I avoid Hunter. Sleep late. Study at the library. Eat dinner in my room. Blast music so I won't hear his footsteps or the low roar of the TV.

It's supposed to feel good, ignoring him.

But it doesn't.

It only makes me emptier.

Lonelier.

I text Kaylee nonstop. Discuss anything but Hunter or, God forbid, Vinnie.

It's a relief, talking to her, but I'm still holding my cards too close to my vest.

I'm still crumbling under the weight of this.

My perfect I'm not seeing or hearing Hunter; I barely know he exists record falters when I arrive at Inked Hearts Thursday afternoon.

It's a nice day. Warm. Sunny. Peaceful.

Except for Chloe and Dean bantering, the shop is quiet. The music drowns out the buzz of tattoo guns and the low hum of conversation.

I alternate between work and studying—Ryan is obliging about letting me study during down time—but none of it distracts me.

I'm acutely aware of Hunter's presence.

He's right there. Hunched over a pretty girl, one hand on her side, the other adorning her lower back in ink. It's a yoga thing.

She's a yoga teacher and she's all bendy and smiley and blond.

Not that I stalked her social media.

She publicly tagged the shop. And Hunter.

It's not like I was looking.

Or like I'm jealous.

If she wants some guy who pulls this bullshit it's not you, it's me, I'm a bad person, I can't own my decisions—

Fuck him for touching her.

Fuck her for laughing at his joke.

Fuck everything.

I dive into art history, but it makes me even more aware of his presence. This was so much easier when he was drilling me. I mean, uh…

I can still taste his lips.

Feel the pressure of them.

The warmth in my chest.

The ache between my legs.

He kissed me back.

He does want me.

But…

Why are relationships so confusing?

"Oh my God, isn't it awesome?" Yoga Girl bounces to the front desk. She smiles at me. This big, genuine, loving smile.

She's so sweet and nice and cute.

And I want to punch her in the face.

She tilts her head to the right as she lifts up her t-shirt. She can't quite see her new ink, but I can.

It's good. A Buddha meditating, surrounded by lush petals.

It's not exactly what I expect from Hunter, but it's him all the same. He has this way of drawing with the bare minimum of detail and extra shading. Like something out of a comic book.

This is softer and brighter than his usual thing—the boy is dark, whether he wants to believe it or not—but it's still him.

I can feel him in it.

Which only makes me hate Yoga Girl more.

It's not her fault.

It's his.

He's an asshole with bullshit excuses.

Fuck him for staring at me with those piercing blue eyes.

For making my knees weak.

For making my heart ache.

Fuck him for hurting.

He did this to himself.

He did this to me.

He doesn't get sympathy now.

"It's great." I force a smile as I tally Yoga Girl's total and print a receipt.

She smiles, fishes a wad of cash from her wallet, presses it into Hunter's palm. "Thank you so much."

He nods. "Of course."

"Really." She doesn't give him time to slide the money into his pocket. Goes right into throwing her arms around him and squeezing tightly. "It's so awesome."

He hugs back awkwardly. "My pleasure."

She releases him. Looks around the shop like she's looking for more people to hug.

So not into that.

I make a show of taking a seat.

She gives Hunter one last hug then she bounces out of the shop.

He slides the cash into his pocket.

I bury my nose in my text book.

"Art history test?" he asks.

I say nothing.

He stands there, waiting.

I pretend to ignore him.

We stay like that for a solid two minutes.

Finally, he gives up.

"All right." His fingers brush the counter. "If that's the way you want it."

Fuck him for that.

Fuck him for everything.

I mean, if I could fuck him I wouldn't want to throw up every time I saw a smile.

But fuck him for that too.

Hunter doesn't have time to leave. Ryan interrupts.

He leaves his suite to move to the counter. Stretches his arms over his head, accidentally showing off his taut abs.

I try to convince my body to want him, but it doesn't happen.

Only Hunter will do.

He turns to Ryan. Nods a hello.

Ryan nods back.

Hunter's eyes flit to me. "Emma wants to tell you something."

No. I want sleep. And Disney movies. And an alternate universe free of Hunter's excuses.

"About the shop," he says.

"No. I want coffee." This is my idea. I get to decide when I share it.

I slide out of my chair. Move around the counter. Brush past Hunter with as much cold shoulder as I can manage.

But that does nothing to help my case.

Now, he's whispering something to Ryan.

And Ryan is nodding.

I focus on fixing a medium roast. On its drip drip drip and the comforting scent of coffee. On pouring exactly the right amount of half and half and adding just a touch of sugar.

Fucking Hunter.

He's ruined this too.

Now that I'm used to his fancy pour overs, this K-cup screams of mediocrity.

I slide my shoulders back, suck a deep breath through my teeth, march to the counter as casually as possible.

Ryan's eyes meet mine. They get big. Intense. "You think we should hire more artists?"

I fight my desire to glare. "It's what the math suggests."

Ryan brushes a wavy strand behind his ear. "How many?"

"Well…" I step behind the counter. Pull up the Google Doc I made. "We're limited by space, but we could fit another suite in here. And we could get more strict about kicking people who aren't working to the lobby."

