“I’m not talking about that boy.” She touches a finger to Knox’s nose, and I’m ready to both leave and vomit.
I hold up a hand before the lunacy goes any further. “How about I give Knox a tour of the gallery and the two of you finish your lunches?” That’s code for don’t you dare follow us the hell around while licking your chops at my new boyfriend. Not that Knox is my new anything. I’m essentially doomed to walk the planet alone. And ironically, up until I discovered what a lightweight my heart was, I was perfectly content doing just that. But clearly Knox and his stealth heart of gold has changed my view of roaming the lonely planet without a plus one.
Mom and Brad heel while I drag Knox into the next room as if there was a pile of free caviar waiting for us. Just the smell of Mom’s Thai food had me begging for a bite. She’s right. I am essentially a foodie, and a proficient one at that. If I had it my way, I’d eat six square gourmet meals a day.
“So, that’s your Mom?” Knox shakes his head in disbelief. Swear to God, if they fall in love in some weird twist of fate, I will not date Brad as a means to drive my mother bonkers. I’m done with that. Just the thought of accidentally falling in love with Brad and his man bun sends shivers up my spine.
“That would be her.” I nod up at the first exhibit hall we’ve stepped into with all of its pornographic glory. “And these would be her masterpieces.”
He looks up and takes a full breath as if taken aback by all the full frontal, full side, and fully bent over nudity.
“That’s a lot of—”
“Skin?”
“Skin-colored paint.” He winces as he steps in close to inspect them. “She’s really good. It’s only up close you realize these are paintings. I’d swear these are real.”
“You’d better get your eyesight checked. Either that or it’s wishful thinking on your part. I bet you wish that the bevy of naked beauties surrounding you would climb down and start walking around the room.”
He belts out a laugh before his eyes settle on mine. “I’ve got the only beauty I need walking around the room with me.”
And right there my heart melts.
After coming to from an awkward yet blissful bout of silence, I take Knox from room to room, pointing out the contrasts in colors and textures, my mother’s stained glass period, which thankfully doesn’t include any sharp or pointy parts of the human anatomy, her sculptures, then we hit the final room, a twelve piece exhibit on human sexuality complete with S and M whips and chains, couples tied, gagged, and bound in places that the human mind shouldn’t ever imagine.
“Whew!” Knox wraps an arm around my shoulders as we hit the end of the gallery. “Things were starting to get a little heated in there.”
“You think?” I bump my shoulder into his. “Trust me, she held back because she didn’t want to risk her work landing at one of those after dark New York galleries. As much as she enjoys getting edgy, she enjoys having her socialite friends imbibe champagne while spending an evening at the gallery. Her friends have their sexual limits and she made sure to push them to the brink.” I glance down at his hand just inches from my left boob—and in a moment that I’m not too proud of, I actually move over a notch just to feel his fingers grazing my flesh—oh my God, Knox is touching my boob. My eyes close as I absorb the soft dancing of his fingertips across my nipple. Then it hits me. I am officially a pervert. I’ve essentially manipulated a boy’s hand so that he could cop a feel. I’ve stolen second base. Is that even a thing? I think I just made it a thing—a thing that no self-respecting girl should ever, ever try.
“Whoa, sorry.” He pulls back and offers an amicable smile.
“Right.” He’s sorry.
And sadly, so am I.
Just as we’re about to head on out, I see a welcome sight that sends my mood skyrocketing through the stratosphere.
“Harley? Henry?” I scream so loud as I rush them, and I catch a tiny glint of fear in my brother’s eyes before he warms to me.
I wrap my arms around the two of them at once, and we spin in an awkward circle with Henry’s oxygen tank whacking me in the leg the entire time.
Henry makes a face as if holding back his enthusiasm. “I was starting to forget what you”—he pauses to take a breath—“looked like.”
I belt out a laugh and so does Harley.
“Then look in the mirror!” I turn to Knox with a laugh caught in my throat. “This is my big brother, Henry. He’s essentially my twin.”
