A Second Chance at Summer

“Can I get the play station?”

“You have fifty seven tickets.” 

The boy, a short round thing of about twelve, stared at me blankly. His red stained mouth hung open slightly, the same cherry stain dribbled down the front of his shirt. 

“The play station costs 115,000 tickets,” I explained. 

“Okay!” He said with an empathic nod of the head, comprehension eluding him.

“You know what, how about fifty seven army men?” I pulled out one of the small green figures from a container under the counter and handed it to the boy. He stared down at the tiny plastic soldier laying pathetically in his sticky palm.

“What about that?” He asked, pointing to an equally overpriced item on the shelf behind me. 

In that moment a small herd of prepubescent boys rushed the child at the counter, distracting him and preserving my last shred of patience. They pressed their hands and faces to the glass, admiring the plastic garbage displayed within and boasting to one another about who had the most tickets. They hurtled several similar questions at me in unison, before giving up their quest for unattainable prizes and pulling the boy with them back into the flashing neon lights of the arcade beyond. 

“Florida’s education system at its finest,” Chloe exhaled with a deep sigh of the long suffering. She came to lean on the counter next to me, propping her chin in a hand. 

“We weren’t that insufferable when we were that age, were we?” I asked, leaning on to the counter with her.

“Me? No. You on the other hand…” she trailed off with a laugh. 

Chloe had been my first friend when I had moved to Orlando at the age of eleven. What started as an acquaintanceship due to proximity quickly bloomed into a friendship born of similar music tastes, a love of Harry Potter, and a mutual disdain for everyone else. Over the last nine years we had been inseparable.

“Hey. Do you want to go to a party tonight?” Chloe asked. 

“I don’t know. I have to be back here in the morning.”

“Oh come on. It’s the last party before we go back to school,” she cajoled. “It’ll be fun! A bunch of people from here are going.”

The sound of jangling keys snagged my attention and we both pushed back from the counter, finding something to occupy our hands in an attempt to look busy. The manager on duty shuffled around the corner, his white sneakers squeaking on the floor and his absurdly large key ring bouncing off of his hip. He cast a scrutinizing glare around the prize counter before leveling his gaze on me. 

“Jasmine, I need you to go down to laser tag and cover Melanie for her break,” he said, still visually inspecting the area with an air of disapproval. “And Chloe, stop leaning on the counters and go break down the boxes in the back.”

I exchanged a look with Chloe, but did as instructed, stepping out into the flashing, cacophonous expanse of the arcade floor. I observed the people as I passed through the dim space, their faces lit up with joy and the lights of the games before them. In spite of the overbearing presence of management, and the sometimes irksome patrons, I had grown fond of working at the arcade and the memories and friendships that I had made. I had spent the past three summers here and the sounds and feeling of the place gave me an odd sense of comfort and nostalgia. 

The neon lights and whirring sounds of the arcade dimmed as I descended down the hall, replaced with the purple haze of black lights and the low murmur of chattering voices. The hall emptied into a large waiting area littered with small tables and benches. People milled about the space, waiting for the current game to end. Exhausted parents sagged in their seats, enjoying a momentary reprieve from the summer heat and their rambunctious children. 

A ticket counter spanned along the other wall of the waiting area, a bored looking young woman reclining on a stool behind it. 

“I’m supposed to relieve Melanie for her break.” I told the woman, Imani, as I approached the counter. 

“She’s already gone,” she said, not bothering to look up from the cell phone she had half-hidden below the desk, obscured from the all-seeing eye of the security cameras overhead. 

“Oh. Who else is working down here?”

“Austin,” she replied, continuing to scroll through the app on her phone.

My heart skipped a beat. 

The door next to the counter banged open and a river of people began to flow from the arena. Small children rushed excitedly to their parents, demanding to play again. Teenagers crowded the TV screens in the waiting area, comparing their scores from the previous game. Young adults on first dates strolled through the space slowly, their arms slung around one another, flirtatiously teasing the other in hushed tones. 

Beyond the crowd Austin stood in the open door of the arena, his sun tanned arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the door frame. His soft dark curls, longer than they had been the summer before, fell into his eyes with the tilt of his head. A small smile lifted the corners of his full lips, his hazel eyes sparking with intrigue. 