He nods.

"We could hire three or four artists. Easily." I turn the screen so it's facing Ryan.

He's so quiet and intense.

He's always like that.

But I'm not usually seeking his approval.

My eyes flit to Hunter.

He nods some way to go nod.

I try my best to ignore it.

To not feel the warmth in my chest or the flutter in my stomach.

It's worse that he's being all supportive and encouraging. It would be easier if he was a dick. Then I could convince myself I was wrong about him.

But right now, with those blue eyes trained on me…

He kissed me.

And it was…

It was everything.

Why is he…

Why are we…

UGH.

"This is thorough." Ryan's eyes meet mine. "You're good at this."

"Maybe." It's weird, accepting a compliment about my intellect. But Ryan is always straightforward. If he's saying this, he means it.

"These are projections, Em. Good ones. You forget I went to college?"

Yeah, actually.

"Studied business," he says.

That's vaguely familiar. He did it to make his parents happy. Started working as an artist soon after.

I guess he learned something, because the shop is doing well. And he's the guy who runs it.

"What are you taking now?" he asks.

"It's a two-oh-one class." I sell the confidence. Math doesn't come easily to me, but I pay attention and I work hard.

"You're a natural." He studies the numbers carefully. "You ever think about focusing on business?"

"Like an MBA or something?" I fight my desire to cringe.

He chuckles. "I was the same way when I was your age."

"What was it like, living before the invention of television?" I tease.

"Tough." He looks to me. "It doesn't have to mean working at some giant company. Could be this." He motions to the shop.

"Hate to break it to you, but I already have this," I say.

He just laughs again. "You could be me."

"Please God no."

Hunter laughs.

Ryan shoots him a look, but it's only for a second. His poker face breaks and he shrugs. "Fuck, no one would want that."

I nod. "No one." Ryan's funny. He's always been a good sport about mocking his misery. Even now that he's no longer miserable. He and Leighton are like… disgustingly happy.

"You could run a shop," he says.

"That's already what I want to do." Does no one listen? "I want to own my own boutique."

"You could run this shop."

"Isn't that your job?"

"Yeah. But it could be yours instead."

I stare back at him. "Like an actual, official Inked Hearts manager?"

He nods.

"The guys would kill you," I say.

He smiles. "All the better."

"You'd be good at it," Hunter says.

Ryan shoots me a look. "After college."

"That's almost three years," I say.

"We could make it official, you being assistant manager," he says. "But you'd have to commit more hours to the shop. Drop that other job."

I like my other job.

I like having a life outside my brother.

But actually having more responsibility—

That's fucking amazing.

"I'll think about it," I say.

"Never worked so hard to give someone a promotion." Ryan chuckles.

"You should," Hunter says.

I ignore him.

He doesn't get to offer me life advice now.

I'm so…

UGH.

He's standing there all happy and sure of himself. Like he did this. Fuck him.

If he's spilling my feelings, I'm spilling his. "Hunter wants to stay."

"Oh?" Ryan turns to Hunter.

"Yeah. So that's one artist down," I say.

"Only took us a year." Ryan chuckles.

I motion to Dean and Chloe.

"She's got another eighteen months before she's doing her own shit," he says.

"Really?" Learning to tattoo takes a long fucking time.

He nods really.

God, eighteen months learning under Dean.

At least she's actually getting under Dean.

That will do a lot for their sanity.

"Hunter?" Ryan asks. "You want to work here?"

"Yeah," he says.

"Fuck, don't sound so excited," Ryan says.

"If Ryan is mocking your enthusiasm, you know it's bad," I say.

Ryan flips me off.

I return the gesture.

"What's this about excitement?" Dean calls.

Chloe shoots him a really look.

He nods. "Yeah, sunshine. You gotta listen for your cues."

"Who here would even want to have sex with you?" she asks.

"Not everything is about sex," he says.

She looks to me. "You believe this?"

"I believe he believes it," I say.

"Hmm." Her dark eyes fill with fire. "I'm not sure I do."

"You want to gossip or you want to work, sunshine?" He taps the sketchbook they're hovering over.

"You sound like Ryan," she stage whispers.

He cringes in feigned disgust. "Fuck. I better shower right away." He stands. Shoots her a wink. "You can watch."

"Can I?"

"Of course." He moves to the sink. Makes a big show of washing his hands.

She rolls her eyes.

But she smiles too.

She's totally into it.

Ryan shakes his head at their shenanigans. Turns to Hunter. "I'll get you a contract next week."

"Sure." He nods.

Ryan actually smiles. He offers his hand. "You're a good guy, Hunter. Glad to have you here."

"Thanks." Hunter shakes. Manages to hide the awkwardness in his frown.

"Talk to Emma about working you into the schedule." Ryan nods a goodbye and heads back to his suite.

Hunter stays put.

I stare at my hands.

We're quiet for a long moment.

He breaks the silence. "Listen, Em—"

No way in hell. "Do you have any days you can't work?"

He stares back at me are we doing this?

I nod. Hell yeah, we're doing this.

He frowns, but he concedes.

And then he leaves.

That's how little he cares about fixing whatever it is that's broken between us.