This One Summer Book Novels & Stories

Bring it on, Italy. END OF BOOK ONE

Summer Love. I didn't think the summer part mattered. Sure we did fall in love during the summer. That doesn't mean I didn't expect it to last past that. It didn't matter to me that he was Nathan Kalis's school-bad boy. To me, he was just Nathan. The man couldn't go more than ten minutes before demanding a kiss. Who always wanted me to cuddle into him. And who loved listening to me read my books out loud.

The atmosphere of the island was serene and warm, despite the nearness of the sea and the lightness of swimwear. — At the center of the square There stood a massive book, bound in dark brown leather. Its pages were thick, as if made to bear the heaviest of emotions. It lay open to a blank page. This was the Book of the Lovers’ Remembrance. It was said that every name written within it could never be erased, never forgotten, but would be immortalized with the island itself. Naomi approached slowly, her eyes gleaming with pure wonder, curiosity mingled with an inexplicable sense of awe. Adel followed her, stood beside her, and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

I liked the old Summer more. Summer ~”I recall you calling the old Summer a whining girl.” Devan ~”I did not say that.” Aaron ~”Oh yes you did.” Devan ~”So much for friendship.” Aaron ~”I did not know I was supposed to consider you as a friend.” Summer ~”You guys are still a bunch of idiots though.” Aaron ~”Me too?” Summer ~”No not you, the ass guy and his friend. Please tell me he does not have to babysit me anymore because he annoys the living shit out of me.”

And then there were Marianne and Elena—inside, carrying the weight of summer storms long past, and secrets that stretched across years like invisible threads. Gemma opened her notebook, pen poised above the blank page. She didn’t know what she was about to write—an observation, a story, a warning. Maybe all three. But she knew one thing: this summer wasn’t just fleeting warmth and careless laughter. It was a convergence, a delicate balance of past and present, of choices and consequences.

"O-Of course. We're friends." Satisfied with my response, Bethany finally let go of my arm and followed me inside. I opened the door, but the office was pitch-black. "Dad, these are the friends I mentioned, the ones coming to work here for the summer," I said cautiously. Before I could introduce them, they pushed past me and crowded into the room. "Hello, Mr. Parker. We're here for the summer jobs. May I know what the pay is like? Is ten thousand dollars a month okay? Oh, and I'm not really into factory work. Can I get an office job instead?"

Arya We only have a week left of being at the cabin before we need to go back to our real lives. My book is nearly done! Which is amazing! It usually takes me longer to write, but I think this one was easier because of the experiences I’ve had this summer.

I looked up, and under the shade of the trees, he stood quietly—tall and composed—but his face was hidden in shadow. It was summer, and the cicadas buzzed noisily in the background. It suddenly brought me back to the end of the video I had seen in the theater. He had been sitting there, hands clenched tightly together, saying, “Sadie, I want you to be happy.” Even now, I couldn’t forget those words. So, I answered him, “Because someone wants me to be happy.”

Summer immediately saw some strange things. She glanced at the man, who was watching her eagerly, and opened the album. The moment she opened the album, Summer tossed the phone away in horror.