A Taste of Spring novel Chapter 45

SUMMER

This shit has to end, Summer thought as she stood in the kitchen of her apartment. It's been two weeks and Spring still looked like leftover shit on a stick and it was all that twit's-Fallon's-fault. God, why did the lord breed such pricks? From her father, a loser drug-addicted liar, to her first real boyfriend, a voyeur douche who manipulated and used her, men were the scum of the earth.

Though Summer only had one good use for them-as her personal ATM machines, her sister felt differently. Spring believed in Happily Ever After, and that meant she let men affect her. To do that meant being miserable and hovering from here to there like a ghost while dealing with their machinations, and then looking like a zombie when they broke you.

(...and they always broke you.)

Thank god she didn't believe in love anymore.

"Want to catch a movie tonight?" Summer leaned on the wall as she watched Spring fidget with the zipper on her shoulder bag.

"Not really. Besides, I only have a few episodes left of the show I'm streaming." Spring finally zippered up the bag. She opened the front door to go to work. "See ya."

"See ya," Summer said as she watched her sister slink out of the front door. "Yeah, this shit has to end."

With that in mind, Summer grabbed her keys and clutch purse then slipped her feet into her sneakers. She left her apartment, locking the front door behind her.

----------

FALLON

Breathing a sigh, Fallon cursed then picked up his remote and pressed the pause button. He grinned at the frozen image on the screen as he walked through his living room to the foyer. His co-workers and management were the only people privy to him being home so he could only assume that he had a delivery. Maybe it was a certified letter of his termination.

No Regrets, he thought as he unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Fallon peered at the person on his porch stairs with equal amounts of intrigue and disgust. She wore yoga pants that hugged her curves perfectly, and a loose gray top that fell off her shoulders with a black tank under it. Her long hair was in a messy bun on the top of her head and she didn't seem to have on a stitch of makeup, which only accentuated her natural beauty.

Natural beauty that had no effect on him. Fallon had to force his eyes to stay in place and not roll up into his head. He noted her stance, the crossed arms, the scowl on her too perfect fucking face, and her right foot forward as if she was squaring off. As mad as she appeared, he couldn't find the fucks to give a shit.