Summer Breeze Kisses

by Addison Moore

  “I’m as anal as they get. If it’s not white glove ready, I’m all about taking it down until it glistens and shines. You know what they say. Cleanliness is next to godliness!”

  “Yes, well, let’s see if you’ve heard of this saying: Drunkenness is next to I’ll call you an Uber driver.”

  “About that.” She shrinks a bit. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

  “You like big penises and you cannot lie?” I growl at her for even thinking it was okay to bring that X-rated, frosted pile of flour into my home.

  “I like warm beds, and, actually, I can lie.” She ducks her face behind her hands a moment. “You see, remember that last trip I came back from? The corporate excursion to Hawaii? I sort of got fired.”

  “What?” My voice razes the ceiling.

  “And my roommate sort of took off so I couldn’t make the rent on my apartment. You have no idea how expensive a penthouse is in downtown Jepson.”

  “And I couldn’t care either.” I grab her by the shoulders and march her straight for the door.

  “But I can be your roommate! I can split the rent and the utilities, and I’ll even scrub the toilets with my toothbrush if you want. I just can’t tell my family until after the wedding.” I push her closer to the exit with each frantic word that expels from her lips. “Wait! Stop.” She writhes and she turns her head to avoid looking at the door readying to meet her fate. “Don’t do it for me. Do it for Low.”

  I open the door and give her a generous shove, but she’s dug her heels in, and if I move her one more inch I risk having my hardwood permanently marred by her nasty hoofprints.

  “Okay,” I hear myself say. Clearly, I’m going to have to disown my vocal cords after what they’ve done to me tonight and sell them on the black market. “But I’m only doing it for Low.” And my mortgage payment. And maybe for the sheer entertainment value, too. “Under one condition.” I loosen my grip on her shoulders, and she sags into me, her perky little face filled with relief.

  “Anything, I swear it. Just say the word and it’s yours!”

  “The next time Mustache Lady and her handler bring the pooping pop star to my front lawn you’ll chase them away with a stick.”

  “Deal.” She offers my hand a quick shake without hesitating. “And you’ll do something for me in exchange.”

  “I’m already doing something for you, you nitwit! That’s how having the upper hand works.” My God, Low’s little bestie is dumb as a brick.

  “You’ll do something for me.” Her voice drops to her lower register as she leans in just enough. “You’ll tell me what that rat bastard Axel Collins did to you six long years ago.”

  “Why would I tell you anything?”

  “Because maybe once you let it all out you’ll stop lighting the world on fire, and you might even start to breathe again. What you need, Lex, is a good old-fashioned best friend. And lucky for you, one just took up residence in your home.”

  I stare out at the void Axel left in his wake, at the dense nothingness of a moonless Hollow Brook night. It did feel good letting out the truth of myself imposed celibacy. It felt more than good, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why.

  I look back at Raven and frown. “Best friend.” I scoff at the idea. “I don’t remember putting out a casting call.”

  “That’s because you’ve built your walls up so high, not even you can see what you need anymore. Now get back in here before you catch your death.” She scoots me in and shuts the door. “It’s time to clean up this mess before we hit the pillow. I don’t get to bed until the house looks unlived in. I’m a neat freak that way.”

  “Unlived in? I make it look as if it’s never made contact with a human before.” My eyes shine with a hint of pride.

  And I find it hard to believe that Raven is a self-proclaimed neat freak. Go figure. Who knows? We might just get along yet.

  But I seriously doubt it.

  Axel

  Seven Years Earlier…

  Halloween night should be spent at a frat house, or better yet, at a sorority house finding chicks, getting laid, not meandering the center of campus wondering how I got so whipped over a girl who I will most likely never see again. It’s been two months since my run-in with the queen of mean, and I haven’t been the same since. Case in point, wandering aimlessly on the most hormonal night of the year.

  Crap.

