Eight

Hunter and I barely saw each other for the rest of the week. I assumed he went and hung out at Mase's, but I didn't know for sure because he barely said twenty words to me. When he did come and sleep at the apartment he always arrived after I was out and left before I woke. I didn't know how he did it, but he was like a shadow, sneaking in and out.

When I did see him, he pretended not to see me. Darah and Renee noticed, but after making inquiries, which Hunter and I both shot down, they stopped asking.

Friday afternoon finally came, as did my meeting with Marissa. 

I had to wait ten full minutes before Marissa finally opened her door and called me in. Her office was nasty-neat and could have been a stock image for what an administrative office should look like with the generic watercolor print, and motivational poster. Gag.

She adjusted her glasses on her nose before sitting behind her desk, absentmindedly straightening her wrist rest. 

Everything about her was orderly: her short hair, crisp shirt and flat expression.

“So, what can I do for you, Taylor? You said you were having an issue with one of your roommates.” She leaned forward and braced her arms on the desk.

I gave her the run-down, leaving out a lot of what Hunter had done. I wasn't repeating what he said, word for word.

“So he makes you uncomfortable? Have you tried talking with him about it?”

“Yes, I have,” I said. Her face had been blank when I told my sob story, and I could tell this was going to be a dead end. I could just feel it. But maybe I was being pessimistic.

“Have you gone to your resident director? They are always available to talk or discuss disputes and they have training on how to help with those situations.” It was like banging my head against a brick wall.

“I was really hoping that this could just be resolved, seeing as how it was a mistake to begin with.”

“Well, there isn't really anything we can do right now. Unless there is an emergency, we have to keep places available for those who really need them. It sounds like it's more of a personality conflict. I'm going to recommend that you have some mediation with your RD, and you can come and see me in a few weeks, okay?”

I wanted so, so much to say, “Are you fucking serious?” but that wouldn't have helped my case.

“So there's nothing you can do?”

“Not unless there is a direct threat. Has he threatened you? Don't be afraid to speak up.”

I thought about it for half a second, but I knew if I told her Hunter had threatened me, then he would get in trouble and could get kicked out of school. Campus security would get involved, and he could even get arrested. As much as the image of Hunter in jail amused me, I couldn't be the one to put him there if he didn't deserve it. Seeing as how I was the one who technically assaulted him.

I was stuck.

“No, he hasn't.”

“Okay. Here's my card. Never hesitate to call us if it's an emergency. Sounds like you two just need to have a chat. I'll have your RD contact you about setting up some mediation.” She stood and held out her hand, effectively ending the meeting. I had no choice but to stand, shake her hand and leave with her card clutched in my hand.

What a fucking waste of time.

I didn't know why I had expected anything more. In a university with around 12,000 undergraduate students, I was a number. That was why I'd chosen UMaine instead of a smaller college. Now I was paying for it.

I stormed back to the apartment. Darah had gone home for the weekend to celebrate her mom's birthday, so she was already gone. Renee had a nursing group meeting, so I knew if anyone was going to be there, it would be Hunter. 

I tried not to slam the door, but failed.

“Rough day?” a male voice said.

I glanced at the couch to find him sitting there with his guitar.  

I held my composure for a second. 

“You're on,” I said, walking over to him and sticking my hand in his face. “The bet, you're on.”

He stared at my hand for a second and a slow smile spread across his face. 

“Once we shake hands there is no going back.”

I nodded, but pulled my hand back before he could touch me. 

“There have to be some parameters. This whole thing about loving and hating can't be proved. I told you I hated you and punched you, but you didn't believe it. If I said I loved you right now, you wouldn't believe me. So how do we measure this?”

“It's harder to say you love someone than to say you hate them. So you have to say the words. And they have to be real.”

“How will you know they're real?”

He shrugged. 

“I'll know. You'll know.”

“And the hate part?”

“I'll know you hate me when I see that look in your eyes. I've seen it before, and I'll know.”

“So you're going to determine this. I have no say?” I balled my hands at my sides, wanting to hit him.

