Ever been stuck in the middle before? Tossed around like you’re the monkey in the middle, or the flag tied around a rope being tugged at both ends? You’d think that the middle job is the easiest, that all you have to do is be tossed around and make a choice– a decision.
But no one talks about the horrors that come with being in that middle ground and the feelings you’re bound to hurt. No one talks about what affects the monkey, or how that tied flag feels. It’s always about the players– always. And we’re taught not to hate them, to hate the game instead.
Well fuck that.
o o o
It was a hot summer day back home in Florida, far gone from the calming campus at Vanderbilt University. But summer calls, and home awaits.
My home, despite the way I’d talk about the heat and summer storms, despite the way I’d dream of falling leaves and white winters. This was home, in all its scorching glory.
I arrived yesterday to my Mom already outside, waving me down like I’d forgotten where I lived. And as I pulled into the driveway, all those summer memories flooded my eyes. Days in the garden before Nonna passed and nights at the beach with friends down the street. This was home, whether I wanted it to be or not.
But I couldn’t deny the rush of glee that overwhelmed me as Mom pulled me in an embrace, the warmth of someone who only cared for you, who only wanted the best for you. It was hard leaving last August, leaving her alone to deal with Christian and Sabrina. But we both knew it’s what I wanted– what I needed.
A reprieve.
And now I was back for a few short months, ready to relax and tan and overthink what next semester might bring. Could it be more stress? More work? Harder exams? Or could it be friendship? My calling? Or love? It seemed that anything was possible there in Nashville, like all of my wants and dreams materialized overnight. It was my fresh start, my time to become me– to become Cameron.
Boy did I– become Cameron at least. All my life I was told to lose weight, told to do sports, told to be more of a man. But I was never once told to be me. And it's not my Mom’s fault, not my Nonna’s fault. In hindsight I’d rather blame myself for not sticking up for me, rather blame my own hindrances and thoughts than wallow in the actions and words of others.
At the end of the day, I could create the life I wanted. And I did, long before college. I took those words from others and listened, lost the weight in high school and picked up a sport down the line; dated girls and even kissed a few– until I knew who I was.
College was my awakening, college is what I needed.
Being home now… a piece of cake, I thought. I know who I am, I know what I want. But do I? Have I really gotten to know myself the way I think? Time can only tell, and this summer could only enlighten me.
The familiar scent of vanilla and cast iron flooded my nostrils upon entering the house, greeted by silence as I smiled at ease. “Where’s the runts?” I asked, dropping my bag at the foot of the sofa and slouching into its comfort.
Mom smiled and took a seat across from me, “Christian is at a friends and Sabrina is at cheer practice.” She hugged a mug close to her chest, drawing her knees close as well.
“She still does that?” I chuckled, closing my eyes and resting after such a tedious drive here. But Mom didn’t spare the details as she went on about her cheer team, that they had such a phenomenal year during school and they asked specific students to enroll in a summer program. Sabrina was always physical, always on the move, always achieving what she wanted. In some ways I envied her for that– and she’s literally eight.
I hadn’t the heart to tell my Mom I needed to rest, that I couldn’t listen to her groan forever about Sabrina and cheer or Christian and soccer. Instead I listened with my eyes closed, let her talk the way she wanted and only nodded my head to parts I deemed worthy.
But eventually the living room fell quiet, and everything faded as I drifted into a much needed slumber.
I woke to the thud of a closing door, to the shrill of that eight year old who ran immediately to my side; “Cammy!” She hugged me, crawling on top of me.
“He’s taking a nap Sabrina.” Mom said as she ushered into the kitchen. Not anymore, I thought to add. But instead a smile took my face as those young blue eyes looked down to me. I wrapped her in a hug too, squeezed until she tried wrestling away from me.
I let her go, “What’s got you so happy?” I teased her, nudging her arm and sitting up; not realizing that I must have laid down at some point and now a throw blanket covered half of me.
“I won the rally today!” She cheered, her lips grinning from ear to ear.
I raised my brows, “Wow…” and I rubbed my eyes to focus.