  I look to the sky, rich with its stars, and hold my arms out at the expansive nothingness. “Is anybody out there?” I shout and listen as the echo of my own voice comes back to me. Whitney Briggs is a ghost town ironically. The campus is drained of its student body as every single person holed up in those dorms bleeds out to The Row where the frats and the sororities sit across the street from each other. It’s just me, my shattered ego, and wounded heart. Hard to imagine that a girl I knew for less than ten minutes could do so much damage. I wish she came with a warning label. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.

  “Should I wait for her?” I don’t pack the same punch as I did the last time. “I think she’s the one.” My voice grows small and my neck hurts at this pitch as I gaze out into darkness. “Anyway, if you could spare a moment, I’d appreciate a sign.” My voice dwindles to a whisper. I doubt anyone is listening anyway.

  The peachy glow of Hallowed Grounds beckons to me, and I head on over. It’s either that or head back to my apartment. At least this way I’ll get a cup of something hot and maybe a donut out of it.

  I head in and the thick scent of coffee bowls over my senses as if trying desperately to heal me with its hypnotic roasted beans. A smattering of people litter the place, a couple of girls dressed as French maids, a dude done up like Dracula works the line. Just as I’m about to step up to the counter, I spot a lion’s mane of dark cherry red hair, and my heart booms once as if threatening to cut out early.

  “No way,” I whisper as I stagger on over. Her back is toward me, head bent over, fingers gliding over a laptop, and not until I make the full radius around the table do I quantify that indeed it’s her.

  Someone heard. God himself has taken a moment from his busy night to give my destiny a nod.

  I don’t bother asking permission. Instead, I help myself to a seat.

  She looks up, her eyes ten times brighter than I remember, her face a thousand times more beautiful than my memory would allow—a young Scarlett Johansson meets Megan Fox. And holy wow, Lex Ximena Maxfield is a fox—just as wily as one, too.

  “Oh, it’s just you.” She gets back to work without missing a beat.

  “You’re hard to find. You know that?” I knock my knuckles over the table two times fast, but I can’t help but smile. Damn, she’s beautiful.

  She takes a bite out of a donut, and it’s only then that I note four different pastries surrounding her.

  “Comfort food night?”

  “Homework,” she says through a mouthful as if painfully pointing out the fact she’s not out to impress me.

  “For that nutrition thing you mentioned?”

  She glances up before washing down her mouthful with a swig from her coffee. “Are you always this annoying, or is this something special just for me?” She slips her laptop into an oversized purse and picks up her coffee along with the glazed donut she just took a healthy chunk out of and starts to head out.

  “Whoa.” I scoot alongside of her. “Look, you don’t have to take off on my account. Go back and finish your feast.”

  “Please, that carbohydratefest? Any food critic worth her salt knows that you don’t down every last calorie. I’d be a cow that couldn’t navigate a pasture if I licked every plate clean that was ever set in front of me.”

  The Hollow Brook night air cleanses us as we move swiftly under a crisp autumn moon. She’s headed for the parking lot so I’m guessing she’s taking off.

  “Food critic, huh?”

  “That’s right. I’m double majoring in journalism and nutrition. I figure I’d
meld my love of writing and my love of eating and eventually turn a profit. Probably not a big one, but I don’t really care about much beyond the basics.”

  “Wow, I’m floored for two reasons. One, you’re far more verbose than you were the first night we met. And two, you’re about the only girl I know who is at all interested in the basics.”

  She belts out a short-lived laugh, and even that sounds like a threat. And God, how I have missed her threats. I’ve missed everything about her.

  “So why no social media? How are you successful at being a ghost every day of the year? Any reason why you’re so hard to track down?”

  “To keep guys like you from stalking me.” She heads down the brick walk leading to the parking garage, and I jump in front of her, doing my best to stall.

  “How about that walk you promised me?”

  Lex takes a moment to lean in and glare. “What’s your major again?”

  “Pre-law.”

  “Figures. One—you’ll make a great lawyer since you’ve just minced my words. I never said I’d play bear bait with you and go for a walk in the woods while we rubbed ourselves down with honey. And, yes, I do believe you’re that moronic. And two, pre-law isn’t a major.” She dives past me and speeds off into the night.

