Summer Breeze Kisses

by Addison Moore

Our eyes lock a moment, pain searing over pain, our hearts ripped open, still bleeding from the wounds given to us the other night.

  I lean in. “You’re not going to invoke any of that don’t get mad, get even bull, are you?”

  “Don’t get mad, get even.” Her lips twitch with the idea of a smile. “I kind of like where you’re going with that.”

  “You can’t get even. I haven’t taken the homicide off the table just yet.”

  “How could we possibly get even?” She scoffs at the ceiling. It seems like more of a rhetorical question at this point. “I mean, how could we ever drive the stake deep enough to evoke an ounce of the pain they’ve caused us?”

  “I don’t know.” She pats her hands together with that faraway look in her eyes. “I thought about wrecking his car—wrecking her car. Dousing a bunch of pads with red nail polish and sticking them all over their windshields.”

  “Crap.” I’m genuinely stunned by the grotesque revelation. “Okay, that’s just disturbing. Maybe forgo that last stunt. Heck, forgo them all. I’d hate to see you with an arrest record over this. They’re not worthy.” I kick the wastebasket over, and a week’s worth of crumpled papers tumble across the floor like snowballs. “Let’s narrow this down. What’s driving you insane?”

  Harper lets out a heavy sigh, her lips swell twice their size as if she’s about to cry. “What’s driving me insane is the fact he’s touching her the way he used to touch me. The fact he’s found something with someone else that he should have had with me.”

  I nod my head with a steady beat because I’m feeling every word she just set before me. “I’m right there with you. I can’t freaking stand the fact he’s manhandling my girl.” My fist punches the steel desk like a reflex, and my knuckles feel as if they’ve all snapped like candy canes.

  “Don’t go breaking your hand.” She leans forward, her gaze still set on some invisible horizon. “Let’s break some hearts instead.”

  “They don’t have hearts. Case in point, they’ve moved on in a day without so much as the middle finger.”

  “Oh, they gave us the middle finger, all right.” She gives an incredulous huff. “I say we give them the finger right back.”

  “How’s that?”

  “It’s enchilada night down at the Black Bear. Justin might be willing to give me up, but he’s not giving up his persistence to shoot up his cholesterol. He likes his food hot and heavy just the way he likes his skanks. Meet me there at six. I’m buying—all the enchiladas you can handle.” She stabs the sunglasses back onto her face as she gets up to leave, and for the first time since we’ve been here, there’s a smile blooming on her face. “Things are about to get a hell of a lot hotter.”

  Shady and the Tramp

  Harper

  According to the Kübler-Ross model, there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I’m pretty sure I barreled past denial once I saw Justin pawing that blonde little witch with my own two eyes, and I breezed happily right into anger. And don’t think for a rotten cheating minute that I will at all entertain bargaining, depression, or acceptance. I’m quite content now that I have rage pulsing through my veins. This hate-filled fury is all I will ever need to get me through this life. But first and foremost, I plan on fostering this incessant need for revenge. And in the name of my new vengeance-filled retribution, I plan on looking extra delicious tonight for my first foray in recouping my pride while at the Black Bear.

  Harley sends me a text. What do you say to your masseuse boyfriend before you break up? (Ready???) You rub me the wrong way! (Ha-ha!)

  I text right back. Try again. Tell Henry hello and to stop being so corny. Love you both!

  Kappa G is buzzing tonight as sophomore and seniors alike prep for a night out on the town. There are six bathrooms in the McMansion known as Kappa G, and no matter what time of day I decide to trek to the toilet, each one of them is always full with a line three deep. Since it’s the beginning of a long, hot summer, essentially turning every night into a Friday night, and most of the girls have decided to stay put until fall, it’s going to be hell just trying to empty my bladder, not to mention keeping up with my hygiene. Speaking of hygiene, somewhere in the deep, dark bowels of a drunken high school slumber party, my girlfriends and I each named our kitten, and the moniker I chose for mine just so happened to be Sylvia. Not only has Sylvia been magnificently sexually neglected as of late, but she is craving a sit-down in a nice, long, hot bath. If the lines at Kappa G are any indication, I’m afraid the only sit-down she’ll get is back home in Hollow Meadows in the luxury tub I abandoned in the name of higher education.