The waiting crowds began to move towards the entrance, eager for their turn to begin. 

“Would you mind letting me work out here for this round?” I asked Imani. I desperately did not want to be alone with Austin. 

“That’s gonna be a hard pass,” she said.

“Please? I’ll take your Thursday for you.” I offered, but the impassive look on her face suggested that my bribe fell flat. 

“The game’s about to start,” she said, tilting her chin toward the arena door before turning to the next customer in the line before her.

I exhaled through my nose and moved toward the arena, internally vowing to never cover a shift for her again. 

When I slipped through the door into the antechamber, Austin was already briefing the players inside. He stood in the center with a laser tag vest slung over one broad shoulder, explaining the scoring system. The people buzzed around him with excitement, but focused their attention on him. He was taller than most and his deep voice had a way of commanding the attention of everyone around him. 

He looked at me and nodded as he wrapped up his speech. I moved to the second door at the back of the room, opening it for the people to enter the arena. As the last person filed in I slipped inside behind them, leaning against the nearest wall. The arena was cool and dark with mists of machine-made fog swirling through the air, the only light that of the black lights overhead and the reflective paint decorating the various surfaces. A loud robotic voice began a countdown and the arena exploded in a flurry of activity as the players searched for hiding places or took up offensive positions. As the countdown concluded, loud techno music and the sounds of running feet filled the space and the red bursts of laser light began to flash around the room. 

The door next to me opened and Austin came to lean against the wall beside me. He stood close enough that I could feel the heat of his arm radiating off of him and on to my cooled skin. Goosebumps prickled along my forearm. 

“Long time no see” he said just loud enough to be heard over the beat of the music. 

“You see me here all the time.” I said, my eyes trained ahead.

“That’s not what I mean,” he said and was quiet for another moment before saying, this time more softly, “I’ve tried to talk to you.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to have this conversation. 

“Jazz.” I could feel his eyes on me. “Look, I know you’re mad at me but…”

“I’m not mad at you,” I said, more quickly than I intended. 

“Oh? It sure seems like it.”

“I have no feelings when it comes to you.” I said, turning to look at him, my face a mask of indifference. 

His arms were folded over his chest again and the flashing lights cast strange shadows across his face. The corner of his mouth crooked upward in a smile, the black lights turning his teeth a soft green color. 

“Well I have a lot of feelings when it comes to you” he said with a smirk.

“Ugh. Just, don’t.” I said, cutting him a glare and scooting away a step. 

His smirk faltered and his posture seemed to deflate a bit. 

“I’m sorry.”

_______________________

“He’s such an asshole,” Chloe declared over the roaring of the wind from the open car window. “He strings you along all last summer but then can’t be bothered with you when he goes back to school. And then what? He just expects to pick things up where he left off?”

I made a noncommittal noise, not really feeling like discussing the topic any further. 

“I hope you told him to fuck off.”

“Something like that,” I said, chuckling at her outrage on my behalf. 

The car slowed as Chloe took a turn on to a sleeping side street, the small houses dark and silent on each side of the road. We coasted to a stop in front of a lone, lit house, the sound of muffled music and voices escaping from within and into the warm summer night air. 

Inside, the house was alive with activity. People gathered in the living room, laughing and talking from where they sprawled on the couches or huddled around the makeshift bar in the kitchen. A spirited game of beer pong was underway, the opponents and spectators seemingly several rounds in based on their slurred cheers and lack of dexterity.

I strolled up to the counter and eyed the collection of half filled liquor bottles.

“There’s beer and seltzers in the fridge too,” Brian, a guy from work, said with a nod of the head towards the fridge.  

I pulled a seltzer from the fridge and leaned back against the kitchen counter, watching the beer pong match. A new game had started between Imani and a guy I didn’t know versus Austin and the new girl from work. She was small and slight with glossy dark hair that curtained full round features. Within the week that she had worked at the arcade she had piqued the interest of many of the young men, Austin seeming to be one of them. He stood behind her, his hand on hers as he demonstrated the best angle with which to throw the ping pong ball. Together they tossed it, the ball arcing across the table gracefully before plopping cleanly into one of the red plastic cups. The girl jumped with excitement, flashing Austin a radiant smile, who grinned down at her rakishly in return. 

