Page 23 of Villainous Summer

I didn’t need this woman to like me. After this party, we would part ways, and I’d be fine never seeing her again. Plenty of women would find me charming and handsome and easy to commit to.

I hadn’t realized how easy it had been with women until this one came around, challenging me.

She was absolutely right when she said I could have found someone else to join me. In fact, a woman in my neighborhood would jog around and stop to ask me questions about the plants in my front yard. The gal at the gym would always pick the treadmill beside me. The woman from high school would always send me funny memes.

But it was Summer’s name rolling out of my mouth. Summer, I wanted beside me. Even if I wasn’t sure why.

Walking across the wide lawn, I stared at the deep gray-blue of Freedom Bay. On the other side of Mr. Haruki’s hedge, parade viewers lined the sidewalk. Young girls had tinsel threads braided in their hair, and boys had superhero face-paint. Historically incorrect horned helmets on every other spectator.

My mom would bring me down to the parade when I was a child, setting me up on a beach towel on the curb. I could still feel the rough grain of the asphalt under my thighs. She would get an elephant ear and finish it for me when I would take the three bites, then abandon it. My father never joined us, complaining that the crowd was too big, that the parking was a disaster, and that everything was overpriced.

My mom would wipe my face clean of the powdered sugar, erasing the sticky evidence of her buying me a treat, knowing that he would quiz her on what she bought me. She would show him the bag of snacks she had packed beforehand. The same old carrot sticks and popcorn we had in our pantry.

That was back when Mom could get around by herself, when the world was simple.

The strains of a marching band started farther down the road. The first car was the grand marshal, a local war hero, followed by the navy band.

Beside me, Summer craned her neck to see it. As the leading entries passed us, she waved at Miss Ridgewood in her Bunad and sparkling crown.

“Ah! She looks so cute, doesn’t she?” Summer blew her a kiss, which was returned in earnest from the curly-haired girl in the convertible. “I ran for that in high school with my girlfriends. Lost spectacularly. Turns out you need talent to sing in public.”

“Or an incredible amount of confidence.”

She laughed. “Yeah, well, bravado can only get you so far when you’re completely tone-deaf. My cousin Autumn won, though. So, I got to sit in the front seat during the parade, and I wasn’t forced to eat lutefisk at the gazebo like she did.”

I wrinkled my nose.

As a teenager, a friend and I entered the yearly lutefisk eating contest. I had choked down three pieces of the gelatinous lye-soaked cod before tapping out. Max had five. It took years before I could look at white fish without feeling nauseous.

A local troupe of gymnasts came through, performing flips and rhythmic routines to the radio edit of a hip-hop song. Moms followed them, picking up stray bows and throwing candy into the crowds. A rain of bright sweets flew over spectators and landed at our feet.

Summer bent down, gathering a handful.

“Hold out your hand.” She picked out the good candy from the bunch, then dropped them into my hand. “The kids don’t care about flavors.”

As she was about to toss the rejects back to the children, I stopped her. “Wait, let me grab this one.” I plucked the yellow wrappers from her hands.

“Banana? Really?” She raised a brow.

I unwrapped one and popped the small taffy in my mouth. “It’s the best flavor,” I said through sticky teeth.

She snickered, shaking her head. “You’re wrong, but whatever gets your motor running.”

Biting off another one, I grinned. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

After rolling her eyes, she focused on something over my shoulder. “Oh, there’s Dev. I’ll be right back.” She squeezed the inside of my wrist, a strangely intimate gesture.

Heat radiated from her touch, blooming over my skin.

As she walked away to the patio, I admired her backside. Her dress swished around her thighs and hugged her ass. With her so far away, I envisioned what that ass would feel like in my hands, a nice thought I could tuck away.

Behind me, Summer was hugging a woman with short black hair streaked with blue wearing a T-shirt that said Don’t be salty with a girl under an umbrella logo. With a new purple can in her hand, she rocked back and forth with her friend, their squeals ringing from across the lawn as they embraced. The woman whispered something, and Summer threw her head back in laughter, exposing the long column of her throat in mirth.

She caught me looking, and her smile faltered before she turned back to her friend and laced an arm with hers.

They walked across the yard, then stopped in front of me. “Devin, I want to introduce you to the man Jiji tried to trap in marriage. Van Logan, this is Devin.”

Devin was slightly shorter than Summer, with large green eyes behind black-framed glasses.

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