As I stepped into the hallway, I ran directly into Summer. The collision startled us both. I reached to steady her with both hands.
“Hi,” I said quietly when we’d both recovered from the shock.
A look of disdain crossed her face.
“You’re dripping all over the carpet,” she reprimanded with a scowl as she brushed my hands away.
“Summer…” I began. I thought better of what I was about to say.
“I have a new job. Mel offered me a real job tonight.”
“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” she scoffed as she turned to walk away.
There it was…the look; a mixture of contempt, jealousy, and a hint of lust as she noted water dripping from my hair while I stood there like an idiot clad in only a skimpy towel.
“Summer, I have a job. A real, honest to goodness job,” I tried again. “It pays money and everything. I thought you’d be happy.”
She turned to face me again with her hands combatively poised on her hips.
“Did it ever occur to you how your sleeping with my publisher might affect me, Sonny?” she snapped with fire in her eyes. “What part of that am I supposed to be happy about?”
I casually folded my arms and leaned against the doorjamb.
“You might’ve tried asking me first if I did sleep with your publisher,” I suggested.
“Fine! Did you?” she demanded.
“No. I didn’t,” I replied calmly.
“I don’t believe you, Sonny. I know how you are.”
“Go ahead, Summer, tell me how I am,” I challenged her.
Her silence was golden.
“I didn’t have sex with Melanie. We had dinner and she looked at my sketches of you. She offered me a job which I accepted, and she left. That’s all that happened.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?” she scoffed.
“You would if you really knew me,” I shrugged. “For instance, did you know that I like buttered pecan ice cream? Or, that I like watching kittens play with a string. And, I love old movies where the hero gets the girl even though he didn’t know he was in love with her until the very end of the movie.
“I like listening to those annoying windchimes of yours…because they remind me of you. I like watching you take your first sip of coffee in the morning. And, I like watching you get mad over something stupid, like you thinking I slept with your publisher. I love knowing that you love me, Summer.”
“I…of course, I love you, Sonny. You’re my brother,” she stammered as she averted her gaze.
“That’s not what I mean, Summer, and you know it,” I said shaking my head at her.
I unfolded my arms and stepped close to her. “Tell me I’m wrong, Summer.”
I ran my fingers along her cheek as I tilted my head to kiss her. She tried to pull away from me, but I held her firmly.
“Sonny, you’re my brother. This is wrong,” she objected.
I didn’t give her a chance to say anything more. I let the towel fall from my waist as I picked her up in my arms and carried her to my messy bedroom. I laid her in the middle of my bed and stretched out on top of her.
I rested my forehead against hers and whispered to her, “This may be the only rightthing I’ve ever done in my life.”
Every man has his Mona Lisa; the one who drives him to Van Gogh’s level of madness. Summer was mine and making love to her was complete and utter madness in so many ways. It was like Christmas in July and I was careful not to tear into the package too quickly. I relieved her of her clothing one piece at the time and as each article was stripped away, it merely hinted at the gift it contained.