on a thigh or an arm.

There was a peace to it, a casual intimacy that made Cal’s chest ache with simultaneous yearning and satisfaction.

The familiar streets of Cambridge also introduced a dichotomy of emotion. Their familiarity was both comforting and irritating. He liked Harvard, most of the time. For one thing, it wasn’t home . Studying didn’t bother him, and he was enriched by the conversations he had in classes and over drinks. He enjoyed the casual company of the friends he’d made.

What it represented was another matter entirely. He hadn’t chosen Harvard; it had been chosen for him. He hadn’t chosen his coursework; it was expected that he’d study what he needed to understand the business. He hadn’t even chosen his house; Eliot was where he was expected to live.

You’ll make as many contacts in the residence as in the classrooms, Calloway. These men will be able to move you forward in your life, so treat them accordingly.

It was solid advice, for its intent. If Cal had been passionate about the family business and ambitious enough to feel driven by a desire to climb to the top of…whatever, it would serve him well.

In the end, what he felt about Harvard was a complicated mix of fondness and resentment, which was confusing at best. As he drove across the Anderson Bridge and onto campus, he realized that he wasn’t feeling the anticipation of moving back that usually hit him at this point in the summer.

A glance to his right told him all he needed to know about why that was. Jack was sitting up in his seat, looking around with interest, taking in the atmosphere with a tiny frown.

“Is this Harvard?” he asked.

“This is Harvard,” Cal said. “I’ll take you by the Square later. We can go for a walk.”

He pulled into a student lot and sighed as the engine rattled into silence.

“Everything okay?” Jack asked, tipping his sunglasses down, his curls tumbling across his forehead.

“It feels odd to be here, I think,” Cal said. “That’s all. I’m fine.”

They collected their bags and Cal led the way down the tree-lined street to the courtyard of Eliot House. He’d have to sign in at some point, let the Master know he was in town for the night and had a visitor. It didn’t concern him much; it wasn’t wholly uncommon, so no one should think anything odd.

Jack was quiet beside him as they crossed the courtyard to his entrance, as he fitted the key in the lock. He held open the door.

“In you go,” he said, gesturing for Jack to precede him.

Jack fixed his sunglasses on top of his head and grinned. “Taking me home with you so soon?” he murmured under his breath.

Cal rolled his eyes. “Well, since you were so pushy about it?—“

Jack smacked his chest on the way inside.

Cal’s suite, which he shared with three others, was on the fourth floor. He unlocked the main door. Silence greeted him, and he shrugged, noting the open windows.

“We might be on our own for the night,” he said. “But Harrison was staying for the summer, so don’t…you know.”

“Bend you over the sofa in the common room? Noted,” Jack snickered.

The suite was warm, but with the windows open, there was a cross breeze that was pleasant. Cal took Jack’s bag and tossed their things to the side while Jack collapsed onto the sofa.

“You’re right,” he said. “It’s just as hot here.”

“And here there isn’t an ocean to jump in.” Cal pointed out. “Changing your mind?”

“Nah.” Jack rocked his head back and forth. “I’m glad we’re here.”

Cal sat beside him with a groan, letting his eyes close, and they listened to the muted sounds from outside: cars rumbling past, someone shouting, a siren in the distance. It wasn’t as frenetic as it would be once school was fully back in session, but the noise of the city was a nice contrast to the silence of his house back in Westerly.

After a minute, Jack’s hand landed softly on his. He flipped his hand palm up and curled his fingers around Jack’s with a smile.

“So this is where you live. Most of the time,” Jack said. “When you aren’t on the beach.”

Cal opened his eyes and found Jack looking the room over curiously. He tried to see it through fresh eyes: the walls with scarred white paint and scuffed molding, the wooden window casings with wavy glass panes, the red and brown rug beneath their feet, the rambling bookcases along the walls and scattered end tables piled with an assortment of the stuff of living.

The air smelled of must with a mingling of faint sweetness. He spotted a quartet of extinguished cigars in an ashtray on the coffee table and beside it, a deck of cards, an empty whiskey decanter and a tray with cracker crumbs. Harrison had had a card night recently.

It wasn’t anything special, but yes, it was home, for now.

“I’m sure it doesn’t seem like much,” Cal said. “After Hollywood Hills mansions.”

Jack didn’t respond. He let go of Cal’s hand and pushed to his feet, then began to circle the room. Cal watched as he ran his hands over the furniture, the books, the scratches in the paint from where they’d accidentally shoved a table too hard sophomore year. He paused at a stack of Polaroids on one of the bookshelves, shuffling through them quickly, and then more slowly.

Finally, he looked up. “Which one is your room?” He asked.

Jack crossed the common room in long strides when Cal pointed the way, pulling open the door and sticking his head inside. Then he disappeared into the room.

Cal gave him several minutes before he grabbed the bags and followed. He found Jack sprawled face down on his bed, arms and legs flung wide.

“How did you know which bed was mine?” Cal asked, coming to sit on the edge.

Jack’s reply was muffled, since his face was buried in Cal’s pillow.

“What?” Cal asked.

Jack turned his head to the side and smiled. “This one smells like you.” He flipped onto his back and reached for Cal. “Kiss me,” he commanded.

