Page 67 of Summer Heat
Chris smirked, eyes flashing, and Ethan had a sudden glimpse of how he would look as a politician. Determined and mildly sleazy. Resentment was a hard knot in his gut. Why did this fucker get the girl? But then he remembered that this fucker had his back many times; they’d survived that way.
Then his anger evaporated and he was left only with disappointment.
“Take care of her,” he said as he turned to leave.
He had driven all the way home, and Oreo had eaten all the kettle corn, by the time he realized he still had Lia’s purse. Right when he’d decided he couldn’t keep meeting up with her throughout her day, tagging along which only made things worse. He needed to end this tonight.
So he dropped Oreo off in his empty apartment and started the drive back.
Chapter Three
Lia brushed her teeth to get rid of the salty sweetness of the kettle corn. She showered to get the smoky evening air from her skin and hair. But something remained, something earthy and sharp, a sense that she had experienced something important, that it lingered with her still.
Steam coated the bathroom mirror. She looked at her hazy reflection—her black hair curly from the moisture, eyes wide. She looked like her mother, who was Puerto Rican. Her father had never been identified, but it was clear from her dark skin that he’d been black. She had stood out in Paseo Boricua, the Chicago neighborhood where her mother lived. When her aunt moved to Austin to take an adjunct professor position at UT, Lia had begged to go with her.
Lia had enrolled in Austin High School for 9th grade. She’d been gawky and terrified upon realizing she stood out here more than ever. When a few sophomores had teased her—and touched her—two seniors had stepped in to tell them off. Chris and Ethan. She’d been struck by hero worship then, and she couldn’t honestly say it had ever worn off.
Her skin was dark, like one of her cousins might hav
e at the end of the summer, deeply tanned. But she looked that way even in winter, and she'd stood out. Not here in Austin. Not with Ethan and Chris. Ethan's skin was pale; when it got darker it got redder, perpetually flushing, even under the weight of the sun. While Chris was a dark brown, his palms and elbows beige in stark contrast. She never felt too light or too dark, with them. She was between them in every way, sandwiched in the middle whenever they went, protected.
Despite the difference in age and background, they had let her hang around them until they graduated. Then they’d both enlisted—and before they shipped off, Chris had asked her to be his girlfriend. What could she say? Yes. And thank God. And I’ll miss you both so much.
She and Chris had been together since, every leave and ever since he’d gotten back. Years. Forever. So why did it suddenly feel strange for him to see her naked? With the door half-shut, she dropped the towel and slipped on a nightgown. He was waiting in the same place, with an expectant look on his face.
Chris was waiting for her on the bed. “How were the lights?”
His voice was loaded, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he demanded answers. He’d definitely seen her tears when she’d come inside. “They were beautiful.”
“And how was Ethan?”
She shrugged. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“I’m asking you.”
There was an edge in his voice, like the smoke abrading her throat. Like the tears pricking her eyes. His voice scratched over her skin, and she wondered how she’d ever thought this was safe.
She delayed answering by stepping into the closet. Her clothes were hung up in neat rows on one side, his on the other. He was always neater than her—military straight. That was part of his draw. His perfection. But now she realized she’d never measure up.
“He seemed…upset,” she said. An understatement. Ethan was the laid back one. Stoic. Occasionally surly. What he’d done tonight, though—Just get the hell out—had been completely out of character. It had hurt, to be honest, especially after…
After it had seemed like he might kiss her. Even though she knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t. Even though she never would have let him.
“You two have always been good friends,” Chris said, a loaded statement.
“All three of us were friends,” she reminded him. “Are friends.”
He shrugged and said nothing.
Her eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
“You’re graduating soon. Everything will be different.”
Wow, he sounded just like Ethan. Annoying as hell. “I don’t understand how my graduating college has anything to do with being friends with Ethan.”
“Don’t you?”
Her temper boiled up, but she forced it down. “I’m still me. He’s still him,” she said evenly.
