Official Description: The heat wave lingers. Sweet, savory and slick. Jasper, Rose and I wade through the humid days, content in our relative isolation. We spend June through August at our family lake property, and this summer is like any other.
Until it’s not.
An unexpected guest, new neighbors and a few stiff drinks collide to make the year we turn 19 sometimes better, often worse, but infinitely more interesting.
Then I cursed them.
lola-pops has written a story that you go into thinking it’ll be the same ole’ summer cliche: girl meets boy over the summer, they have a hot, steamy fling, boy goes home, girl pines. This is totally not the case. Yes, Bella and Edward meet over the summer. Yes they have a hot, steamy, ohmygodwheredidthisauthorcomefrombecauseitissoooogood fling. Yes, he leaves, and yes, she pines–if that’s what you want to call it. What’s so different about this fic? The setting, the carefree days of summer, the feeling that you remember from your youth. It’s all there.
Either way, I can’t keep the grin off of my face. I look over and he has the same expression playing at his lips. We jump in the water and find each other, mirroring our position from the night before and slowly bobbing around in circles.
It’s the best day ever.
The development of the other players is so amazing. This fic has some of my favorite characterizations of Alice, Emmett, Jasper, and even Rosalie. The feelings and experiences that all them go through are so authentic. Though I’m adamantly team-Edward, even I find myself wondering if Mike Newton wouldn’t be the better choice for her. That’s not something easily accomplished for me.
He flips over and catches me staring.
“Sorry, I’m …” I stammer.
“B,” he interrupts, “don’t you dare apologize for checking out my ass. It’s hot, right?” He laughs and I can’t help but laugh along with him.
This Bella, though vulnerable, is strong and stands up for herself. I’m proud of her. Oh, and did I mention that this fic has a doucheward in his finest form? Even *I* want to slap him!
I’m suddenly very irritated, but I keep my eyes on the crossword, trying to make sense of the words on the page, and trying not to dwell on my swinging emotions.
“Great. I’ve been just great.” I attempt to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. It doesn’t work. “Thanks for asking.”
I look up, and he looks guilty, and a little amused. I contemplate tossing my mimosa at him to wipe the half-smile off of his face, but decide against it, and look back at the paper.
“Good to hear. I’ve been meaning to call you,” he says, his voice still nonchalant.
I sit absolutely still as his last statement echoes through my head. The pencil falls from my fingers and I slowly raise my head again, staring straight into the face that simultaneously excites me and sends my heart into the pit of my stomach.
I become conscious of the look on my face from watching his reaction. He sits back a little, his eyes darting to the kitchen and the living room, likely planning an escape route.
Fucker should be.
Just like that I’m angry all over again.
No, not angry, vengeful. Hateful. Spiteful. I feel like talking some shit.
I have no recollection of the helpful techniques I learned in therapy to calm myself down. Not one.
“You’ve been meaning to call me.” My voice is even and soft, perhaps too soft. His expression is starting to resemble a hunted animal sensing danger.
“Yeah, I … ” he trails off. He still has the half-smile, but it’s thinly veiling his discomfort.
I think I feel my lip curling up into a sneer, and I doubt I can stop it, though I don’t really try.
“Right, right. So … you were thinking you could call me and we could talk about what, exactly?” I lean forward and prop my chin on my hand, looking at him quizzically. “Weather? Football? Or maybe we could rehash the details of the day I found out that underneath whomever you were pretending to be last summer, you truly are a raging douchebag?” I stop then, realizing how loud my voice is in the quiet room. He looks shocked, but still amused, and opens his mouth to say something.
But, I’m not done.
Get ‘em, girl.
Summer of Salt is a great fic, and I am honestly surprised that more people aren’t all over this. It has quickly become one of my favorites ever, and I hope that you will check it out, too.
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