A Taste of Spring

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."

clutch purse then slipped her feet into her

----------

FALLON

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

he thought as he unlocked the door

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

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

address from your Madame or Pimp, but I see it as a breach

stared at the spot where she was standing seconds

found her standing in his living room. Her was body stiff and standoffish, and she was clearly angry. He scanned the room for his cell phone in case he had to have her psycho ass

circumference of his seating area, giving her a wide berth, "wait, is your name Brittney Goings or Summer Lafayette? Both sound like porn

twit," she spat. "What the hell did you

wanted her to see it. "Get out. Scurry off to your next bedding because I haven't the time, tenacity,

sound of jingling metal was his only warning as something colorful and shiny sailed by, inches from his face. Fallon followed the projectile as it fell to the floor and slid until it hit the base of the wall.