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It never rained on Cousins.
At least, that was what Belly wanted to believe. Days on Cousins weren’t ‘normal’ ones, especially not this year. They were the cold, fluffy whipped cream on top of melting ice cream. They were like butterflies that drink the nectar from a garden infested with allergy inducing pollen, sucking away all of the bad, scary things that tainted life. They were figments of the imaginative reality that she wanted to be true coming to life. Between June and September, these thoughts were no longer just hallucinations; they were her reality.
Belly had always thought that she would be a ballerina when she got older, ala Angelina Ballerina or Misty Copeland. She convinced Laurel to enroll her lessons when she was four (it was actually her father, who had complained to Laurel that Belly would ‘...never receive a balanced education if she spent all of her childhood doing math books and reading Pete the Cat’).
After that summer in Cousins, when Conrad had thrown her in the water to teach her how to swim, she instead began to set her sights on perfecting her butterfly stroke (and serving a few volleyballs in the process). The moment she stepped back on the fresh Massachusetts soil, Isabel had looked Laurel in the eye and told her to pull her out of ballet classes and into swimming lessons instead (poor Laurel and the hundreds of dollars she had thrown away).
Belly’s favorite cake flavor used to be chocolate, but after discovering that Conrad’s favorite was strawberry, she changed it (although she still preferred the tart chocolate bite over the overly sweet strawberry one). Now, anytime Belly even saw a strawberry cake laying on a shelf, her first thought would be Conrad’s face after devouring his 14th birthday cake, the small crumbles of the cake stuck onto his cheeks and flying onto his misty glasses, alongside the weasley stubble of hair slowly metamorphosing underneath his nose.
But most importantly of all, Belly had imagined her perfect future not just with Conrad Fister, but in Conrad Fisher’s hands. When she was in middle school (around twelve, she’d like to say), she used to spend days locked up in her room, planning the wedding piece by piece. Of course, it would have to be in Cousins. She’d force Steven to be the flower boy, giving him a little tutu and humiliating him like that just to get back at him for eating her ice cream. The reception would be underwater themed; Susanah would design it all. Conrad would teach her to dance to swing jazz music, and the entire night would be spent underneath the Cape Cod skies, dancing and celebrating the newly formed marriage.
But now, here she was, stomping back to the beach house after making out with Jeremiah half-naked in a car and yelling at Conrad’s face in the dark.
A rumble of thunder sounded in the air; the dark skies of Cousins illuminated into a bright shine, even if only for a millisecond. Lightning cracked. Fuck, Belly thought to herself. Almost immediately, she bolted into a sprint, running for her life. She didn’t have the time to dry off her hair if it became wet; she was just too tired to even think about proper hygiene. She was tired of being manipulated by fake friends, tired of seeing Conrad and being disappointed by him over and over again, tired of having to maintain a relationship with Jeremiah while being latched onto another that didn’t even exist outside of her brain.
When she ran, Belly didn’t have anything else to think of then getting home safely. She didn’t have to worry about her infinity necklace, still tainted with Conrad’s fingerprints and his ashy smell. She didn’t think of her lips, which still stung from the force of Jeremiah’s kiss and the smell of his own, like overripe pineapples, Pine-sol, and lard. She especially didn't have to think of Conrad’s face as she turned away, leaving him alone to swallow in his pity.
He was heartbroken. Crushed. In the wrong, yes, but decimated over his guilt.
Another rumble of thunder sounded. Belly flinched; she opened the house door as softly as she could so as to not wake the mothers up, or Jere, assuming he was asleep. But, as she was about to discover, he was doing the exact opposite of dozing off.
“J-Jeremiah?” Belly stammered, blinking away salty tears.
He was nestled up on the couch, watching a Spiderman rerun on the television. A bowl of vanilla ice cream was situated on the floor next to the couch, yet Jeremiah was clearly too cold to consume it. His cheeks were blue, mirroring the color of his eyes. He shivered like crazy, his whole body trembling with, what was it, fear?
He looked like a total child, and usually, Belly would make fun of him for it. But now wasn’t the time. He was clearly scared- but of what?
“Jere.” Belly repeated again, taking a step forward. “What are you doing up so-”
BOOM!
