Summer Heat: Anthology

by Sonya Jesus

  Does he think over the years I never had the chance to cheat on him? I had plenty of opportunities, but never the desire to be with anyone but him. For a straight A student, I was a complete idiot. Then again, at the time, I had my own problems to worry about, but now that I look back, I see it. He blatantly flirted with girls in front of me. I thought it was just his charming personality, now I realize it was nothing more than him being an asshole who enjoyed making a fool out of me.

  Not that I usually care what people think, but damn, how did I turn into the blind girl who couldn’t see what was right in front of her? Love is blind. That’s what my bother always used to say. Well, how about we change that popular saying to Love is stupid or Love is only temporary?

  Temporary love? That sounds about right. That’s why this class topic is absolutely ridiculous. The Psychology of Love is not something I am interested in, and listening to my professor go on and on about love is making me want to regurgitate the breakfast I shoved down my throat on my way over here. Obviously, he’s under the notion that he’s in love, or he wouldn’t be smiling like a freaking idiot while he explained the history of love analysis and how over the years it could be divided into different groups.

  And then he stops right in the middle of explaining some old man’s theory on love and asks us, “Let’s take a moment to define love. What do you think love is?”

  All the girls, who stupidly think they are dating the one and only loves of their lives, raise their hands and the professor calls on some pretty blonde bimbo sitting to my left.

  “Love is security. It’s commitment, attraction to someone who understands you on a fundamental level. It’s looking passed flaws by accepting them and adjusting your life to them.” She takes a deep breath, sighing heavily in the process, and takes hold of the guy’s hand next to her. “It’s a connection that links you together.”

  I roll my eyes and mumble a, “Please.” I thought it was low and inaudible, but the blonde’s eyes snap to me. I lift my eyebrows and shrug my shoulders. I don’t know what she wants me to say. Her answer was full of shit. It will all change when he breaks up with her because he wants to link his dick to another woman’s vagina.

  “Ms. Hartman?”

  Great. I address the professor, “Yes, Doctor Ferguson?”

  “You seem to have a different definition of love than your classmate. Care to elaborate?”

  Not really. But, it’s not like I had a fucking choice. “I think everyone’s definition is going to be different, depending on where in their romantic journey they are.”

  Not taking a stance on a very debatable topic is a good choice when my body is freaking sore and I’m exhausted. Keenan definitely gave me a very intense work out, and my mind is still reeling from all the male attention this morning. That, and I still smell like a mixture of his cologne and him. I sniff myself inconspicuously and let the scent of amber lure me into memories of our mingled bodies together.

  My recollection is cut short. “As much as I enjoy your politician’s answer. How about you take a stance. This is a seminar, debating is part of my lesson plan.”

  I force a smile and sit up straighter. Reminding myself that this is why I took this class. Jonah told me it was all about healthy discussion, and he guaranteed it would be worth the early morning wake ups. On most days, he was right, but today I had the urge to punch him in the nose.

  “Well?” The blonde next to me raises her nose at me.

  Here we go. Brutal honesty. “Love is nothing more than a transient state of emotion that dissipates over time. An influx of endorphins that stimulate your heart into beating faster, so it can pump hormones through your system. The concept of love, or rather endorphin rush, is not something that differentiates us from animals, it’s a physical connection that links us to them.”

  My cheeks are slightly flushed and from the sound of the crowded room, a lot of people agree with me, which elates my professor. “Are you suggesting that there is no difference between love and sex?”

  I take a moment to consider this answer. “I guess so. I mean, would you love someone forever if sex was out of the equation?”

  “Yes,” the blonde says vehemently, but the way her boyfriend’s head tilted to the side, spoke a different story. Luckily for him, she didn’t notice. However, the professor did.

  “Interesting.” He scratches his beard. “Why do you not believe in the existence of sexless love.”

  “It’s not that I don’t believe in it. I mean, there are platonic relationships that don’t have sex as a requirement, but that’s a different story. If we are talking romance, then sex is a requirement.”

  “Tyler,” the professor calls out the blonde’s boyfriend. “Do you agree with Ms. Hartman?”

  He untangles his fingers from his girlfriends and leans forward looking at me for a moment. I get a feeling he’s wondering if he should lie, but his body language is answering Ferguson’s questions. “I know this is going to sound like an asshole thing to say. But I mean, if you aren’t having sex you are thinking of when you are going to have it. Waiting periods depend on different things, but I guess Lexi is right.”

  The blonde clicks her tongue and crosses her arms in front of her chest. However, before Tyler can smooth things over Ferguson interjects, “Waiting periods?” Ferguson smiles and rounds his desk so that he is standing in front of it. He takes a seat, making himself comfortable. “Tell me more about this time interval. What does it depend on?”

  Tyler runs his hands through his thick blonde hair. “Professor Ferguson, are you trying to get me in trouble with my girl?”

  The young professor smiles. “Just simply curious. I think the rest of the class is also, but if you don’t feel comfortable answering…” He lets his words trail off, bating Tyler.

  “I know what he means,” I save Tyler because I pity him right now. “I think there’s a difference in how time is perceived here, but it all comes down to one thing. The waiting period is a test on how into her the guy is. If he waits longer, then he respects her more. I guess it’s what segregates physical attraction from emotional attraction.”

