“Fling Thing, Fling Thing, Fling Thing!”

“Stop it!” Kent roars, and Destinee and I shut up immediately. “I can’t count with you guys doing that!”

“Grouchy Fling Thing Ding-a-Ling,” Destinee whispers in my ear.

“Okay, can everyone be quiet for five seconds?” Kent turns to face the trunk of the car again. It’s filled to bursting with rows of coolers and boxes and folded up beach chairs and everyone’s bags. Kent starts counting the stack of boxes he contributed once again. “One, two-”

“Heyyyy!” We all swivel around to see Angie running down the sidewalk towards us, a pair of delightfully gigantic sunglasses bouncing on her nose. “Fling Thing, bitches!” she hollers, and Destinee and I cheer wildly.

“Hello, excuse me, can we all be quiet for five-” Kent cuts himself off, groans, and rubs his temples. “Alright, you know what? If I forgot a box of delicious snacks, you guys are the ones responsible.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Angie tells him, holding up the covered tray in her hands. “I got the fucking goods right here. These nachos? Yeah, they might just bring tears, sobbing. Possibly even orgasms. No, both. At the same time. A sobbing nacho orgasm.”

“Give me one!” I reach for the tray, and Angie smacks my hand.

“Damn, Jamie, at least wait until we get to the party!”

“Who’s yelling at Jamie?” my dad asks, climbing out of the driver’s seat. “And can I get in on that?”

“Thanks for dropping us off, Marcus.” Kent takes the nachos from Angie and adds them to the growing mountain of stuff in the trunk. “You know there’s nowhere to park up there.”

“No problem. I wish I could come myself, but Mary insists it’s only for the kids.”

“By whose standards are we still kids, dad?” I ask.

“Well, let me see. Did someone just have to slap your hand so that you wouldn’t eat nachos that don't belong to you?”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“Do we have everyone?” Angie asks, sliding up her sunglasses to rest on her forehead.

“No,” Kent and I answer at the same time.

“Well, shit, I’m getting back in the car, it’s a scorcher.” My dad disappears into the driver’s side.

“Turn on some jams while we wait, Mr. K!” Destinee calls. “Wait, wait, I made a playlist!”

She hands her phone through the window. There’s a moment of silence while my dad fumbles with the aux cable. Some old-school Salt-N-Pepa starts blasting at a volume that vibrates the entire car.

“Whoa, this must be where the party’s at,” comes a new voice, and we all spin.

“Gabby!” Kent and I call together, smiling. She has a blue cooler in her hands, an oversized beach bag on her shoulder.

“I brought homemade horchata ice cream,” she says, opening the cooler to show us.

“Who are you, because I already love you,” Angie answers, leaning over the cooler to stare at its frosty contents. “Let me try a bite of that.”

“No fair, Angie gets to try the horchata ice cream, but I don’t get to have a sobbing nacho orgasm?” I complain.

“Dear God, did I just hear Jamie say the words sobbing nacho orgasm?”

Oh, no. I whip around and find Aiden there, grinning widely. He has his bag on one shoulder, the usual snapback on his head, and his eyebrows raised all the way up.

I spent a long time this morning getting ready for the party. I want - no, I need to look cute for this particular occasion. I let Kasey pick out my entire outfit, right down to my cologne and my socks. I know I’ll look like a disaster by the time the Fling Thing is over - everybody always does - but I at least wanted to make a good impression when Aiden saw me for the first time today.

And what a first impression I’ve made. He’s still staring at me, waiting for an explanation. I decide to double down.

“You’re telling me you’ve never had a sobbing nacho orgasm?” I ask him. “You’re missing out, bud.”

“True,” Angie says, pointing to the tray. “Just you wait, Aiden. They’ll be the best tears you’ve cried in your life.”

“I’m… scared?” he answers, bewildered.

“Okay, now we have everyone.” Kent slams the trunk closed. “And I’m just about to be ready to be done with this line of conversation. Nobody ever say those words in that order ever again.”

He should have known better to say such a thing, because the entire ride over is filled with chants of Sobbing! Nacho! Orgasms! until he threatens to have my dad turn us around. The car is packed; I’m crushed up against Aiden’s side, breathing the scent of his vetiver aftershave. There’s not enough room for his arm, so he hangs it over my shoulder, sending my stomach into somersaults. Gabby surprises us all by extracting a wrapped tray of jello shots from her beach bag and distributing them to everyone in the car who will be drinking today. She earns a wild chorus of cheers for her efforts.