“Yeah, and Sam came in second and Lilly came in third and Jayla came in…” She surged with the energy of a thousand engines, blowing through names and positions and basically her whole day at practice.
“Sounds like you’re the best.” I poked her in the chest, earning such an innocent giggle that brought a smile to my lips. “But you’re smelly.” I teasingly wafted my hand in front of my nose, but she only laughed.
She was about to retort, about to add a smile filled counter before Mom said; “He’s right missy.” And we both turned to her figure in the hall, hands on her hips as she pointed to the bathroom; “You better clean up for dinner.”
And she listened, pretty swiftly for a child of her age.
I stretched on the sofa, peering out the window to the sun setting behind our neighbors house. I must’ve crashed for a good two hours if the sun had already begun its descent, so I groaned into my hands and hoisted myself to my feet. My senses awakening as I rounded the kitchen, catching the scent of stew and potatoes.
“Smells good in here.” I smiled, taking a seat on a stool tucked under the kitchen island. Mom smiled at me, claiming she cooked my favorite. Stew wasn’t my favorite– maybe one of them, but spaghetti and meatballs will always be my first choice. “Is the meathead not coming home?” I teased again, leaning my elbows into the counter and holding my head in my hands.
Steam poured from the lifted lid of her crock-pot, filling the air with more of that hearty aroma; “He’ll be home in a bit.” She dipped a fork in and stirred, closing the lid and turned to me. “How about you? Gonna spend all your time at home this summer?”
I shrugged my shoulders, “Alicia isn’t back for another few weeks.”
“Alicia wasn’t your only friend.” She tilted her head.
I rolled my eyes, “So?”
“So…” she drawled out, “Maybe Spencer or Emily or Jake would want to see you.”
I shook my head, “I doubt it.”
“What on earth happened between you five?” She crossed her arms, “You were inseparable for years and then… it was just you and Alicia and t–”
“Can we just drop it?” I flattened my palms to the cold counter, scuffed the stool across the hardwood and stood; “It was a long time ago anyway.”
She only sighed and softened her eyes, “One year is not a long time, Cameron.” But I only waved a dismissive hand and told her Sabrina wasn’t the only one who could use a shower.
I opened my old bedroom door and was surprised by it, surprised that nothing seemed out of order, nothing felt touched or moved or off balance. Almost like it’s been locked until my return, until my return to the world I left.
I know she didn’t mean to cause distress over bringing it up but I still wasn’t over it. The fall out, the screaming matches, the late nights awake in bed. The last few months of senior year weren’t what I imagined they would be, and she was right. It did end with just Alicia and I. But I tried to push those forgotten thoughts to the back of my mind as I hopped in the shower and scrubbed hours of driving off of me.
The shower did help. I let those memories of them run down the drain along with the soapy water, along with those years of innocence. When I emerged, I felt brand new again, shaking off the feeling of discomfort and towel drying my body. And the regret of snapping at my mom took me by surprise as I looked into the foggy mirror at the sweet message she left me, Welcome Home Cameron.
I sighed and swiped at the words, revealing my paler skin and wet brown hair. I used to be so tan, constantly sun-kissed and relishing in the way my olive skin never burned. But now I was as white as they come, maybe a better person than before– but seriously more pale.
As I got dressed my mind wandered to what my Mom asked, am I going to spend all my time at home? Will I truly wait another three weeks for Alicia to get to town before doing anything worthwhile? I suppose she made a good point, despite the need to dig up the past. I should get out of the house this summer, do something for myself.
These past nine months have been so eye-opening for me, being able to do what I wanted, when I wanted. I talked to who I wanted, dated who I wanted– kissed who I wanted.
And for some reason I liked to put myself in this box when I came back home, acting like I couldn’t be the version of myself that I created in Nashville. It was stupid, I know. Undoubtedly typical, the kid that ran away from home. But I could change that, no– I will change that.