  “So, there is a difference in attraction?”

  Why can’t the professor just leave this alone? I gear myself for another discussion when someone in the back answers. “Of course, there is a difference.” I swivel my head around to see who is talking, and I’m happy to see it’s Hailee coming to my rescue. She comes down the stairs, but Ferguson’s frown is apparent.

  “You are twenty minutes late, Ms. Blackwell.”

  She takes a seat next to me and places her book down on the desk, taking her time to answer. But knowing Hailee, she probably has some snarky comment in the back of her head because Ferguson didn’t actually pose a question, he just made an observation.

  “Well? Are you going to explain the difference between physical and emotional attraction, or are you going to keep us waiting while you get yourself situated?”

  She pulls her long straight hair away from her eyes, and looks directly at the professor, as if intimidation didn’t work on her. A few weeks ago, she would never be this bold. The stare down lasts a little longer than it should, until she finally speaks up. “I think it’s pretty obvious what the difference is, Professor. One involves sexual activity, the other doesn’t. I think it’s the combination of the two that brings about the aspect of love.”

  The professor uncrosses his arms and relaxes his shoulders. “I see you have at least done the reading.” Something I have not done in a while. “I think that’s enough discussion on what you think love is.”

  My jaw might have dropped a little. Professor Ferguson wasn’t known for dropping topics. He could go a whole period with just having us discuss then teach from those topics.

  “Put everything away.” His voice is not as playful as it was before. In fact, its uncharacteristically harsh. “Since you all seem to think my assignments are optional, I have prepared a pop quiz based on assigned reading. You will have th
e rest of class to finish it, but know that this will be fifty percent of the allotted assignment grade. I’m sure you all know how to do the math, so I suggest you try very hard to do your best.”

  Fucking shit. Our assignment grade was 40% of our final grade. I suck at math, but I guess that means there’s a lot riding on this. When blonde haired love sick girl hands me the test I scan it quickly. There are names in there that I have never even heard of before. I don’t even bother to bullshit my way through this. I couldn’t answer any of these and giving him half-assed answers will just make me look like an idiot. So, I put my name and date on the top, and then write: “I didn’t read.”

  I surprise Hailee when I jump up, grab my bag and head to the front. I hand Professor Ferguson the test. He reaches over to his desk and writes a big “20%” on the header. Before I could even question he whispered, “I allotted for honesty.”

  I smile. Twenty percent is better than nothing. That, and at least Professor Ferguson is aware of my no filter personality.

  I’m not sure that is a good thing though. I ponder on how he probably uses that little fact to his benefit for class debates as I walk outside and plop down on the couch. I’m about 120 pages behind in reading, and I need a crash course. I’d ask Jonah, but it’s been a while since he took this class. That leaves Hailee. I’m going to have to pull the struggling friend card to get an emergency crash course.

  Chapter 6: The Truth

  Keenan

  My head is pounding. I don’t know what was wrong with us today, we just couldn’t get in sync with each other. After about an hour, Bash called it quits and gave everyone the day off. Too bad I couldn’t take advantage of it.

  When I walk out onto the sidewalk, Maddox and Gunner are waiting for me. I am not particularly happy about them knowing where my little brother lives. This, however, is just proof that they have been following me. They probably know every single move I have made since Hannah’s death, and it pisses me off to know the Dragons have access to all the people in my life. I did my best to keep my family away from it all, but by now they know where everyone lives, and I wouldn’t put it passed them to use it as leverage.

  I reach my motorcycle and acknowledge my guests without making eye contact. “Am I being summoned, or are you two just in the mood to hang?”

  Maddox steps up and pats me on the back, reassuringly. “How about we hang out at the Den? It’s been a real long time since you stepped foot in there.”

  I exhale deeply and swing my leg over the seat of my motorcycle, getting my self situated before answering.

  However, Gunner doesn’t give me time to. “I know the Den brings back memories of Hannah, it does for all of us. But I think it’s time to come back in.”

  “Honestly, that chick isn’t worth all this mourning,” Maddox adds.

  I snap my head to the side and stare down Maddox. He could be intimidating, but when it comes to the three of us, I beat them out on every level. “That’s twice someone has disrespected Hannah’s memory today. Either you tell me what your deal was with her, or shut the fuck up.”

  Gunner shakes his head, trying to be inconspicuous, but I catch it. I hang my helmet on the handle and get off my bike. I step to him, getting in his face and embracing the Dragon Hannah unleashed in me.

  “Whoa, Chains!” Maddox comes up to my left. They both know I could take both of them and be ready for another. Hannah made sure I was well trained, and they both know I like the way it feels to pound into someone. I might have been a bartender, but there is a reason why I was the one who manned the Den.

  This last year, I’ve done my best to channel the liberating energy from my fists to my dick. There’s a tingling in my knuckles and a threat in my clenched fist. Nothing about me right now is unthreatening.

  “You are on edge,” Maddox tries to talk me down before I discolor Gunner’s pretty face. “There are somethings we should tell you.”

