Page 2 of No Summer Hotter than You

I could’ve died.

Unfortunately, my family didn’t know about my car accident until after Anthony scooped me up and took me to the ER to get my ankle checked out. Although I could’ve ridden there in the ambulance, I didn’t feel it was worth the trouble when it wasn’t a life-threatening emergency.

Anthony was my rock. He was there for me the entire wait at the hospital after I told him and my family to leave. Even after a long day at the hospital, there, he still insisted on being my caretaker and even my human crutch.

“Anthony, you don’t have to keep carrying me. I know I’m heavy, so?—”

“What are you talking about? You barely weigh anything.”

He shook his head whenever I said this, always pulling me tight into his hard body whenever I needed to get up for something. Each time I was closely snug to him, my heart thrummed harder. I assumed it was from the anxiety, stress, and adrenaline that continued to pump through my veins.

When I was ready to go to bed, Anthony easily shifted my weight in his brawny arms and carried me up the stairs. I immediately flushed, and my heart began to hammer even harder. I had avoided eye contact with him all night despite the fact he wouldn’t leave my side.

“Shouldn’t you head home now?” I asked.

I was making myself comfy for bed with my right ankle propped up on some pillows. All the while, Anthony was making a bed on the foldable futon mattress on the hardwood floor by mine. If he left, he wouldn’t be far since he lived next door. We bought this duplex together, and it was supposed to be a fixer-upper as a business endeavor. But instead of renting it out after it was renovated like we originally planned, we ended up becoming neighbors.

“But what if you need me?” he replied, glancing up.

I evaded eye contact by staring at the little mole on the bridge of his nose. Or his “beauty mark” as his fraternal twin, Andy, used to tease when we were teens. I shifted my gaze to a small mole on his chin.

Anthony and Andy are biracial with a white father and Asian Hmong mom. I’ve known the twins for more than half our lives together. But out of every single friend I have ever had in my life, Anthony was always my greatest friend. Anthony and Andy are biracial with a white father and Asian Hmong mom.

They grew up being the epitome of the perfect golden boys. Even their middle names–Nhia and Kou— meant “silver” and “gold” in Hmong. Kou for Andy, the older twin, and Nhia for Anthony, the younger one. They always attracted attention wherever they went with their light pretty eyes and wide grins. I’ve known the twins for more than half our lives together. But out of every single friend I have ever had in my life, Anthony was always my greatest friend.

He never failed to be there for me—whether it was answering my phone calls late at night during college when I needed to vent about a horrible ex-boyfriend or if I needed help to move across town. And especially on days like today, he was there at my side.

“What if I don’t actually need you, though?” I asked.

He did everything he possibly could for me today, and I’ve taken so much of his time already. I would feel worse if he stayed here just because he was worried I might need him.

“Really? Even in the middle of the night?”

I could feel my cheeks flush viciously. What was Anthony trying to imply? “W-what would I need you in the middle of the night for?”

An amused look crossed his face as his lips tipped into a teasing smirk.

“What in the world are you thinking of, Shoua? I meant helping you to the bathroom and back to bed in the middle of the night. Not something nas?—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

Anthony cackled like a hyena—a laugh he only let out when he found something entertaining—and the heat on my face burned hotter. I buried my face in my palms for a moment, too embarrassed to look at him and the curve of his wide, boxy grin.

“Don’t make me kick you out, Anthony.”

“As if you’d be able to make me.” He snorted loudly, lying down on his side.

Our eyes met for the first time tonight and, as much as I had avoided his gaze, I couldn’t look away from those warm brown orbs. A silence filled the space between us as my heart hushed to its normal, softer pace.

“Why did you call me earlier?” I asked. He rarely called unless something came up.

He blinked slowly. “It was raining hard, and I wanted to make sure you were fine. The country roads flood easily and—” He paused abruptly and let out a shaky breath. “Thank god I called you.”

I could feel my eyes become misty, and I blinked to try to get rid of my tears. “I’m glad you called too. Thank you for today for being with me all day and even now. I don’t think you know how much that means to me,” I said.

I had already thanked him on our way to the ER, but felt I needed to say it again.

“You don’t ever need to thank me for being at your side. I would’ve torn through hell and back to get to you if I had to.”

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