Hard Facts by Penny Clarke

31

Summer

College campuses become ghost towns on break. No classes, no students, no professors. No Greek events, no loud sorority houses, no wild parties. With everyone gone, it’s otherworldly quiet. An enchanted forest of hushed possibilities. A wild jungle of debauched bacchanalia. All contained in one place, through one single door.

Because one house—one green, green house—still parties.

I already know, though, as I step into the front hall, it’s not that kind of party.

This party… It’s a party of slow, sultry music. Of a smoky, dense haze permeating the air. Languid revelry. Dim lights and dark shadows concealing its limited guests from view. But you can hear them. Their whispers and their sighs and soft laughter, lurking in every corner.

Leopards are away. And mice will play.

I turn away from them. Towards the stairs. Stumble in my heels. An effect of the leg spreaders I’d mixed in my apartment. But I don’t let that stop me. Because I came here for one thing, and I won’t find it in any of the nebulous rooms down here.

He’s sitting on his bed when I open the door. Shirt already off, lazing in a nonchalant pose. Like he’d been expecting me. And maybe he had. One of these nights.

“Summer Prescott.” He pulls me down on the bed by my hand.

“Hunt Hammond,” I cover my slur with a low, coy murmur.

And Hunt’s grin widens. He grabs a couple of items on his bedside table. Sticks a joint in his mouth and uses the lighter to light it.

“Where’s the boyfriend?” he asks after taking a hit.

I reach forward. Pluck the joint from his lips and place it between mine. Deep breath. Hold. And I lean back on one hand, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “What boyfriend?”

It’s a wicked smile Hunt gives me, admiring my seductive tone and the way my tight dress rises over my thighs. Maybe it had been a while. Maybe Theo Morris’s threats had kept him away. But Flirty Summer’s back.

I don’t tell him the boyfriend was never real. I don’t tell him that my heart is broken. Hunt and I aren’t those kind of friends. The kind who listen. Who care.

When I take another hit, suddenly Hunt’s there. His mouth on mine, capturing my exhaled plume. And just as quickly, I think—

This isn’t right.

This isn’t the kiss I want.

I turn my head away.

Okay. No kissing then. I’ve done this enough times before without it.

But then Hunt pulls aside the strap of my dress to run his mouth over my shoulder. Offhandedly, I know it feels good. But it doesn’t feel good. His mouth’s too soft. Not pressing hard enough. Like I could be anybody. Any girl. Just not the one he wants. Not enough to want to hold himself to me with every fiber of his being.

I stub the joint out on a ceramic dish on his nightstand. Collect myself. Tell myself to just go with it. This is what I do, after all. What I did before. I can get back into it.

So I settle on the bed. Stretch back my head, bare my neck to give him more access. And as Hunt lays over me, I close my eyes. Try to get into it. Try to remember that he’s made it good before.

But how can I get into it, when it feels so wrong? When it feels like things are missing?

“Tell me—” I swallow. “Tell me something. Anything. The most interesting thing you know.”

Do you know about volcanoes or stars or fireworks? Can you think of any silly science puns? Anything? Anything to make me forget who put those things in my head in the first place? Anything at all?

He stops. “Huh?”

My eyes fly open. “Just… like a fact, or something. You know a lot about weed, right? Something about that.”

Hunt’s eyebrow raises. “Um… you smoke it?”

Wow, Hunt. So fascinating. I never would have known.

“No, like, what about its chemical potency. Or how it reacts in your brain.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he shrugs. “You didn’t talk this much last time.”

“Never mind,” I mumble, pulling him down again with a warring sense of relief and guilt. How could I have even asked him that? When that was what we—what Gray and I would do—And thank fuck Hunt’s kind of an idiot.

Hunt places his hand on my side, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Try to push out the memory of Gray’s hand doing the same. But then that hand moves to my hip and that’s Gray’s hip, the one he would always kiss, the one he sees math and beauty in and why isn’t this working—

Get into it, Summer. Just get into it.

So I raise my hands to touch him back—

Poke him right in the eye.

“Ow!”

“Shit, sorry—”

Only when I jolt up, my knee jerks.

Right between his legs.

“Fuck!” Hunt gasps, buckling over. And I attempt to remedy the situation by moving out of the way, but I move too far and my butt goes sliding—

Right off the bed entirely.