So for the rest of the night I found a better attitude, fortunate that Mom was never the type to harp on unwanted conversations. And we sat around the table for dinner like we used to, Mom at the end, Christian and I next to each other and Sabrina across from us. Nonna used to sit at the other end across from Mom, but when she passed we never filled that seat– it just never felt right to.
When dinner was finished, I helped Mom with the dishes, thanked her for the message in the bathroom. It did feel good to be home, to be comfortable.
And that night I fell asleep in my old bed, excited to do something for me tomorrow.
o o o
That something was the beach, of course. When you live in Florida there’s only so much you can do. And if it wasn’t the beach, it was something in the water or Disney or partying with the upper class in downtown.
I left late, around ten, and cursed myself for not remembering how unbelievable parking can be down here. Even though I lived in “paradise”, as some would call it, usually the snowbirds would pack up for the summer and fly back home. But it seemed that every year, more and more stayed to bask in the sun, ruining the parts of Florida that made it such a “paradise”.
Nevertheless, I packed a small beach bag with two towels and sunscreen, threw on my shades and drove the short distance to the island. Thank God for it only being a Wednesday, I think I would’ve given up by now if it were any busier. And that’s not including the frenzy of traffic that swarmed downtown.
But after several songs and several near death experiences, I found a spot along the beach and parallel parked. The sun was beating down on the sand, not a cloud in the sky as I walked down the sidewalk to the nearest beach entrance. I thanked myself for packing my crocs, I don’t think my feet could handle the scorching sand like I used to.
And though the beach was busy with umbrellas and children and those fancy shaders, I found myself a quaint spot near the lifeguard tower, kicking off my sandals and laying down my towel. It wasn’t as noisy here, and maybe that’s because of the tower itself. No one wants to be yelled at for swimming too far, but I didn’t think I’d even bother with the ocean. Today I wanted to tan, to burn– to wake up tomorrow a shade darker.
It only took a year– no, nine fucking months. But I had already forgotten just how hot it can get on the beach. Within thirty minutes of laying out I peered at the crashing waves, rolled my eyes at the thought; but ultimately stood and walked towards the crystal blue water.
The wet sand was delightful underneath my feet, even the foamy waves that slid across my toes were refreshing in itself. But I needed to get wet, I needed to dunk myself in that vast ocean and breathe without dying of heat exhaustion. So I ran, my knees keeping high as I pierced through a low crashing wave– not caring of the sand that attacked my shins.
I felt the dip, felt the sea of shells that collected– and dove into a wave before it crashed into me.
It was primal, familiar, easy the way I surfaced to my feet and shook out my hair, easy the way I high-tailed it further into the water and jumped over slow moving waves. I flipped to my back, spread my limbs wide and took a deep breath as I faced the open sun. I didn’t care that the current dragged me a bit to the left, didn’t care that kids were playing and screaming and splashing around me. This was Florida– this was home.
But after a few minutes of buoyancy, I glared at the tower in the distance, easily a quarter mile down the beach. So I kicked myself in gear and started to swim against the soft current, paddling my way back up the beach until I was truly done with the water. I rode my way out, fixing my trunks so that they didn’t cling to every inch of me– expose every inch of me.
And I landed on my towel, sat down with a thud as I caught my breath.
“You went pretty far out there.” A voice said next to me, blocking the sun as I peered up at him; the lifeguard.
Oh here we go, “Sorry man, I didn’t mean to g–”
“Don’t be sorry.” he shook his head with a smile, his golden curls bouncing in the wind; “I saw you drift far as fuck down there.” He pointed down the beach.
I looked with his point, nodded my head and returned my gaze to him; “Yeah.” I chuckled, holding my hand above my eyes, noticing the ripples of muscle down his naked chest and torso.
He smiled, “You handled the current like a pro.”
“Thank you.” I smiled back at him.
And this awkward pause filled the air between us as we stared off into the ocean, as I casually waited for him to leave– but he didn’t.
“How often you out here? I’ve never seen you before.” He added, directing his deep blue eyes back to me.
I shook my head slightly, parting my lips to answer; “I grew up here. I’m back on summer break.”
