Summer Breeze Kisses

by Addison Moore

  I suppose there’s always a first time.

  Harper walks into the bar and my center of gravity pulls in her direction. It takes everything I’ve got to remain seated in my chair. She spots me and our eyes lock, sending a heated spark from her to me, and the crowd between us disappears for a moment. She gives a little wave and heads to the corner where Ava and Lucky wait for her.

  Trixie leans in and knocks her leg hard into mine as if she were looking to break a bone.

  “Still think I’m wrong?”

  I don’t answer. I do the only thing I can do—change the subject. We talk all night about everything under the sun except for anything remotely to do with my life.

  But all the while I see Harper, feel the weight of that kiss we shared. And on occasion, I steal a few glances to the corner of the bar.

  Trixie’s not right.

  She can’t be.

  Breaking into Fort Knox

  Harper

  After two nights of dodging my bunk, otherwise known as the skyscraper from hell, I try my damnedest to take a shower, only to find each and every bathroom locked and stocked with a line full of girls outside. What the hell? Is this really going to be my life for the next few years? And what about my morning run? I haven’t partaken since I moved in, only because I live in fear of walking around all day smelling like an onion. I’m starting to think maybe life wasn’t so bad back at Cutler Tower with my crappy roommate who thought her feet were as tasty as a bag of chips. I mean, really? At least then I had the freedom to fill my bladder without the fear of never being able to empty it. We had bathrooms in our own dorms for Pete’s sake!

  I head to Ava and Lucky’s room to start up a good old-fashioned bitch-fest, but they’re already gone for the day. Figures. I check my phone and there’s a cheery text from Ava letting me know the boys took them to the beach. I stare at the words the boys an unnaturally long period of time. I thought I had a boy in my life I could do fun things with like go to the beach, get laid on a Friday night, and maybe even catch a movie with, but to hear Justin preach it, we hardly knew one another. And sadly, that might be the one thing he was right about.

  I get dressed, throw my hair into a ponytail and a baseball cap that reads Go Mustangs! and head over to campus. At least there I can grab a cup of coffee and use the facilities. Two luxuries I seemed to have unwittingly eschewed in favor of gaining one hundred sisters, all with bladder issues.

  It’s Friday, the day in which I am not getting laid, and thus no internship until next week, which makes me feel a little worse, if that were possible. I’ll never admit to it, but it’s sort of fun having Knox peel away at my sanity.

  The summer air is thick and heavy, and it’s not even noon, which means hanging out in the open air will be torture in an hour, and suddenly I feel far too dressed for the temperatures this hellish day is about to offer.

  Off near the quad, I hear an annoying high-pitched bout of laughter and everything in me freezes. I glance over and stop breathing.

  There they are, holding hands! Laughing! Justin doesn’t laugh unless he’s cutting somebody down. He’s mean and bullish that way, and for a long time I actually found that a little bit attractive. Stupid, stupid me. Speaking of me, I bet that’s exactly who they’re laughing at. They glance over at the same time, and I bolt into Hallowed Grounds Coffee Shop quicker than expected. My heart is racing, my adrenaline humming to dangerous levels that threaten to stop my existence. If I’m smart, I’ll go out there right now and give them both a kiss from my fists for even looking at me today. God, I hate them.

  The line miraculously dissolves to nothing and I put in an order for my usual extra-large iced sugar concoction. Usually it’s not a problem to consume so many carbs this early in the day because normally I would have easily run five miles by now, but judging by my lack of cardio and my incessant need to propagate my sugar addiction, I’m sure I’ll be trading up my jeans size before fall semester even starts.

  “Hey, you’re that girl,” an annoyed female voice rails from my side.

  “I could be.” I don’t bother starting up a conversation with her. I bet she’s new and fishing for friends. She’ll have to fish somewhere else because I’m a little too moody lately to make any new friends. I’ll be lucky to hang onto the few I have.

  She follows me over to where we both seem to be waiting for our drinks.