Disgusted, I turned away and downed the last of my drink, tossing the can into the overflowing trash. I scanned the room for Chloe and found her sitting with the guy that she had been eyeing all summer. Her tanned legs were slung over his and their heads were bent together, creating a small intimate bubble amidst the vibrancy of the room around them. 

Not wanting to interrupt her, but also not wanting to hover around the edges of the room alone, I slipped out the sliding glass door and into the back yard. I took a seat on the sagging steps of the porch, kicking off my flip flops to curl my toes in the soft grass. The oppressive heat had died down and the night was peaceful, the air fragranced with the scent of summer flowers and the songs of crickets chirping in the distance. 

The sliding glass door opened and Austin stepped out onto the porch carrying a can of beer in each hand. He took a seat on the steps next to me and handed me a can. I took it from him with a mumble of thanks and we sat in silence for a time, the only sound the murmur of the party within. 

“You know, I really am sorry.” He said after a time, knocking his knee gently into mine. 

“It’s fine,” I said with a shrug, taking a sip from the can. 

“But it’s not though. I was an idiot. I still am, I guess.” He chuckled. 

“Yeah, you are. And an asshole,” I said with a small laugh in my voice, despite myself. 

He laughed at that, a deep rich sound.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, taking a swig of his beer. “And not just the sex, though I definitely do miss that. I’ve just missed this. Hanging out with you and laughing and all that.” 

I took a sip as well, feeling the warmth of the alcohol, or his confession, bloom across my checks. 

“I’ve missed you too,” I confessed, a hardness within me easing at his words. 

I looked at him then, really looked. His face had softened into an earnest expression, so at odds with the aloof exterior that he normally presented. This Austin was the one that I remembered, the one that I had fallen for. Joyous and compassionate. Not the man that he had become, that he presented himself to be. 

“Tell me about school,” he said. 

And I did. We sat for an eternity together, telling each other about the things that had transpired within our lives over the past year. It felt easy, the conversation flowing effortlessly between us as if no time had passed at all. I found myself laughing, feeling carefree for the first time all summer. 

“You're beautiful,” He whispered as he watched me. 

And in spite of myself, as if being pulled by some external force, I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. They were soft and warm and met mine with heart breaking tenderness. 

I pulled away and began to turn from him, but his hand cupped my cheek, turning me to look at him. His eyes searched my face and he leaned in and kissed me again. His hand cupped the back of my neck and his finger slid into my hair, pulling me closer to him. His tongue slid along my bottom lip and I opened for him, his mouth tasting of beer and something sweet. I lost myself in the feel of his tongue swirling against mine, the feel of his strong arms pulling me into his body. 

I didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the longing that I had felt for months, or my own reckless tendency to self sabotage, but I let myself go. I let go of my resolve, my anger, and hurt and let myself tumble into desire and sensation. At this moment I didn’t care that he had hurt me before and would most likely do it again. I wanted him. In spite of everything that had happened and the distance that had grown between us, I found myself being pulled back into his orbit, his touch, his voice, his beautiful face like a heady gravity that I could not escape. 

I swung a leg over his, straddling his lap and deepening the kiss. His hand moved to cup my ass, pulling me against him, his other hand sliding up my shirt. I could feel his need hard against me, insistent as my own. Nothing and no one felt as right as this. It was as if we were made for one another, the contours of our bodies fitting perfectly in place. I wanted to take him deep within me, to pull him close, and never let go. I wanted this moment with him, this feeling, to last forever. 

He broke from the kiss to trail soft kisses down my neck, licking the grove above my collar bone. I slid my hands under his shirt, feeling the groves of his muscles with one hand and toying at the waistband of his shorts with the other. He rocked up into me and bit down on the curve of my neck, pulling a soft gasp from me. 

“Let's find somewhere private,” he rasped huskily in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. 

He gently eased me off of him, and I stood on shakily legs, my skin tingling with anticipation and need. He held a hand out to me with a broad grin that lit his perfect features. His eyes roamed over me with a fire that melted my core. I took his hand in mine, ready to follow him to wherever he may lead me.