Freshman
Chapter 1
Christina
I'd known Tyler Weaver for years, ever since he and his wife Rebecca had moved in a couple streets down from us. They'd seemed like nice enough people for the neighborhood, even if they didn't have any kids for the rest of us to play with. Still though, they were younger than most of our parents, and Mr. Weaver had been in a pretty well known touring rock band when he was younger; I mean how fucking cool was that? They’d had some success and a few hits, he’d met Rebecca, and they’d settled down probably around the same time our family had moved in to the neighborhood. He'd always seemed so cool to me, with his shaggy hair and causal jeans and t-shirt look, and his totally hot tattoos.
They also had a glassed-in indoor pool, which was amazing - especially in a place with weather like New England - and they’d made it clear that any of the neighborhood kids could use it provided they had a chaperone with them. To my and my best friend Anna? That pretty much made them the coolest people we knew back then.
It was later, after training wheels had long since turned into training bras, and awkward phases had turned into awkwardly giggles about boys on the phone with our friends, when I'd first ended up working for them. Tyler was retired from the road and they had plenty of money, but he ran a cool indie record label out of their guest house, complete with a small recording studio. Rebecca did something with real estate, I guess just to keep busy since they were apparently set with the royalties Tyler’s old hits brought in. But between them, I guess they finally decided they need some assistance around the house, and since I lived right around the corner and they knew my parents, I was hired. I mostly did light chores, and some online social media stuff for Mr. Weaver’s label, and all-in-all, it was a pretty sweet first paying job.
I mean it was a great job. The Weaver's did well and paid well, and while most of my other friends started their first jobs in soul-sucking retail jobs, or scooping ice-cream, or waiting tables, I pretty much got paid to hang out by the pool all summer. They had to change things up during the school year of course, but I still worked for them on weekends here and there. I did the same thing the next summer, and as I finished my senior year the next summer, it seemed working for the Weavers was going to be the only job I needed before I went off to college. And the perks really were awesome. They always had a stocked fridge, an incredible music collection, and again, they paid great. And between Tyler hanging around the guest house studio or working on his motorcycle in the garage, and Rebecca being off on open houses all the time, I basically had the place to myself.
It was that last summer though, when things started to change; big time.
We lived in a fairly small, close-knit neighborhood, so it’s not like it was a secret that Tyler and Rebecca were “having problems”, as my mother put it. There were small things at first, like the fact that he came alone to a neighborhood barbecue, or rumors that she wasn’t even sleeping in their house anymore. But it was that last summer when the news finally broke that they were splitting up.
“She cheated on him, apparently,” Anna said, take a swig of lemonade and arching her eyebrows at me over the island counter in her kitchen. “Can you even imagine cheating on a guy like Tyler Weaver?” Anna made a fanning motion against her face as she panted dramatically, making me crack up.
Anna was the sister I never had - my co-conspirator, my confident, my other half, and my best friend for life. We’d done everything together since the day I’d moved into the neighborhood as a kid. We’d grown up together, doing everything from homework to first sleepovers, going to our first concerts to trying our first and only cigarette which we’d stolen out of her dad’s pack. We’d also resigned ourselves to the fate of going off to college as virgins.
Okay, “resigned” is a dramatic word. It's not like either of us had managed to get all the way through high school without giving it up for lack of offers; we were popular enough, we’d been on the soccer team together, and we were social enough. But the reality was just that neither of us had ever felt like having our first time be a fumbled back-seat awkwardness with some sweaty-handed high-school guy.
Okay, it might have been fantasy, but we'd been raised on thousands - literally thousands - of romance movies, books and TV shows. And the hero who the girl eventually let herself be swept away by was never inexperienced, or pimply, or most likely so excited that the whole thing would last thirty seconds. No, both Anna and I just wanted a real man for that first time; a guy who'd sweep us off our feet and show us how it was done, not someone who'd apologize afterwords.
Christina
I'd known Tyler Weaver for years, ever since he and his wife Rebecca had moved in a couple streets down from us. They'd seemed like nice enough people for the neighborhood, even if they didn't have any kids for the rest of us to play with. Still though, they were younger than most of our parents, and Mr. Weaver had been in a pretty well known touring rock band when he was younger; I mean how fucking cool was that? They’d had some success and a few hits, he’d met Rebecca, and they’d settled down probably around the same time our family had moved in to the neighborhood. He'd always seemed so cool to me, with his shaggy hair and causal jeans and t-shirt look, and his totally hot tattoos.
They also had a glassed-in indoor pool, which was amazing - especially in a place with weather like New England - and they’d made it clear that any of the neighborhood kids could use it provided they had a chaperone with them. To my and my best friend Anna? That pretty much made them the coolest people we knew back then.
It was later, after training wheels had long since turned into training bras, and awkward phases had turned into awkwardly giggles about boys on the phone with our friends, when I'd first ended up working for them. Tyler was retired from the road and they had plenty of money, but he ran a cool indie record label out of their guest house, complete with a small recording studio. Rebecca did something with real estate, I guess just to keep busy since they were apparently set with the royalties Tyler’s old hits brought in. But between them, I guess they finally decided they need some assistance around the house, and since I lived right around the corner and they knew my parents, I was hired. I mostly did light chores, and some online social media stuff for Mr. Weaver’s label, and all-in-all, it was a pretty sweet first paying job.
I mean it was a great job. The Weaver's did well and paid well, and while most of my other friends started their first jobs in soul-sucking retail jobs, or scooping ice-cream, or waiting tables, I pretty much got paid to hang out by the pool all summer. They had to change things up during the school year of course, but I still worked for them on weekends here and there. I did the same thing the next summer, and as I finished my senior year the next summer, it seemed working for the Weavers was going to be the only job I needed before I went off to college. And the perks really were awesome. They always had a stocked fridge, an incredible music collection, and again, they paid great. And between Tyler hanging around the guest house studio or working on his motorcycle in the garage, and Rebecca being off on open houses all the time, I basically had the place to myself.
It was that last summer though, when things started to change; big time.
We lived in a fairly small, close-knit neighborhood, so it’s not like it was a secret that Tyler and Rebecca were “having problems”, as my mother put it. There were small things at first, like the fact that he came alone to a neighborhood barbecue, or rumors that she wasn’t even sleeping in their house anymore. But it was that last summer when the news finally broke that they were splitting up.
“She cheated on him, apparently,” Anna said, take a swig of lemonade and arching her eyebrows at me over the island counter in her kitchen. “Can you even imagine cheating on a guy like Tyler Weaver?” Anna made a fanning motion against her face as she panted dramatically, making me crack up.
Anna was the sister I never had - my co-conspirator, my confident, my other half, and my best friend for life. We’d done everything together since the day I’d moved into the neighborhood as a kid. We’d grown up together, doing everything from homework to first sleepovers, going to our first concerts to trying our first and only cigarette which we’d stolen out of her dad’s pack. We’d also resigned ourselves to the fate of going off to college as virgins.
Okay, “resigned” is a dramatic word. It's not like either of us had managed to get all the way through high school without giving it up for lack of offers; we were popular enough, we’d been on the soccer team together, and we were social enough. But the reality was just that neither of us had ever felt like having our first time be a fumbled back-seat awkwardness with some sweaty-handed high-school guy.
Okay, it might have been fantasy, but we'd been raised on thousands - literally thousands - of romance movies, books and TV shows. And the hero who the girl eventually let herself be swept away by was never inexperienced, or pimply, or most likely so excited that the whole thing would last thirty seconds. No, both Anna and I just wanted a real man for that first time; a guy who'd sweep us off our feet and show us how it was done, not someone who'd apologize afterwords.