Summer Heat (Cruel Summer #1)(22)

All I knew was that her birthday had given me a different view.

A different perspective

Like maybe the monster in the tower was a princess all along.

“SP,” I yelled. “Hold up.”

I jogged past the campers and stood in front of her. “They’re just kids, they whine, it’s what they do.”

“Right.” She sneered.

“What the hell is your problem?” I threw my hands in the air and then grabbed her elbow and pulled her behind the nearest cabin so we had some privacy. Her chest rose and fell while her beanie did a good job of covering part of her face and forcing her pretty hair to drape by her pink cheeks and full lips, damn it those lips.

“My problem?”

What was I saying about those lips again? Those violent tumultuous lips with promises of pain and pleasure all in one? Perfect. That’s what I was saying. What I was thinking.

“My problem, Marlo, is that you’re undermining me at every freaking step! You put me in this position to fail, admit it!”

I shook my head. “Believe what you want.”

“Why can’t you just say it out loud? Ray I screwed you so I could prove a point. I’m better. I’ll always be better!”

I took a step, plastering her body against the wood of the cabin. “Oh if I screwed you, you’d know, Ray. Then again… you always were good at denying the truth, right?”

She shoved at my chest. “How dare you!”

“How dare I?” I laughed. “Really? How dare I? Tell the truth?”

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it slapped you in the ass.”

It was one of my pressure points, the places a person could press that would cause me to snap. I hated liars. I’d grown up watching all the pretty people around me lie, believe in the lie. I was insulted to my core and hurt. Part of me was hurt that she would believe the worst in someone like me — a guy who, when he was at his most vulnerable and naked moment, had told her how he hated liars.

“Says the sad drunk girl who sleeps with guys and forgets about them the next day,” I spat.

Tears filled her eyes. “Take it back.”

“You first.” I gritted my teeth.

“Unbelievable. You’re even a bigger dick than before, and that’s saying something… and here I thought…” She shook her head. “I’m not quitting.”

“Then don’t fail,” I said to her back as she stomped off.

And part of me, the part that loved her fire, smiled and craved the challenge that she would bring.

The fire that she hid beneath that pretty exterior.

The fire just begging to be freed from its pretty prison.

And maybe, that was the problem.

She’d lived her life in a prison of her parents’ making.

And only knew how to survive — by taking that prison with her.





I WENT TO the stupid campfire that night because I knew if I didn’t go, Marlo would start a witch hunt, and I could kiss my chances goodbye. It’s like the guy knew every hot button I had and vice versa. I clenched my fists and made my way to an empty log to pout and was intercepted, of course, by Jackson, who had two drinks in hand.

“What?” I said in a bored voice.

“Word on the street is that you need this… maybe more than one cup, but we’ll start you off slow because I’m such a gentleman.” He grinned.

I took the cup and shook my head slowly. “It’s weird that you actually believe the crap that comes from your mouth.”

“Speak it so you believe it, sweetheart.”

I made a face.

“What? Am I not boring enough for you like our friend Marlo?” He nodded his head to Marlo, who was sitting on a log talking to Jen and helping her roast a marshmallow. She was all smiles, and he seemed the most relaxed I’d seen him… ever.

Probably because he knew I would be gone soon and all his childhood rage wouldn’t be for naught.

I grabbed a nearby stick, shoved a marshmallow on and put it directly in the fire and sat.

“You look like you wished the marshmallow was Marlo’s head.” Jackson chuckled, grabbing one of the nearby sticks and doing the same thing. “Can’t say I blame you.”

“He’s setting me up,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Hmm…” Jackson rolled his stick near the bottom of the fire, not in the flames where mine was currently burning hotter and hotter. “What makes you think that? Is it the sexual tension? The hate? Are you confused on why they feel the same? Or is it the fact that he keeps staring at you?”

“What?” I pulled my stick out of the fire and blew on the marshmallow. “He put me in choreography. I got a C in choreography.”

“I know.” Jackson grinned. “I helped Jen build the classes, and that was the one that he normally teaches, since they kept getting fired, but since he’s Director this year.” Jackson shrugged. “You were the next logical choice, plus your professors all said what you didn’t know, you’d bust ass learning, though they left out the word ass. Added that in because I can’t find it in myself to use the word ‘rear’ that dear old Professor Locke used.”

I stared at him slack jawed. “You did this to me?”