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    The Summer We Believed: Denim Days, #1
    The Summer We Believed: Denim Days, #1
    The Summer We Believed: Denim Days, #1
    Ebook115 pages1 hour

    The Summer We Believed: Denim Days, #1

    By Shel Delisle

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    About this ebook

    Melody and Duncan are best friends who spend every summer vacationing at their families’ lake houses in the Northwoods of Minnesota. Their plan for this summer is to have as much fun in the sun as they can before they head off for their first year of college at the U in the fall. 

    Everything changes when Duncan’s father announces he’s been promoted and the family will be moving to Florida. Secretly, both Mel and Duncan are harboring feelings for each other, but both are holding back. With only one week before the life-long friends are separated by two thousand miles, can the budding romance find a way to blossom?

    The Summer We Believed is the first installment of Denim Days, a friends-to-lovers series by Shel Delisle.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSomething Else Publishing
    Release dateJan 22, 2017
    ISBN9781386922292
    The Summer We Believed: Denim Days, #1
    Author

    Shel Delisle

    Shel Delisle swam with dolphins once upon a time, but they didn't speak to her. Unfortunately. Even though she lives in Florida with her hubby and three boys, she doesn't spend as much time as she would like in the water. Most days she writes fiction or works on the kid-lit community website, www.whatchareadingnow.com that she founded with two other writer friends.

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      Book preview

      The Summer We Believed - Shel Delisle

      Prologue

      If I told you true love was like your favorite pair of jeans, would you believe me? Three summers spent with Duncan convinced me of that. This is the story of our denim days.

      DAY ONE

      Melody

      Melody, did Duncan arrive yet? Mom unpacked a two-week supply of Greek yogurt and stacked them next to three cans of Deep Woods Off on the ugly Formica countertop. Dad gave me a sideways glance to see how I’d answer.

      I shrugged, pretending to have no idea, but in fact Duncan arrived seven minutes ago, helped his family unpack the car, and since then has sent me two text messages. After graduation, in a moment of utter weakness, I’d leaked to Mom how I felt about Duncan. I was pretty sure she’d shared that news with Dad based on his inquiring look. It’d become incredibly awkward having a guy as your best friend when everyone kept watching to see if it would blossom into something more.

      I saw them pull in about five minutes ago. Dad inventoried his baking items. He usually made from scratch brownies, a pie or two, and cinnamon rolls when we were up here. I may have inherited my auburn hair and coloring from Mom, but I inherited my sweet tooth and pudge from Dad.

      Seven. I peeked at my phone. Now, eight.

      Why don’t you go see if they could use your help? Dad and I can manage.

      I put the last bag of Sun Chips into the pantry. After I finish dusting everything. You know how it grosses me out. For some reason I wanted to delay seeing him. I wasn’t sure how I acted around him anymore.

      Dusting provided a legit excuse.

      Duncan knew only too well dust gave me the heebie-jeebies, ever since Mom dragged me to a pedicure party where the hostess was pimping lotions and sugar scrubs. The company rep said that ninety percent of dust was from dried skin cells, and that by using their lotions we’d have cleaner homes. It might have scarred me permanently.

      I grabbed the Pledge and a few old rags and quickly worked my way around the den, dining room, and Mom and Dad’s room. In the doorway to my room, armed with the weapons of dust destruction, waves of nostalgia washed over me. The old chenille bedspread that had been Nana’s. Her old pine bureau, still topped with a Hummel dish she used for bobby pins. How many mornings up here had I climbed under those covers to snuggle up to her lilac powdery scent? How was it possible that this room, this place, felt more like home than home did?

      I was more than half-way done when Duncan knocked on the backdoor. Can Melody come out to play? he joked with Mom. It was the same thing he’d asked since we were four.

      Of course she can, but you’ll probably have to wait until she’s done fixating on dust. Why don’t you see if you can convince her?

      I heard the creak of the rusty screen-door hinges, the clomp of Duncan’s footsteps across the worn oak floors, and him saying, I got those Mr. B. Then his reflection appeared in my bureau mirror holding my suitcase and duffle. Since graduation, he’d played with different facial hair—today he was sporting longer sideburns and a soul patch. Other than that, Duncan’s looks hadn’t changed much since we were kids. His features had grown more angular, but he still had denim blue eyes and a long nose over full lips. I stared at those lips, which grinned at me in the mirror. One butterfly appeared in my stomach.

      Are you ignoring me? he asked.

      Only until the dust is gone, I said without turning around. I was afraid if I faced him the butterfly might have babies. I was afraid he would know it. He knew me better than anyone.

      The family lore is that my mom met Duncan’s mom in a Lamaze class. They delivered within a day of each other, shared a bottle of wine when Duncan was finally weaned from breastfeeding, and signed up for Mommy and Me classes at the Y. Basically, Duncan and I have been together since before birth, but we’ve been playing together for almost seventeen years.

      He came to stand over my shoulder, a full head taller than me, to watch me dust the old pine dresser. The butterfly returned with a few companions. Duncan inched forward, close, and rested the bottom of his chin on the top of my head. Such a flirt! It meant nothing for Duncan. Do you think it’s possible for dead skin to morph into a zombie? Like if all the skin cells fused together? he teased while making his monster face in the mirror.

      I turned around and whacked him with my dust rag, aware of how close we were. Don’t get weird. I just don’t want to breathe this in while I’m sleeping. Bet you wouldn’t either.

      Okay, okay. He held his hands up in surrender. "When you’re done sterilizing want to go for a quick ride on the Jet Ski before dinner? Dad’s grilling tonight. I think your mom already said yes, so you’re stuck with me."

      Being stuck with Duncan was the story of my life. So far it’d been a good story, even if hadn’t been a fairy tale.

      I’ll meet you at the dock in ten minutes.

      I’d much rather kayak or even take the Sunfish out for a sail, but Duncan liked the speed of the Jet Ski and I’d take him any way I could get him. Besides, it was almost dinnertime, so the ride would be short. Thank God. Most of the ten minutes was spent debating between my old one-piece and the new two-piece. I’d been dieting since the graduation parties, so I went with the new suit and headed out the kitchen door.

      Our two lake houses shared one long gravel driveway. The dock, while officially on our property, was used primarily by the Wilde’s. They owned the Jet Ski, two kayaks, and the Sunfish. Our houses were set back into a little cove, not really part of the main lake. Look to the right, and the water opened onto the biggest part of the lake. Directly across from the dock was a stand of pine trees that gave me the feeling of wilderness. The cottage to the left of ours had been vacant for years. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, the scent of pine lingered in the air. This cove felt like our private paradise. A bare-chested Duncan was hunched over the Jet Ski, making paradise all that much better. 

      Cute suit. He eyed my sporty two-piece with boy shorts. Ready?

      I blushed, secretly thrilled that he noticed. Not too fast, I said, meaning the ride, and looked into his dark blue eyes.

      Duncan’s dad hauled the gas grill out of the shed and into the yard. You better get going, Duncan, if you want to get a ride in before dinner.

      Duncan’s jaw pulsed as he gritted his teeth. What now? His relationship with his father was fragile at best, but his fuming expression told me there was a new kink. He might not tell me now, but he would, eventually.

      He untied the last knot, straddled the Jet Ski, and said, Hop on. I slipped my arms loosely around his waist and whoa! The feel of his bare skin. My chest to his back. My breath was caught in my chest. The butterflies from earlier decided to have a family reunion. I couldn’t think straight. Maybe the Jet Ski wasn’t such a bad idea.

      At first, Duncan drove at a normal speed—one that I could stand—but when we rounded the point and

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