  “Can I help you?” I glance over at her and find myself doing a double take. Those dark blue eyes look as if someone colored them in with a crayon and that dark glossy hair, those cheekbones. She looks startlingly familiar, but I can’t seem to place her. It’s killing me. I hate it when my brain opts out of the conversation because for the life of me she feels very, very familiar. I lean in to scrutinize her up close, and those oversized perfectly formed bowtie lips jump out at me. That’s how I know her! I’ve kissed those lips! Gah! God help me because this is not a memory I should be having. I think I would totally remember if I kissed a girl.

  She rolls her eyes as if she gets this reaction from people every day. “I’m Trixie, Knox’s sister. We’re twins. He beat me to the planet by four minutes, but I’ve spent the rest of my life beating him at just about everything else.”

  Instantly I like her. My entire body floods with quick relief, because one, I didn’t technically kiss her even though I might have gotten a tad aroused while looking at her lips.

  They call our names at the same time and we pick up our drinks.

  “Let’s take a seat,” she says it as more of a command than a request, and just as I’m about to shoot her down, the door swoops open and in walk Justin and Jen—how I loathe the fact their names sound cute together.

  I pull Trixie into a seat by the window as if plucking her out of a fire. If I can’t be here with Knox, I may as well make Janelle, the waste of human tissue, irate by getting chummy with her ex’s twin sister.

  “What’s wrong?” Trixie looks over her shoulder, and her upper lip pulls to the side as if she’s about to get sick. “Oh, that. I always suspected she was a ho bag.”

  “Ha!” I squawk so loud the ho bag herself glances over, and her eyes enlarge when she sees the two of us together. “I’ve called her that myself.” I sneer at this feminine version of my new fake boyfriend. “I knew I liked you.” We share a demented laugh. It’s clear Trixie and I will be speed bonding over our shared hatred for all things blonde and skinny that happen to be banging my ex. “So you said you knew me.” I cock my head and lean in, wondering how much she’s apprised of at the moment. For all I know, she might still be in the dark about that kiss. I am rather infamous on The Row for spotting my boyfriend in the wild with a nipple-faced floozy.

  “Knox told me all about you. That kiss that led to the great food fight at the Black Bear? The fact that you’re up for serving a little crap pie with your revenge?” She cuts a look to the two twats circling the counter as they wait for their order. “You’d better watch your back.”

  “Oh, I’m not afraid of them,” I growl in their general direction and the two of them turn around as if on cue.

  “Trixie Toberman, is that you?” Miss Helium Balloon for Brains clip-clops over in designer heels.

  I lean in to Trixie and whisper, “Never trust a girl who wears heels before noon.”

  Trixie snickers at the quip and a warm fuzzy feeling takes over as if I’ve actually achieved something by way of garnering Knox’s sister on my side.

  “Why, that is you!” The blonde twat leans in for a hug and Trixie is quick to back up out of reach. I knew that I knew that I knew that I liked her.

  “I have a cold,” she grumbles. “So, is that the girl you traded my brother for?” She scowls at Justin, and now it’s my turn to snicker because now that I’ve been spending more time with Knox, I can totally see how effeminate Justin really is.

  “She is a he.” Jen giggles up a storm and it sounds more like the motor of a washing machine malfunctioning. “And I didn’t technically leave anyone. I don’t k
now what you heard, but every pancake has two sides.”

  “Why don’t you go find that pancake and eat it?” I take a hasty sip of my drink and nearly choke on it.

  She smirks down at me as if what I suggested was quasi-humorous and not a strict nutritional plan I suggest she follow. “I know you’re not happy with me right now,” she hums it out like the squeak of a mouse and my eyelids roll up like curtains.

  “Not happy with you?” A hot pang of rage shoots right through my skull. Swear to God, if this girl initiates an aneurysm in me and cuts me off in my prime, I will come back to haunt her from the grave. She will never be free of me until her dying breath, and most likely not even then will this nitwit properly process the fact, that no, I will never be damn happy with her.

  Trixie gives me a light kick from under the table just as Justin comes up and wraps an arm around the dingleberry’s shoulders. The freaking nerve! “You know what they say. Happiness is the best form of—” Trixie tips her head from side to side as if asking me to fill in the Manolo Blahniks.

