"La-da-di-da!" The doorbell chimes vibrated through the empty Roberts
house. Summer ran down the stairs and unlocked the front door. Seth stood
in the doorway and peered into the house. Summer had already scurried away
and was halfway up the stairs again.
"Well, thanks for such a lingering glance, my dear," Seth began to climb the stairs to follow her. "I know; it's difficult to resist the allure of such attractiveness."
"Summer?" Seth peered into the first door of the corridor. The bedroom was painted a deep violet with a white ceiling. Tiny silver stars had been painted on the ceiling, and Seth noticed that this room had maple hardwood floors, unlike the rest of the carpeted house. A large bed was nestled in one corner, neatly made with white blankets and a purple quilt folded at the edge of the bed. He moved across the room to the opposite wall, which featured three doorways. Summer called out from the middle door and waved her hand behind her.
"I'm in here - just hang on two seconds, I swear, I know that Prada bag is in here," she said. "Feel free to give yourself a tour."
Seth peeked his head into the room to the right of the voice. The bathroom was sparse and surprisingly clean. The décor was white with chrome, and the large vanity boasted organized shelves of every product to grace the pages of the latest beauty magazines. He crossed back over to the other door, and turned the handle of the wooden door.
The room was tiny and filled with books. One entire wall was a large bookshelf, filled with a mish-mash of hardcovers. Seth stepped inside the room and examined the titles. Anna Karenina, Macbeth, The Brothers Karamazov, J.R. - the shelves were chock-full of every classic, and some titles that Seth had never heard of. He turned around and scanned the rest of the room. Sheets of paper were pinned up on the remaining walls, interspersed with black-and-white photographs. Another stack of books sat atop a large wooden filing cabinet - titles like Managing Funds In An Uncertain Climate, The Risks of Blue-Chip Stocks, Business and Banking, Microeconomics in Corporate America. A large desk was pushed up against a circular window, the surface cluttered with papers, pens, notes and photographs. A large box of Crane's resume paper set off to the center, which several sheets of postage stamps scattered underneath. Infinite Jest, a mammoth 1,079 page novel by David Foster Wallace, was turned upside down in the middle of the desk, with a Post-It note on the cover. "Dependence/excess/addiction?" was scrawled across the yellow paper in Summer's handwriting. He bent over the desk and examined the row of leather-bound notebooks that were propped up with silver bookends.
"Hey." Seth jolted at the sound of Summer's voice. She looked a little surprised to see him standing at the desk, and he immediately wondered if he'd done something wrong.
"Oh, sorry, I was just - you told me to look around and. I'm sorry." He strode across the room and moved back into the main bedroom.
"It's no big deal." Summer looked down. "It's just my little study; I'm kind of private about it." She looked up at him and smiled at his disbelief. "Yes, I said my study." Her gaze traveled down to his t-shirt. "'Gravity,'" she read, "'It's not just a good idea, it's the law.'" She looked back at his face, then down to the slogan on the shirt again. "Cohen," she moaned and tilted her head to one side. "What am I going to do with you?"
"What?" he asked, a little self-consciously. He had almost worn the suit, but had decided to wear the shirt and a pair of lightweight corduroy pants instead. He felt more comfortable in these clothes, and hoped that Summer didn't make a fuss about it.
"Nothing." Summer read it again and laughed. "It's pretty clever." Seth breathed out a little sigh, which Summer noticed. "You know, Cohen," she wrapped her arms around his waist, "I'm not completely shallow."
"I know." Seth nuzzled her neck. "But I must say, from a completely shallow standpoint-" He stepped back and held Summer at arms-distance. She was wearing a creamy chiffon dress with thin straps and a wide scooped neckline. The dress skimmed her curves, fitted without being tight, but showing off her pretty spectacular shape. Sandals made of woven cream- colored ribbon added a few inches to her height, and she held a tiny pearl- encrusted clutch (the Prada one, no doubt) in one hand.
"See," Seth remarked, trying not to grin as he surveyed her. "There's really no need for me to dress up, because everyone there will be looking at you."
Summer blushed. She was used to compliments, but Seth's were different, mainly because she knew he really meant them, and that the purpose of his remarks was to make her feel good, not to get something for himself.
"Just one more thing." She picked up a strand of tiny pearls and draped it around her neck, holding the clasp with one hand while sweeping her hair up with the other. "Would you?"
Seth moved behind her, brushing the fingers gently as he took the ends of the necklace into his own hands. He joined the clasp together in one try. He let his hands travel down her back, barely touching her as he grazed her skin softly.
She turned around to face her, and they stood together wordlessly. Summer could feel her skin buzzing, and her breath seized up in her throat. Here was a boy she had ignored for most of her life, and now. Now she couldn't get enough of him. His face was so familiar, and yet, in this moment, she felt like she was really seeing him for the very first time.
"The party," she remembered, and smiled with Seth. "We need to go now, or I won't be able to keep my hands off you," she flirted.
"What a shame," Seth muttered.
Summer grinned up at him again. "C'mon, sugar!" She grabbed her purse and headed out of the room, down the stairs towards the front entrance.
"Sugar?" Seth looked down at her from the top of the staircase.
"It's 'sugar' or 'comic dork'" Summer teased. "Which one do you prefer?"
"Well, I am pretty sweet." Seth bounded down the stairs and opened the front door. "Sugar it is."
"You are so ridiculous," Summer stepped out the door and made her way over to the Range Rover.
"I believe that is, 'You are so ridiculous, sugar.'" Seth corrected her, as he started the car and they pulled out of the driveway.