Cal leaned in and met Jack’s lips with his own, sinking into the comfortable sensation easily and without hesitation. It was a kiss with a value of its own, not leading to or from anything. Cal sighed into Jack’s mouth and felt the man smile against him.

They were already breaking apart when the suite’s door opened. Cal stood, and Jack rolled off the bed onto his feet as well.

“Want to meet my suite mate?” Cal asked softly. Jack nodded.

Harrison was emerging from the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel, when they entered the common room. He grinned and slung the towel around his neck. He’d clearly just come in from a jog, since his gray Harvard t-shirt and maroon shorts were drenched with sweat.

“Calloway! I didn’t know you were coming back so early,” Harrison said. He strode forward with his hand outstretched and grabbed up Cal’s hand enthusiastically.

“It’s temporary,” Cal said. “Just here for a night or two; Jack wanted to see Harvard.” He stepped to the side and gestured at Jack. “Harrison, this is Jack Francis. Jack, Harrison Beauchamp.”

Harrison looked Jack over and shook his hand as well. “Of the Chicago Beauchamps,” Harrison said. “Francis?”

“Of the Hells Kitchen Francises,” Jack said, barely hiding his smirk.

Harrison looked puzzled, and Cal snorted into his hand. He kicked Jack’s foot and cleared his throat.

“Jack’s an actor,” he explained. “Moved into the house next to my parents’ for the summer. We realized he’d never been to Boston and he wanted to see it before he heads back to Los Angeles.”

“An actor,” Harrison said, as recognition dawned. “Of course. I saw you in The Great Dance-Off.”

“The Greater Dance-Off,” Jack corrected him. “The sequel. Richard Logan was in the first one.”

“Right. Wow. So you’re summering in Westerly?” Harrison asked.

“Sure,” Jack said. “I mean, I call it a vacation, but?—“

Cal kicked him again, and he stopped, shrugging, just as Harrison burst out laughing.

“How is Natalie?” Cal asked, attempting to distract Harrison by asking about his girlfriend.

“She’s good. Taking summer classes, so she’s busy a lot. What about Katherine? Have you seen her?”

Cal nodded. “She and her parents stayed with us for a couple of weeks in July. She’s doing well.”

“Family gathering, hmm? Have you popped the question yet?” Harrison asked.

“No, not—“ Cal cleared his throat and avoided glancing at Jack. Katherine was still a sensitive subject between them, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He knew why he got a sick feeling when thinking about their future, but he didn’t understand Jack’s reactions. By then, Jack would have moved on. “Not just yet.”

“You’ll warn me when you do, though? As soon as it happens Nat will be on me for the same thing.” Harrison rolled his eyes. “You know how they are.”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe towards December,” Cal said, voicing what he and Katherine had discussed.

“Hey, speaking of Natalie, you two have plans tonight?” Harrison asked.

“Not yet,” Cal told him. “We just got here. Why, you know about some happening?”

“Nat and her housemates are having a dinner party,” Harrison said. “You should come, they’ll be thrilled.”

Cal frowned. “You sure you want to spring two unexpected guests on her? Last time?—“

“It’ll be fine. I’ll call over there and let them know to expect you.” Harrison clapped a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “Good to see you. And good to meet you,” he said with a nod to Jack. “I’m going to run a shower, but if you head out, I’ll see you later. Seven at Natalie’s.”

Before there was time for any further protest, he ducked back into the bathroom and closed the door.

As the sound of water running echoed in the space, Jack tilted his head to the side.

“I get to meet more of your friends?” he asked.

“If you want,” Cal said. “Listen, if you’re not interested in having a bunch of co-eds fawning over you tonight, we can do our own thing.”

Jack squinted at him. “Can I decide later?”

“Sure. Want to go for a walk?”

Jack agreed, and they descended the creaky stairs down to the courtyard.

“Are these all student dorms?” Jack asked, spinning around in a circle, arms flung wide, as he walked.

“Most of it,” Cal said. “But there’s a dining hall over there, and that’s where the Master and Tutors live. There’s a library over there, some other common rooms.” He hesitated. “Want to see?”

“Yes please,” Jack said eagerly. Cal smiled.

He took Jack on a brief tour of the House. Jack had lots of questions. Is this where you eat? Where do you like to sit? What’s your favorite spot? Where do you have the socials? Tell me a funny story that happened in this room. Somewhat baffled, Cal did his best to keep up, answering what he could.

Then they walked over to Harvard Square and up to the Yard. Cal pointed out his freshman housing, the Widener Library, and the Philosophy Department. They stretched out on the ground in the shade of the great elms, taking comfort in the cool blades of grass underneath them and the relative summer quiet of the space.

“Why did you show me the Philosophy Department?” Jack asked. “Have you taken a class there?”

“One,” Cal said. “Freshman year. An intro course.”

“Did you like it?”

“I did. It was interesting.”

Jack rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand. “Why didn’t you take more?”

Cal shrugged, his shoulder blades dragging across a half-buried root at his back. “It wasn’t the plan.”

“Right,” Jack said. “The plan.”