“I'm not forcing you to accept this. You can call housing and tell them that I'm sexually harassing you. They'll drag me to a disciplinary hearing and probably kick me out of school. You could say the word right now. But you aren't going to do that.”

“I can't,” I said. As much as it would get him out of my life. “You're a jerk, but you're not that. If you were, I would have gotten rid of you so fast, your head would have spun around.”

“Exactly. You're not a girl who puts up with anything. You can take care of yourself; you showed me that on the first night. You'll let me know when I've gone too far.”

“I will.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay,” I said, and we shook hands. I tried to let go, but he took my hand and pulled me so I crashed into his chest.

“So, here we are. You're stuck with me until Christmas,” he breathed.

He let go of my hand, and I stepped back. It was not an easy thing to do. My body was drawn to his like the opposite pole of a magnet.

“You think you're the one who makes my life difficult. I can make it so much worse for you,” I said, smiling sweetly. His blue eyes were skeptical.

“How so?”

“You really want to know? I'm going to invite a bunch of girls over, and we're going to watch girlie movies and talk about our periods and burn all kinds of scented candles and we'll probably stay up all night giggling.”

“When do the naked pillow fights and making out start?”

I smacked his shoulder. 

“You pig, that's not what happens at sleepovers unless they're in the movies. But Darah and Renee and I can gang up on you. You have no idea how bad it could be.”

“What makes you think any of that would make me uncomfortable?” he said, throwing a wrench in my spur-of-the-moment plan to get him back.

“Because all guys run away when girls start talking about their menstrual cycles. You're supposed to run away now.”

He stepped closer to me. 

“Doesn't bother me.”

“Tampon,” I said.

He took another step.

“Cramps. Bloating. Heavy flow.”

His chest was almost touching my nose. I tipped my head back to meet his eyes. He didn't blink. I could almost feel the cotton of his shirt against my skin. He slowly reached up and put his thumbs on either side of my face.

“Keep going,” he said, pulling my face up, so I had to go up on my toes. Oh, my.

At that precise moment, my brain stopped working. It stopped thinking, and even trying to think. 

“Out of words, Missy?” he said, one side of his mouth tipping up.

 That smirk snapped me back into reality. I glared at him and pulled away from his hands. He chuckled.

“You're going to have to work really hard to prove you hate me. The other thing, maybe not so hard.”

“You're full of it,” I said, crossing my arms.

“And you have no idea how sexy you look right now, so pissed at me.”

My mouth dropped open. I didn't have anything to say, so I pulled my knee back like I was going to get him in the balls, but stopped short of hitting them. It was awesome to watch him flinch.

“Watch it there,” he said.

I just grinned at him. 

“Don't forget you have something you value very much more that I can damage. Just remember that.”

“How could I forget?”

“Don't you have somewhere to be? Some other girls to objectify?” I asked.

“Why would I go anywhere when I have all I need right here?”

I was going to make a snappy comment, but couldn't come up with one. It surprised me that a twenty-year-old, good-looking guy wouldn't have plans on a Friday night. But hey, what did I know?

*****

Hunter treated me with the same cocky manner he'd used the first two days I'd met him, which was quite a change from the cold indifference. He made comments that would have made me blush a few years ago. Renee came back from her meeting and kept giving me a look when he did it. The I-told-you- so look.

I wasn't going to sleep with Hunter. I wasn't going to sleep with anyone, at least not right now. I couldn't even think of having sex without my hands shaking and my stomach turning.

I had no problem with other consenting adults doing it, but I knew that sex was messy. It was complicated and some people used it as a weapon. I was never going to let that happen to me. If I did it, it would be because I wanted to. And I hadn't met anyone who made me want to.

Yet.

He stayed up late on Friday night playing the guitar. I was exhausted from my failed meeting, so I went to bed. He asked me if I minded if he stayed up and played.

“Knock yourself out.”

“You wish,” he said and played a little tune from a commercial. Haha. I rolled my eyes and put the covers over my head, as if I was blocking him out. 

“You know you like it.”

Yes, I did. More than I would ever admit.

I fell asleep to the sounds of guitar strumming. 