Knox steps in with that killer grin and a part of me wishes I were introducing him as much more than a friend. “Nice to meet you.” He gives a quick glance to the oxygen tank. It’s okay. Most people need to get used to it.
Henry holds up the slender green monster. “This is”—he takes a quick breath—“what keeps me in step with my sisters. One day”—he gasps for air—“I’m going to run a marathon with this one.” He points to me.
“I haven’t hit the track in weeks,” I’m quick to confess and both Harley and Henry loosen their jaws. “I’ve sort of been contending with a bad breakup.” I give a quick rundown on how both Knox and I were lucky enough to have a set of cheating exes all on the same night with essentially the same person.
Harley gets that wild look in her eyes—she’s a lot like my mother in many ways, her wild streak being the most prominent. “I will scratch that douche canoe’s eyes out the next time I see him and shove them down his throat so when he craps them out he can see exactly what he’s full of.”
“And on that note.” I look to poor Knox whose face just went white. “I think maybe we should take off. I sort of kidnapped Knox and gave him the tour of the dark side of our mother’s gray matter. I’m pretty sure a family reunion is more than he bargained for.”
“No way.” Knox holds his hands up. “I’m in. In fact, if you two haven’t eaten, I’d love to take you to lunch.”
“There’s a Thai place next door with drunken noodles to die for,” Harley offers.
And just like that, we’re off. The four of us talk for three hours straight. Knox genuinely seems to get along well with Henry. He’s talking to him like one of the guys and not like someone with a severe life-threatening illness. Knox even offered to take him to the Black Bear so he could meet with his friends and threatened him with hot chicks as if he’s genuinely interested in getting him into the dating scene. Just the sight of their budding bromance has me melting in a puddle.
I’m melting in a puddle for Knox Toberman and I kind of like it.
And I kind of hate myself for it at the very same time.
After spending a zillion blissful hours with Knox, I jettison myself back to the black hole of Kappa G. Thankfully, when I get inside, my roommate is nowhere to be found, so I flop on the bottom bunk in hopes of sneaking in some quick shut-eye. I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself going before I drop dead of exhaustion. No matter what any airline tells you, the human body isn’t meant to sleep in an upright position. I’m beginning to suspect there’s no such thing as jet lag—it’s all a ploy to cover up the fact they severely exhaust you on those transatlantic flights.
“What the hell is this?” a deep voice barks so loud I jump up and crack my skull against the bunk above me.
“Oh hell.” I fall back down over the comforter, which incidentally totally reeks of body odor, a malodorous offense I was willing to overlook for the coma I was hopeful to fall into.
“Get off my bed!” Sabine-the-Mean-Roommate-Scattering-Machine shouts at the top of her lungs. “I can’t have other people touching my stuff! I’m OCD! I take medication for this crap!”
I manage to roll off, hitting my forehead against the wood beam one more time just to ensure my head injury takes effect immediately. A white-hot pain bleeds through my skull and the room sways and multiplies itself before my very eyes.
“Crap.” I cradle my temples as I stagger to my feet. “Why are you yelling? Clearly you’re not taking medication for the correct crap or you wouldn’t have ve
rbally accosted me, Sabine!” I will not call another human being a fictional cat’s name as long as I live. I may have dated Justine Cramer, but I’ve recently established standards.
Her face grows a strange shade of red, and the fact her wiry hair is all but doing the electrocution dance is rather a frightening combination. “You are not allowed to say that name to me again!” Her voice rages so loud half the girls come pouring in. “You may call me Garfield and I will answer to nothing else. Do you have a problem with that? And if you do, you can go screw yourself because I really don’t give a rat’s ass!”
“Oh my God, you are insane!” And potentially rife with a very good idea—at least Sylvia thinks so. I yank my suitcase out of the closet and toss in all of my belongings as if I were a contestant on a game show given the chance to clear the room out of whatever I can in less than thirty seconds. I scoop all of my toiletries in with a sweep of my arm and ransack the bathroom for anything I might own.
“You can have this room, Sabine!”
I’m off to screw myself.