We join a long row of cars headed up the mountain. My dad drops us at the trailhead, and we each grab an armful of stuff from the trunk. Crowds of people are already headed up the path. Destinee syncs her playlist up to a pocket-sized Bluetooth speaker. People start dancing around to the music we’re blasting, shouting along to the lyrics. The excitement is infectious.

We reach the end of the wooded trail and step out into the sunshine.

“Whoa,” Aiden says, stopping in his tracks. I pause at his side, watching him take it all in.

The Fling Thing takes place on a flat stretch of grassy land that juts out from the mountain, about halfway up its side. It resembles a giant lawn, lined with forest on three of its edges. The third edge faces a drop off with a view.

Ketterbridge looks tiny from up here. We can see the rows of houses and shops, the waterfront, the mountains that hem in the other side of town. It’s a clear, brilliant day. The breeze ripples the hemlock and yellow cedar trees that mark the start of the woods behind us. The sky seems to stretch on forever, azure and cloudless.

It’s really saying something that Aiden is my favorite part of this view.

The grassy area is a sea of picnic blankets and folding chairs and beach umbrellas. People have already assembled portable grills and laid out full feasts. A handful of guys are dragging kindling towards the stone circle that marks the center of the event, preparing it for the bonfire that will be lit when the sun goes down. There are even a few kites in the sky, hovering on wind too high up for any of us to feel. I see guitars and disposable shot glasses and pizza boxes and leashed dogs and people passing around joints.

Aiden glances down at me. I turn to meet his gaze. He’s smiling widely, and my heart lifts. I want him to have a good time today, experience this like I have. It’s one of the best days of the year.

Our group kept walking without us. Scanning the crowd, I spot Kent and Gabby on either end of a huge picnic blanket, spreading it out and weighing it down with their kicked-off shoes. Aiden and I carefully weave through other people’s set-ups until we reach them.

“I brought something for you,” he tells me, pulling his backpack off his shoulder.

“You did?” He unzips his bag and extracts two items: a bottle of sunscreen, and one of his snapbacks. “Oh, my god.”

“Burn boy,” he says, slapping the sunscreen into my hand and pulling the hat onto my head.

“I brought something for you, too.”

“Oh, yeah?” He watches me fumble with my own bag. I thought of this last night and ran to the store just before they closed, so I hope he likes it. It’s still in its boxy packaging, and I set the entire thing down into his hands. He flips it over, pauses, and looks up at me. “A soccer ball?”

“I didn’t know if you already had one, but- you used to play, I thought you might want to kick it around today.”

“With you?” he asks, smiling so hard that his cheeks turn perfectly round.

“Um. No? God no. Fuck no. With someone who actually enjoys running for fun.”

“Kent?” Aiden asks, but Gabby pulls it right out of his hands.

“I’ll wipe the floor with you,” she tells him, easily tearing the ball free from its packaging.

“You’re on,” Aiden laughs. “Should we find a spot?”

“Wait, wait!” Destinee says, pulling a sleeve of red solo cups from her own bag. “Nobody go anywhere yet! Kent, where’s the bottle?”

Kent hands over two giant bottles of something red, and Destinee begins pouring out cups.

“I’m all good,” Aiden says, when she offers him one.

“It’s okay, Aiden,” Kent cuts in. “We didn’t forget about you! That’s why there are two bottles.” He holds them up. “This one has a lethal amount of Bacardi inside, and that one doesn’t. Yours is watermelon lemonade.”

“Oh.” Aiden stops, surprised.

“Duh, come on, Aiden!” Angie says, slapping his back. “Why should you be stuck with water all day while the rest of us trip on sweet citrusy goodness?”

He smiles, bites his lip, and accepts the cup from Destinee. I also grab a non-alcoholic cup, and the group gathers on the picnic blanket.

“To a day and night of ridiculous debauchery!” Kent says, his deep voice carrying over the noise. We all raise our cups. “To the end of summer. To the Fling Thing!”

“To the Fling Thing!” we holler, and people from other blankets shout it back at us. Everyone takes a long sip of their drink.

