Days of Summer

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The game started on National Talk Like a Pirate Day. That was years ago; they were kids. But Leila decided at some point in the day that she was going to commit to it, and she was going to hold Adam to it.

“Ye not be speakin’ correctly,” she said, as they walked home from school.

Adam laughed. “Are we still doing that?”

“Aye, ’til the sun splashes into the briney, methinks.”

Adam stopped short. They made eye contact. Even Leila seemed surprised at her own commitment, and the two of them fell to laughing hysterically.

After that it was Stay Away From Seattle Day – an easy feat, given the bulk of a continent between them and the Pacific Northwest. But they made a point throughout the day of proclaiming they were particularly not visiting Seattle this day, in observance of the holiday.

The game progressed through the years. It became the thread that held the two of them together. Lifelong neighbors, Adam and Leila had begun their friendship out of the easy proximity of kids the same age. As they moved through high school, took on new interests, new friends, they might have drifted apart.

But then one or the other would find a note pinned to their locker, pushed under their door, slipped stealthily into their pocket, calling out the holiday to come. A gentle warning that the rules of the day must be observed when the time came.

Part of the fun was digging up obscure holidays.

On Old Rock Day they met up after school, drove to a nature trail. Despite the January chill they hiked into the woods in search of the oldest rock they could find.

After about half a mile, Leila stopped, shivering, stomping her feet for warmth. “What about this one?”

Adam stopped beside her, looking off to the side of trail, where small boulder emerged from the hillside. Lichen clung to one side of it; the other was smoothed to a sparkling sheen by years of wind and rain. Its top was split by the roots of a tree gripping life in an unlikely place.

“How old do you think it is?” Adam said.

“It’s gotta be, like, a million years old.”

They stood looking at it, cocking their heads this way and that.

“That’s an old rock,” Adam said.

“Mm.”

And then they just regarded the rock awhile, appreciating, celebrating its oldness. Until by tacit agreement they decided they’d given it their due, and they returned to the warmth of Adam’s car.

Festival of Sleep Day was Leila’s favorite. A world-class napper, she always claimed victory, despite Adam’s protest it wasn’t a competition. On Thesaurus Day they held short simple conversations very slowly, consulting their references each time they spoke.

“I consider I shall proceed to Mary’s fête on Saturday. You?”

“I am obliged to serve on Saturday, lamentably.”

“Alas.”

“Alas.”

The game kept them in touch when they went off to college, when they went through relationships, break-ups, exams, menial jobs. The notes went from slipped into lockers to pinged on instant messaging software, to emails, to text messages. Sometimes home for breaks they’d slip a ragged piece of notebook paper under a windshield wiper, just for old times’ sake.

June 1: Say Something Nice Day read one such note in Adam’s chicken scratch.

“Nice ass!” Leila yelled after him, on the appointed day, as she saw him pulling weeds in his mother’s flowerbed.

He smiled at her over his shoulder, gave a little shake. She laughed. Then she saw his mother looking out the window, confused, and ducked away, laughing harder.

Leila immediately set about trying to find another day to commemorate. She’d had a tough year: she and her roommate had fallen out, she’d gone through a hard break-up, the major in biology she’d set out to pursue was turning out to be far more difficult than she’d been prepared for. She’d been stressed, and returning home to unwind for the summer hadn’t unraveled the knot in her stomach as much as she’d hoped for.

It hadn’t, that is, until she saw the scrawled note on her windshield, that familiar sloppy handwriting, the invitation to step back into an old comfortable tradition. It had dropped the tension from her shoulders like popping a balloon. And Adam’s goofy smile, his awkward ass-shake, had gone even further: it had made her happy, a feeling she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

June 3: Repeat Day. June 3: Repeat Day, she wrote, then added two little hearts, and slipped the note into the mail slot.

“I’m gonna go get the papers get the papers,” Adam said the morning of June 3, the moment Leila emerged from the front door.

He’d been waiting, he was not ashamed to admit it. Standing on the front porch with his parents’ copy of the morning paper rolled at his feet. Repeat Day, a chance to reference their favorite moment from Goodfellas that they’d giggled endlessly over as kids. It was too much to pass up, so he’d stood on his porch for a solid twenty minutes waiting for her to emerge.