Ava and Lucky are persona non-grata. It turns out summer is a fantastic time to do all sorts of things with your new boyfriend, like go to the beach, go to the movies, go to dinner all on a loop. I’ve never felt so left out in all my life. Before I know it, I find myself parked in front of Knox Toberman’s driveway. I suppose if I barge in with a suitcase in hand, clothes sticking out of it haphazardly nonetheless, he might be forced to entertain a restraining order. I opt to casually slip a few essentials into my purse, my makeup bag, my Kindle, a bath bomb that promises to turn any ordinary day into a paisley wonderland complete with a refreshing citrus scent. God knows I’m in desperate need to freshen up a bit after all but smothering myself in Sabine the Ogre’s night sweat. I eye the suitcase once again.
“What the hell,” I snap it with psychotic pride as I march up to the door and give a light knock. It takes more than a few minutes before Knox opens up, and to my surprise his hair is dewy from the shower, his scruff is shaved clean off—and dear God, does this boy do a naked face right—not to mention he looks dressed up for a night on the town, dress shirt, tie, jeans, and an earthy pair of chukka boots that make my engine fire on all pistons.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” My heart sinks, because if he says he’s off on a date, I’ll drive straight back to my mother’s house, crawl into my childhood bed, and never come out. Could this summer get any worse?
Those commas on either side of his face invert. “Actually, I had a hot date.”
My heart smashes through the porch and descends to middle earth with no hopes of ever coming back.
“With my sister.” He gives a wild grin as he widens the door for me to come inside. “She just canceled on me, so your timing couldn’t be better.”
“Oh, what a relief!” I say as I scoot on in and bend over to give Fish a quick scratch between the ears and freeze. “I mean—what a relief you weren’t really stood up—by a hot date. That would be lame, you know, after what you’ve already been through and all.”
I right myself and come face-to-face with those steely eyes as that undeniable spark detonates between us and my insides turn to mush. Knox is cuttingly handsome, painfully so for me at least. That sweet spot between my thighs starts in on a desperate throb and it’s all I can do to keep from dry-humping him right here in the living room.
Knox brings his hand up to the back of my head and threads his fingers through my hair in a slow, circular fashion.
That’s it.
My entire body starts in on an underlying quiver, and in less than ten seconds, I’m going to embarrass myself by howling in pleasure. Sylvia is about to have a nervous breakdown in the very best capacity.
“What’s with the suitcase?” he deadpans as if our lives had morphed into one of those old westerns my father used to watch and we were at a standoff at high noon.
“Just taking something to the laundromat.” My voice squeaks.
The laundromat? It’s nice to know my descent into madness somehow involves the need for basic hygiene. Speaking of which…“You know”—I jet past him to the hall—“you wouldn’t mind if I took a quick bath, would you?” I entomb myself in the restroom before he can say a word.
“Did you say bath?”
I give a slight whimper in lieu of a response.
“Um, yeah, go right ahead. I’ll heat up a truffle pizza and get the buffet going!”
“Sounds good!” Too good to be true.
While Knox takes off to whip us up a feast worthy of kings, I start up the bath, giddy to dip myself into the gorgeous, freestanding, clawfoot work of wannabe vintage art. No sooner does the water level rise than I drop my bath bomb in and watch the water turn a rainbow of blues and greens with sparks of pink and orange. My clothes practically jump right off my body in anticipation of the good time that lies ahead for me. I dip my toes in and let out a deep, hearty groan. I haven’t experienced this kind of satisfaction since that food we indulged in last week—scratch that. Those kisses we indulged in. I sink my body into the hot, steamy Technicolored waters and settle in with a sigh. Now this is something I can get used to. My toes flirt with the fixtures as if threatening to let all the water out. I can’t believe how roomy it is in here. I’m betting it’d fit two nicely. A vision of Knox comes to me as he straddles me in these murky waters with that lewd grin budding on his lips, those wing-like pecs spanning out in front of me that I crave to claim every inch of with my tongue.
Oh, holy heck, I’m just working myself into a frenzy rather than taking the edge off. I go to reach for my Kindle and cringe at the fact it’s all the way over by the door in my purse.
