April and Beau are 21, Summer and Vicky are 20.
They were in college and there was a war going on. There was a war going on, and they were treating themselves to passed midterms and a spring break vacation. Summer always told April she didn't think about things enough, she didn't pay attention to what was important in the world, politics and war and real things. April didn't want to. Real things were too scary. Real things were too scary even before the war started. And now nothing was right or normal, no matter how they framed it, so when Vicky suggested spring break, April knew it was just what they needed. Summer said it felt so trivial. Maybe it did, after everything. But Vicky had rich and guilt-ridden parents, and they were paying for the trip -- even Summer's ticket -- so who would decline?
You had to let go of the past. You had to keep your spirits up and move forward. April didn't know much, but she knew that was the only way to survive.
"Swim before drinking," Beau insisted. "It's safer."
"Last one to the buoy is a rotten egg," Beau said, splashing up along side her, all six-foot-three of legs and arms.
"Why should I go talk to him, he's smiling at you?"
"We'll talk to him together then."
"You have nice eyes," April said.
"Do you dance?" Vicky asked him.
"Where are you from?"
"What's your star sign?"
The boy seemed startled at first, but quickly eased into the attention. There was an old jukebox in the corner playing random songs, nothing they really knew how to dance to, but that didn't mean they couldn't try. He danced with them both, one on his hip, the other under his arm.
Vicky was drunk, because it didn't take much to get Vicky drunk, but as much as April had been avoiding the party scene in the past few months, she wasn't quite there yet. Tipsy, just barely -- that pesky hard edge was nice and fuzzy -- but she was not drunk.
April whispered, "I don't think he's your type, Vick." But Vicky was lost to the world, in his dreamy blue eyes, perhaps.
But after Vicky stopped laughing, she didn't walk away, which might have been a testament to April's influence on her lately. The "old Vicky" would have ran for the hills. But this Vicky kept talking to him, moving in closer to dance again.
Yes, she was very drunk. And it wasn't that April didn't find Vicky beautiful, or that she hadn't done this exactly thing a million times for Max, or that she didn't like girls, or threesomes, or anything like that. She was just... different. Things were different now. She promised things would be different. April wondered if maybe this guy wasn't her type anymore.
"You guys have fun," she said, and turned to see what Beau and Summer were doing.
"He cheats!" Summer called out from the other side of the table.
April wanted to swim some more, Summer wanted to drink, and Vicky was preoccupied with her new friend, and Beau didn't really care what they did one way or another. So April pulled Beau back out to the beach again.
She stepped out to knee level when Beau came bombing past her into the water, dragging her deeper by the hand.
She dug her fingers into the band of Beau's swim trunks. "Are you taking these off?"
"No way," he said and furrowed his brow in that old and stuffy way that made him look thirty-five and not twenty-one. No, they weren't teenagers anymore, but she was already bent over in the water pulling down her bottoms. "Put these in your pocket then." She untied the laces on her top and threw it at his head. Then she swam away.
He called out, "What if I don't give them back?"
"Then I'll have to come get them then, won't I?"
A few minutes later he swam out, and threw his trunks at her head.
"Where did you put mine?"
"And where is yours now?"
"I don't know, down there, somewhere."
She stopped kissing. "Wait. I haven't actually... I haven't done this since..."
"Oh," he said. "Really?"
He shrugged. "I dunno, you always found a way before."
She couldn't believe he said that. But mostly she couldn't believe it was true. "Give me my suit back."
"April, I didn't mean it like that. There was a guy, a couple weeks ago, at the bar. I just assumed..."
"That was kissing, not fucking. I didn't even let him feel me up. Give me my suit back."
She reached for his suit, but he held it back from her. "Wait, talk to me," he said. "I mean I hoped you wouldn't, but I didn't know. I didn't mean to say it like that."
"But you thought it like that?"
He didn't say no. And that he couldn't say no broke her heart. She told him things were going to be different now, and he didn't believe her. She didn't know who she was supposed to be now, or what she was supposed to do, but she had kept her promise. "Fine, don't give me my suit back then."
notes: FYI, some of these flashback scenes to their LH-dimension lives are actually taken as-is from my working drafts of the Lakeside Heights books. This spring break trip would have happened a few months after the LH blog stories ended. ;)