What. Freaking. Hell. Why can’t this just be easy?

I came to The Green House to forget. To distract myself from the memories of what I had. But Gray and I… Gray, he…

How could I unlearn what it felt like to make love? How could I ever think going back to casual would be that simple? Because even now, even after Gray’s betrayal, I can’t stop thinking about him. Remembering. Longing for those moments when I believed he loved me back.

Noneof this is doing anything for me. He’s not doing anything for me. Everything about this feels so… wrong.

“Hunt…” I close my eyes, head reeling. Fuck, I feel sick. From the alcohol. The joint. This. “I don’t want to do this.”

A grunt of acceptance comes from the bed. And after a sigh—and a check to his privates to make sure there’s no permanent damage—he relights the joint with a shrug. Because for him, it is that easy. I’m just a warm body. It doesn’t really count, it doesn’t mean a thing.

So I leave him how I found him. And as I close his door behind me, a sniffle escapes me.

Jeez, here come the tears again. Non-stop since Nolan’s visit. Since I discovered Gray’s secret. I’ve become that girl who cries, and it’s a fucking pain in the ass. The alcohol doesn’t help. That makes it worse. Makes it so my emotions come rushing out, and I hurry down the stairs, before anyone can see me bawling.

It almost works, too. Until I race out the door and crash right into a head of wild dark curls.

“Oh, Summer! Did that asshole Hammond do this to you—I swear to fucking Christ, I will pray for the smiting of his testicles—”

Laughing, I throw my arms around Liesel Parry. My little sister. My confidante. My best friend.

Too quickly, though, they turn back to tears, and she pats my back as I heave great, cumbersome sobs.

* * *

Liz takes me home, where I promptly pass out and don’t wake until morning, still in the dress I’d worn the night before.

“Here,” she says, holding two mugs and a plate of strawberry muffins.

I take one of the mugs in her hands and sip. Then, with an accusatory look, “This is just plain orange juice.”

“You’re out of tequila.”

Damn leg spreaders.

Liz climbs onto the window seat beside me, and she lets me eat my non-boozy brunch in peace. Picking at a muffin wrapper, though, I ask, “How did you know I’d be at The Green House?”

“Call it sisterly intuition,” Liz shrugs one shoulder.

That makes me swallow past a lump in my throat. Which only makes it more difficult to ask, “How’re things at the house?”

“Well, after Nolan left, Iris started calling for your immediate removal from philanthropy chair. She even went so far as to say from the house entirely.”

Figures. I mutter, “Maybe I’ll resign.”

A muffin hits me in the face.

Dumbfounded, I sputter, but Liz fixes me with a steely look. “You’re not going to quit. You’re going to march back into ABB and tell the truth. And you’re going to ask for forgiveness. It’ll be rough at first but… You’re strong, Summer. You’ll get through this.”

I don’t feel strong. How do I tell Liz all that strength, my strength, was just pretend? An illusion of hair and well-tailored clothes and heels and killer makeup and, oh yeah, a shitload of money? That under all of that, I’m just really soft.

Gray saw that. Gray knew that. He saw past those things. Got to know the girl behind the facade. Then he broke her down at the molecular level. Rearranged all her old bonds. Created something entirely new with what was left. Something infinitely weaker. Like rust-corroded iron.

“I…” I stare down into my orange juice. “I should have listened to you. You said it yourself, this wouldn’t end well.”

“Yeah, but even if it ended up like I expected it to… I was wrong.” At that, I glance up. Liz smiles, with a friendly squeeze to my knee. “Summer… You really liked him. Anyone could see that. And when I thought about it, it made total sense. Gray’s exactly the type of guy you’d fall for.”

Reaching for another muffin, I snort. “I never liked nerds before.”

My little sis rolls her eyes. “No. Someone who can keep up with you. Who knows you better than you know yourself. Because, despite yourself, you kind of like a guy whose brains are bigger than his dick.”

I stare at the window, feeling those tears prickle behind my eyes. But Liz catches it, sees my weakness, and assures me, “You’ll see, Summer. You’ll bounce back. Maybe not right away, but you will.”

Except… I’ve been chemically altered.

And I don’t think I’ll ever go back to the way I was before.