Olivia sat on the folding lounge chair, drinking spiked lemonade out of a red plastic cup. She was celebrating the last night of her freshman year of college at Northwestern University. Having grown up on the east coast in a small town in Connecticut, her college decision had baffled her parents. She could have gone to NYU or UConn or Columbia, but had selected Northwestern for two things. First, its School of Journalism. She had wanted to be a journalist since her first writing class in high school, probably since before that. Northwestern had a distinguished reputation and would, she hoped, prepare her for the career she was hoping for. Second, it was in Chicago. Far from Connecticut, her overbearing parents and brothers, and an uneventful high school experience.
She loved her family. They meant everything to her. But she was the baby, and she had followed in some big footsteps. Her father, Caleb, was a professor of physics at the University of Connecticut. A true scientist. Her brothers, Anthony and Elijah, had inherited his scientific mind and followed him to distinguished universities to study chemistry and biogenetics. In addition to their book smarts, her father and brothers were also boisterous and opinionated. The lives of any party they attended, big or small, they commanded attention and respect. Olivia's mother, Simone, ran a successful photography business, photographing families, children and weddings. Olivia knew she had inherited her creative streak from her mother, as well as her tendency to shrink next to the other members of her family. Simone, and Olivia, both laughed at the stories being told, but rarely participated in the telling. It was just easier to be a bystander. Olivia had things to contribute. She had a lot to say. And that was why she was sitting in a lounge chair on a beautiful May evening in Chicago.
She had made two close friends during her first year of college. Emily, a Chicago native also pursuing journalism and her roommate, and Joanna, or Jo, originally from Florida and studying art history and Italian. Olivia had been drawn to these girls for the drive they had to succeed despite external forces like family or finances trying to stop them. Emily's parents were both lawyers and fully expected journalism to be a phase. Jo had a partial scholarship and a lot of loans, but was still studying what she loved. Their friendship had been almost immediate. They met on move-in day, after Olivia's parents had left for the airport and she was sitting in the room waiting for whatever happened next. When Emily walked in and they met for the first time, Olivia was immediately at ease. She was blonde, but not a bombshell. She had an air of happiness and confidence that Olivia fed off of. After Emily's parents had left, Emily and Olivia wandered the halls and found Joanna alone in her room with tears streaming down her face. She had driven from Florida alone and was unpacking what few belongings she had. Olivia and Emily, without speaking, entered the room, introduced themselves and the rest just fell into place. The Three Amigos were born.
Olivia hadn't branched out that much. She was comfortable having just a few close friends, and she didn't have a lot of experience in the branching-out department. Her high school social life was dull. She hadn't dated, hadn't had many close friends and had been on the perimeter of most social situations. She was liked, but not needed, and that had been fine with her. So when Emily and Jo went to parties they heard about in the cafeteria, or from friends they had made in class, Olivia usually declined. They had always planned to sit on the grassy area near the lake with their spiked lemonade on the last day of school, and Olivia had been wrong in assuming it would be just the three of them. There were some other girls there whom she had never met, as well as a few boys. Men. Whatever.
Olivia wasn't involved in the party game being played by the group. She was staring out at the lake. It was dark, with only the lights of a few sailboats dotting the horizon. She was going to miss Chicago. In only nine months, she had grown to love it. She was making a list in her head of all the restaurants she would visit upon returning in August when she heard a chair slide closer to her. She pretended not to notice, didn't turn her head, and then felt a warm body lean over the arm of her chair. The hair on her arms stood up. She was only wearing a sleeveless shirt and a light sweater.
"What's out there?" the gravely voice said. His breath smelled like cinnamon.
She turned and tried to keep her poker face. The boy, the man, smiling at her was different than anyone she had seen in her classes or around campus. He had a gleam in his grey-blue eyes, a face chiseled, either because of genetics or scars or both. His half-smile or smirk was both annoying and adorable. She ran her eyes down the length of his arm that was around the back of her chair. He was just wearing a white t-shirt, but Olivia saw all she needed to see. This man was attractive. He was self-assured. He was everything her family had warned her about and more.