  Gwen, the hippy housemother who loves weed and orthopedic-looking suede sandals like nobody’s business, meets me in the hall with those smudged raccoon eyes, a look she very much strives to achieve, and greets me with a lazy grin. “Your new roommate is coming in an hour.”

  “Cool.” I wave to Ava and Lucky as they come up the stairs. “Tell her to make herself at home. I’ll be back a little later.”

  Gwen flashes us the peace sign as she does a disappearing act, and Ava is quick to yank me into their room.

  “How are you?” Ava pulls me into a quick embrace before spinning me into her bed.

  “I’m great.” It takes everything in me to push the words out, but surprisingly, I believe them.

  Lucky narrows her suspicious gaze onto me. “Great? Nobody’s great, Harper. Choose another adjective to sell your lies.”

  “No lies.” I inspect my hair in the mirror and fluff out my curls with my fingers. “I’m over Justin Cramer and his filthy lies.”

  “Have you had the talk?” If Ava keeps taking in air and forgetting to exhale, she’ll pass out and I think we all know at this point that Justin isn’t worth fainting over.

  The talk. Yes, after I saw Justin sucking face with that blonde bimbo, I thought for sure he’d have something to say to me. He texted me about an hour later and let me know we’d speak soon, but nothing ever came of it. It’s been two days and not a word from the cheating snake—just a very real broken heart and far too many tears to number on my end.

  “Not yet.” A part of me wishes I had some witty comeback, but that dark place is pulling me in again, sucking me under, and my throat is constricting with pain.

  Ava takes up my hand, pushes the hair off my face as if she were my mother, and I love that about her. “If you let too much time go by, there won’t be any room for words.”

  “She doesn’t need words.” Lucky looks as if she’s about to grab a hatchet and chop off his man parts—not that I would stop her. “She needs a shotgun.”

  “Whoa.” Ava holds up a hand to her bestie. Lucky is a wild card, and I’ve always appreciated that about her. And Ava, well, she’s the voice of reason, even if I’m not too interested in reason at the moment. I’ve got plenty of reason for revenge, and that’s all I need to focus on right now. “Don’t listen to her. Heal your heart. Take all the time you need. The last thing you want to do is jump into another relationship. There’s nothing worse than a rebound.”

  “God forbid the rebound!” Lucky high-fives her partner-in-anti-rebound-arms.

  “Trust me, the last thing I’m going to do is latch onto anybody else—probably forever. I’ve seen the hell it put my mother through. There’s no way in hell I want anything to do with that heartache. I don’t need a man today or tomorrow. I’m pretty sure I can handle this life thing on my own.”

  Ava shakes her head as if I’ve got it wrong. “Isn’t your mother in a new relationship?”

  “I’m not sure if you can call what Mom and Brad have a relationship. He’s her ‘hot yoga’ instructor—as in yoga with a side of steamy and not hot in the traditional oh-my-God-he’s-so-good-looking sense. Brad reminds me a little of a toad. Have I mentioned they do it naked with a group of twenty others? It being yoga.” Yes, my mother can out-hippy Gwen any day of the orthopedic sandal week. My mother may be loaded, but she’s all about
keeping it crunchy—as in granola. I give my phone a quick check. “Besides, don’t worry about me or my future love life. I’ll be getting my needs more than met.” I frown over at Lucky. “And before you start gifting me dildos, I happen to have a flesh and blood male in mind. In fact, I have a date with one of those penis slinging primates in less than a half hour.”

  “What?” they balk in unison.

  Lucky growls low like thunder, and a part of me appreciates her viral anger. It almost matches my own. “Who, what, where, when, and why the hell is this happening?”

  “I’m going to kill the jackass,” Ava pants breathless with her own level of rage, and both Lucky and I gawk at her because, quite frankly, we had no idea that an expletive was a part of her lexicon.

  “Knox Toberman at the Black Bear in t-minus twenty-nine minutes. I’m betting Justin and his brand new shiny whore will be there as well, so I guess in a way it qualifies as a double date!” I give it all the mock enthusiasm I can. Thank God I speak fluent sarcasm-ease or this entire process might have been hella painful. In truth, I’d rather eat a bucket full of live coals than put myself through any of this, but Justin has pissed on my love parade, and now he’s going to have to pay.