And he nodded, squatting down to eye level and sticking out his hand; “I’m Theo.”
I stared at his big hand, up his muscled arm; “Cameron.” And I shook his hand, observant of the twitch in his smile as I said my name.
“Well I gotta get back up there,” He stood, leveling his uhm– with my eyes; “Can’t have any kids drowning on my watch.” I smiled at his choice words, looking up to his face again, fighting the blush that stained my cheeks.
I nodded, “That wouldn’t be good.” And he chuckled, turning around and walking a few steps over to his tower. I watched as his hands gripped the ladder, as his muscles flared with each tug up to another bar.
“Nice to meet you.” My eyes snapped to his face that smiled daringly at me, almost like he knew I was watching before ascending into the white box at the top.
You too, I thought to say, but instead I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding and settled my hands behind me to lean into relaxation. But I peered above me, caught the tower in the corner of my eye and blushed yet again, smiling to myself.
I’m sure that the whole interaction was innocent. I’m certain he was just being friendly, but I couldn’t help the tingle of butterflies that warmed my stomach. And all of a sudden, I fixed my posture, became all too aware of how I looked on my beach towel. So I drew my knees up a bit, leaned on my elbows and did my best to keep my slightly defined abs active.
I surely wasn’t built like he was, but I wasn’t a twig either. Again, I did something about all those words from years ago and whipped myself into shape. Even more so in college, my roommate was heavily into pumping iron and helped me whenever I asked. Needless to say, I looked good and I knew I looked good– but still my conscious told me otherwise.
And it took another thirty minutes of tanning and flipping over before I thought to dip into the water again, but now I felt this imaginary gaze from the tower; like he’d watch me. Maybe I wanted him to, maybe a part of me believed for a second that him introducing himself wasn’t just an act of kindness and praise.
So I sprung to my knees from my stomach, wiped off loose sand that stuck to me and stood. A smile took to my lips as I made it far enough to the watered edge that I knew he could see me if he was looking. I waded into the ocean, took my time in submerging. And when I resurfaced, as I shook my hair and looked up at the tower– I could’ve sworn I saw a figure watching me.
I blushed again, looked down at the water and shook my head. I really am crazy.
But I didn’t care, instead I swam a bit further out; swam until my toes couldn’t touch the sandy bottom. I tread the water, stared up at the tower again with squinted eyes before plunging myself under and kicking the sea floor. I swam even further out, further than anyone else before I resurfaced.
The tower bell started to ring, a loud noise that grabbed everyone's attention on the beach.
“Please swim back in.” I heard through a megaphone, but I pretended not to hear before casually swimming even further. Then a whistle was blown, followed by another threat to swim back in. No– come and get me.
I pretended to not hear a thing, pretended to enjoy my parallel swimming, keeping a thoughtful eye on the blaring tower.
And then I saw him, Theo. He was on the beach, a red stick in his hand as he waved me down, signaling for me to swim ashore. This time I listened and took my time to ride wave after wave before safely making it out, not bothering to fix my trunks this time.
I threw my hands in the air as I walked up to him, “What’s wrong?” Yet I said it with a smile.
He shook his head, fighting the tug of his own lips; “You can’t swim that deep.”
I looked behind me, “Says who?” And I turned back to him, very obviously looking him up and down. “I thought the ocean was public property.”
That earned the crack of his lips, “It is.” He said, looking both ways before adding; “That’s why people usually avoid these towers.” He pointed a thumb behind him.
I nodded, “Well sorry.” I shrugged, staring down at my soaked trunks that did indeed cling to every aspect of my body. “I’ll avoid the towers next time.” I looked back up to eyes that already stared into mine, giving a sheepish look of innocence, “They kind of obstruct the view anyway.” I pointed out to the ocean.
He breathed a chuckle, looked down and back up to my eyes; “I’m not complaining.” And a smirk broke through his lips as he looked at me, as his eyes traveled down my body and back to my eyes.
I smirked too, “About the tower?” I teased him.
“Just don’t go so far out please.” He slowly began to walk backwards, “I hate ruining peoples' days.”
