by Anthology
I shake my head and fasten my belt, tightening it until it fits. “No, no. I’m not upset. I just don’t understand this saying. ‘Winging it.’ What does this mean?”
“Flying by the seat of your pants.”
“That is not a thing.”
She laughs, bending at the waist. “It means no rules or plans, okay. Just go with the flow.”
“What flow?”
Her mouth is suddenly on mine, and any thought of these strange sayings are suddenly gone from my head. The familiarity of her lips causes my body to react immediately.
“I have so much to teach you,” she whispers against my lips as the aircraft begins to taxi the runway.
“I’m a willing student,” I assure her.
We hold hands as the earth beneath us grows smaller and smaller through the tiny window on her left. I made sure to choose seats at the front of the plane. Nowhere near the wing.
I’m no longer a wingman. I’m the lead.
I got the girl.
Renee Ericson
Renee Ericson is the author of More Than Water, After Tuesday, and Forgotten Tomorrow.
Originally from the Midwest, she now resides in a small town just outside of Boston with her husband and three children.
Most winters, Renee can be found skiing with her family on the slopes of the White Mountains. During the summer months, she likes to spend every spare minute soaking up the sea air at the beach. All those moments in between, she is talking to imaginary characters and caring for her children.
Blog: www.reneeericson.wordpress.com
Facebook: ericsonrenee
Twitter: @EricsonRenee
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Renee-Ericson/e/B00CQZY17A
Amber L. Johnson
Born in Japan, raised in Georgia, Amber currently lives in Austin, Texas with her artist/musician husband, science obsessed son, and rescue dog who barks just a little too much. Best known for her novella, Puddle Jumping, Amber likes to try her hand at different genres whenever she can.
Sunnyside Up
Copyright © 2018 by Rochelle Allison
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
My mother leaned against the doorjamb, watching me last-minute pack. “Are you sure you have enough, Julia? I’d rather not get any frantic, late-night phone calls from you.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” Smirking, I patted my back pocket. “But I have enough—I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.” She glanced in the mirror over my dresser, smoothing imaginary flyways from her dark, expertly coiffed hair.
“Don’t you have to get to work?”
“I took an evening shift, so I could see you off,” she said, waving her hand. “So, you’re sure you know the people you’re going with, right? This makes me nervous.”
Chuckling, I tossed another bikini into my bag. “Says the queen of college shenanigans.”
“That was a different time.”
“Yes, we know them.” I’d told her that, more than once, but once she tripped into a worry spiral, it was hard to get her out. My phone buzzed with a text from Aveline, my best friend and roommate. She’d gone to get last-minute road trip supplies from the store. “Mom, Ave’s almost here. I have to go.”
“Okay, okay.” Setting her purse on the dresser, she riffled through it. “I might have a twenty…”
Exasperated, I sighed. I was a junior in college, for God’s sake, and I’d been living on my own for years. “Mama…”
Turning back to me with a pleased smile, she pressed two twenties into my hands. “Gas money. Give it to Aveline,” she said, drawing it out the way she always did. Ah-vah-leeen.
“Thanks.” Tucking the cash into my pocket, I followed her to the door and gave her a hug. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” She squeezed me, then let go. “Just be safe. And call me when you get there.”
“Will do.” I watched her leave, smiling when she turned at the end of the hall to wave. She was a handful, but she was my handful.
The elevator door opened with a ding. My neighbor, Easton, and his bulldog, Beast, came tumbling out, nearly flattening my mother.
“Oh, excuse me!” she said with a dramatic gasp, hand fluttering to her chest Scarlett O’Hara style.
“No, no—I should be the one apologizing,” Easton said, stopping the doors from closing. “I’m sorry, Miss…?”
“Harrington,” she said, and I swore her voice had gone breathy. “Mrs.”
“Have a fine day, Mrs. Harrington,” he said, chivalrously ushering my mother into the waiting elevator.
I rolled my eyes. Easton was a first-year law student at UGA. Brawny and tall, with bright, green eyes and wavy, brown hair, he was everybody’s type. Unfortunately, he was also an entitled jackass who stole parking spaces, left garbage bags outside his door, and allowed his dog to run around leash-free.
Beast barked as the elevator closed, my mother safely inside it. “Droolia,” Easton said, giving me a grin as he strode down the hall. “That your mama? She is one fine Georgia peach.”
I sighed. “A little respect, Easton.”
“You take after her,” he drawled, winking.
Smothering the urge to smack his annoyingly symmetrical face, I pulled back and shut the door. It was best not to egg people like Easton on.
Aveline swept into our room moments later. “You ready yet? Caravan’s leaving.”
“Yeah, yeah—I’m coming,” I muttered, shoving a shirt into my weekender. Overloaded and overworked, it barely zipped shut these days.
“Jackie’s getting on my nerves already,” Aveline said. With her huge, blue eyes, and strawberry-blonde mane, she looked every bit the Southern debutante her mama had raised her to be. She just didn’t act like it. “She’s freaking out because some navigation app said traffic was backed up.”
We all knew how high-strung Jackie could be. “Well, let’s not keep her waiting any longer than we have to.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Hey, was that your mama just now? I swear I just saw her driving out.”