"Do I know you?" she asked.
"Not yet. I'm Fitz. I had a class with your friend Jo. Italian."
"Italian, huh?"
"Si," he said smiling. "That's about all I learned. I needed some credits and have always wanted to learn another language."
"So you're close to graduating, then?" Olivia asked, wondering what he meant by needing credits.
"One year," he said, smiling.
"Nice. What's next?" She was just making small talk. At that, she was a professional.
"Well, I'd tell you, but I barely know you."
She stared.
"Your name?" he asked.
"Oh," she said, looking out to the lake again. "Olivia."
"It's nice to meet you," Fitz said.
"You as well."
"Wow. How long has it been, thirty seconds and already the brush-off? I'm hurt," he said, following her gaze out to the lake. "I can take a hint. But before I go, really, what are you looking at out there?"
She sighed. "It wasn't a brush-off, I'm just not the best at this," she said, gesturing between the two of them.
"Conversation?" he asked.
She hit him lightly on the arm. "Talking to randoms at parties is more what I meant."
"I see." He looked at her, then nodded toward the lake.
"I was counting the boats, and just thinking about Chicago. I love it here. I'm going to miss it this summer. And I was thinking about how long it would take to swim or boat to the other side. To Michigan. What that would feel like, look like. The sounds and the sights and the tastes."
She finished talking, but Fitz didn't respond. She turned her head slowly. He was staring at her.
"What?" she asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"That was not the answer I was expecting," he said, brushing his hands on his jeans and standing. "Will you come with me?" he said, offering her his hand.
"Now? Where?"
"It's a five minute walk. We can tell your friends you're leaving and alert the authorities."
"That's not necessary. I just," she began.
"Don't usually leave parties with people you just met?"
"Something like that," she said, standing, but avoiding his hand.
She nodded to Jo, who smiled broadly. Olivia shook her head. She could tell Jo had been hoping this would happen.
They walked along the shore, through tall grass and eventually ended up at a long dock. Olivia had seen it before from the window of one of her classes, but hadn't known how to get down to it.
"Please take my hand. It's a little rickety, and I don't want you to hurt yourself," Fitz said, putting his hand out to her for the second time.
Reluctantly, she took it. It was warm, and big, and completely enveloped hers. There was a moment before they started moving where she saw Fitz look at their hands intertwined and then shake his head quickly, as if waking himself up from a daydream.
"It's further out than you think," he said, leading her to the end of the dock. They had to be at least 50 feet from shore, if not more.
"Now, do this," he said. He took his hands and cupped them around his eyes, blocking out his peripheral vision. She did the same, with a questioning look in her eyes.
"Trust me," he said. "Now, face directly out to the water."
She turned her body and did.
"Last direction, close your eyes, clear your mind, and then open them again."
"Okay," she said, in almost a whisper.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them.
All she saw was darkness. No boats. No city lights. No clouds, no sky, no water. Just darkness.
"It's so different," she said.
"The view changes completely, right?" he said. "It's like all of the other stuff just disappears. All you can hear are the waves. I love it."
"It's like magic," she said.
"Clears my head. I thought it might come in handy for you sometime. We can head back."
Fitz took his hands down and saw she was still standing with hers around her eyes, looking out at the lake. He watched her, not wanting to disrupt anything about the universe. She was breathing so quietly that she herself almost disappeared, except that ever since he had sat down next her he had felt a connection between them. She was right there. He would never forget this feeling, even if he never saw her again after tonight. And god, she was beautiful. Her creamy brown skin, rosy cheeks, big eyelashes (he had noticed them earlier), petite frame, nice body. All of it was beautiful. More beautiful than Lake Michigan or the ranch he had grown up on in Oklahoma.
