Spring Fling (A Virgin May December Romance), page 1
Copyright
© 2019 Lila Younger
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
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Pippa
I roll down the windows and breathe in the salty sea air. The sun is shining high in the sky, making the waves glint as they rush towards shore. I immediately brace myself against the suitcases on the seat beside me, my body remembering the sharp turn ahead before I’m conscious of it. My family has come to Twin Cove Island for spring break. It’s a family tradition at this point to visit, although usually we come for the summer. That’s why I’m especially glad we get to come here for spring break. After all, I’m planning on staying in D.C. for an internship, so this will be the only time as a family we’ll get. Everything is just as I remember it, from the little ice cream shack on the corner where my friends and I would hang out to the quaint bumpy road along the beach we’d take to the house we rented. Even the fact that I’m sitting on the left hand side to catch the view is the same.
“We’re almost there,” my dad says unnecessarily.
We drive over a gentle hill and arrive at a fork in the road. In years past, we would turn right, toward the cheaper vacation rentals. This year though, we go left towards the beach front homes. I count off the homes until we arrive at our destination. The house is big, two stories, and windows everywhere to take advantage of the view. The paint is weathered, which is to be expected since it’s right by the ocean. I open the door, leaving the luggage to my dad and run up the steps. I’ve been here many times before, so I know that there’s a spare key hidden just behind the broken lamp by the door. I open it up and walk in, throwing aside the curtains and stirring up the dust. The furniture inside is big and cozy, with faded spots and grooves from continual use. The place is probably worth at least a million or two, but not because of the house itself. It’s because of the view. I burst through the back door of the kitchen to enjoy it.
A soft sandy path winds through the brush, and before me is the private beach. Water breaks onto the sand, and the roar of the ocean is unmistakable. I take in a huge lungful of air, and suddenly, I feel the weight of my first year of college lift away. It’s been such a crazy year. I was a decent high school student, and I really thought that college would be more of the same. But it’s not. I’m living in one of the biggest dorms on campus, and it’s so easy to get caught up in everything and forget about school, especially when attendance isn’t mandatory. It wasn’t until I almost failed my midterms that I got the wakeup call I needed to get serious again. My goal is to become a lawyer one day, which means I have to get good grades. Even now I’ve got two online summer classes to hopefully raise up my GPA. The internship will hopefully help boost my law school application too.
I hear footsteps and turn around. Mom and dad come up behind me.
“Sure is nice of Chase to let us use the place isn’t it?” dad says.
Chase is dad’s best friend. His family’s owned this place for forever, back before it became a local getaway for the well off from the city. During high school, Chase’s parents died in a crash and he ended up moving in with dad and my grandparents for two years. I think Chase actually lives here when the air force isn’t sending him off on all sorts of different missions.
My face heats up at the thought of my dad’s friend. I know what most people would think: how could I possibly have a crush on a man as old as my dad? But they’re nothing alike, despite being best buds. Dad got married to his high school sweetheart, had a baby and promptly lost all his hair. Chase, on the other hand, signed up for the air force so it would pay his college tuition, and he’s been in there ever since. I think he’s someone high up by now, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen him. But the military keeps him in excellent shape, and he’s got a steely exterior that hides a brilliant smile and sexy laugh. When I was younger, nothing made me happier than getting one of those smiles.
We talked a lot, despite everything, mostly because Chase never treated me like a dumb kid. We discussed everything, and when I didn’t understand something, he explained it instead of dismissing me. We also debated over things too, and it’s really because of him that I discovered how much I wanted to be a lawyer, to build up a good argument that could win people over. In those moments, it wasn’t his looks that drew me in, it was his intelligence, his maturity and experience. With him, I felt like more than just a teenager, although I’m pretty sure he never thought that way. To him I was his best friend’s daughter, and I never saw even a hint of anything more.
I still remember some of the things I used to do to catch his attention, including one embarrassing time when I bought this super-hot red bikini. It had polka dots and spaghetti straps, and I had to beg my mom to buy it. Of course, I was only fifteen, and flat as a board, so it probably didn’t look very good, but I thought it would catch Chase’s attention. Next thing I know, a wave washes over me, and my bikini with it. I still want to melt into a puddle when I think back on it.
I pretty much stuck to one piece suits after that. At least, until I magically grew at the start of senior year. Suddenly I had more curves than I knew what to do with. I mean, I have to wear bras now, and it’s sometimes hard to find jeans that can fit over my ass without jumping around to squeeze into them. Guys started looking my way too, not that I knew what to do about it. Deep down inside, I still feel like that awkward kid. I mean, I still haven’t had sex yet. I feel like it’s so obvious, and I get so flustered about it that in the end, I’d rather just skip the embarrassment and not go back with a guy.