When I woke up, he was mumbling again. It would have been downright adorable if he wasn't so upset. I considered waking him again, but I didn't want to lose my face. So I let him go and listened.

“Mommy, wake up. Please wake up.” His voice was scared.

I looked around and found a pair of socks that I balled up and chucked them as hard as I could at him. They bopped his shoulder, but he didn't wake up. I tried to find something else. I looked around and found a metal coat hanger on my closet door. I unfolded it and used it as a poking stick to jab him. It took a few tries, but he finally grabbed at the spot where I was poking.

“What the fuck?” his half-awake voice said.

I quickly threw my poking tool down and pretended I was asleep. I heard him turn over and I could feel his eyes on me.

“Did you just poke me?”

I decided to play dumb. 

“What?” I said, attempting a sleepy voice.

“You just poked me with something.”

“No I didn't. I was sleeping until a moment ago.”

“No, you weren't. You were poking me with that piece of wire that's sitting on the floor. Very sly, Missy, but I'm not a moron.” He got up, and I heard him picking up my poking device. 

“I was talking again, wasn't I?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Don't tell me what I said. I already know.”

“How?”

“Because I shared a room with my cousin growing up, and at one point he told me what I said.”

“You lived with Mase?” I asked, turning over. This was the first time he'd talked about his family. It was crazy early to be up on a Saturday, but this was worth getting up for. This was the first time Hunter had initiated talk about himself without me having to attack him for it. 

“What happened to your parents?” I said quietly. I didn't want to scare him off.

He got back into bed. I rolled over, so I faced him. He was sitting up , his back against the wall and his legs over the edge. 

“They're dead.” The air left the room, and I found it impossible to breathe. I couldn't find words to say to him. Nothing I said would mean anything. 

“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he said after a few moments of my silence.

“I'm sorry. I just didn't know what to say, so I didn't want to say something stupid. I was trying to think of something to say that wasn't stupid. Guess I failed.”

To my surprise, he laughed.

“You don't have a filter. It's one of the things I like about you. Don't start now. Say whatever you want.”

“I'd say that's one of the saddest things I've ever heard, and it explains a lot.”

“Yes, it does,” he said, looking down at his hands. “And you're one of the only people who has said they were sorry, and I really believe you. People say things they don't mean all the time. It's easy to spot the bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is.” I was a professional bullshit spotter. It was one of my hidden talents.

“What happened to them?”

“Someday I'll tell you,” he said, rubbing the top of his head with his hand, as if he was rubbing a lucky spot. I decided to change tactics and ask another burning question I had.

“Okay, then tell me about your tattoos.”

“I told you I didn't believe in fate; I believe in luck. So I figured, why not have all the luck I can with me?”

“How many do you have?”

He turned his arm and showed me the seven. “One,” he said, and then pulled his left ear so I could see the ink behind it. “Two.” He turned his back and pointed to the one between his shoulder blades. “Three.” He pulled his foot up and showed me another that I hadn't seen before, which was a star. “Four.” He pointed to the one on his chest. “Five. I want to have seven when I'm done, but I only do one when I get the urge, so I haven't gotten one in a few months.”

“What are they? I can't really see from here,” I said. It wasn't a ploy to get him to come closer in his shirtless state, I swear.

He got off his bed slowly and walked toward me. The look on his face wasn't confident. It was open, as if he was showing me a piece of himself that he rarely shared. I knew this moment was precious, easily broken, like a finger through a soap bubble.

“This one, you can see is a seven. It's a lucky number in many cultures. This,” he said, pulling his ear forward, “is your standard horseshoe. Sailors used to nail them to the masts of their ships to help them stay out of the path of storms.”

He turned his back, and I finally saw what the one on his back was. 

If I hadn't done a project in sixth grade on Egyptian mythology, I might not have known it was a scarab beetle. The beetles would shed their outer skins, carapaces, and the Egyptians saw that as a symbol for rebirth, and thus thought the beetles were immortal. 

“You're really mixing up your mythologies there, Z.”

He glanced at me over his shoulder, rolling his eyes at the nickname. 

“I'm all for diversity,” he said dryly.