It was worth it. Leila immediately doubled over laughing. She laughed kilis escort so hard her eyes watered. She laughed so hard she snorted, and then Adam was at it too. They laughed until the original joke was forgotten; they laughed until Leila forgot what she’d come outside to do. They laughed away the tensions they’d gathered in each other’s absence, the stresses of learning to be adults. They laughed themselves right back into the carefree days of each other’s company.

“I don’t have a cat,” Leila said, when she caught Adam squeezing a slip of paper into the slats of the fence that stood between their backyards. June 4: Hug Your Cat Day.

Adam shrugged, laughing, blushing a little. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

She gave him a long look, eyes narrowed. He just laughed, shrugged again, then later made a show of clutching his family cat close where she couldn’t fail to see him through the window.

June 6: Drive-In Movie Day was written on a post it stuck to the mirror in Adam’s bathroom. He didn’t question how she’d gotten it there. It was nothing new for Leila to find new and increasingly surprising ways to introduce these announcements.

But Adam did find his heartrate spiking as he looked at Leila’s distinctive looping handwriting. Drive-In Movie Day. This felt different from their usual routine with these oddball holidays. For one, they were coming rapidly, each new day announcement announced right on the heels of the last. It suggested Leila was enjoying this as much as he was, that she needed it as much as he did, after the confusing and alienating year at college.

But more than that, this tradition had always been about finding reasons to do silly things. Talk like a pirate, be kind to lawyers, speak in opposites or haikus. It had brought them together, given them excuses to hang out when life had pulled them apart, but it had always been about the gag, the gimmick of obscure holidays. A drive-in movie felt different. And Adam found he was excited.

There were details on the back of the slip about times. They chose an old movie about werewolves descending on a small town in Iowa. They took Leila’s car so they could back into the spot, open the hatchback, sit back together in the spacious trunk.

They’d gone to movies together before, of course. Their first one had been an animated movie about kids gaining magical powers. Adam had cried in fear when the villain, the gym teacher Mr. Kidsbane, had revealed himself to be a warlock, and lightning had crashed behind him and bats had erupted from nowhere to swirl around him. Leila had squeezed Adam’s hand, his mother had murmured quiet assurances, and he’d been too embarrassed to face either of them for days afterward.

Seeing movies together was nothing new. But as they settled in, sharing a popcorn, as Adam leaned into the back of the trunk and Leila leaned against him, and he felt her warmth and he smelled the soap on her skin, the light floral scent of her hair, he found his body was responding, his heart was pounding, and he barely caught the movie’s setup where it was explained werewolves were reemerging in Iowa after centuries of dormancy because of some confluence of the harvest moon and a very specific planetary alignment.

Leila could feel Adam’s tension, and it mirrored her own pounding heart, and for a while she sat there wondering if she’d made a mistake, if in suggesting something so like a date for their oldest game she’d torn down the comfort they’d always had with each other.

So when the full moon rose in the movie, and Farmer Gorman began to transform in a horrendous display of antiquated stop-motion special effects, and the camera zoomed back and panned over his fields, Leila said, just to say something, “I hope werewolves like corn.” And Adam laughed, and relaxed, and Leila laughed, and sank back against him, and they laughed together harder and longer than the joke justified, and for the rest of the evening they mocked the movie and they laughed at its absurdities, and at some point Leila was squeezing Adam’s hand as if to comfort him against the menace of Mr. Kidsbane. And when at the end of the movie the square-jawed broad-shouldered Jack Buckshot sent a silver bullet into Farmer Gorman’s heart to end the werewolf scourge for good, they cheered together as if a real mortal danger had been averted.

They parted semi-awkwardly in Leila’s driveway, and when he was alone Adam found himself thinking about how it had felt when they’d first settled into the trunk, when he’d felt Leila’s closeness, her warmth, when he’d responded in a way he’d never expected, when she’d leaned back against him and he’d just wanted to wrap his arms around her, to pull her closer.