  “Exactly!” I shout after her. “It’s a state of mind.”

  She gives a light chuckle, and there it is—a crack of light in that dark soul. So I do the only thing I can think of. I run like hell to catch up with her.

  Lex pauses to toss her coffee and donut out just long enough for me to jog up alongside her.

  “How about five minutes of your time in Founder’s Square?” I nod over to the giant expanse of dark lawn just a few feet away with a fountain lighting up the center with an ethereal baby blue glow. “It will be our third unofficial date, and if I don’t manage to make you want to come back for more, I promise I will leave you alone the next time I see you diligently inhaling carbohydrates in the name of education.” I cross my fingers over my heart and hold up my hand.

  She scowls at me a moment, her dark brows each pitched in the opposite direction, one spiking into her forehead and the other dipping down hard into her eye. Lex is the perfect villain. A thief. She’s already stolen my heart.

  “Deal. But only because it’s Halloween, and spending five minutes with you in the dark should give me the proper fright this night requires. But then you’ll leave me alone because you’re a man of your word, right?” she scolds in that placating way that a mother might do, and something twisted about her tone turns me on.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Most likely. Hell, I don’t know that I could leave her alone if I tried.

  We trek over the lawn in the direction of the fountain, and I carefully take up her hand, threading my fingers through hers before giving a gentle squeeze.

  Lex glances down with a grunt. “I take it you don’t want that hand back.”

  A laugh thunders from me, but I can’t help it. There it is, the knife in the gut I’m guessing she’s an expert at wielding—through words anyway.

  “I like your sense of humor.” I bring her hand up and press a light kiss over the back, sending a trail of goose bumps down my arm, through my spine, straight down to my feet.

  “I don’t have a sense of humor.” She plucks her hand free and proceeds to speed us to the fountain. “So why the dateless night of horrors? Isn’t it prime picking at Gamma Gamma Gag me?”

  “That it is”—we pause next to the quiet rush of waters, the blue reflection from the fountain washing all of the hues from the night, highlighting her eyes, making her face light up like an angel—“and if it were not for you, my queen, I might be playing the part of unholy jester in some unsuspecting coed’s bed, but alas, your beauty has bewitched me and it is only you I seek.”

  “Wow”—she muses, taking a step in toward me and the scent of lilacs dances from her hair—“that was a seriously bad mockup of Shakespeare. I’m guessing that move gets you past first base with the girls?”

  “I don’t know”—I boldly trace her hair softly before digging my fingers into the back of her silky mane—“I’ve never initiated that particular bad mockup before. But since you promised me first base.” And then I go for it. I lean in and watch as her eyes round out, and I see the reflection of the moon embedded in each one.

  “Do you think you’re going to kiss me?” she hisses, her eyes dangerously slit like that of an irate cat.

  “Yes.” I inch in ever so close as the warmth of her skin sets me on fire.

  “Then I see you won’t need your hand or your lips back for the night.”

  “How about this”— my mouth hovers a breath away from hers—“we kiss for the remainder of our five minutes, and if you’re still not interested, you can take whatever body parts you want. I promise I will leave you the hell alone.” Damn. Of all the words to come from my lips.

  Lex takes in a deep breath. Her chest rises just enough to graze over mine, and my balls ache from that sweet soft touch ten times more than they ever have for a girl that had actually managed to land in my bed.

  “You have less than thirty seconds remaining,” she whispers, all of the wicked intent emptied from her voice and in its place a hint of longing. My ego wants to believe it was lust in bloom just for me.

  And I do it. I land my lips over hers and linger. Every last cell in my body detonates with relief, with a hallelujah choir, a roar that screams hell yes right down to the marrow in my bones. I have kissed a thousand girls easily and never in my life, not even with the very first lip-lock have I ever felt so wholly alive, so desperate for this moment to stretch out forever. It’s in this moment I realize I can never be with anyone outside of Lex. No girl could make me feel this way. No girl could possibly replace her. It was just her for me. And if she wanted nothing to do with me, I was doomed to walk the planet with a broken heart for the remainder of my days.