I got out of bed and went to study it closer. It was beautiful, the colors nearly shimmering on his skin. Whoever he had gotten this from was a real artist. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch it to see if it was real.

“So, there you have it,” he said, turning around. “And then I just have a little star on my foot. So there you have it, my ink history. Now show me yours.” His mouth turned up at the side, and Mr. Cocky was back. What a shock. 

“Sorry, dude, none to show,” I said, hopping back in bed.

“I wasn't asking about your tattoos, Missy.” He leaned forward and braced his hands on either sides of my legs, almost, but not quite touching my skin. Even though he wasn't touching me, my skin tingled as if he was.

“Why, Hunter, are you asking to see my lady parts?”

“Asking is putting it mildly,” he said, and there was the tiniest growl in his voice.

The want to push myself forward and mesh his body with mine was so strong, I had to grab onto the sheets to stop myself from doing it. 

“You're just messing with me,” I said, my voice a little breathy, like I'd just run up the stairs. “You said you didn’t screw girls you liked.”

“Oh, Missy, if you only knew,” he said. He slowly moved forward until his face was right in front of mine before pulling back and walking out the door.

Damn him. Damn him and his blue eyes and his interesting tattoos and his take-what-I-want attitude. The fact that he had a tragic past just added to the mystery of Hunter Zaccadelli.

*****

“Hey, kid!” Tawny said, hopping out of her Volvo convertible. I ran to smash her in a hug. I had seen her only a week ago, but I'd missed her.

“Whoa, you okay?”

 I'd hugged her a bit too enthusiastically. She also must have read the tension on my face.

“Let's get you a drink and I'll tell you about it.”

We walked into Margarita's, the only decent Mexican place in downtown Orono. It was crammed  between a clothing store that sold fashions for larger women and a real estate office. It was ridiculously narrow, but had two floors so there were plenty of cozy nooks and private places. The tables were hand painted, and there were tons of sombreros and chili lights strung on the wall. Soft music played in the background.

Tawny and I went upstairs and found a table for two in a corner behind a large beam. I ordered a Coke, and Tawny got a margarita.

“I'll give you a sip when no one is looking,” she said.

I filled her in on the whole Hunter saga while we waited for the waitress to come back so we could order. 

“He sounds like an ass,” was her assessment.

“He is,” I said, laughing

Tawny paused with her drink midway to her lips. 

“Oh, no.”

“What?” I said, looking around.

“You like him.”

“What? No, I don't.”

She put her drink down, her mouth dropping open in surprise. 

“Yes, you totally do! Jesus, Kid, what are you thinking?”

“I do not like him,” I said, lying through my teeth.

“Don't insult my intelligence. I know your face better than anyone else. I also know every single tone of your voice. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you're not lying to me. So, tell me about him.”

“He's...” I said, struggling to find words to describe him, “he's a jerk, and he says whatever is in his head and he is always pushing my buttons and pushing his luck. He says he doesn't sleep with girls he likes, but then he's always coming after me. He's complicated.”

“He sounds complicated. Good-looking?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Well then, what's the problem?” she said as the waitress came to take our order.

We paused the conversation. I ordered nachos with extra guac, and Tawny went for the steak quesadillas. I tried to think about my answer to Tawny's question.

“You know what the problem is.”

“Kid, that was so long ago. I got over it.”

“You never get over something like that,” I said softly.

“No, you're right, you don't. But you learn to live with it. Like a scar. You need to stop hating everyone.”

“I don't hate everyone,” I said.

“Close, Tay, close.”

I changed the subject, and Tawny let me. We didn't come back to Hunter until we were sharing our fried ice cream, which was ice cream covered in a crunchy topping, with honey drizzled on one side and chocolate on the other. I had the chocolate side.

“What's the worst that could happen?”

“You know what the worst is,” I said.

“You can't let one bad apple ruin the whole barrel. There were a lot of signs that I chose to ignore. Does Hunter make you feel unsafe? Is he controlling?”

“No,” I said. Hunter had never made me feel like he was going to hurt me physically. Kiss me, yes. But those were two different kinds of fear.