And even as Adam let his body move on its own, as his hand slid into his pants and grasped his stiffening cock, Leila too was thinking about that moment, about how for the first time in her life she’d been nervous around Adam, and she didn’t understand why, it was just a movie. But she’d felt the tension kırklareli escort in him. She’d felt a pull, almost, and she realized what she’d felt – or what she thought she’d felt – was him wanting her. She’d diffused the tension with a joke, because she’d been scared, but now she allowed herself to wonder what might have happened if she hadn’t, if instead she’d leaned closer, looked in his eyes…

Adam took his cock out, pushed away thoughts that this was wrong, that he was sullying something by thinking these thoughts, and he allowed himself to imagine himself and Leila in the back of her car, the hatchback open to the world, undressing each other, touching each other, kissing each other, not knowing that a scant handful of feet away, across the narrow gap between their two windows, Leila was picturing something very similar, her panties dangling from one foot, her vibrator pressed between her thighs. And at the same time, thinking mirroring thoughts, nearly close enough to hear each other, they both bucked and gasped, and Leila bit her hand to keep from crying out, and Adam grunted and sprayed his chest and stomach with cum. And then they both lay there in the subsiding waves of their orgasms, not knowing they’d shared this moment, a fear slowly rising in each of them that they’d somehow betrayed the other.

The next morning a small package was on Adam’s front porch. Leila’s car was gone. Adam opened the package to find one doughnut and one empty space with a ring of grease where the doughnut’s twin had been. A note was taped to the top of the box: Happy National Doughnut Day, accompanied by a small heart.

June 9, Donald Duck Day, was a return to form. They sat and they talked and laughed at the spit dribbling from each other’s mouths, both resisting the urge to reach out and wipe it off, and they understood little of what the other said.

Iced Tea Day. Corn on the Cob Day. Adam and Leila threw themselves into the specifics of the occasions, willfully pushing away any other thoughts. Leila almost peed her pants from too much iced tea. Adam ate as much corn as he could, as fast as he could, as Leila looked on in amused disgust.

Adam noticed Red Rose Day and pointedly skipped it, opting instead to scrawl June 15: World Juggling Day, and subsequently learned that Leila was an old pro at juggling. As Adam failed to get two balls going at the same time, Leila went up to four, throwing behind her back, through her legs. And finally Adam just sat back and watched, a grin steadily growing on his face. When Leila focused she squeezed her tongue between her lips, the tip of it just emerging from the right side of her mouth. Her eyes were laser-focused on the balls when they weren’t glancing at Adam, taking in his appreciation.

She finished with a flourish and beamed at Adam, who erupted into applause.

That night Leila couldn’t pull her mind away from how Adam had looked at her. How he’d watched, surprised, obviously, at her secret juggling ability, but something else as well. In the glimpses she’d stolen of him she’d seen him unguarded, the feeling plain on his face, unconstrained by whatever guardrails he’d erected to hold himself back. There was that wanting again, seeping through his mask, there for her to see.

She didn’t know what to do with it. It thrilled her, to feel him looking at her like that. But then when he laughed, and he applauded, and he fell back into her old Adam, her buddy, it was a relief, even while it felt too like a cloud suddenly occluding the sun.

Their street ended in a cul-de-sac, and the sidewalk continued down into a small wooded area. They met there for International Picnic Day.

“Our place” is what they’d called it as kids. Once it had seemed like a forest, a place they could get lost when they chose. A clearing in the middle of it was dominated by a large smoothed-out tree trunk, which had served as many purposes as they’d had games: it was stage, table, cliffside, deathbed in dramatic period pieces.

Adam had been uncertain about calling out International Picnic Day. Ever since the drive-in, he’d been so nervous about pushing this too far, taking it from the realm of fun and whimsy it had always been into something forced and awkward, something that broke down the easy familiarity he’d always valued so much with Leila. But it had been years since they’d descended the path to this place where they used to spend so much time. When he saw International Picnic Day and he thought about how nice it might be to just be with her in this place, he went for it without allowing himself to overthink it.

Leila, meanwhile, had seen something else come up in her search for obscure holidays. She’d laughed at it, filed it away, moved on, telling herself of course she wouldn’t bring it up. But as she walked down to their place for the picnic Adam planned, she thought this is where they would go, if they observed that other holiday. As she watched Adam awkwardly spread a blanket over the tree stump, karabük escort as she watched him pour wine into little plastic cups, as she giggled at how nervous he seemed, she thought about it.

