Summer Fling: An Anthology by Vi Keeland

 

 

 

 

Lola

THE NEXT MORNING,I slept in.

The house was quiet, and I found Summer and Charlie on the front porch. They both had champagne flutes in their hands, instead of their usual mugs.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Summer said.

I sat down on a rocking chair. “Are you drinking alcohol already? I know I slept late, but it’s not even ten o’clock.”

Summer sipped. “We’re having mimosas. It doesn’t count as alcohol. You want one?”

I lifted my mug. “Maybe after I have my caffeine fix.”

A pile of folded clothes sat on the small table between them. I noticed the underwear on top.

“Is that my underwear?”

“Sure is. Apparently crazy ass hot landlord had a change of heart and decided to return our stuff rather than donate it all.”

I looked around feeling instantly rattled. “The landlord was here? You spoke to him?”

Charlie shook her head. “We found this pile on the porch when we came out this morning. So someone dropped it off.”

God, I could’ve been sitting out here when Silas decided to return them. That thought freaked me out. I needed some time to mentally prepare for that meeting to happen. Which reminded me…I had to fill my friends in on my plans for tonight. And I had a feeling they weren’t going to be too happy.

“Speaking of hot landlord…I spoke to him last night.”

Summer frowned. “You promised us you wouldn’t call him, Lo. Is that why we got the clothes back? He’s kicking us out and this is so we can pack our bags?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t call him. He called me.”

Charlie pursed her lips. “That’s a bit of a technicality, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But I still technically kept my promise.”

Summer shook her head. “What happened on the phone?”

“Nothing bad. I’m almost positive he has no idea that the nutty Brit bike rider, the tipsy woman who called from the bathroom stall, and his singing in the street tenant are all the same person.”

“Okay, well…I guess that’s good. He returned our clothes, so let’s just not violate any more of the rules that can get us kicked out, and keep our distance from him.”

“Ummm. That might be a little difficult…considering I’m meeting him in person tonight.”

My friends’ eyes bulged and they spoke in unison. “You’re what?”

“I really like him. I want to see where it goes.”

“You really like the grumpy landlord who smacks our hand about every little violation, steals our clothes, and threatens to kick us out?”

“I really like Mr. Good Time…Silas.”

“They’re one and the same, Lo!” Charlie said.

I sighed. “I know. But I understand him a little bit better now. He got fined from the town because of us. And he basically manages this and another property and gives all the money to his mother and sister. Being a landlord sucks as much as being the person he has to tell to follow the rules.”

“Ugh. Fine. So what’s your plan when you meet him?”

I winced. “I don’t exactly have one. I guess I just come clean and win him over with my sparkling personality?”

Summer and Charlie exchanged looks. “Oh boy. I think we better start packing.”

I was a nervous wreck by the time eight o’clock rolled around. Standing in front of the door to Salty’s, I took a deep breath and wiped my sweaty palms on my sundress. I still had no idea what I was going to say, other than to apologize for not coming clean sooner. A big part of me wanted to just turn around and run back home. But something about Silas felt like he might be worth taking the risk.

As I stood in front of the entrance and debated fleeing, the door opened and a couple walked out. The man held the door for me to go in, which abruptly ended my stalling. I walked inside the bar with my heart pounding against my rib cage. Glancing around, it looked like Salty’s was even more packed than usual. I held my breath while I scanned the faces at the bar first. Twenty or so people sat on stools, and a few were standing. The majority were couples, but there was also a group of women on one end and then two guys down at the other. Though, there was no Silas wearing sunglasses. So I turned to check out the tables in the adjoining open seating area. Almost every one was taken, and my eyes nervously skimmed over each one.

A couple holding hands.

A foursome of friends that I was certain weren’t over the legal drinking age.

Two older women sharing nachos.

Perusing at least a dozen full tables, my heart stopped when I landed on a pair of sunglasses. A man was sitting alone, toward the back by the restroom. Taking in the full person, I blew out a ragged sigh of relief. The guy was probably in his sixties, and his sunglasses were more like my grandfather’s blue blockers than a pair of aviators. He wore a red bandana wrapped around his head do-rag style, a Hawaiian shirt buttoned only to his navel, and a white shell necklace hung around his neck.

Definitely not my hot landlord.

Since I’d been staring, the guy must’ve thought I was checking him out. He smiled and waved, and I chuckled to myself and returned the polite gesture.

