8. Van
Van
T wo and a half hours later, the parade was over. Thin streamers littered the road between candy wrappers and half-melted popsicles.
Summer stood beside me, another drink in her hand. I had lost count of how many she had, the colors of the can changing from red to purple to pink to green to green. It wasn’t my place to ask her to slow down on drinking, but she was getting less sure on her feet. Her laugh louder, she kept hugging people.
At some point, Summer had disappeared inside the house with Devin, leaving me on the porch to make small talk with partygoers. When she came back, she had a new can in one hand and her phone in the other, a list visible on the Notes app.
Devin trailed behind her, brows furrowed. “Sum, why don’t you rest in my room?”
“I’m fine.” She waved around the room. “Besides, I can’t neglect my date any longer, can I?”
Rather than approaching me, she passed me and plopped down in a chair in the middle of the lawn.
Devin came to stand beside me. “Look, my grandpa obviously trusts you, so I will, too. Can you help me get her home? She won’t listen to me.”
How Summer had been acting wasn’t my business, but her behavior was odd.
“Of course.” I hesitated. “I don’t want to sound like an asshole, but is this normal?”
Devin shook her head, the blue streaks whipping her cheeks. “No. She—” She grimaced. “It’s not my place to say, but just know she never acts like this. She’s going through a rough time. Don’t hold today against her.”
“I don’t have much to go on, you know?” I offered.
Devin smiled, brows downturned. “I know you don’t. But in the decades I’ve known her, I’ve only seen her like this maybe two other times. I am sorry you had to see it, though. Some date, huh?”
Sighing, I glanced at Summer, who was sitting with her face resting on her hand, eyes drifting shut. “Can you give me her address? I’ll get her home safe.”
Devin nodded, texting me the address.
According to the map, her place was a twenty-minute walk from the party on the other side of downtown.
Getting Summer out of the chair was a feat, but with some cajoling and the promise I’d get her a big pretzel, she stood. Her balance was wobbly, but she could walk.
A block away, I handed her a water bottle from my back pocket. She leaned against a wall and chugged half of it before handing it back to me.
Her hair was a messy riot of blond crimps and what looked like a fleck of confetti. A strap of her dress fell, exposing the swell of her breast. From my angle, a rosy nipple peeked out.
I glanced away, tugging the strap into place as she halfheartedly swatted my hand.
“You know, with your dress hanging off you, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”
She snorted at me, glancing up and down my body. “The last place I need to be is in your or any other man’s imagination. Keep your trousers on, big guy.”
“You’re practically flashing the street.”
“There you go again, being noble and shit. It’s all an act. We both know it.”
“It’s an act to not want you to accidentally expose yourself?”
“No,” she retorted. “Men being decent. It’s a farce, made up, cannot be real. You all want something, and when you get it— poof —who cares about the consequences?”
This wasn’t about me. Whatever had upset her had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the text she got. And I would have bet my left nut that whatever it was regarding had happened before I picked her up.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
It wasn’t my business—nothing about this woman was—but a desperation seized me. I needed to know.
“Summer?”
“I like the way you say my name,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”
“Summer.” I stepped closer.
I pulled the strap tighter toward her body until it couldn’t fall again.
Her skin was velvet under my fingers. If only she weren’t so drunk.
“I can’t tell you. I know I made an ass of myself in front of you today. But if you knew . . .” She narrowed one eye as if she were seeing double. “I can’t trust you.”
“In the short time we’ve known each other, have I done a single thing to appear untrustworthy?”
I was standing too close, but I couldn’t find it in me to step back.
“No, but there’s no way a man with shoulders that wide can be trusted.”
“So, I have untrustworthy shoulders.” I rocked back on my heels.
This was drunk blubbering but entertaining nonetheless.
“Your biceps are too big, and your eyes are a weird color that reminds me of rocks.” Her lip curled. “And I won’t even go into your jawline. You look like a bad action villain with a jawline that sharp.”
“So, I’m too muscular, and my jawline is too sharp, and therefore I can’t be trusted?”
“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Obviously, you’re too good-looking. And that kiss, whew—” She smiled to herself. “Damn, you have a talented tongue. But men whose hands do what yours do are trouble, with a capital T-R-O—”
“I’ve never heard that rejection before.” I laughed, shaking my head.
With a hand on the wall, she closed one eye as she stared me down. “Men who are as handsome as you are used to getting what they want. They’ll take and take and take. And women like me are left looking foolish.”
Someone had hurt her.
Anger rose in my chest. I hadn’t been protective of anyone but my mother, but the thought of a person causing this level of grief in Summer made my skin feel tight.
“You are many things, Summer, but foolish could never be one.”
She closed one eye as if focusing on me. “You have no clue what I’m capable of.”
If she were sober, it would have sounded like a threat, but its slurred nature zapped its power.
Hoisting her up, I wrapped an arm around her waist again. “Alright, tough guy, let’s get you home.”
At her apartment, I had to fish her keys out of her small purse, then open the door with one hand while holding her up with the other.
Inside was sparsely furnished, boxes lining the walls beside a small couch.
Summer stepped out of my hold and stumbled to the bathroom, where she retched beyond the wide-open door.
When I came in behind her, I gathered her hair in my fist as she vomited bright red liquid in the toilet.
As far as first dates went, this wasn’t in my top five best but not in my worst, either.
She sat back on her haunches. Her eyes closed, she wiped her mouth. “This has to be one of the most embarrassing days of my life.”
“I’ve seen worse,” I joked, allowing her the space to stand at the counter.
Rinsing her mouth, she blinked at her reflection and grimaced. “I look like absolute flaming garbage dipped in dog shit.”
“Again, I’ve seen worse.”
“You’re supposed to say that.”
“Saying I’ve seen worse is hardly a compliment.”
Straightening, she ran a hand over her face. “I need to shower.”
“Oh, I’ll just—”
Before I could step out, she turned away and pulled her dress straps down.
When the dress pooled at her feet, she kicked it to the corner, stumbled to the shower, and turned the water on.
She was drunk—very, very drunk—and I shouldn’t have been standing there, gawking at her like I was thirteen. I had seen naked women. So many naked women. And it was her back and her underwear. Not even a thong or something sexy but regular women’s briefs.
“Sorry, I’ll um—”
She glanced at me. “Okay.”
I stalked into the small living room when the shower door clanged shut.
Remembering I had promised her a pretzel on the way back, I grabbed her keys and left.
For the entire walk to and from downtown, my mind raced. The afternoon had gone completely off the rails. And while it was not how I had planned it, I didn’t mind it. Summer was fire, and I found myself, even in her battered state, drawn to it. She was a complex woman, and while another man wouldn’t want that level of complication, it only intrigued me more.
I texted Devin that she was home safe and immediately received a heart-eye cat emoji. Whatever that meant.
Back at the apartment, I set the wax paper-wrapped pretzel on the counter.
She was dressed in an oversized T-shirt and tucked under her bedspread. Her room was as sparsely decorated as the living room, with a double picture frame on her nightstand.
On one side was a photo of her with an older man with the same light-blue eyes, and the other was of three women, one of which was Devin.
“I left you a snack,” I whispered.
“Van.” She held out her hand, and I took it. Her fingers slid across my palm. Warmth crept up my arm. “I am sorry about today. Please, don’t hate me.”
“I could never.”
Covering her with the blanket, I couldn’t help but press a kiss to her forehead. Her wet hair smelled of soap and flowers. Something about that drew an ache in my chest.
She rolled over to her side, mumbling, “You might not, but he will.” She relaxed, and her breathing deepened.
After leaving her keys on the counter, I let myself out.