Page 63 of Summer Heat
And she sounded like goddamn air, like relief and life and sex even though he shouldn’t want her anymore. Shouldn’t want her at all. “I’m fine. What’s up?”
“Well,” she said, dragging out the word. “There’s this thing tonight, and I wanted to go. Chris has a work event, so I thought maybe…”
“I’ll go.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
But you’ll be there. He forced himself to laugh, though it came out choppy and false. “You know me. I always have Chris’s back.”
“Thanks, man,” came Chris’s voice from far away.
And that was when he realized he was on speaker. Great, just what he wanted while covered in his own come—to talk to his best friend. “Don’t mention it,” he said. Ever.
“Do you want to
drive or should I?” Lia asked.
“Text me the details,” he said. “I’ll pick you up.”
Then he hit the End button, because shit shit shit, he was so completely screwed. How had he thought he’d get over her? He wouldn't. He couldn't. He’d have to move, leave town, and soon—like tomorrow. The idea had been brewing for a while now. Ever since he got back. It would hurt so fucking much not to see her again, but it would hurt worse to stay.
Chapter Two
Lia strolled the Trail of Lights, trying not to look at the dire expression on her friend’s face. Trying to pretend she didn’t know something was wrong. But Ethan had been strangely quiet—pensive, almost regretful—since he picked her up.
The Trail of Lights was Austin’s answer to holiday cheer, a mix of retro Christmas displays and corporate sponsorship. Fat kernels of kettle corn marked the wooded path more clearly than wood-cut signs. Families had walked the Trail of Lights since its opening in late afternoon.
Nearing midnight, the crowd had thinned to mostly couples. They linked their arms and canted their heads toward each other, sharing the heat of their bodies and the steam of their breaths.
Not like Lia and Ethan. The inches between them felt like a mile.
She examined a Grinch whose lit up smile looked properly demonic. And somewhat lonely. “I always felt bad for him.”
“Of course you did,” Ethan said.
“What? I mean, the Whos down in Whoville had warm beds and Christmas presents. The Grinch had to live in a cave all by himself.”
“He had his dog.” Ethan tweaked his own dog’s ears. Oreo pranced around their feet, made frisky by the crisp air and the kernels of kettle corn he’d swiped from the ground.
“He did have the dog,” she conceded, studying Ethan. “Like you.”
Come to think of it, Ethan was a little Grinch-like. Not the looks. His skin had a steady tan from all the running he did, no green in sight. Although he did rock an evil grin when he teased her.
“We have that in common,” he said. “The dog. And the cave. And being a surly bastard.”
“You’re not a bastard.” He could be surly, though. Like tonight. “Anyway, the Whos acted all nice and inclusive, but look at their population. Everyone was the same. The Grinch was the outcast who just so happened to look different. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”
Ethan grinned at her. “I take it you’re not going to read How the Grinch Stole Christmas in your classroom.”
“Maybe I would,” she muttered, adding, “if I ever have a classroom.”
Of course he noticed. His brow creased in concern. “Hey, you’ve only got a few weeks.”
A few weeks and a shiny new diploma might not be enough. “I talked to the director yesterday.”
“And?”
And it didn’t look good. Lia had worked in the private school to pay her way through college. It had been more than a part time job to her. She’d made costumes for the school play on her own time. She had worked front and center at every fundraising carnival. Now she was graduating with a degree in early childhood education, but the director claimed there were no positions available.
