Old Spice and Skin

Most high school students stop caring about grades, extracurriculars, and overall performance by senior year. College applications have already been submitted, ACTs and SATs complete, and students have fallen into a trap of idleness. “Senioritis”, as it’s referred to, is even more deadly in Northern California when there’s a coastline nearby. The gravitational pull between the moon and the waves can only be mimicked by senior students and sand, burnt out on schoolwork and desperate for the rest of their lives to start. 

That, however, is most students. I was not one of them. The perfectionist in me was driving this car, and she’d had the wheels long before I turned sixteen. The past few years had been a blur of student government, approved after-school programs, and a rigorous academic attempt. Once senior year was over, I was putting as many miles between me and Berkeley as I could–but only after senior year was over. There were still opportunities to rack up more scholarships, get AP credits, and get a head start at university. 

I spent most of my time as the student government Events Chair. My most ambitious project yet was an art gallery featuring local artists and students, featuring all of their pieces intermingled. It’d gone off relatively without a problem, which put me in the passenger seat of Willa’s car, racing towards the coastline where there was a beach bonfire with our name on it. 

“I have to be honest,” Willa shook her head without taking her eyes off the road, “I’m a little surprised I managed to get you to come with me at all.” I fought back the urge to groan and tried to remind myself that Willa was acting like any good best friend. 

“I told you as soon as the gallery was over that I would get out more!” 

“Get out more!” Willa cackled, expertly navigating her old Honda through the winding coastal roads. “You sound like you’re eighty-seven years old. For fuck’s sake, Cass, we’re only eighteen. Stop being such an old lady.” 

Her comment stung, only because it was too accurate. I’d always been this way: a workaholic, zeroed in on perfection, always prepared with a five-year plan (the ten-year and the fifteen-year plan were still works in progress, okay? I’m not perfect, even if it’s hard to admit). 

“Okay, well,” I shrugged, failing to hide some of my frustration, “The gallery was a really big deal to me. I was dedicating all of my time to it! We raised enough money to get the entire band new uniforms. That’s better than… I don’t know, a bake sale or some shit.” 

“Heyyy!” Willa drawled, raising an eyebrow at me while still managing not to take her eyes off the road. “I helped with the gallery! I could’ve done even more if you let me.” 

“Okay, okay.” I held my hands up, the international sign for surrender, not wanting to start one of my final weekends as a senior fighting with my best friend. “You were a huge help, and for that, I thank you.” We pulled to a stoplight, and I leaned over to kiss her cheek dramatically. “Even if you did tell Leon about it and got him to sign up.” 

The words were out of my mouth before I could turn my filter off. I cringed, knowing Willa’s response was justified. She groaned exaggeratedly and stole a glance my way. 

“For the last time,” Willa punctuated her sentence by stepping on the gas pedal as the light turned green, “I didn’t specifically tell him about it. I told the art class about it, like I told every art class about it, and he wanted to sign up. I don’t know why you guys hate each other so much.” 

Honestly, it was a question I wish I had a better answer to. Leon was best friends with Zeke, Willa’s boyfriend, which meant the four of us had ended up spending a lot of time together. Maybe it was the forced proximity. There was a constant assumption when we were out together that Leon and I were a couple, too. There was one time I might have denied that assumption too quickly for Leon’s ego–but what was I supposed to do? Since then, it was a sick game to see who could deny it first and act more offended. 

“We don’t hate each other.” It was a lame rebuttal, and I knew it. 

Willa pulled into the beach parking lot next to a few other cars I recognized, covered in chalk markers that said various renditions of ‘Berkeley Senior Class’. 

“Oh look,” I pointed towards the shore and tried to change the subject, “Everyone’s already here. Let’s go!” I unbuckled my seatbelt and tore out of the car, forgetting our bags and racing Willa to the water. 

“How dare you!” Willa’s laughter echoed behind me as we jogged up to join the group. I recognized Zeke and his telltale mohawk first. He jumped up from the sand and wrapped his arms around Willa’s waist, spinning her before planting a kiss on her lips. 

“Hey, ladies,” he grinned, throwing me a fist bump. We exchanged pleasantries, and I said hello to everyone else in the group, artfully passing over Leon. Was it petty? Yes. Did I care? Not particularly. Everyone else’s senioritis may have started in September, but with the gallery over and summer finally approaching, I was finally out of go-mode. 

“Boys!” Zeke clapped his hands, riling the men up, “Let’s go get in the water!” Most of the guys agreed with him, shouting and hollering their approval. They all stood up in a tangle of awkward limbs, tripping over each other as they pulled off their shirts and ran to the water in a nearly indistinguishable mass. 

“I have a better idea.” Rebecca, one of the girls in Willa’s art class, smiled. She pulled a bottle of wine out of her bag and everyone oohed and aahed in delight. For a minute, I almost excused myself to go ‘get something’ from Willa’s car. My rule-following nature was overriding any senior instincts. But I forced myself to stay, made myself relax, and piled on one beach towel with all of the girls. 

We sat there and gossiped while the boys ran around in the freezing seawater, occasionally stopping and yelling for one of us by name. They tried to coax us out into the water, but even Zeke couldn’t get Willa to move from the warmth of the bonfire. We passed around a shitty bottle of Barefoot wine–none of us were of legal drinking age and hardly knowledgeable about wine, but it was acidic, to say the least–and talked about our upcoming graduation and senior prom. The last few group moments we’d all have together until what, our reunion? Who was the person to plan a reunion? It was the student government, right? 

