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."

then slipped her feet into her sneakers. She left her apartment, locking the front door

----------

FALLON

walked through his living room to the

he thought as he unlocked

curves perfectly, and a loose gray top that fell off her shoulders with a black tank under it. Her long hair was in a messy bun

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

Pimp, but I see it as a

Fallon stared at the spot where she was standing seconds ago. When the shock of

the room for his cell phone

wide berth, "wait, is your name Brittney Goings or Summer Lafayette? Both sound like porn star aliases if you ask me but

spat. "What the hell did

mean he wanted her to see it. "Get out. Scurry off to your next bedding because I haven't the time, tenacity, or temperament to be handling you right now." He turned around with the intent to escort her out.

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