Leila trailed off a couple times as they spoke; Adam caught her looking at him strangely. She was wearing a v-neck t shirt that fit tightly around her large breasts, and he noticed her nipples were pressing visibly against the material. He tried not to stare.

“What is it?” he said, and Leila laughed, and shook her head, but she looked flushed.

“Do you remember?” she said finally, as if in explanation. “When we saw those two…?”

Of course he remembered. He didn’t need her to say anything else. It had been the previous summer. They’d walked down to this place to hear giggling, a surprised shriek. They’d seen hints of movement, a scurrying, and emerged finally to see two pale bodies scampering away through the trees, naked. They’d gasped and gaped at each other, and they saw a forgotten pair of women’s underwear crumpled in the dirt, and a discarded condom wrapper.

“Of course,” Adam said now, laughing. “Is that what you were just thinking about?”

Leila nodded, blushing.

“Kinda changed this place, didn’t it?” she said.

“Yeah,” Adam said, and now he looked flushed, and Leila watched him look at her, and knew what he was thinking. And she saw his eyes trail down to her chest, and a blush creep into his face, and then he looked away, seemingly with an effort, and he laughed, and he said, “Do you think they ever came back here?”

“I don’t know,” Leila said. “Not that I ever saw.”

Adam looked at her, and she laughed, and she made her eyes wide, and she said “And trust me, I looked.”

Adam laughed too, and said “Me too,” and they laughed together, and it was an easy, comfortable laugh, but there was something more to it now.

And the subject moved to other things, but still Leila thought about the holiday she’d come across, and she wondered if she’d do it, and she looked at Adam and thought about what that might be like, and she caught him looking at her and she saw that flicker in his eyes. And she found she wanted him to look at her, wanted to see that bare wanting in his eyes.

That night as Leila stripped naked in her room, as she imagined his eyes on her, she allowed herself to wonder if he was next door doing the same, if he was hard thinking about her, if he was touching himself even as she was running her vibrator up the flesh of her thighs. She wondered if, when she’d seen his face grow flushed and his eyes move over her, if his body had responded, if he’d had to look away and distract himself so she wouldn’t see the bulge rising in his shorts.

As she touched herself she thought about the upcoming holiday she’d seen, and she knew she would do it, she would write it on a slip of paper and give it to him, and she hated that it was nearly a month away. As she pushed the vibrator against her clit she thought about standing in front of him, undressing, feeling his eyes run all over her naked body. She thought about seeing his cock, seeing it grow hard for her, seeing him unable to control himself, touching himself, cumming for her. And even as she came thinking about it, he was doing just that right next door.

#

On Sauntering Day they walked the neighborhood with exaggerated slowness, leaning back on their heels, swinging their arms in an aggressive display of casualness. They stood still on the sidewalk in front of their houses on Daylight Appreciation Day, remarking on how lovely it was for the sun to be out. They ate onion rings on the official day of observance for the snack. And all the while Leila felt Adam looking at her, feeling a new weight to his regard, and she could tell he was torturing himself, unsure what to do with this newfound attraction for her. She found it sweet, if frustrating, that he didn’t want to spoil what they had, and in a way she didn’t either. But every night she made herself cum thinking about him doing the same nearby, imagining him unable to help himself, his cock desperately hard for her. She felt sometimes like she was contributing to his torture, but there was something so pleasurable about it, building the anticipation, knowing the day was coming, though her heart raced in fear and uncertainty when she thought about it.

She bought a new swimsuit for Swim a Lap Day, chiding herself even as she tried it on, wondering if she was making a fool of herself. She felt naked when she slipped off her cover-up, her breasts barely contained in her top; it was unlike anything she’d ever considered wearing. But she loved the look on his face when he saw her, how he was completely incapable of looking away from her chest, his eyes trailing down her body, back up. How he quickly, awkwardly, jumped into the pool, to hide, she thought, how his body responded.

Leila was right, she was driving Adam crazy. The swimsuit had been nearly too much for him. It was all he could do to get himself under control at the pool, and he was barely able to wait until he had a decent opportunity for relief at home. If Leila had asked him – as she, laughing to herself, thought about doing – how quickly he’d cum thinking about her later that night, she wouldn’t have been able to contain her laughter at his answer.

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