  “Knox?” Ava shakes her head in disbelief once again. “As in his-girlfriend-just-left-him-for-your-boyfriend Knox?”

  “Hold up.” Lucky strums a dark laugh. “The two of you are headed to the Black Bear, and you think the couple that shall not be named will be there too? And you happen to think this is a good idea? You’re not packing, are you?”

  “I’m packing, all right, but it’s not bullets I’m about to riddle him with. If Justin wants to have the talk, I don’t see why it couldn’t happen with my new faux bed buddy by my side.”

  Ava groans like she might be sick. “You’re both hurt, you’re both going through something horrible right now, but emotions are running high. I’m pretty sure the only thing a sit-down at the Black Bear is going to do is blow up in your face.”

  “You’re right.” I step in front of the mirror and apply a little gloss that’s sitting on the dresser. “I’m hoping tonight’s reunion of the exes is going to do exactly that—blow up in their faces. That walking dildo and that blonde demon deserve to have a few ex-missiles launched their way.” I turn around and face them with my heart pounding, my adrenaline at its peak. “Are you just going to sit around and judge me? Or are you witches in?”

  Ava and Lucky take a moment to take it in.

  “We’re in,” Ava says it with hesitation, and yet that look of solidarity on her face lets me know she’s on my side no matter how many bad moves I’m willing to make. But I’m not afraid of making any bad moves. I’ve already crested the biggest mistake of my life, and his name was Justin Cramer.

  It’s time to make a few fresh mistakes, starting with Knox Toberman.

  The Black Bear gleams like a drunken coed oasis with its steady stream of girls in short skirts flooding in and out of the establishment. The guys are usually tucked deep in the back playing pool, too cool to be seen dancing to the 12 Deadly Sins. But tonight is Mexican night, thus the sombrero sitting snug on the oversized bear that’s situated outside the saloon. I walked over with Ava and Lucky, the three of us boiling in our hate-filled juices for everything Justin has put me through all these years. Sure, we’ve been rocky at times, but neither of us has ever made out with a blonde skank before. The guy had red lipstick smeared from ear-to-ear as if she had the power to turn him into the undead—and they were eating one another’s faces, blood and gore and all. They would be that stupid. Any zombie worth his soulless salt understands the rudimentary rules of engagement. You don’t let other people eat your face off. Nevertheless, Justin and Super Skank make stupid humans as well. I mean, making out in the broom closet of your girlfriend’s sorority while she’s dealing with an idiot in the very next room? Not that I’m convinced that Knox is such an idiot anymore. And what about Oblivious Jen? Going at it hot and heavy while your ultra-hot boyfriend chases me around the room all night? Whoa. I stop shy of the foyer as we make our way inside.

  First, that ultra-hot comment was simply a factual observation. Nothing more, nothing less. Second, he did not technically chase me around the room all night. He was merely trying to warn me of the evils of my insignificant other. Had I been in a non-irritated frame of mind, I would have gladly opened my stubborn self up to what he had to say. It’s clear that Justin was tossing out the jackass vibes into the universe before I ever caught them.

  “There they are.” Lucky points to the back and my stomach boils in its own acids. But to my quasi-relief, it’s not Justin and the nitwit she’s pointing to. It’s the boys, Rush, Eli, some dude I don’t recognize, and, of course, Grant, Lawson, and Knox.

  Ava gives me a quick hug. “My eyes will be glued on you all night. Don’t let that idiot hurt you any more than he already has.”

  “Nobody will be hurting me anymore.” True as God. Because I won’t give them the opportunity to. “I’m the one that does all the hurting from here on out.”

  The music starts up as the live band takes the stage. Blake, the lead, gives the crowd a rousing welcome and dedicates the next song to his favorite girl, Annie. It’s a love song, one that I used to listen to, weepy and lovesick over the fact Justin was clear across the country on the opposite coast. And to think, I was actually paranoid that he might be cheating on me behind my back in California with all those beautiful blonde skanks, and here he flew back home to cheat on me in front of my face with one.