“You did.” I slid the twenties into the back pocket of her shorts. “She said to give you this.”
Downstairs, the parking lot was nearly empty as people left for vacation.
“Where is Jackie?” I asked, tossing my stuff into Ave’s little, blue Civic.
“Change of plans,” she said, sliding in beside me. “She’s just gonna ride with Keith. We’re meeting everyone at the Alpha Delta house.”
Keith was Jackie’s forever-boyfriend, one of the good guys. We headed over to Greek Row, where scores of frat boys were loading their oversize trucks and SUVs with supplies. The Alpha Deltas were no exception. I watched a pair of shirtless blonds hoist a cooler into the back of an idling truck, muscles rippling.
“You think he’s definitely going?” asked Aveline, popping her gum.
“Mateo?”
She tugged at her mirror, swiping at her eye makeup. “Who else?”
“Isn’t that him right there?” I asked, tapping the window.
Aveline squinted at a group of guys climbing into a gleaming black Suburban. “Please Lord…let him be coming to Destin.”
We usually went to Panama City for Spring Break, but when Aveline heard her crush’s fraternity was going to an exclusive, annual party in Destin—one we could secure invites to—she begged me to consider. Some girls we knew were going, and than
ks to Jackie and Keith, we knew a lot of Alpha Deltas. Besides, Destin was beautiful.
I gave her the side-eye. “Really, Ave? Why didn’t you just ask Jackie to confirm it?”
“Because she’d blab to Keith, who’d blab to Mateo. And I’d just die.”
“Yeah, that’s probably true,” I said, checking Destin’s weather forecast on my phone.
“Girl, that is definitely true.” She waved at Jackie, who waved excitedly back from Keith’s truck, her tiny Bulldogs tee riding high above her navel. “What’s the weather sayin’?”
“A day or two of rain, but mostly sunny.”
By the time we got to Destin, it was early evening and the deep, orange sun hung low, hovering just above the horizon. I’d been to the Emerald Coast several times growing up, but I never got used to the turquoise of that water or how pristine the beaches were. We pulled into our rental along with Keith and a couple of others, tucking the Civic into a corner.
There was a sharpness to the air, like the world hadn’t yet thawed fully into spring. Palm trees edged the property, and I looked longingly toward the beach across the street, convinced I smelled the tang of sea salt.
“Well, damn. This is so much better than Panama City,” whispered Aveline, pulling her bags from the trunk.
I gazed up at the house, a cheerful sunshine yellow with white shutters and trim. Like the other houses on the street, it was narrow and tall, with little balconies outside of every room. A small, wooden sign over the front door read, Sunnyside Up.
“Hey girlies!” Jackie skipped over, her silky, black ponytail swinging. “Did you lighten your hair, Julia? I love it!”
“Thanks. I did it on Thursday.” I touched my braid as she hugged me. For the first time ever, I’d gone from my natural dark brown to a light chestnut. Aveline said it complimented my hazel eyes. Maybe it did—all I knew is I’d needed a change.
“Light for spring. Makes sense,” said Jackie, falling in step as we approached the house. “Hey, you guys don’t mind sharing a bed, do you? There was only one room left.”
Aveline nudged me. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
I nodded. “I’ll just smother you if you snore…or try to cuddle.”
“You know I don’t snore.”
“But you have been known to snuggle.”
Keith passed by, squeezing Jackie’s shoulder. “Second floor, baby. The last two rooms on the right.” He waved at Aveline and me. “Glad you girls made it down.”
“I’m glad y’all made it, too. I had fun last year, but there were like, no girls.” Jackie made a face, adjusting the enormous bag she’d swung over one shoulder. “Just me and a bunch of guys all week.”
“Poor you,” Aveline said dryly, sending me an eyeroll.
Jackie scoffed, shoving her through the front door. I followed them inside, into a bright, sunny foyer. The house was as lovely inside as it was out, filled with plants and art, the rooms all painted different colors. Aveline and I were in a blush pink room on the second floor, next door to Jackie and Keith. Their room was red.
“I hope these walls are soundproof,” I muttered, hanging a dress in the closet.
Aveline snorted, closing the door.
The vibe was less frantic than what we’d gotten used to at Panama City, but that wasn’t to say things were mellow.
For one thing, every house on our cul-de-sac was a vacation rental. College students filled the streets, sidewalks and beaches. From our room’s balcony I could make out two keggers and three barbecues on our street alone. Down on the beach, a small bonfire glowed against the night.
Sunnyside Up was having a rager of its own. We had a bar in the kitchen, and enough food to feed a small village—which, I suppose, we were. The living area overflowed, spilling onto the patio in the back. By eleven I was at the fire pit, roasting marshmallows and drinking beer with Jackie and Keith. Aveline had finally worked up the courage to talk to Mateo and now they were inside, deep in conversation.
I’d just pulled a perfectly-charred marshmallow from the fire when a tall, built hottie caught my eye. With his messy, blond man-bun and scruff, he had kind of a Thor thing going on.
We played peek-a-boo until he put down his beer and walked over. “Hey,” he said, stopping in front of me with a panty-dropping smile. “I’m Jay.”