“AAH!” Jeremiah jumped, the remote falling off of his chest and clattering to the floor. His hands rocketed to his ears and he crumbled further into his sherpa of blankets. “B-Belly..?” He stammered, his blue eyes glistening as he stared at Isabel. “What- but- I-”
“Not so loud!” Belly reprimanded, throwing the house keys onto the floor and taking off her sandals. “Taylor and the moms are sleeping.”
“I- I thought you were asleep too…”
Belly’s face turned red. She looked down at her necklace, and she hoped that Jeremiah wouldn’t ask of it. If he knew…. “I went for a swim.” She lied, scratching her thigh.
“I didn’t hear you outside.”
“Jeremiah, I-”
The torrential sound of the thunder bounced against the walls. Jeremiah screamed once more, and leaned over to Belly, grabbing her wrist and making the blankets fall completely off of him. “GAH! What was that?”
“What are you, an alien?” Belly chuckled, playfully throwing a blanket on top of his head. “It was thunder, Jere. You know, the sound that clouds make when they’re ready to throw a temper tan-”
“I know what thunder is, Belly.”
“Okay, okay. Geez, Sherlock.”
Jeremiah didn’t throw the blanket back. Instead, he stayed eerily still, still shivering. His body felt warm; Belly thought that she could hear his heart beating from a mile away.
“Not. Funny.”
Belly started to tussle his golden brown hair, threading the heavenly curls underneath her fingers and humming playfully. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little thunder, are you?” She chirped in a sing-song voice. Belly knew what the answer would be right away. He’d try to deny it, but a clown can only put on his makeup and keep it on for so long.
“Belly, I SWEAR to God, if you tell a single soul outside of this house about this, I will kill you.” His voice was muffled underneath the blankets, but Belly got the message right away. “I will throw you into a pot of tomato soup and cook you to pieces, just watch me.”
“How did I not know about this until now?!” Belly was laughing now, wiping a tear away from her eyes. “Of all people, Jeremiah Fisher, afraid of a little storm. God!” She banged her thigh and flinched at the sudden noise. Jeremiah jumped too.
“Look who’s being ‘too loud’ now.” Jeremiah mumbled sarcastically under a pillow.
Belly rolled her eyes. “You planning on sleeping soon?”
“Not with this noise declaring war on my eardrums.”
“With that logic, you’ll be here for the rest of the-”
BOOM! Jeremiah screamed.
“-night. Zip it!” Belly covered Jeremiah’s mouth with her hands and sneered warningly. “The whole car thing was on enough thin ice- don’t risk us getting into trouble again.”
The car. Jeremiah’s face turned red just remembering it. Kissing Belly, in the moment, felt like he had just won the Olympics. The Olympics of life. For so long, he had desired her. He didn’t just want to be her boyfriend- he wanted to have her. To feel her breath rising and falling for longer than just a summer. To nurture her body, to make out every single night underneath the stars, in the pool, wherever the hell he wanted, she wanted. He had saved her, taken her in during one of her most vulnerable moments.
Now, he wanted that feeling permanently. The feeling of comfort. “Can you do me a favor?” He mumbled in a low voice. “Can you- can you bring me to bed?”
“Oh, you big baby-”
“Belly, please. Just this once. Remember the car?” His voice rose up. “I could have made you walk home naked with the girl who made out with your brother, wearing nothing but a towel on your naked as-”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” She got off of the couch, throwing the blankets and the pillows to the side, and gestured to Jeremiah. “Let’s get you to bed, Peter Parker.”
“Your bed is so soft.” Belly collapsed on top of Jeremiah’s fluffy pillows, taking a deep breath and inhaling the nice, clean mattresses. “I’m surprised I don’t force you to make me sleep here so often.”
“Probably because yours is way comfier.” Jeremiah took off his shirt and tossed it into the floor, sitting on the bed. The shirt smelled like tequila and gasoline- just the way Belly liked it. “Mine feels like a rock on good days compared to yours.”
“How do you know what my mattress feels like?”
“Next question, Einstein.”
“Why are you afraid of THUNDER, anyways?” Belly chuckled. “Is this a masculine thing, having such stupid fears and all?” She remembered Steven’s old fear of seagulls, how Conrad and Jeremiah had pranked him by putting old stale bread bits inside of his backpack and watching gleefully as Steven freaked out and tried swatting the birds away. Conrad had held her in his hands, during one of these moments, stroking her hand gently.