“Now let’s fucking party!” Gabby shouts, and Aiden and I share an amazed glance before bursting into laughter.

~~~~

The Fling Thing is just as fun as I remembered. Everyone is feeling the spirit, and things quickly devolve into the best brand of chaos.

The rest of the jello shots disappear. Gabby and Aiden kick the soccer ball around until both of them have bruises. A hammered Kent ends up wearing Angie’s gigantic sunglasses, so Aiden puts on Gabby’s equally gigantic sun hat. They both strike absurd vogue poses while I snap pictures. Gabby makes a great show of moaning loudly while eating the nachos Angie made, sending Destinee to screaming with laughter. I make everyone collectively groan by dropping a nug out of the communal bag of weed. The group crawls around looking everywhere for it until it’s revealed to be clinging to my shirt about twenty minutes later.

Someone from a different group brought a karaoke machine. Aiden is feeling just silly enough to let me drag him over for a duet. We do an extremely off-pitch version of Timber that would make Kesha cringe, but which gets howls of approval from everyone listening. Destinee and Angie dance enthusiastically the whole length of our impromptu performance.

Kent joins the guys hauling firewood to the yet unlit bonfire.

“He’s so fucking fine,” Gabby drunkenly whispers in my ear, watching him. “I’m... gonna... smooch his face off.”

“Do it, girl, do it!”

Gabby grabs me by my cheeks.

“Smooch! His! Face! Right! Off!” she shouts, and I almost pop a lung laughing.

Destinee hijacks the mic from the karaoke machine to perform the poem she’ll be competing with soon. The silliness is put on hold for a moment as we all listen with awe. People nearby stop to watch. The round of applause that follows is definitely not confined to our group.

At the start of the party, I kept looking over at Aiden to see whether he was having a good time, but I quickly realized I don’t have to. He’s been smiling all day, energetic and happy, and it doesn’t matter one bit that we’re not drinking. This is a blast, just like it always is.

I like this playful version of Aiden so much. Watching him race around with  Angie screaming in delight on his shoulders, my heart feels too big to fit in my body. He and I both laugh ourselves hoarse when a very wasted Kent tries to give us a lecture with his eyes basically crossed. Then again when Gabby does a very good impression of it moments later. I’m going to lose my voice if things go on like this.

I feel drunk off his laughter, his hands that catch me when I nearly trip on the soccer ball. I love the very classic Aiden outfit he wore - a pair of board shorts, a t-shirt, and of course, the backwards snapback. It’s so simple, but so him. I can't stop looking, and not just because he’s so damn cute when he's this happy.

I keep looking back because I'm watching for the right moment, and I’m determined to find it tonight.

The sun begins to set. Everyone at the Fling Thing gathers around the bonfire, chanting light it up, light it up! Someone steps forward and crouches near the kindling; there’s a flicker, a spark, and then a roar. The whole thing bursts into brilliant flames, to a collective shout of pleasure from the crowd. Bags of graham crackers and packages of Hershey’s are opened, and people start handing out marshmallows and sticks. Too hot for me; I seek out the guy who rolled up with a snowcone cart and get myself a lime-flavored one. I would normally get strawberry, but Aiden is allergic, and, you know. Who knows what might happen tonight? I don’t want strawberry anything on my lips. Just in case.

My nerves keep falling away in my distraction, then rushing back the moment I remember what’s coming.

The sunset is one for the books, swirls of crimson and gold igniting a sheet of billowing clouds. Gabby, Destinee, and Angie have gone on one of those group-trips to the bathroom that girls do, and Kent is catching up with some of his high school friends, so Aiden and I sit alone on the blanket, watching the shifting colors. The sun drips lower and lower, disappears all too soon. The reflection of it in Aiden’s blue eyes is the kind of shit that makes people write poetry.

The night sky bends down over the mountain and wraps us in that luxuriant, warm summer darkness that we probably won’t see again until next year. The veil of clouds moves away, letting the stars loose. You feel so close to them, this high up on the mountain.

With night fallen, the party kicks into a new gear. The hours pass in a blur of dancing, laughing, shouting, and snatched moments sprawled out on the picnic blanket, catching our breaths. At one point it seems like everyone at the entire party is dancing around the bonfire together.

It grows late more quickly than I could have imagined. A few couples disappear together into the woods. Aiden and I join our group at the bonfire, where the crowd has thinned enough for us to fit comfortably. Gabby sits between Kent’s bent knees, leaning her back against his chest while he drowsily plays with a strand of her hair. Angie and Destinee scroll through the pictures we took today, laughing over the really bad ones.

I’m aware that time is ticking down. I’m trying to think of how to get Aiden away from the bonfire, to someplace where we can be alone. He sits next to me on the ground, leaning back on his palms, his long fingers buried in the grass. He seems peaceful, content. I look away from him, the butterflies gathering in my stomach. This is the perfect time for us to get away, but what do I say to him?

I glance over again and find him looking at me.

“Hey," he says. "Do you feel like going for a walk?”