“No, no, no!” I give a quiet moan. My all-time favorite pastime is reading in the bath. Honestly, it’s the only time I can steal a little study-free fun in anymore.
I glance down to see my phone peeking out of my jeans and I snap it up and shoot a group text to Ava and Lucky.
I’ve infiltrated Fort Knox and am currently enjoying a nice, hot bath in the most beautiful restroom known to man. Be jealous. I hit Send. I may not be out on a hot date with the love of my life like they are, but I’ll be damned if I’m keeping myself out of the hot date mix.
Ava texts back. Are you alone in the bath?
I make a face. Would I be texting you witches if I had company? Not only am I alone, but my Kindle is out of reach. All dirty books are officially off-limits. How the heck is a girl supposed to have fun around here?
Open the app? Lucky doesn’t miss a beat. On second thought, put the phone down and Jill off. That should make you feel better. Then when you’re done with that, find Knox, pull out his man sword, and tell him you’d like to apply a little lip-gloss. You know you want to!
It takes a few seconds for me to decode the graphic verbiage Lucky has set before me. Crap! I toss my phone back onto my jeans and sink into the tub a little. As if. I’m not big on that whole Jilling off thing. I mean, wasn’t that the point of having a serious relationship? Even if it was one-sided. Bastard.
I shoo all thoughts of Justin out of my mind and in pops Knox without warning. My hand glides over my thigh like a reflex, and I can practically see Sylvia waving it in like an airline traffic controller. Damn pervert. But it’s Knox who has my full attention. That muscular chest of his, the definition is mindboggling, really. My hand slips between my legs and I don’t stop it. He almost looks as if he belongs in one of those fitness magazines with all the oiled up, tan beefcakes that strut the catwalk flexing and straining their neck muscles trying to impress the masses.
My fingers find a home over that swollen part of me that’s ready to detonate, and I follow the friendly advice that Lucky gave. Much to Sylvia’s delight, I Jill off, all the while envisioning my limbs wrapped around a very naked Knox Toberman. I see his face behind my lids, and just like that, I tremble to a body-jolting conclusion. Sylvia and I exchange a hearty high five for something that was long in coming—namely me.
Slowly,
I blink to life once I catch my breath and assess the sad state of my being. Not only did I show up with a suitcase, but I barreled right into his bathroom and gifted myself a fit of ecstasy. God, I’m some sort of perverted barbarian. I’ve gone from revenge-filled ex-girlfriend of one boy—to a masturbating stalker of another one in a single summer.
I sink under the water line a moment just as Knox gives a brisk knock over the door. “Pizza’s done!”
Great. I reemerge and hook my toe over the drain stop in haste. How many more ways can I possibly humiliate myself tonight?
“I’ve got a T-shirt you can borrow,” he shouts. “You know, keep yourself fresh.”
I roll my eyes. “Sounds good!” That is, if you want the Pointer Sisters staring at you all night. The only possible way I can keep things fresh is to eschew everything else I’ve got.
A thought comes to me. I think I’ve just discovered how to one-up myself in the humiliation department, and shockingly, every last part of me says go for it.
“I’ll be right there!” I shout with glee as I get out of the warm tub only to meet with the brisk cool breeze. I tiptoe across the bathroom floor in haste, and without giving it a second rational, perhaps much-needed thought, I swing the door wide open.
Knox drops his gaze up and down my body like an elevator stuck on a loop.
That conversation I had with Laney comes back to me like a slap in the face.
What the hell am I doing? This isn’t me. I don’t ambush men by moving into their rental houses, Jilling off in their bathtubs, and demanding they see me naked. What’s next for God’s sake? Falling down and applying a little lipstick?
Just like that, I wake from my stupor and one hand reflexively covers my boobs while the other claps over the Amazon rainforest I’m sporting below. As if to add insult to humiliating injury, I’ve actually exposed him to the fact I have a proficient amount of bush that has never been whacked. I’m pretty sure girls these days are supposed to look suspiciously hairless, and here I’m blatantly showing off the fact I’ve hit puberty.
Summer Breeze Kisses Page 52