I was lost on my tangent of thoughts and immediately running through potential party plan options, so I ignored the guys running out of the water. I didn’t even see them exit the water or sneak around into the tall grass. By the time they were running at us from behind, it was too late. 

The boys crashed into our warm, gossipy bliss and started shaking their heads like wet dogs. We all started screeching and tried to jump up and run away, but we were met with soaked t-shirts and dripping bodies. Towels started getting tangled around everyone’s feet and legs as they tried to run away; it created a mosh pit of horny teenagers, consisting of us girls, trying to stay dry, and the boys, hell bent on causing any chaos they could. 

Someone near me wrung out a wet article of clothing, splashing me. I scrunched my face in response and instinctively closed my eyes to avoid the sting of saltwater and sand. I could hear Willa shouting at Zeke to ‘put her down’ in a playful tone, and her voice started carrying away, presumingly as he pulled her towards the water. I pushed forward on my hands and knees to escape the chaos when I lost my grip on a slick towel. I went tumbling forward and braced myself for the smack of wet sand. 

Instead of cold sand or damp swim trunks, I was immediately struck with a sense of exuding warmth. My entire body relaxed on instinct, almost against my will, taking in a deep breath of Old Spice and skin. There was a hint of sea and salt to it. My eyes were shut tight as warm hands found my arms, gently pulling me forward until I was practically lying on top of them. Goosebumps erupted over my entire body. 

I found myself leaning into their embrace. It was impossible not to notice each spot where their fingers dug into my flesh ever so slightly. In a moment, my senses were solely condensed to one point, and a rush of heat went through my stomach in a way I was still unaccustomed to. It was new and foreign and a little bit awkward. We both sat there breathing for a few seconds too long, and I blinked my eyes open. 

All of the pleasant feelings building in my body vanished. 

I was on top of Leon. 

Of every person on that beach, I’d managed to trip into Leon’s wet lap. 

“Why are you touching me?” I hissed, feeling my face go red with embarrassment. I scrambled off of him as quickly as possible, nearly kicking him in the groin as I hit the ground. Leon’s expression had been neutral until I opened my mouth. At my condemnation, his face twisted, matching mine in equal repulsion. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, “Would you rather I let you smack your face on the sand?” 

At that moment, I discovered no graceful way to get back on my feet when scrambling on a wet beach. I took a second to get myself upright, turning around and pointing my finger at Leon with a huff. 

“You guys are such idiots. Are you twelve years old? Your idea of fun is to get a bunch of girls wet?” I heard it as soon as I said it, my embarrassment deepening at the topic with someone of the opposite sex–and someone I despised, no less. I prayed the firelight was keeping the red in my cheeks imperceivable. 

Leon smirked, running a hand through his perfectly wavy hair. The drying salt water was already making the ends even curlier, and it infuriated me to no end–he would have advertisement-worthy hair even after an unplanned dip in the ocean. Asshole. 

“I mean…uhh, if the girls are also into it…” 

“Shut up.” I crossed my arms over my chest. It wasn’t my best comeback, but I was too flustered to think of anything more targeted. “You’re such a pain in the ass, Leon. First, you had to try and ruin the gallery, but now this?” 

For a brief second, I thought a glimpse of hurt flashed across Leon’s face. As soon as I’d clocked it, it was gone. It was so out of character for Leon–who’d always been confident to the point of arrogance–it jarred me. 

“Do you think I tried to ruin your gallery?” Leon asked. His voice was quieter, more reserved than it had been a minute before. I awkwardly shifted my weight from one foot to the other. 

“I mean, I don’t know. You didn’t submit anything. You gave me a title card that said ‘Procrastination’ and hung that on the wall next to a blank space.” I crossed my arms over my chest, now uncomfortable for entirely different reasons. Leon didn’t say anything, turning his attention back towards the water, where most of our friends ran in and out of the surf. 

“And you thought that was me intentionally trying to ruin your gallery?” Leon asked, sounding almost like he was about to cry. I was horrified for a brief second until his expression shifted. His usual smirk returned as he grinned at me with a perfect, white, Californian smile. “I guess we’ll never know, but it’s not hard to ruin your day when everything has to be flawless or you’ll go insane.” 

Leon effortlessly jumped to his feet–further pissing me off because of how awkwardly I moved around on wet sand–and dusted some of the dirt off his shoulder. 

“My day does not have to go perfectly!” I nearly shrieked, feeling my hands tighten into fists at my side. Leon studied my body language and raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me as he walked towards the waves. 

“Whatever you say, Cass.” He gave me a fake salute and picked up the pace, clearly desperate to get away from my presence. 

“Don’t call me Cass!” I hissed after him. “You aren’t my friend!” My words were lost on the wind as Leon ran off towards the guys, jumping on someone’s back and riding him into the water. I turned around, fuming, and headed towards Willa’s car to get my towel. 

I tried to remind myself that it didn’t matter. I only had a few more weeks, and then I was free from high school. By the end of the summer, I’d get the hell out of Berkeley. 

And I could get the fuck away from Leon.