Conrad. The memories lingered, even during the intimate moments. But Jeremiah, his tan, his eyes, his smile, oh God, his smile.
Enough of that. Belly laughed instead of lusted. “Oh, men, I swear to God.”
Jeremiah opened his mouth to speak, but Belly shut him out, patting the spot on the bed next to her. “Come lie with me. That’s what couples do, right?” Belly rolled around in the sheets, taking in Jeremiah’s scent. They clearly hadn’t been washed in a while, but she couldn’t care less. “They sleep with each other, make out, cuddle, have a little sex and all that.” Belly never imagined that one day, she would openly discuss the notion of having sex with Jeremiah Fisher. If anything, she figured that those special, first few truly sexually intimate moments of her life would be spent in Conrad’s grasp.
“If you insist.” Jeremiah slowly shifted from the side of his bed into the cushions, snuggling up into his bed and covering himself with the pillows. Belly wrapped her arms around his waist, and Jeremiah’s tense posture started to relax. “You’re cold.”
“That’s what happens when you spend half your night in peak Cousins Beach breeze.” Belly rubbed Jeremiah on the back. His heat was a clear contrast to her frost; just touching him was enough for the day’s worries, both in terms of temperature and mental capacity, to flow away. “You never answered my question, Jere.”
“What question?”
“You know- why are you afraid of the storm?”
Jeremiah looked down towards his sheets. “It’s not important.”
“It has to be pretty fucking important since you made me practically carry you upstairs and tuck you in for bed.” Belly giggled- not in a condescending way, moreso in a thoughtful one.
Jeremiah knew that Belly wouldn’t understand. Like his own parents, Belly’s had just recently finalized the divorce papers. But, Belly’s parents had separated on peaceful terms. John and Laurel were as amiable of a couple as divorced couples could be. Belly and Steven never heard the sound and clanking of pots and pans being thrown onto the ground when a fight took place. There were no arguments that resulted in doors slamming and walls being punched. No screaming from his dad, no sobs from his mom.
Having to wipe away the tears from your mother’s eyes does something to a person. Something that not even the bravest of souls can tolerate.
“I’ve always been sensitive to loud noises.” Jeremiah lied, turning away from Belly’s face and placing on a fake announcer voice. “Reason number 100 as to why Jeremiah Fisher is a worse brother than Conrad!”
His claim was not a total lie; while Conrad had always been the quieter one out of the Fisher brothers, Jeremiah was the more sensitive one. Conrad could break his back and go three days without telling anyone just because he was scared to be another, but Jeremiah would gladly declare the end of the world over an untied shoelace. He was the one with anger issues in preschool, the kid that got into fights in kindergarten, the kid pulled out of class in first grade to color feelings photos with a woman who smelled like old shoes and grandma perfume.
Even despite his (partial) truthfulness, Belly still gave Jeremiah that dreaded ‘Look,’ the Look she gave everyone when she knew deep down they weren’t telling the full truth. “...fair enough.” She yawned loudly. “I’m getting tired.”
“Well, then, go to bed. It’s relatively late at night to be-”
A sound came from beside him. A sound resembling a mixture between a bear growling, the breeze of a windy night, and a dog howling. Belly’s snoring.
Jeremiah touched her shoulder. She was warm. Not fever-warm, but comfortably restful warm. Snuggled in his comforter, probably not planning on moving anytime soon. Her hair was tousled, her breath milky, but the skin under eyes still tear-striken with salty white lines.
He had kissed this. Put his lips on her own beautiful ones, taking full control over her body, even if for just a few seconds. This was his. She wasn’t just Isabel Conklin, the girl, anymore- she was Jeremiah Fisher’s girlfriend.
He stared at her for a few moments in- shock? Awe? Disbelief that this was the life that had been given to him so graciously?
Then, on impulse, his hands began to move to her body as if they had a mind of their own. He wrapped Belly around in his arms. She would probably wake up in a few hours, realize how stupid she was acting, sleeping in his bed and all, and struggle over to her own room to sleep in her own space so Laurel wouldn’t get confused.
But, for now, he was hers and she was his.
The thunder sounded again, the loud noises repeating in his head (Belly was right about the storm staying for a while). This time, Jeremiah didn’t flinch or scream. He squeezed Bely’s hands a little tighter. He didn’t need to pretend to be brave. He could remain vulnerable, because his best friend was right next to him.