"Whatever, Cohen."
"Whatever, sugar."
"Well, thanks for such a lingering glance, my dear," Seth began to climb the stairs to follow her. "I know; it's difficult to resist the allure of such attractiveness."
"Summer?" Seth peered into the first door of the corridor. The bedroom was painted a deep violet with a white ceiling. Tiny silver stars had been painted on the ceiling, and Seth noticed that this room had maple hardwood floors, unlike the rest of the carpeted house. A large bed was nestled in one corner, neatly made with white blankets and a purple quilt folded at the edge of the bed. He moved across the room to the opposite wall, which featured three doorways. Summer called out from the middle door and waved her hand behind her.
"I'm in here - just hang on two seconds, I swear, I know that Prada bag is in here," she said. "Feel free to give yourself a tour."
Seth peeked his head into the room to the right of the voice. The bathroom was sparse and surprisingly clean. The décor was white with chrome, and the large vanity boasted organized shelves of every product to grace the pages of the latest beauty magazines. He crossed back over to the other door, and turned the handle of the wooden door.
The room was tiny and filled with books. One entire wall was a large bookshelf, filled with a mish-mash of hardcovers. Seth stepped inside the room and examined the titles. Anna Karenina, Macbeth, The Brothers Karamazov, J.R. - the shelves were chock-full of every classic, and some titles that Seth had never heard of. He turned around and scanned the rest of the room. Sheets of paper were pinned up on the remaining walls, interspersed with black-and-white photographs. Another stack of books sat atop a large wooden filing cabinet - titles like Managing Funds In An Uncertain Climate, The Risks of Blue-Chip Stocks, Business and Banking, Microeconomics in Corporate America. A large desk was pushed up against a circular window, the surface cluttered with papers, pens, notes and photographs. A large box of Crane's resume paper set off to the center, which several sheets of postage stamps scattered underneath. Infinite Jest, a mammoth 1,079 page novel by David Foster Wallace, was turned upside down in the middle of the desk, with a Post-It note on the cover. "Dependence/excess/addiction?" was scrawled across the yellow paper in Summer's handwriting. He bent over the desk and examined the row of leather-bound notebooks that were propped up with silver bookends.
"Hey." Seth jolted at the sound of Summer's voice. She looked a little surprised to see him standing at the desk, and he immediately wondered if he'd done something wrong.
"Oh, sorry, I was just - you told me to look around and. I'm sorry." He strode across the room and moved back into the main bedroom.
"It's no big deal." Summer looked down. "It's just my little study; I'm kind of private about it." She looked up at him and smiled at his disbelief. "Yes, I said my study." Her gaze traveled down to his t-shirt. "'Gravity,'" she read, "'It's not just a good idea, it's the law.'" She looked back at his face, then down to the slogan on the shirt again. "Cohen," she moaned and tilted her head to one side. "What am I going to do with you?"
"What?" he asked, a little self-consciously. He had almost worn the suit, but had decided to wear the shirt and a pair of lightweight corduroy pants instead. He felt more comfortable in these clothes, and hoped that Summer didn't make a fuss about it.
"Nothing." Summer read it again and laughed. "It's pretty clever." Seth breathed out a little sigh, which Summer noticed. "You know, Cohen," she wrapped her arms around his waist, "I'm not completely shallow."
"I know." Seth nuzzled her neck. "But I must say, from a completely shallow standpoint-" He stepped back and held Summer at arms-distance. She was wearing a creamy chiffon dress with thin straps and a wide scooped neckline. The dress skimmed her curves, fitted without being tight, but showing off her pretty spectacular shape. Sandals made of woven cream- colored ribbon added a few inches to her height, and she held a tiny pearl- encrusted clutch (the Prada one, no doubt) in one hand.
"See," Seth remarked, trying not to grin as he surveyed her. "There's really no need for me to dress up, because everyone there will be looking at you."
Summer blushed. She was used to compliments, but Seth's were different, mainly because she knew he really meant them, and that the purpose of his remarks was to make her feel good, not to get something for himself.
"Just one more thing." She picked up a strand of tiny pearls and draped it around her neck, holding the clasp with one hand while sweeping her hair up with the other. "Would you?"
Seth moved behind her, brushing the fingers gently as he took the ends of the necklace into his own hands. He joined the clasp together in one try. He let his hands travel down her back, barely touching her as he grazed her skin softly.
She turned around to face her, and they stood together wordlessly. Summer could feel her skin buzzing, and her breath seized up in her throat. Here was a boy she had ignored for most of her life, and now. Now she couldn't get enough of him. His face was so familiar, and yet, in this moment, she felt like she was really seeing him for the very first time.
"The party," she remembered, and smiled with Seth. "We need to go now, or I won't be able to keep my hands off you," she flirted.
"What a shame," Seth muttered.
Summer grinned up at him again. "C'mon, sugar!" She grabbed her purse and headed out of the room, down the stairs towards the front entrance.
"Sugar?" Seth looked down at her from the top of the staircase.
"It's 'sugar' or 'comic dork'" Summer teased. "Which one do you prefer?"
"Well, I am pretty sweet." Seth bounded down the stairs and opened the front door. "Sugar it is."
"You are so ridiculous," Summer stepped out the door and made her way over to the Range Rover.
"I believe that is, 'You are so ridiculous, sugar.'" Seth corrected her, as he started the car and they pulled out of the driveway.
"Whatever, Cohen."
"Whatever, sugar."