Summer Breeze Kisses - Addison Moore Page 0,180

but still, nobody deserves to be subjected to this high concentration of Knox’s dim wit for long.

“I’m not the artist. My mother is.” I pull out my phone and snap a picture of my mother’s latest and greatest creation. She’s a socialite by trade—and yes, she has very much made a career of flaunting pricey handbags—but she has also fostered her artistic abilities for as long as I can remember. Of course, North Carolina isn’t large enough to contain my mother. She’s working on a gallery showing in New York as well as within our own great state. And thanks to the fact my father has practically eaten all of New York real estate for breakfast, her odds of scoring that coveted showing are pretty damn good. My parents might be exes, but they’ve somehow remained amicable through all the years. “She’s currently showing at a gallery in Jepson.” I leave out the part about her actually owning the gallery. “Her exhibit will be open all summer, so in between knocking your head around on the field, and knocking it against the headboard at home, you should trek down there some time and enlighten yourself to the cultural side of life. There’s a whole world outside that perverted locker room. You should peer out from beneath the cheerleaders’ skirts sometime and see for yourself.” I scoot along into the commons room, hoping to find a glimpse of my boyfriend, Justin. He said he’d be here by eight, but it’s close to nine thirty and still no sign. Justin and I finally landed on solid ground again after a bumpy last two years. It feels good to have someone in my life I can depend on, someone who’s interested in me for who I am, not my face or my trust fund. It’s hard to believe wonderful men like Justin still exist. Not that I’ve had the best examples of loving relationships in my own life. My parents once had a traditional marriage until my father integrated a bevy of other women into the mix, thus turning the traditional institution on its fornicating ear. Since my parents’ divorce, I’ve always felt a bit of nostalgia toward monogamy, and I was more than glad to find it with Justin. He’s my forever, and I’m his. We’re a done deal. Lifers in this world of interchangeable partners.

“Your mother?” Knox follows me deep into the heart of the great room of Kappa Gamma Gamma, my new home for the next three years. Last year, I lived in the dorms with a roommate who heated up obnoxiously smelly fish dishes in our shared microwave and chewed on her toenails as a means to save on pedicures. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The true horror of last year was having a room on the third level. I’m not simply afraid of heights—I’m petrified of them. On those few occasions that I was forced to take the stairs, my head pounded with its own heartbeat. And forget looking at the view from my balcony. I had seen it once and swore that the ground was calling me to it like a magnet. There is no greater fear than to know that your body has an undeniable urge to jump no matter how frightened or unwilling you are to meet the ground. Honestly, I can’t trust myself on anything taller than a set of heels.

“Yup, dear old Mom.” My God, why is this idiot stalking me? Is this some kind of bad karma for ignoring those Girl Scouts at the supermarket last week? I scan the room for any signs of Ava or Lucky. I know for a fact they’re both here. I also know for a fact they’re connected at the crotch with their respective boy toys as of late. Ava is hot and heavy with Grant, the boy whose sister murdered her own sister—and yet their love is both real and thriving. And Lucky has found love in the strong arms of Lawson Kent, my unofficial big brother as assigned through the Greek system. I really do like Lawson. He’s a totally cool guy who’s given me a few effective pointers on the track and in life. I just so happen to be addicted to running. It’s my singular passion. The thing I’m not addicted to is this nitwit who seems to have attached himself to my hip for the evening.

I step back in annoyance to get a better look at him. My God,