When we were 15, we got into their van, camper in tow, and headed east with my buddy's family to the Gaspé.
There was a pool at this campground, and one sunny afternoon, we saw these girls there. Of course, we didn't talk to them. We wouldn't have known what to do with them if they fell into our swim trunks. But we snuck peeks at these glistening young bodies in bikinis, exchanged curious glances from the other side of the pool, trying desperately to play it cool. I sat in a deck chair and hid my excitement with my towel.
We saw them again while helping my friend's mom, of all things, wash the dishes. We spoke to them this time, or, should I say, they spoke to us. We made plans to meet up later. Felt pretty good about ourselves. But we were all awkwardness and insecurity. They were all bright eyes and bare legs. And, to make things worse, they didn't speak the French our teachers had taught us in school.
Oh, to be 15, clueless about the opposite sex, terrified of the object of our desires. This was our song that summer.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzY2Qcu5i2A
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