  I switch my attention to Maddox. “Such as?”

  “We will tell you, but you can’t kill the messengers.” I tick my head to the side, but unclench my fists. He glances down at the little gesture and visibly relaxes. “Why do you have to be so quick tempered?”

  I step back from Gunner and lean against my bike. “Just talk.” This day has been shit already, so what’s another verbal punch going to do?

  “Oh man.” Gunner puts even more distance between us. “This isn’t going to be good. Are you sure you want to do it here?”

  I didn’t like the way this was sounding. “Here is fine.” Gunner raises one brow in question and Maddox nods. “Hannah… she wasn’t exactly the girl you thought she was.” He’s taking this one bit of information at a time. I close my eyes for a second, calming my body. I haven’t been this worked up in months. “There were others.”

  I snap my eyes open. “Others?”

  Maddox clarifies. “She liked to screw multiple people at once.” My whole-body stills, even my heart. “While she was with you.” I don’t move a muscle. “The whole time, Chains.”

  Gunner speaks now. “I mean, I knew, but I didn’t think it was as bad as it was. But there’s proof.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? We were together for years!” I don’t know where they were getting their information from, but they were wrong. I would have known. “We were always together.”

  “When she wasn’t working.”

  “She worked a lot.”

  “She tried to keep it outside the Den.”

  I’m not sure who says what because their voices all meld into one as the flashbacks of her funeral come back to me. There were a lot of unfamiliar faces and Don had argued with someone. I don’t remember who exactly, but it was with someone who wanted to have the casket opened.

  A manila envelope is handed to me and I just stare at it as I shove the memories down. Refusing to open an envelope of lies, I knock his hand down. “I don’t want this.”

  “Open it,” the command comes from Gunner. “It was left at the Den, the day of the funeral.”

  I open it, stilling my breaths. They were coming out to heavy. I pull out a stack of printed photographs and the first one shatters me. It’s Hannah with someone, in a bed. The man is sitting with his legs stretched out and she’s sitting on him. I can’t see anything more because the bed sheet was covering their asses, but Hannah’s bra was off.

  I flip to the next one. A different guy this time. Someone who looks Asian. Her legs are wrapped around his torso and they are kissing. I flip to the next to find someone else. And then another picture with yet another person. There were at least twenty pictures in my hand. “Who sent this?”

  I know I should be focusing on the fact that the woman I was about to propose to cheated on me. I should be pissed off that the she brought me into a place where I couldn’t escape from, and it should be ripping my soul to shreds, but I couldn’t think about that now. It boiled my blood, made the beer in my gut feel like acid, and it was burning a hole in me. No, I couldn’t think about how the woman I loved- the girl I buried with my engagement ring, even though I never got to propose- was a complete whore.

  Instead, I jam the pictures back into the envelope and shove it against Maddox’s chest. “Who left these? Who was watching her?”

  “Her mother.” I shake my head. This isn’t real. “The council has been searching for her ever since, but she vanished. They think she risked resurfacing for the funeral.”

  My mind was running a thousand miles a minute, hoping it can run from the images of the girl I have been trying to forget, with someone else. I focus on channeling my anger, but all I can think of is being glad that fucking bitch is dead, or I’d kill her myself. She lied to me. She ruined my life and for what? To have someone steady by her side while she screwed her way through half the state? “I can’t believe this.”

  “It’s true, man. I know some guys who are in these pictures and they confirmed.” I can’t stop shaking my head. Maddox is trying to be understanding, but he isn’t e
xactly the gentle kind of guy, and he’s basically telling me to get my shit together and move on.

  “When?”

  “Those are from the last two years.” Gunner points at the envelope.

  I just couldn’t understand what was going on. Maddox places the envelope on top of my bike. Does he think I want to see all of them? I could create a hit list and go after them, but what the hell for? She’s dead. This made no sense. “Why leave them after she’s dead?”

  “Good question, but the package was addressed to you, Chains.” Maddox is standing beside me now.

  I guess he thinks I was no longer in the punching mood. He was wrong. I don’t think I have ever needed to liberate myself more than I do now. “Who would do that. Why? How do we even know these are real?”

  “I know, Chains.” Gunner has been awfully quite until now.

  Maddox tenses beside me, and I’m no longer in control of my body. It’s invading his space, I am so close to his face that he flinches. “Gunner…” I warn him to take back his words.

  He doesn’t listen. “I was one of them. I’m in one of those pictures.”

  The next thing I know, I hear something crack, and Gunner falls to the ground. I look down at my hand, it’s covered in blood. “Get the fuck up!” I wasn’t done.

  Maddox stands back and Gunner gets back up, but he doesn’t attack me. He stands his ground, the blood streaming around his mouth, and preparing his body for another blow. Which I deliver to his ribs.

  He bends at the waist, clutching his side and trying to breathe. I place one hand on either side of his head and lift him up so that he is looking me straight in the eyes. “You are coming clean now? Why? Because I would see those pictures?”

  Gunner nods in agreement.

  I hold Gunner steady, and look over my shoulder at Maddox who is just watching. They knew this would happen. I release Gunner with a shove and step to the side so I can have visual on both. “Why tell me now?”