“Hi.” I gave him a smile of my own. “I’m—”
“Droolia,” a familiar voice said. “What a pleasant surprise.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Whipping around, I came face to face with the patronizing smirk of Easton Sawyer. “What the hell are you doing here?” I blurted.
“I could ask the same of you, but that would be rude. And besides…” He raised a suspiciously perfect eyebrow, making me wonder if he waxed. “Someone has to vet these guest lists.”
I scowled, but he’d already turned his attention to Jay, who eagerly offered him a hand. “Hey, East.”
Easton accepted, smiling graciously as they shook. “Jay Callahan. Good to see you, my man.”
“You, too,” Jay said. “Great turnout this year.”
“It’s not too bad,” agreed Easton, eyes roving the festivities before returning to me. “Welcome, officially, to our annual Spring Break Bacchanal. Top floor’s off limits.”
“What?” I sputtered, but he’d moved on, greeting people like the damn mayor of party town.
“Are you an Epsilon?” asked Jay. “I’m Jay, by the way.”
“I’m Julia, and no. I’m not in a sorority.”
He nodded thoughtfully, and I wondered if that mattered to him. It wouldn’t be the first time. I didn’t give a shit and would just as soon walk away, but Jay just rested his hand on my arm, nodding toward the house. “Can I get you a beer?”
Hours later, we kissed goodbye in the darkened kitchen. It was nearly four a.m. and except for a couple of people lingering in the pool, the party was over. Sleepy, drunk, and a little worked up, I arched against Jay, running my fingers through his glorious blond hair. He squeezed my ass, drawing me into another kiss, letting me feel how hard he’d become. “You sure I can’t come up?” he murmured against my lips.
“I’m sure,” I said, smiling into the kiss. “My friend’s up there.”
“Want to come over?”
He was delicious, but I’d only known him for four hours. Plus, he’d already asked. Twice. Sighing, I gently pushed him away. “Slow down a little, Romeo.”
Backing off, he kissed my cheek chastely. “Text me tomorrow, then.”
“I will.”
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and switched off the light. The house felt different now, vast and unfamiliar, now that everyone was gone or sleeping. I moved quietly up the stairs, pausing as I turned onto our landing. Soft voices floated down from the third floor, coming closer. Before I could duck into our room, East appeared, brushing wordlessly by with a girl. Our eyes met briefly before he descended the stairs.
So that was why the top floor was off limits.
Aveline was already in bed, brushing her hair with a beatific smile on her face. “Hey, sugar.”
I kicked my flip-flops off. “Hey, yourself! Details. I want details.”
“About Mateo?”
“Yes, Aveline.”
“He’s so great, Jules!” she gushed, dropping her brush on the bed. “Cute and kinda silly and smart and just the sweetest…”
“Thank God,” I said with a laugh, listening to her ramble, but I meant it. Aveline had wanted this guy forever, so it was a relief to hear he wasn’t just a pretty face. “Hey, you know who I saw here?”
“Who?”
“Easton Sawyer.” I paused for effect. “I think he’s staying upstairs.”
She bit her lip, suppressing a smile. “Yeah.”
“What do you mean, ‘yeah?’ You knew he was coming and didn’t tell me?” I huffed, folding my arms.
“I had no idea he’d be here,” she said, s
haking her head. “But Mateo knows him—all the guys do. East’s one of the Alphas that started this whole thing.”
“Unbelievable.” I changed into a sleep shirt. “Of all the places to be, and with all the people in the world.”
“He’s actually not that bad,” Aveline said, pulling her hair up into a bun. “Mateo said he’s into all kinds of philanthropic causes—”
“That’s textbook rich kid. Means nothing.”
“He’s a mentor.”
“God help those kids.”
She sighed. “Is he really that awful? I know he’s your neighbor, but you barely know him.”
“He still calls me Droolia because of the time he found me sleeping at the library,” I said. “A year ago.”
She yawned widely, snuggling down deep beneath the blankets. “Tell me about the guy you were with all night. He had serious potential.”
“His name’s Jay,” I said, welcoming back the warm, tipsy feelings of kissing a cute guy all night. “Now, he’s hot.”
“That didn’t take long,” she said with satisfied little grin. “He was all over you!”
That was true; the chemistry between Jay and me sparkled. I wasn’t sure our connection extended much beyond the physical, but maybe that didn’t matter.
It was Spring Break, after all.
I woke up with a pounding headache.
“Too much beer, not enough sleep,” croaked Aveline, but she was all smiles as she slipped into a little, red bikini she’d packed just in case she managed to snag Mateo.
Yawning, I smeared sunblock on my face and pulled a t-shirt on. My swimsuit wasn’t as sexy as Ave’s, but then, she was so slender she could pull anything off. The last thing I needed was a boob popping free in front of a bunch of frat boys.
Easton ran the show downstairs, serving up bacon and towers of pancakes to anyone who asked. I wandered to the coffee maker, desperate for caffeine. “He cooks?” I muttered to Jackie.
“Probably just today,” she said, nudging a bottle of syrup toward Keith. “You hungry?”