He rolled onto his back once more, lacing his fingers behind his head. They lay in silence for a few minutes before Jack spoke up again.

“A while ago, at the beginning of the summer, I asked you what you would choose for yourself, if given the chance. Do you remember?”

“I remember,” Cal said. They’d been at the beach club, the first time Cal had brought Jack there. They’d visited the yacht, and Jack had noticed that the lifestyle didn’t quite fit Cal.

“You said you didn’t know, because no one had ever asked you before. Have you thought about it? If you could choose for yourself…what would you do?”

“I’d write,” Cal said softly. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, since he hadn’t actively thought about the question in a way that got him anywhere.

But it was true.

“Really?” Jack sat up. “What would you write?”

“Not sure,” Cal said. “Anything. Maybe for a newspaper, or a magazine. Or…don’t laugh, okay?”

“I’m not gonna laugh at you, Cal.”

“Sometimes I think about the way the world works. The way we work. And why we work that way. I feel like I have things to say about that. I audited a creative writing course last semester.” He glanced at Jack and blushed. “Audited so it wouldn’t show up on my transcript. But I wrote some stories, and…it was fun.”

“You want to write,” Jack murmured. “Then, Cal, why are you going to work for your father?”

Cal didn’t answer, because he didn’t have an answer. Jack didn’t seem to expect one, because he sprang to his feet and held out a hand.

“Come on. I’m thirsty, let’s find a drink.”

They visited a dark little dive bar that wasn’t picky about fake IDs, and Cal regaled Jack with various Harvard stories over lukewarm beer. Then they picked up a bottle of wine for the dinner party from a package store on the way back to the House.

“Always bring a gift when you visit someone’s house,” Jack said with a snort. “It really is a rule.”

Harrison was already out when they got back to the dorm.

“I need another shower,” Cal said.

“Me too,” said Jack. “You go first, though. I want a nap.”

Cal grabbed a towel, smiled at the way Jack once again face planted on his bed, and retreated to the bathroom. The shower felt good after a day of sweating, and he took his time under the cool water. When he returned to the bedroom, his towel wrapped securely around his waist, he expected to have to wake up Jack.

Instead, what he saw made him stop short in the doorway.

Jack was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, leafing through a magazine. A magazine with his face all over it. He looked up when Cal entered.

“Hey,” he said. “Um…what’s this?”

“It’s…” Cal swallowed. Where had that come from? He’d thrown his magazines in the dumpster when he left in May. “It’s a magazine.”

“I see that,” Jack said. “It’s one of mine. Why do you have it?”

“Where did you find it?” Cal asked.

“It was wedged between the bed and the wall,” Jack said. “Cal, are you…did you…”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Cal entered the room and closed the door behind him. He couldn’t think of a way out of this, not one that would be convincing. And he didn’t really want to lie. Not to Jack.

“I used to have more,” he said softly. “I thought I’d tossed them all before going home for the summer, but I guess I missed that one.”

“You had more?” Jack asked. “Of…were they all kinds, or?—“

“They were all you,” Cal said. He wished he were wearing clothes, because Jack’s body was tensed, almost like he was getting ready to run. Fuck. Cal couldn’t let him run. “Please, it’s not…I thought you were beautiful. It seems weird, but I was really just a fan. I mean, I’m still a fan, but?—“

Jack sprang up, and Cal had a split second to decide whether to jump in front of him or get out of his way. Before he could make the impossible choice, he had his arms full of a laughing Jack.

Relief coursed through him, and he grabbed on tight.

“You’re not mad?” he asked, as Jack kissed his cheeks. “Or freaked out?”

“You thought I was beautiful,” Jack said, giggling. “That’s so fucking cute, Cal. I didn’t think you even knew anything about me before we met.”

“I did,” Cal said. “When I realized it was you, that first night, I thought I’d gone crazy and brought forth a hallucination. What I wanted but couldn’t have.”

“And now you have me,” Jack said. “Let me ask you a question. Did you look at my pictures and?—“

“I’m begging you, please stop,” Cal said, flushing pink.

“That’s a yes!” Jack crowed. “Man, I’m so glad we came up here.”

He planted a wet kiss on Cal’s mouth, then jumped to the floor. He opened the door to the room.

“I should shower. I’ll leave the magazine. Just in case you want to?—“

Cal snatched off his towel and snapped it at Jack’s legs with a laugh. “Maybe I will, if you take too long.”

“If you can hold out, I’ll make it worth your while tonight.” Jack wiggled his eyebrows, and then with another hoot of laughter, ran off for the bathroom.

Cal sank onto his bed with a huff. After a minute, he picked up the magazine. It was one of his favorites, with a beach shoot. Jack with a surfboard, Jack lounging on a beach chair, Jack hanging off the back of a Jeep. Jack shielding his eyes and gazing into the sunset.

He smiled. He’d seen the real life versions of these photos all summer. He didn’t need this anymore, because Jack was right. He’d been lucky enough to enjoy the real thing. He could probably toss it.

And yet…he slid it into the bottom of a dresser drawer. Summer was flying by. It was already August. Once Jack went back to Los Angeles, at least he’d have this waiting for him at school.