The Summer I Found Love

The Summer I Found Love

Every day for two months since we had been let out from school, I'd sit at the edge of my bed, fantasizing about what the perfect summer would be like. My mother would walk into my room promptly at 11:30 to tell me that lunch was ready, and I'd sit there with a dazed look plastered on my face, contemplating what was supposed to be my latest and greatest idea of my ideal summer romance. Neither of us dared to break the ongoing cycle that we had perfected over the course of the two months I'd been out of school. My mother knew better than to do that ever since the hard breakup I'd been through during the last semester of my junior year. But I was a senior now, and things were going to be different. I could just feel it.

My mother and I had always been close. Since the day of my tenth birthday when I had heard the startling news that my father had been killed in a car accident, my mother and I had formed a bond so strong that it could not possibly be broken by any outside force. Sometimes, it felt as if we could read each other's minds. She had always been there for me whenever I needed her⎯my fortress that shielded me from the dangers of the outside world.

The day my boyfriend, Trent, dumped me started out as a typical day⎯six class-filled periods and a study hall before the final bell rang, some mystery meat was served in the cafeteria, and that pesky History teacher who kept rambling on about the fierce battle he'd had to face in World War II. I had been going about my usual business, and being the good student I was, I spent most of my free periods and study halls in the library. Nothing special ever happened in the library, but I usually liked to finish up that night's homework before I got home so that I could spend the rest of my night talking on the phone with Trent.

I took my Spanish textbook out of my purple Jansport backpack that I had positioned perfectly so that it would lean on the leg of my chair and began to thumb through it, as I reached behind me to tie my long, black hair into a messy ponytail. My hair had always been hard to manage, considering that it was layered and really thick. I had inherited the dark black color of my hair from my mom, and my fair skin tone from my dad, but everywhere I went, people told me that there was no mistaking the resemblance between my mom and I, and that we looked just like twins, a compliment which, of course, my mom always pretended to be flattered by. Rachel looks like a younger version of you, Marie, my mom's friends would say. The contrast between my pale skin and the dark color of my hair was so distinct that it made each of my features stand out even more.

I turned to a random page in my textbook, which read, "Por favor, traducir este en Inglés," but I didn't feel like translating anything, so I put my head down on top of my Spanish book and closed my eyes. Just for a few minutes, I reassured myself, my eyelids heavy with exhaustion. I awoke, startled, as I turned around to face a tall, lean figure⎯Trent. His light brown eyes were wild with excitement and he looked anxious, as if he had drank two Five Hour Energy drinks before stopping by to see me. By the way he paced in circles around my chair, I could tell that something wasn't right.

"What is it, Trent?" I asked, as a wave of worry began to wash over me.

"This isn't easy for me to say, Rach, but," he paused, reaching up to brush a few locks of his golden blonde hair out of his face. I think we should see other people. I'm sorry…" he said, swiftly pivoting around on his left foot as he turned to walk out of the library, not even looking over his shoulder once to see if I was all right. The very place that had once been a refuge for me no longer felt safe anymore. My emotions began to take the better of me as I placed my head into my hands and began to cry, my sniffling quickly turning into sobbing. I cried out all of my frustration and heartbreak, and by the time the period was almost over, my eyes were red and swollen. I guess I must have been crying pretty loudly because when I lifted my head up, a few heads were turned in my direction, concern creasing their foreheads. As soon as I looked over, they turned back to whatever they had been working on, not wanting to be labeled as "nosy"⎯all except for one guy. His name was Jake. I recognized him from my third period English class. I looked at him through my tear-drenched eyelashes and red-rimmed eyes that had distinct smudges of black from my carefully applied eyeliner and mascara. I was a wreck, but he didn't seem to care. He sauntered towards me slowly with one hand outstretched, holding a tissue, and the other, extended for me to grab. I admired how undaunted he had been in coming up to me in the first place, and the nonchalant way that he seemed to carry himself. I took the tissue from him and began to wipe my eyes, as he helped me up. And so began my friendship with Jake.

Jake was probably the best friend I could have ever asked for. Even after the rough breakup that he had witnessed, he stuck around, cleaning up the mess that Trent had made. Jake listened to me cry, complain, and go through my monthly moody phases, yet, he never strayed far from my side. I loved how easygoing he was, and that he was blunt and to-the-point without being overly harsh. There was a balance in him when it came to certain things, especially topics that required more of a sensitive outlook to them, and over time, I found myself growing more and more fond of him.

"Do you want to go and grab a bite, Rach?" Jake asked.
"Yeah, sure! Let's go!" I answered, eagerly. Whenever I was with him, I felt whole again, like my breakup with Trent had never happened in the first place.