But I only followed him at the same pace and smiled, “You didn’t ruin my day.”
His brows popped up, “Good.” And I continued past him as he stopped in the sand, “Hey…” he started, and I turned to face him again; the sun casting beautiful light off his hair and tan skin. “Are you busy later?”
My heart fluttered, my stomach rumbled. “I’m not.” I scratched the back of my head.
“A bunch of the lifeguards are meeting up for a bonfire tonight.” He added, stepping awfully close to my soaked body; “Did you wanna come?”
I smiled a knowingly winning smile, “Sounds like fun.”
He nodded, “Down at Brighton Beach, ten o’clock, you can’t miss it.”
“I’ll be there.” And I took one last look at him, one last look at the plan that I hatched, the plan that worked; before turning away and sitting back on my towel.
And I watched him climb the tower again, watched him take another look at me before ascending into the white box. And I smiled at myself for a job well done, for believing in myself the way I did in Nashville.
Maybe this summer won't be half bad after all.
o o o
I left the beach feeling fuzzy and warm, crisp and sun-kissed. And I made a mental note to thank Mom for being so forward with me last night. If it were up to me yesterday, I would’ve slept all day today and woken up to dinner being ready. But here I was, driving home from the beach with color on my skin and an invitation.
But before I made it home, a turning in my stomach had me pulling over in search of food. I did grow up here but, this is south Florida– everything here changes on a dime.
So I pulled out my phone and got to searching for food near me before I settled on a taco truck just up the road. I was still living on the high from the beach, still living in an overly confident state of mind. I didn’t think twice before opening my car door and walking the rest of the way, shirtless and proud of it.
Again… south Florida. No one here was going to judge me.
And as I strolled up to the taco truck, I read the menu with a head tilt, all the options blurring from my rumbling stomach. It was my turn, “What can I get for ya?” An older man stood inside, ready to type whatever I wanted on his pad of paper.
I shook my head, “What do you recommend?” I asked, looking between his eyes and the menu.
“Everything is great.” He said with a smile, not helping me at all.
I stared at the menu again with squinted eyes, “Uhm…”
“I always get the birria special.” An unfamiliar voice sounded behind me, and I turned to see a tall man behind me, flashing bright teeth at me.
I half smiled and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll get the birria special.” I looked up to the man inside the truck, feeling content with that decision. Truthfully, I hadn't had good birria in a while anyway.
He smiled at my choice, “Alright that’ll be eleven ninety-two.” And he held out his hand.
“I have apple pay.” I held up my phone, already on the screen to pay but he shook his head and pointed at a paper taped above him.
He sunk his lips, “Cash only.” Well fuck. I patted my wet trunks, hoping that maybe I was smart enough to grab a twenty from my car but alas, I was not.
I was about to tell him nevermind and go find food elsewhere, maybe a Chipotle if there was one around. But the man behind me piped up, “I got it.” He held out money to the man who took it, “And I’ll get the same thing.”
I looked at him with drawn eyebrows, “You don’t have to do that.”
“All good.” he smiled down at me and took his change and receipt. “This way I have company.”
I followed him to the side, letting the line of people behind us begin to order. “Well thank you. Do you have zelle or venmo or something?” I looked at my phone, ready to pay this man back but he only waved a dismissive hand in my direction.
“On me.” He said, and I looked up to his warm brown eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”
I smiled and looked down, observing what he wore; like he just left a formal function. “That’s very kind of you.” I started, making my way back up to his eyes that looked into mine; “So… the birria?”
He chuckled lightly, nodded and averted his eyes to the truck; “It’s good.” He looked back to me, a crack in his lips before asking; “Ever had it before?”
I nodded, tightening my lips to fight the smile that threatened them as I studied the sharp angles of his face. “Have you lived in Florida if you never had birria?” And he laughed, showing those bright teeth again.
“So you live here, hm?” He poked at my skin, his touch setting my body ablaze.
