Summertime

The heat of the sun assailed him like a house aflame, but he smiled.

“I love summertime!” he shouted.

“We do, too!” two passing girls called back.

He grinned and continued watching the scantily clad girls walk away. Any other time of the year his leering would earn him a badge of opprobrium, but not in summer. 

A girl sitting behind him laughed and he looked around. Holy Moly, what a looker!

“You look hot,” she muttered, lifting her shades.

“You should talk,” he said, letting his eyes rove down her amazing figure.

She laughed. “I mean, you’re sweating. I know a cure for that.”

“For sweating? So do I, but I hate winter and the AC. Just wanna be warm,” he replied.

“You’re too funny. I was thinking of going up to Mountain Lake. It’s always cool there even in this blistering heat.”

“Want company?” he asked.

“I do,” she said, standing up. “We’ll take my truck.”

Well, if this wasn’t serendipity he didn’t know what was! If he’d gone to work as he should have done, he would have missed out on a golden opportunity.

“I’m all yours,” he said, following her like a love-struck puppy.

“I’m Amy, by the way,” she said.

“I’m John,” he replied. He jumped into her old ford and had to laugh. There was a perfect song on the radio. He sang along because it was one he knew.

♪ ♫…  Two bare feet on the dashboard,   young love and an old ford, cheap shades, tattoo and a Yoohoo bottle on the floorboard…it’s a smile, it’s a kiss, it’s a sip of wine, it’s summertime! Sweet summertime…♩ ♬ he sang.

In no time she stopped the car by the crystalline blue water and jumped out of the broiling cab. She pulled off her shirt and tossed it at him. “Come on, big boy. This will cool you off,” she said, shimmying out of her cut-offs.

His heart skipped a beat even knowing she had bikini bottoms underneath. 

He yanked off his tank top and spotted a rope hanging from an ancient live oak. He climbed onto the boulder, grabbed the rope and swung out over the water. When the rope reached its zenith he let go and plunged feet first into the icy water. It burned his skin and set him violently shivering.  He swam for the shore, but Amy held him back, a fierce grip on his arm.

“Come on, big boy, just a little longer. This will cool you off, stop you from burning up,” Amy said.

“I’m cold. I hate the cold. Gotta get out,” he said struggling to get away. Why couldn't he get away?

“All right, Honey, real soon,” she said soothingly.

“No! I love summer. Gotta have heat or I’ll die without heat!”

“Okay, okay,” she said, letting go.

He got out of the water as fast as possible and collapsed onto a blanket. He sighed in relief loving the sun on his face, the warmth caressing and seeping into his skin. “I love summer,” he whispered, falling into a lovely summer dream.

“How’s he doing?” 

“He’s…dead, Dr. Jones . He hated the ice bath, but it didn’t work anyway. His fever just wouldn’t go down,” the nurse said.

“He was just too far gone. His brain was fried before we got to him, the poor guy,” Dr. Jones said.

“Funny, but he seemed so happy moments before. He kept saying he loves summer time.”

The doctor smiled ruefully. “I suppose a fever could be a glorious summer day in a delirious mind. I’ll go call his parents. Thanks, Amy.”

She caressed the heated cheek of the handsome boy. “I hope you stay forever in your perfect summer time, John,” she said and she pulled the sheet over his face.