Chicago was known to be pretty chilly outside in around mid-July with each girl sporting a puffy parka, skinny jeans, a pair of UGGs, a sheer scarf, and some gloves. I turned around to grab my coat and gloves out of my car, when I remembered that I had forgotten them on the kitchen counter at home. Dang, I thought to myself. What am I supposed to do now? As if I said this outloud, Jake came up behind me, and passed me his jacket.
"Here," he gestured to me, "you look cold. Why don't you put this on? I wouldn't want you to freeze to death," he said with a wink. I glanced at him, noticing how animated his dark brown eyes were⎯almost the color of dark chocolate⎯and the way they glistened as he talked. He had the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen, from his long eyelashes that protruded out from the top of his eyelids, to the way he could mezmorize me just by looking at me.
My body had begun to warm up, but my hands were still freezing cold. I looked up at Jake, with his chocolate brown eyes and shaggy black hair, and he stared back at me, smiling. His teeth were perfectly straight and bleached white⎯years of wearing braces, he had explained to me many times before⎯and his smile was bright enough to illuminate a whole room. Then, he reached down and took my hands, placing them between his own, which felt warm and strong. I felt my heart do a flip as the two of us stood there, not saying anything.
We walked along the streets of Chicago silently, Jake's hand gripping my hand ever so lightly, but not showing the slightest sign that he wanted to let go. Finally, he broke the silence, and the words that came out of his mouth shocked me so badly that I stood there for a few seconds, dumbfounded. "I'm really glad I met you, Rach. No one has ever made me feel the way you do," he said looking down at his feet, probably regretting the confession he had just made.
It took me a while to form a sentence before I decided on what I was going to say to him. "I'm really glad I met you, too, Jake. Thank you for coming up to me that day in the library." His gazed remained fixed on a dot of white paint on the asphault, but just by glancing over at his pale skin, I could tell that he was blushing more and more with every word that I uttered.
We both stood there for a while, neither of us sure of what to say next. I turned to face him, not sure of what I should do, but he was already staring at me. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, and then closed it, repeating this process twice.
"I'm sorry," he said. "This is really awkward now, isn't it…? I should have just⎯" But I didn't let him finish. I reached out to him, pressing his toned body against me, and took hold of his face with both hands, as I pulled him in closer so that I could kiss him. His hands traced the contours of my face, and I could feel all of my troubles melting away. I could just taste the sweetness of his lips from his cherry Chapstick, and the way they opened and closed around mine, enveloping them perfectly. His arm moved down to the small of my back, as he held me there. I paused, taking in the moment. I guess I never really realized the spell that Trent had on me. But somehow, from the moment I met him, I knew there was something there.
We both pulled away, simultaneously looking up towards the sky. It had transformed from a buttery sunset to the color of twilight, almost engulfing the moon completely. His eyes were wide with surprise, but they still twinkled in the glow of the moonlit sky. Worried that I had misread all of the signs he had been giving me, I thought to myself, Maybe he never really did like me... Maybe he was just being friendly... I was about to say something, but I was interrupted as Jake pressed his pointer finger to my lips, removed it, and began kissing me again, slowly this time, but with more passion.
When the kiss was over, Jake took a tiny, velvet box out of his pocket and placed it in the palm of my hand. Curious, I turned it over a couple of times, wondering what it was.
"Go ahead and open it," he whispered. I removed the cover slowly, as if whatever was inside the box could run away and disappear, kind of the way that Trent had. But of course, it didn't. My fingers grazed a something cold⎯a piece of metal, perhaps⎯ and then a chain, and finally, a clasp. I held the necklace up facing the moon so that I could examine it. It was a necklace with a diamond pendant on it. The diamond had been so deliberately cut that each of its facets reflected a different part of the moon. I lifted up my hair as Jake reached in front of me to put the necklace on me.
"This was my mother's most prized possession. She entrusted it to me before she died," Jake said, looking at me. "I wanted you to have it."
I had pictured this moment in my bedroom in so many different ways, but this definitely surpassed any idea I could have possibly thought up. Jake was absolutely perfect, and his mom's necklace that he gave me was a constant reminder of his perfection. He had many different sides, thoughts, and emotions, but each of them reflected the same thing, just like a diamond. He was my diamond that I would have to hold onto forever.
By: Tamara


My inspiration behind this story was based on the fact that I'm one of those teenage girls who crave romance. I love reading romance novels about girls who get swept off their feet by that handsome prince, and find their own "happily ever after".
I also tried to base my writing off of two of my favorite authors⎯Sarah Dessen, Nicholas Sparks, and Jenny Han, all of which just so happen to be romance novelists. Each of the pieces they've written⎯Just Listen, The Truth About Forever, The Summer I Turned Pretty, It's Not Summer Without You, We'll Always Have Summer, The Last Song, etc.⎯have inspired me to want to become a better writer. Their books have a particularly interesting storyline and a really deep climax that always keeps me on the edge of my seat, and that's what I wanted to try to incorporate into my story.