  Ava and Lucky head to the back and I spot Knox heading my way. I’d smile or scowl at him, but I’m too busy scanning the tables for my newfound, latest, greatest, and certainly last ex. I’m done with boys and all their noise. Not that I’m going after the female demographic either. If you have a beating heart, and you can break mine, I want nothing to do with you.

  “Hey.” Knox comes up on me quicker than expected and I jump a little as I turn his way. His eyes connect with mine with a nuclear fission, something alarmingly bonding, and I can feel the room warble around us for a moment, the music turns into a demonic chant as if reality outside of the two of us considered erasing itself. A part of me wishes it would.

  “Hey, yourself.” He’s casual tonight, flannel over a T-shirt even though it’s still eighty degrees outside. A pair of worn jeans with a hole in the knee sits at his hips. All that wear and tear on his Levi’s looks to be the real deal, not some manufactured destruction they put out by the dozens these days.

  Knox offers a pained smile, and something about the hurt hiding in his eyes makes this feel like a pity party more than it does some magnificent bout of payback.

  “Let’s get a few things straight,” I start. “Once we make our presence known, you’re not just my best friend. You’re my whatever the hell I need you to be. If I need a kiss, you’re giving it to me. If I want an arm around my waist, then that’s where it’ll be. Get it? Got it? Good. Any questions?”

  His lips purse as he gives my body a sober inspection. “I’m good.”

  Figures. Boys have always looked at me as if I were a piece of red bloody steak they couldn’t wait to sink their teeth into. Of course, Justin looked at me that way once, and that’s exactly what started us on this crazy train to begin with.

  “They’re over there.” He nods to the left of the band, in a dark corner in what appears to be a private alcove. “You called it. I didn’t think they’d have the nerve to show, but apparently, they’ve got plenty of balls.”

  I smirk at the thought. “Justin’s balls are the size of peanuts. He might have them, but they’re too small to do him any favors. I hope that cow he’s hooked up with doesn’t plan on grazing down south. There’s not much for her to nosh on.”

  A dark laugh strums from him as Knox steps in close. The soapy scent of his cologne demands I acknowledge his masculinity. I’ve always been a sucker for a good clean scent on a guy, but right about now the only thing that thick scent does
is make me want to fill the gaping hole Justin left in my life. Which brings me to my next point.

  I pull Knox back a moment by the shirt and my hand accidentally grazes over that sheet metal he calls a chest. Justin has always been a bit doughy, unlike Knox here who has a full training schedule to adhere to. But, wow, who knew the human body could petrify solid without killing a person?

  He leans in and those heady blue eyes of his cast a spell on me a moment. If I’m honest, I’ll admit to wanting nothing but to lose myself in something as moronic as gazing into Knox’s ocean-colored eyes all day. But the fun of tormenting my ex awaits, so I move the party along.

  “You do realize we’re both primed for a rebound,” I say it like the pathetic fact it is.

  Knox glares at the surroundings as if each girl in the room were a prospective rebound in the making. “I have thought about firing off a few one-night stands just to wash her out of my system.”

  My stomach pinches with heat when he says it. There’s something inherently dirty and primal about Knox. Justin was more of a fake romantic, complete with grocery store flowers accompanied by a belch, of course. He wasn’t even that good in bed, not that I would have anything to compare him with, but God knows he didn’t knock my socks off or get my rocks off. Every single faux bout of ecstasy I had with the boy should be up for an Academy Award.

  “Don’t go slinging your penis around the bar just yet,” I whisper. “Keep it in your pants, would you? If I’m about to swap saliva with you, I at least want the comfort of knowing I’m not sharing my salivary enzymes with the masses.” I glance down to his crotch without meaning to, and holy hell, is that bulge a natural everyday occurrence, or did thoughts of getting down and dirty with a few stray coeds make him suddenly glad to see me?

  “My eyes are up here, honey.” He tips his head back and gifts me an obnoxious grin.

  “I’m not your honey.” A dull cry of frustration rips from me. Dumb jock. “Look, normally I wouldn’t care how often and quickly your cock gun goes off. But since we’ll be playing more than footsies, I am formally, yet kindly, giving your penis a cease and desist as far as bouncing the cheerleaders off your lap like it was a pogo stick.”