If Chase were to offer though… my lower half heats up at the thought. God, I’ve gotten off to that fantasy so many times.
“I don’t suppose he’s going to stop by?” I ask casually.
“Don’t think so. They have him off overseas doing something last I heard. You know how it is. He can’t really say. But that’s why he asked us to come and look things over for him. I should probably do that right now actually,” my dad says. He doesn’t move though, and I know that he’ll probably just be relaxing for at least a few days before even thinking about doing repairs.
“I think the nicest part is that you get to be here the whole vacation this time,” my mom says, giving my dad a kiss on the cheek.
Dad’s a math teacher, and most of the time, he’s busy all summer teaching to make extra money. He comes for a weekend, but that’s it. Mom and I usually take an extra week before or after. But this year, since we changed it to spring break, dad’s going to get to be here longer. And now that I’m in college and mom went back to work part time, he’s going to get a summer off. I think him and mom plan on visiting me at some point in D.C. I’m glad for him, because school is really tough. Dad is a serious geek about math, but most high schoolers hate it, so by June, he’s pretty much drained. He deserves a whole summer to recharge.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I smile as soon as I see who’s calling. Fiona, one of my best friends from high school. Her family also vacationed on Twin Coves every summer. We’re in two different school districts, but every summer, we get together and it’s like no time has passed at all. She decided to go to Duke, so I haven’t seen her since last summer. When I asked her to come for spring break, she agreed right away. I think she’s going to do something like volunteering down in Costa Rica this summer. She plans on majoring in environmental science, creating sustainable homes or something like that.
“Fiona’s here,” I say, holding up my phone. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“I better get the luggage out then,” dad says.
I put the phone to my ear.
“Hey Fi,” I say happily. “Perfect timing. We just got here.”
“Good. It’s about time. We got in last night,” she says. “We’ve already got everything set up to party!”
She’s got a high, bubbily voice, the kind that makes you think of a ditz, even though she’s anything but.
“Dad had to get everything set up still. But don’t worry, I’m ready to have some fun,” I tell her.
“I know, it’s going to be so great! Meet you at the corner?” she asks.
“Actually, dad’s friend let us use his house this year, so I’m down by the beach already. I can pick you up at the door.”
“Ooooo, how nice!” she says. “I’ll see you in ten. I’ve got so much to fill you in on!”
I tuck my phone back in my pocket and hurry out the door. Dad’s stacked all the luggage in the front entry, and he tosses me the keys as I blow past.
“Dinner at six,” he calls out. “And don’t be late. I made reservations.”
“Got it dad!” I say, waving to him as I open up the driver side door.
I pull out of the driveway and head down the road. Twin Coves is essentially an irregular shaped oval, with a cove on either end. Locals generally stick to the south
“I can only hang out for a bit,” I tell her.
“That’s fine. Wanna get cones?”
“Yup.”
Fi and I bonded when I dropped my ice cream cone and she immediately shared hers with me. We were seven, and that gesture cemented our friendship. Our parents never really got along, but we sure did. We make it a tradition to always get ice cream cones on our first day back on the island. A short drive later, we arrive into town. I find a place to park, and we walk towards the old ice cream shop. Now that we’re nineteen, it’s not cool to hang out around here, but we don’t care. I get strawberry, and Fi get bubblegum, and then we start walking.
“Want to go to the Cove?” I ask.
Fi wrinkles her nose.
“Nah, let’s hit up West Beach,” she suggests.
The Cove is mostly for families, since it’s well protected from the ocean wave by natural rock formations. West Beach is on the other side of one of those rock formations, and it’s great for surfing and well, everyone who isn’t a little kid or the parent of one. Since it’s only a ten minute walk, we leave the car and go on foot. Along the way, we catch up on everything that’s happened between us. Fi’s band has been booking lots of gigs lately, and she’s hopeful about a demo tape that they’ve sent out two weeks ago. She plays in a sort of punk-pop band as the lead singer. I told you she’s cool. She’s conscious of the environment, musical, alternative, fashionable… Meanwhile, I tell her all about almost flunking school. I can tell her attention is wavering as soon as we hit the beach, and it becomes clear in about half a second. A guy waves, and she pulls me over.
“Fi?”I ask.
“Come on,” she says. “His name’s Ben. I met him the other night. He’s got friends too. Hot friends.”
I dig my heels into the sand.
“Friends? I’m not looking for anyone,” I tell her.
“I know, I know. You never are. And I’m not pushing you to do it either. But it can’t hurt to have a little spring fling, can it? I mean, that’s what it’s all about. Spring break at the beach, having some fun with a cutie that you won’t have to worry about once the week ends…”
I pause, biting my lip. I’ve honestly never considered it. Fi knows about how I’m still a virgin, or at least, she’s guessed. We’ve never actually talked, but she can put two and two together. After all, she’s always got a story about a guy, and I… well I don’t. It’s not like I’m some kind of a prude. I had orgasms, even if they’re from myself instead of a guy. And I definitely, definitely want to.