She took her hands down and looked at him.
"Fitz, this was amazing. Perfect for my last night. Thank you for sharing this with me," she said. Something in her knew that even though he had probably been with a lot of women, he didn't bring them all here for relaxation and quiet time.
"You're welcome," he said. "Should we head back?"
"We probably should," she said, and she started leading the way down the dock. About halfway to shore, she stumbled. Fitz had been watching her very carefully, but even his quick reflexes weren't enough to stop her sideways momentum. He grabbed for her arm to try and stop her, but within seconds they were both bobbing in the water. It hadn't had a chance to heat up and was still way too cold for swimming.
Olivia put her legs down and realized she could almost stand. Her teeth chattered.
"Shit, are you okay?" he asked. "You didn't hit your head or anything?"
"Nope, just went straight in sideways. Graceful as always, that's me," she said, laughing through her chattering teeth.
"You okay to swim the rest of the way? It's just about 25 yards, I think."
"Yeah, I love swimming, and I can almost touch. And I can redeem myself a little."
She took off and beat him to the rocky shore. They climbed the rock wall back to the dock. Fitz put his arms around her instinctually. They were both freezing.
"Leave it to me to ruin the moment," she said, shaking her head. Her whole body shook.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," he said, helping he squeeze some water out of her hair which was now curling and frizzing. He rested his hands on her back and gave her a good entire body a good squeeze.
Olivia felt it immediately. She hadn't known that she would recognize attraction when it happened because it never had. But the feeling in her chest, and heat she suddenly felt in her body that was actually shaking with cold, she knew that was it.
Fitz felt it, too. He had had a girlfriend in high school for whom he cared a great deal, but she had gone to Oklahoma and was already engaged to running back on the football team. He had dated girls at Northwestern, but nobody seriously. But he knew what he was feeling when his hands ran up and down Olivia's back. He just didn't know what to do with it.
Olivia noticed that the self-assuredness she had observed earlier was gone. Fitz seemed to be in a trance. Almost frozen. She stepped back.
"We should go. I have some blankets in my room," she said.
"So do I. I mean, I have some in my apartment," he said, "and it's really close to here. That's how I found this place."
"Thank you, really, but I should head home. I'm just going straight to the hottest shower of my life."
She hadn't meant to give him a mental image of her in a steamy shower, but that is exactly what she did. He coughed once, cleared his throat, and stepped back immediately. He didn't want her to think less of him for being turned on. It wasn't like that. She was different.
"Sure, I'll walk you," he said, reaching out his hand to help her up the steps.
"No, it's okay, I can get there," she said.
"Olivia, I'm walking you. Come on."
He started up the steps but turned around repeatedly to make sure she was still there. She watched him from behind. She could see the outline of every muscle under his wet t-shirt. His jeans clung to his legs. His curly hair was trying to become unslicked from his head. She tried to stop imagining him in his shower, but she couldn't. When they got to the grass, they had to go their separate ways.
"Listen, Olivia, I'm sorry about our unexpected swim. I feel terrible."
"Don't! It was refreshing. My night went a lot differently than I had planned," she said.
He took one step toward her.
"Different good, or different bad?"
She tilted her head and looked into his eyes. What could she do? She could lie, but she had a sense he would see right through that, just like he could probably see right through her shirt.
"Different good," she said, smiling.
He smiled. It was like a switch was flipped. He was back to feeling confident. He took one more step and closed the gap between them.
"Same with me," he said, grabbing the bottom of her sweater and wringing out some more water. He didn't let go.
"Thank you, again," she said, breaking eye contact and stepping back. "Have a good summer, Fitz."
She turned and started walking away. She knew, she could sense, that he was watching her.
"Olivia?" he called out.
She stopped and turned but said nothing.
"I'll see you in August."
She smiled. He could see it even though she had walked away. She smiled and nodded slightly, then turned and headed back to her dorm.
It was going to be a long summer, indeed.