I finished scanning the room and found no sign of Silas. Checking the time on my phone, I realized I was five minutes early. I’d probably just beaten him here. My nerves were pretty damn frazzled, so I went to the bar to get a glass of wine to help calm down before he arrived. Fifteen minutes later, I started to wonder if maybe I was going to be stood up. But it was only ten after eight, so perhaps he was just late.

At eight fifteen and still no sign of my date, I finished my wine and decided to go to the bathroom. If Silas didn’t show up by the time I came out, I’d call it a night. I left my empty glass on the bar and headed to the restroom. Inside the stall that had started it all, I stared at the note about calling Mr. Good Time and it made me sad. But I wondered if perhaps I’d come full circle, and this moment here in the restroom was my time to say goodbye to any hope of developing anything further with him.

After finishing up, I stood at the back of the bar near the restroom and again scanned the place. Once again finding no sign of Silas, my shoulders slumped.

Oh well. I guess it isn’t meant to be.

I was disappointed, but also a little relieved at the same time. Ready to head home, I weaved my way through the dining area tables toward the front door. As I was about to pass one in particular, the person seated stood. It was the old man with the sunglasses. He smiled at me.

“Are you Lola?”

My brows furrowed. “Yes?”

He flashed a sparkly set of capped teeth. “I thought that might be you. I’m Silas.”

What the fuck?

I pointed. “You’re…Silas.”

“The one and only.” With his foot, he slid the chair across from him out as if to prompt me to sit down.

Panic ran through me. Could I have been mistaken about the younger man I met being the same person I’d been talking to? I stood there frozen, trying to wrap my head around this. What if the guy at the house that day wasn’t Silas? Maybe this Silas—the real Silas—hired that other guy to collect the clothes? Maybe this was Silas and that was…his son or something? Maybe they sound alike?

What is happening?

“You look like ya just seen a ghost,” he said.

The voice sounded off.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re not who I was expecting. You don’t even sound like yourself.”

He tilted his head. “What were you expecting?”

What was I supposed to say? Someone without wrinkles? Someone who doesn’t look creepy as fuck?

“Can I ask you a question?” I said.

“Shoot.”

“If you’re really Silas, what were we talking about the last time we spoke on the phone?”

He smiled slowly like a Cheshire cat, then said, “Underpanties.”

Ew! This guy is gross.

At that moment, a raspy laugh registered from behind me.

Then his voice. “I wish I could’ve fucking seen your face from here.”

As I turned around, my jaw dropped.

It was the handsome guy I remembered, all six-feet plus of him.

My forehead wrinkled. “Silas?”

He smiled wide. “Lola…”

A mixture of relief and confusion washed over me.

“If you’re you…” I turned back toward the old man at the table. “Who’s he?”

The man lifted his hand in a wave. “Nice to meet ya. Uncle Barry here. Or as he likes to call me, Funcle—the fun uncle. Sorry to play ya like that, but my neph pays in cash and chewing tobacco.”

Silas patted him on the shoulder. “You can go now, Barry.”

‘Funcle Barry’ snickered as he stood up and made his way toward the door.

Silas then took the seat across from me.

I crossed my arms and hugged them into my chest as I sat there on guard. “Why would you do that to me?”

“I was just having a little fun.” Then his accent changed to a fake British one. “You know…with the girl from Schwinn and all.” His head bent back in laughter. “Schwinn? Fucking Schwinn? You couldn’t come up with anything better than the brand of your damn bike?”

I sighed. “You knew all this time?”

He leaned in, and it gave me goosebumps.

“Lola…I knew from almost the very first night. When you told me you were renting a house, I got this strange feeling that maybe it could have been one of mine. So, I looked at the list of phone numbers your roommate had given me when you guys moved in. She’d listed all your names and cell phones in case of an emergency. Sure enough, Lola Lancaster was one of them, and her number matched the one in my phone. I suspected you had no idea you were talking to the ‘nasty’ landlord at that time, so I figured I would just let things play out.”

“So, wait…that day I came to your place, you also recognized my face. How did you know it was me? We’d never met.”

“I looked you up on social media after our first phone call, once I knew your name. Already knew exactly what you looked liked, so I recognized you. Fucking nearly lost it when you started talking in a British accent.”

“Why didn’t you just out me then? Put me out of my misery?”

“Because I was having too much fun.”