“It’ll be good. Worst thing that can happen is that it doesn’t work out, and you don’t have to see him again next year.”
“I see you every year,” I point out.
She brushes it off.
“You need to practice, Pippa,” she says. “Otherwise, the right guy will come along, and you’ll be too scared to ever make a move.”
I look over at the guy, who has gone back to playing beach volleyball. His friends did look cute, although I doubt half of them could converse as well as Chase could. Still, maybe Fi has a point. Maybe it is better to mess up now, get all my mistakes out of the way, so that when I finally found someone (Okay, Chase, if I’m being truthful), then I’d be ready for him.
“Just keep an open mind,” Fi says, mistaking my silence as doubt. “That’s all I ask.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “I guess I could use a little fun after the year I’ve had.”
“Attagirl,” Fi says, and we jog off after Ben.
Pippa
Tim, the guy Fi had in mind for me, is cute. Not my kind of cute, but I can tell by the other envious stares from the other girls at the beach that he definitely had an effect on most women. He’s got a baby kind of a face, but he’s nice to me, and hey, does the bar really have to be that high for a guy I’ll be hanging out with for a week? Out of niceness, I decided to go along with Fi’s suggestion to see where things lead. I mean, I couldn’t exactly find anything wrong with him, so I guess I could at least give the guy a chance right?
The next day, Fi and I hang out with Tim and her guy, Ben. Our schedules at the beach are fairly simple. We get up around 10 a.m., eat a late breakfast, and head to the beach for the rest of the day. At first Tim would put his arm over my shoulder or try to hold my hand, because these things tend to move pretty fast. I politely move out of the way though, and after a time or two, he seems to realize that I’m not interested. And that is the end of that.
And to be honest, I’m relieved. At least the whole charade could be done with. Tim seems to be really into football, something that almost borders on obsession. He doesn’t talk about anything else. I like clothes, but even I don’t spend three hours talking about it. Fi seems disappointed at first, but I explain that we just didn’t click after he made up some excuse to go play Frisbee with some other girl and we ended up at the beach just the three of us.
“Maybe you could have clicked,” she argues.
I shake my head, thinking of Chase and I, and how it seemed like we were always in sync, talking freely and for hours at a time. Doesn’t matter if the relationship is for a day or for a decade; I’m not going to waste my time with someone who treats me as a captive audience for his interests.
“It’s not something you’re supposed to work at,” I tell her. “Don’t worry about it. There’ll be someone. I won’t be alone forever.”
She looks at me, chewing the inside of her cheek.
“I just feel bad about well, spending extra time with Ben. I know that summers are our thing, and since we won’t see each other this year...”
“You shouldn’t. I’m pretty used to being the third wheel, and besides, we talked all the time this semester. It’ll be just fine. I mean, it had to happen sometime. We won’t always be single.”
“I guess you’re right,” she says, giving me a hug. “See you tomorrow morning?”
“For sure,” I tell her. “We can get brunch at Sandy’s.”
I get up, dust myself off, and pack up my towel and things. As I hike through the sand, I sigh. Will I ever find someone like Chase? That’s the real question. There were a couple guys in college that I was friendly with, but they were like Tim, more interested in getting tail or themselves than anything else. I didn’t want to be just another notch in the bedpost. It sounds silly, but for my virginity, I wanted to be with someone who’d at least understand that meant something to me. At this rate though, I’m going to be like thirty before I ever get laid.
********
I wake up the next morning with the strangest feeling. I sit up out of my bed, trying to figure it out. I have the blinds pulled down, and the room is cast in shadow. Someone had decorated this room in shades of blue, like the ocean outside, with lots of white starfishes everywhere. They were on pillows, sheets, and paintings. One hung on the back of my door, and more formed a centerpiece on the chest of drawers on the opposite side of the bed. There were starfish stitched into the rug. Even in the semi-darkness I could make out the five pointed shape all through the room. The other rooms were the same, except they replaced starfish with birds and fish. That was my parents’ room. The last one, the door firmly closed, is Chase’s. I haven’t worked up the nerve to peer into it, even though I’m dying to.
Suddenly I realize what is bothering me: a low rumble of a voice different from my parents. They like to wake up absurdly early, even on vacation, and today’s no different. I wonder who the mysterious voice could belong to. They don’t know the neighbors, and I didn’t remember them telling me about any visitors either. I kick off the covers and pull on a hoodie. I like to sleep in just a tank and cute shorts, but there’s no need to flash my dad with my nipples, that’s for sure. Once I’m sufficiently covered up, I head down the stairs. I peer into the living room first, before heading towards the kitchen.
