Summer Breeze Kisses - Addison Moore Page 0,223

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 verbally 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