  Oh, right, revenge. The exact thing I live for and will always live for, no thanks to the tainted duo taking up the precious airspace around me.

  “You know who I’m happy for?” A devious smile comes to my lips and I pin it there. “Me. I happen to have a hot date in exactly six hours with the captain of the football team, and I’ve appointed myself his new personal masseuse. First, he takes all his clothes off—”

  “All of them?” Twat Wad bobs her blonde head in disbelief, her voice reaching an all-new crescendo.

  “Every last stitch.” My lips expand in Justin’s direction. Honest to God, I never thought I’d smile at him again, and here I am grinning like a loon. “Then I get the oil, which I’ve preheated to a toasty one hundred degrees, and we go at it. That man’s chest might as well be made of sculpted marble. Of course, my hands aren’t nearly enough to cover that rock-solid ground. I think tonight I’ll take off all my clothes and get my entire body into it.”

  Twat Wad drops her pouty little lips open, and Justin growls out something unintelligible.

  “Have I mentioned he’s the head of the football team?” Honestly, I don’t know squat about football. Is there a head? A tail? I swear for the life of me, I can’t remember the name of the position Knox said he played. A lint tracker?

  Justin’s eyes fill in with an inhuman amount of rage, and the hand holding his coffee begins to shake uncontrollably. The lid pops off his drink as he squeezes the crap out of it, and a boiling black waterfall douses both his jeans and that of the village idiot still holding onto him for dear life. Although, let’s face it, they’re both gunning for that title.

  “Crap!” He jumps back and makes a beeline for the restroom.

  “Look what you’ve done!” Tiny Twat rages in my direction and both Trixie and I exchange a quick glance.

  “As much as I’d love to have telekinetic powers, I’m afraid your new beau is responsible for your dry-cleaning bill.”

  “You did this!” She shakes a slender finger at me and I can’t help but note her fingernails are chewed to the nubs much like Justin’s. I guess they do have something in common after all. “You filled his head with all those lies! Knox isn’t going to let you touch him. He’s still mourning after me. I’m the girl who stole his heart. He told me so himself. And as much as Justin and I have going, Knox is mine. Stay away from him,” she pants hard while looking over to Trixie. “If you love your brother, you will make sure he steers clear of this one. She’s nothing but trouble and you and I both know it.” She takes off for the restroom herself.

  “Good riddance!” I shout out after her, and a few of my sorority sisters seated at the next table give a light applause—so, of course, I take a mock bow before smearing an obnoxious grin in Trixie’s direction.

  “Let me guess”—I give a subtle wink—“I’ve impressed the hell out of you.”

  “Not really.” The smile drops from her face and she glares over at me as if I just ate her lunch. “As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted by that Semen Demon—”

  “Good one!” I’m liking Trixie more and more by the minute.

  “As I was saying”—her jaw redefines itself—“you’d better watch your back.” Her eyes slit to nothing as she leans in hard. “Because if you screw with my brother, it’s me you’re going to have a problem with. I’m watching you.” She bolts out the door before I can reply. Probably a good thing since my jaw has rooted to the table.

  What the hell was that?

  And here I thought she liked me. It looks as if the She Toberman is equally as obnoxious as Knox.

  Figures.

  I get Knox’s number from Lawson, because even though technically he’s Knox’s stepbrother, Lawson is my Greek big bro, which I’d like to think gives me more familial leverage with him.

  Where do you live so I can properly stalk you?

  I figured if I asked Lawson for Knox’s address it would have been genuinely weird of me to just show up at his door. This way at least he knows I’m coming.

  It takes a minute, but my phone lights up as Knox surrenders his address.

  Your sister wouldn’t happen to be there, would she?

  No use in pretending we’re friends. Sure, what she did was the obligatory sisterly thing to do—hell, if Henry was ever in the same position, I’d threaten bodily assault by way of wielding a bat, but still. I’m not up for any more of her sisterly shenanigans.

  No. Should she be?

  I laugh a moment. Only if you need backup, sweetheart.

