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."

her keys and clutch purse then slipped her feet into her sneakers. She

----------

FALLON

room to the foyer. His co-workers and management were the only people privy to him being home so he could only assume that

Regrets, he thought as he unlocked

his porch stairs with equal amounts of intrigue and disgust. She wore yoga pants that hugged her 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 on the top of her head and she didn't seem to have on a stitch of makeup, which only accentuated

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 if she was squaring off. As mad as she appeared, he couldn't find the fucks to

assume you got my address from your Madame or Pimp, but I see it as a breach of information and will

where she was standing seconds ago. When the shock of her intrusion

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 removed from his property. It was still on the coffee table but she stood in his

he walked around the circumference of his seating area, giving her a wide berth, "wait, is your name Brittney Goings

twit," she spat. "What the hell

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

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. Lord knew