Summer Breeze Kisses - Addison Moore Page 0,98

introduces bed bugs of the sexual variety to my childhood quilt.”

The room quiets down before the squeaky mattress next door starts up again.

“And round two is a go.” I wait for the assault to hit its crescendo, but Scarlett simply groans and pulls the pillow over her head.

I think back on all my girlfriends, the ones I was at least semi-serious with and think about how much it would suck, how much it would piss me off if Knox was next door making some mattress moves on my ex. My blood boils just thinking about it.

“Come on.” I give her a light tap on the knee and start bouncing up and down on the mattress by simply gyrating my body. A loud, dying shriek of a squeak ricochets throughout the room, and Scarlett lets out a gasp.

“They’re going to think we’re—” She freezes for a moment then pulls me abruptly up by the hand, and, before we know it, we’re jumping on the bed, aiming high for the vaulted ceiling, laughing our asses off. It takes less than thirty seconds for a series of solid thumps to come from the adjoining wall.

“Keep it down in there, would you?” a distinctly male voice roars from the other side.

“Sounds like Duncky doesn’t like to share his Scar Scar,” I muse.

Scarlett plunges her head back and lets out a wicked laugh as if it were the funniest thing in the world. She pulls us down to our knees, and it’s only then I note our hands are still conjoined, her warm fingers interlacing with mine. She jerks away as if pulling her hand out of a fire.

“Sorry about that.” She falls back onto her elbows, and I follow, the bed still rippling from our efforts.

“Not a problem.” It felt kind of nice, innocent, holding her hand, but I’ll be the last to mention it. “You hear that?” I hold up a finger to the silver light.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.” I hold out my hand, and she slaps me five. “We’ve effectively duncked the Dunker.”

Scarlett gives a bubbling laugh at the thought. “Serves them right.”

“Serves them right indeed.”

“Why do you care if they’re having a good time?” She calls me out on the questionable camaraderie.

“Because I don’t like seeing annoying people that happy.” Sort of true. “Besides, I’m not sure if I believe in happiness anymore.” True as God.

“Yeah, well—me either.” Her hand flops in the dark until it covers mine, and this time I give her fingers a squeeze.

“Good night, Free Agent Scarlett.”

“Good night, Sexy Rexy.” She smothers it in the requisite amount of sarcasm.

“Say it like you mean it.” I offer her fingers another gentle squeeze.

“You wish.” She turns over and goes to sleep, and I try to do the same, but all night I wonder why this girl who’s vexed me for months suddenly feels so good to touch, and what she would think if she knew who my mother really was.

One Big Unhappy Family

Scarlett

There are several highlights that I remember fondly about my childhood—the time a beautiful woman dressed as a mermaid came to my fifth birthday party. Her hair was as red as mine, and I loved her. The time my parents took us to a pricey resort in Hawaii, and my sister, brother, and I all swam with friendly bottlenose dolphins. There was an afternoon in fourth grade when both my father and my mother chaperoned a school field trip down to an apple orchard. All of my friends thought it was weird, and a part of me knew I should be embarrassed by this, but I loved it. My father lifted me through the branches, and I filled up a basket with blushing Pippins and dainty Pink Ladies. We bought a heaping apple pie from the orchard bakery. I can still smell the cinnamon if I try. Then, there was the night they sat us all down, my sister, brother, and I on the couch, the two of them positioned across from us, seated on the coffee table. We knew from their outward act of furniture-based defiance that something was drastically wrong. We were no more allowed to put our sock-feet up on the coffee table, let alone sit on the wooden beast, and here our parents were squatting over it as if it were the new normal. That was a bruised day in the history of us. They referred to it as simply “the end of their partnership” to lessen the blow. It didn’t, of course.