“You could’ve handled this more maturely,” I huffed.

He raised his brow. “Like you did?”

Feeling ashamed, I closed my eyes and opened them again. “I was going to come clean tonight. It was why I wanted the full hour. I didn’t want you to run away before I had a chance to explain myself. I didn’t mean for this to happen or to trick you.”

“I know, Lola. I know you didn’t. You freaked out. I could see the wheels turning in your head before you put on the fake accent yesterday. I saw the moment you realized it was me in your eyes. But I have to say, when you came up with the Schwinn thing, it nearly put me over the edge.”

Unable to keep myself from laughing, I covered my mouth. “I can’t believe this.”

“Look…” He reached across the table and grabbed my hand. That one touch lit my body on fire. “I pulled this shit on you,” he said. “Now we’re even. Let’s start fresh.”

He let go of my hand, and I longed for his touch again.

Feeling like I’d dodged a bullet, I said, “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I’m dead serious. I’ve told you this before, but I’ve always known you’re good people. Even if you make some crazy ass, knee-jerk decisions. But no more fucked-up tricks…from either of us…okay? Let’s get to know each other for real this time.”

A sense of relief came over me. “Well, thank you for the pass. If we’re starting from the beginning…” I held out my hand. “Hi…I’m Lola.”

He took it and squeezed, sending a burst of electricity through me. “I’m Mark. Or as you’ve seen me sign my emails…M.S. Borden—Mark Silas Borden.”

Oh wow.

“You’re weren’t kidding when you said your name was Mark on our first phone call.”

“Well, someone seemed to think it was a boring name. I like my middle name better, too.” He winked. “You can keep using Silas, though. I love it when you call me that.”

I spent several seconds just taking the sight of him in. Oh my God. This was really my Silas, sitting in front of me.

“I can’t believe we’re actually together…in person,” I said.

He moved his head back and forth slowly. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, Lola. Even if I wanted to ditch you for lying, I couldn’t get your beautiful face out of my mind. I had to meet you.”

“You’re not so bad yourself. And thank you for returning our clothes, by the way.”

A hint of mischief crossed his face. “Well, I did keep one thing for myself.”

My forehead raised. “You did?”

“I figured I earned the pink lace thong for putting up with your lying butt.” He winked.

My face felt flush. “You’re bad.”

“You have no idea, Lola. If you manage to stick around until the end of the summer, you might just find out how bad.”

Now my entire body buzzed.

Over the next hour, we ordered a couple of drinks each and had a ton of laughs reminiscing about our virtual courtship. My attraction to him was so strong, I wished I could leap across the table and kiss him. But I’d been the one who started this whole thing; it was time for him to make the next move.

At one point, he leaned in and asked, “The bathroom here is unisex, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I brought a Sharpie. Gonna take care of that little issue of my number being posted on the stall. Care to join me?”

The thought of escaping to the privacy of the bathroom with him right now thrilled me.

Standing up from my seat, I said, “Yeah, sure. Let’s do it.”

Silas followed close behind me as we walked to the restroom together. The heat of his body felt scorching at my back.

Inside the small bathroom, there was only one stall and a sink. He opened the door to the stall and got a look at the famous graffiti.

“Son of a bitch.” He laughed, scratching his chin as he stared at his phone number. “But honestly, right about now I wish I could kiss whoever did this shit.”

His words made me feel all tingly inside. Our eyes locked, and within seconds the number wasn’t the only thing plastered against the stall. My back hit the metal of the door as Silas wrapped his large hands around my cheeks and took my mouth into his. Our kiss grew more frenzied by the second, my hands threading through his thick, beautiful hair. The hunger for him that had been building had finally been satisfied. And let me tell you, Silas tasted as good as he smelled.

The stubble on his chin prickled against my skin as he groaned over my mouth, “I’ve dreamed about these lips.”

My panties were drenched. I could feel his erection growing against my stomach. Something told me my long drought might be ending tonight.

When we finally came up for breath, I teased, “Is that a Sharpie in your pocket, or are you just excited to see me?”

“That is no Sharpie, my friend.”

“Oh, I know,” I said, pressing my body into his.

He reached into his back pocket and took out an actual black Sharpie. He opened the cap before moving the marker tip back and forth over the inscription on the stall. The entire message and phone number were now inked over.

I thought he was finished, until he drew a heart above it and wrote something on the inside: Lola + Silas.