  He texts right back. I think I can take you.

  A line of heat bisects my stomach at the thought of Knox taking me in any physical capacity and Sylvia hums in approval. Down, girl. But that kiss. My mind swims with future possibilities as Sylvia guns for a kiss of her own. Maybe I do need another one—just to be sure that whole best kiss ever thing was sort of a one-off. There’s no way he’s that good a kisser. Emotions were high that night. If my dog had licked me, I would have thought it was the best kiss ever. I’ll have to try to get Knox to demonstrate for me at some point in time, but when? Who knows when we’ll be in the presence of the jackass brigade again. Although with me around, the chances seem high. I can’t seem to shake them these days.

  I head over past The Row, past another two blocks until I come upon a ritzy neighborhood where the houses are bigger and the cars in the driveway cost as much as one year at Whitney Briggs. My parents are both alumni, so I’ve been primed to be a Mustang all my life. Most of the kids at Briggs have parents who are rolling in it, but I know for a fact both Ava and Lucky are there on scholarship. And seeing that this ritzy neighborhood is so close to WB, it doesn’t surprise me that the Range Rover quota just shot up a hundred percent. Hey? Maybe Laney and Ryder would be interested in this area? Just glancing up the street, I see at least two For Sale signs. Ha. I’ve just done my research for the weekend. Come Monday, I’ll have something spectacular to show them.

  I glance at my phone and double check the address on the stone-covered home with the white pickup in the driveway before making my way up and giving a brisk knock.

  The night air hangs dead and weighted, wet with perspiration all its own as the humidity skyrockets.

  The door swings open, but it’s not the cool air-conditioned breeze that has me panting with excitement. It’s the fact Knox Toberman is wearing nothing but a pair of flimsy shorts. There he is, muscular to a fault, those ridges along his abs are all that I thought they would be, and then some. Those thick biceps of his seem to be flexed they bulge so much, and the long ropey veins in his arms jump as he pulls the door open further.

  “Come in.” A wicked grin flirts with his lips. “You’re letting in all the hot air.”

  “Oh, right.” I stumble inside to the cool, dare I say immaculately clean living room—gray hardwood floors, steel coffee table, off-white couches. “Wow,” I muse. “It actually looks nice in here. I guess I was expecting empty pizza
boxes and beer cans rolling around on the floor.”

  “That would be the frat house across from where you live.” His eyes lock onto mine a moment as the heat level rises between us despite the icy breeze blowing in from above. He nods me over to the next room. “I’ll give you the tour.”

  We step into the kitchen, aka a work of art with its white shaker cabinets, white marble countertops, and I actually head over to the island and lie over it a moment with my arms spread wide.

  “Oh my God,” I moan over the cool, creamy goodness.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m giving it a hug.” I look up to find the supersized fridge and gasp as I run over. “Sub-Zero!” My eyes twitch around to gawk at all the appliances. “Wolf stove, red knobs. God, the food you can cook!” I step over to a tiny wall oven. “Dear God, is this a steamer?”

  Knox gives a demonic grin as if I were the only meal he was interested in. Have I mentioned he’s practically naked? My God, the boy is cut.

  “You’re either hungry or trying to sell me on my home.” He frowns a moment. “Forest the Pervert would be proud.”

  A tiny laugh works up my throat. “He’s not a pervert. He just likes the ladies.” And I happen to be one of them. “Besides, I know my way around a gourmet kitchen. It’s one of the amenities of home I miss most. So, is that why you chose this place over the dorms? It’s genius if you ask me.”

  “Not necessarily, but feel free to call me genius anytime you like.” He bends over and picks up a black cat with white paws and a matching fluffy belly. “This is the real genius reason why I chose this place. Harper, meet Fish.” He glides the cat my way a second. “Fish, meet Harper.”

  Honest to God, there is nothing hotter, nothing sexier than a beautiful man petting a fat, fluffy pussy. I sigh into my own ridiculousness.

  “Hello, Fish.” I give the cute kitty a quick scratch between the ears and its yellow eyes close lazily.