And I chuckled at the tease of my pale, reddened skin; “I grew up here.” I challenged him, tilting my head as I smiled. “What about you?” And I poked his hard chest through his shirt.
His eyes lingered on my finger as I withdrew it, meeting my eyes with another smile. “No.” He admitted, “I grew up in Illinois actually.” And he crossed his arms.
“You’re a long ways from home.” I had to continuously crane my neck to meet his eyes above me, “What brought you down here?”
“Work.” He said easily, “I manage a local firm.”
I nodded, drawing my brows at the mysterious response. A local firm? That could literally mean anything. But I wasn’t going to pry, not when he just bought my lunch. Though it did raise the suspicion that he was older than he looked, I mean– I was still in college. And he was here for work.
I looked behind me at an open metal table under the cover of an umbrella, “Wanna sit?” I asked him, needing to get out of the sun before my skin actually burned. All he did was nod as he followed me to the table, sitting across from me as our knees lightly grazed each other.
And an awkwardness fell between us, a pause of words and emotion as we both sort of stared into each other’s eyes. But he broke the silence, “You have pretty eyes.”
I widened them, surprised by such a forward statement. “Thank you.” I blushed, smiling at him. “You too.”
But he only rolled his own, “Nah…” He shook his head, “I’d kill for green eyes like yours.”
And I melted like putty in his hands, “Green is overrated.” I tried, not being able to hide the smirk as he continued to shake his head. Truth is, I do love my eyes, it’s one of those things about me that is unique in some ways. Of course other people have green eyes, but not everyone.
I twiddled my fingers together, silently staring at his body through the holes of the metal table before meeting those big warm eyes again. “Thank you again.”
“The pleasure’s all mi–”
“Order number forty-two!” Was called out.
His eyes averted to the truck and he held up the receipt, “That’s us.” And I stayed seated, allowing him to collect our order and bring it back; watching every fiber of his clothing cling to his body. And when he sat down, he opened the tied bag and pulled out a box, “This is for you.”
I smiled at him, not at the food in front of me, but him. “Thanks.” He smiled too and started to tie the bag back together, “Did you want to eat lunch with me?” I asked him, not entirely sure where that came from. But it did.
He smirked down at the bag, then back to me; “I gotta get back to the firm.” His lips stretched thin.
But I just nodded, “Okay. Thanks again.”
And he grabbed the bag, went to turn but before he left– he turned back to me. “Actually…” he sat the bag down, earning a tug at my lips before pulling out his phone. “Do you wanna hang out sometime?” He asked me, holding his phone out to me.
I nodded and took his phone, put in my number and saved my name as Next time, on me. And handed it back to him with a smile.
He laughed at the saved name, shoved his phone in his pocket and looked at me; “I’m Noah by the way.”
I cracked a smile at his goofy grin, “Cameron.”
He nodded while backing up, “Nice to meet you, Cameron.” He held up a shy wave, turning to walk away with his food.
“Nice to meet you too.” I said in a low voice, unsure if he actually heard me. But I watched him walk into a conjoined parking lot and lost him in the sea of cars.
I smiled to myself, felt giddy with all the attention, from the beach to here– Theo and Noah. I laughed at myself, held my head in my hands as I shook my head. Did I just get hit on by two guys on the same day? Did I just completely turn this summer around?
I mean… I didn’t want to get ahead of myself but– I was proud.
Proud of myself, proud of the work I’d done to my self confidence, proud of Mom who so lovingly pushed me out of the comfort of her house. I truly couldn’t believe myself.
But I ate those birria tacos with pride, devoured them with a smile on my face. Damn– they were good, and Noah was right. I discarded the box when I was done and walked back to my car, excited to go home and shower and relax. And it wasn’t just these interactions today that filled me with joy, but the fact that I didn’t run from them; the fact that I pursued them.
I really was growing up– I really was becoming me. The day wasn’t even over, the first full day of me being back home hadn’t even ended but… all I could think was…
What else does this summer have in store?
o o o
TC- I hope we enjoyed this introduction! Sorry for the lack of smut, just trust the process. Also-- comments are very welcome here.