  Lex pulls me in by the back of the neck and meets me with a far hungrier kiss, one that says here I am, make my day, make the best out of these remaining seconds I’ve gifted you. And then the unthinkable happens. Her mouth falls open, and I fall into the warm wet wonderland of Alexa Ximena Maxfield’s beautiful, beautiful mouth. And that’s when I realize I’ve found my way home. I don’t ever want to leave.

  Lex and I duke it out with our mouths, with our tongues, with those wandering hands for the next few hours.

  Yes, it’s safe to say that neither of us ever wants to leave.

  Present Day…

  Axel

  August in Hollow Brook is hotter than the surface of the sun, and that’s on a good day. On a day like today, when the soles of your shoes threaten to stick to the sidewalk like chewing gum, it’s more like the armpit of that solar menace in the sky.

  I open the doors to Hallowed Grounds Coffee Shop, and both a blast of Arctic air and the scent of fresh roasted beans hit me. I’m in heaven. I can’t get inside fast enough. I used to frequent Hallowed Grounds back in my Briggs days. Heck, Lex and I ended up there more than a few times while we were dating. She would bring her laptop and work on her papers, and I’d vie for her attention mercilessly until her lips landed on mine right where they belonged. Lex never made me beg for long. How I miss those carefree days, worshiping at the altar of my favorite goddess. My mouth made a habit of tracing out her curves. Mapping out the landscape of her every inch with my tongue was my favorite pastime. I loved her more than I’ve loved anything or anyone. Lex was more than just a girlfriend. She was my home. She loved me too once. And we all know how that ended.

  I grab a cup of iced coffee just as Levi and Brody strut in and do the same. We find a table near the back and slump into our seats. At least twice a month we try to have an official unofficial meeting regarding our investment. We used to meet at the Black Bear, the bar across the street from the university, but since we’ve befriended the guys that own the place, it just doesn’t feel right sharing thoughts of our struggling endeavor in their robust, hig
h economy establishment. Not that The Pelican is still struggling any longer. Low put the kibosh on that, and it happens to be one of the chief reasons I really appreciate her. Ironically, the three of us have never talked shop at The Pelican in the event a stray ear picked up on one of our morbid conversations. And they were all morbid until Low stepped in and resuscitated life back into the menu. Things have been pretty solid since.

  “How they hanging?” Levi ticks his head over at me. I know Low’s been pumping him for information regarding Lex and me. He told me so himself. And disappointingly enough, there’s nothing to report.

  Brody gives a dry laugh. “He doesn’t have any. Lex has his balls dangling from her rearview mirror like a cheap carnival prize.”

  “Crap.” I pluck the laptop out of Brody’s hands and open it up to a cluster of numbers. I can’t help but laugh. I talked to the boys at the accounting firm, and they’re having a good ol’ time giving poor Brody here the runaround. “Looks like hell. You sure you’re a numbers guy?” I slide it back to him with a grin on my face.

  Brody looks as if he’s about to take that laptop and shove it down my throat. “What are you smiling about? This financial knot is going to take me weeks to undo. Hope Daddy doesn’t fire you from the firm. Your services are needed at the bar, my friend.”

  “No way.” Levi shakes his head at me. “You get back to the courtroom where your ass belongs. I’ll just tell Low that I need to spend more time at the bar.”

  “Dude.” I laugh at the thought. “Your wedding is weeks away. There’s no way I’m having it. Do what you need to do and don’t worry. I’m covering your honeymoon, too. Take a couple of weeks. Take a couple of months. I gifted my workload to Chip and Shep. They love it. Believe it or not, people enjoy being busy. Everyone’s happy.”

  Levi and Brody exchange a brief glance.

  “What?” I take a long swig of my drink—and swear to God, on a hot day, iced coffee tastes just as good as an ice-cold beer.