“You know the signs. You know the red flags. Have you seen any of them?”

“No.”

“Then why not stop being so hostile?”

“He likes me hostile, I think.”

“Okay, I've gotta meet this guy. I also want to see your new place.”

I hadn't planned on taking Tawny to the apartment. In fact, it hadn't even occurred to me to do so.

“I guess. I can't promise he's going to be there.”

“Text him. I didn't come all the way up here from Belfast and bring your clothes to not see this guy.”

I sighed and pulled out my phone.

U home?

Maybe. Y?

Bringing my sister by.

If she looks like you, she's welcome.

And if not?

I'll vacate the premises.

U ass.

He didn't answer, so I shut my phone.

“He said he'll be there as long as I said you looked like me.”

She laughed. 

“Yeah, that guy totally wants you, Kid.”

“He's just pushing my buttons.”

“That's not all he wants to push,” she said, pointing her fork at me. Ugh. Maybe Hunter and Tawny would get along. That would be the worst. 

We left Tawny's car downtown and took mine back to campus. 

“Stop freaking out.” 

“I'm not freaking out,” I snapped.

I was freaking out and I couldn't exactly say why. Maybe it was because Tawny's was the opinion I trusted the most. I trusted her judgment more than my own. If she didn't like Hunter, really didn't like him, that was it.

“Aw, this is so cute,” she said when I opened the door. “Not nearly as scuzzy as I was expecting.”

I glanced around, but didn't see Hunter. Guess he'd decided not to be home after all. I heaved a sigh of relief, and then the bathroom door opened and he emerged in a cloud of steam wearing only a small towel around his hips.

He saw us and his face spread into a grin. 

“Hello there, you must be Tawny. I'm glad I stuck around. I figured if you shared the same genes you would be just as hot.”

I glanced at Tawny to see her reaction.

“And you must be Hunter,” Tawny said, her eyes raking him up and down. I had a hard time not doing the same thing, even though I'd seen him shirtless before. “Yup, you were right,” she said to me.

“Right about what?” Hunter said, shifting the towel so it didn't fall. Sweet Christ.

“You think?” I said. It was fun having a secret that Hunter didn't know. How do you like me now?

“Yup,” she said, walking closer to Hunter and slowly circling him and taking him in. “Just as you said.”

I nodded. 

“Red flags?” I asked.

“Not yet,” she said, making another circle. In all fairness, Hunter stood still and let her assess him.

“You look like you're enjoying yourself,” I said, because he did.

“I have two beautiful women undressing me with their eyes. What's not to enjoy?”

Tawny tipped her head to the side and squinted. I saw his eyes flick down to her forearm, which was covered in a peacock feather tattoo she’d gotten as soon as she turned eighteen.

“So, what are you intentions toward my sister?”

 Hunter's met her eyes without blinking. 

“Well, at first I wanted her for the best one-night-stand of my life.”

“And now?”

“I don't just want her for a one-night-stand,” he said, his eyes lasering into me. My skin went cold and then hot in waves. 

“Are you aware that I am in the position to grab your dick and break it off if I wanted to?”

“Very aware,” he said, tearing his eyes away from me. Was it getting hot in here? I needed to open the window.

“Good,” she said, patting him on the shoulder and sitting on the couch and grabbing the remote. “Why don't you put some clothes on before you and my sister eye fuck each other to death?” 

Hunter laughed and shook his head. 

“You're not single, are you?” he said.

“In your dreams, towel boy. Run along and put some clothes on,” she said, motioning with her hands.

“Yes, ma’am.” He winked at me before shutting our bedroom door. It must have been my imagination that I heard a hint of a southern accent when he said it.

“Well?” I said.

Tawny grabbed the remote and clicked the television on. 

“He's one of those guys. But there's something about him I like. I can't really put my finger on it. If I was a few years younger, I would have totally gone for him.”

“Really?”

“Hell, yeah. What girl doesn't want a guy who isn't ashamed to say he wants her? Everyone wants to be wanted.” I sat down next to her, and she put her arm around me. “Just be careful. A boy like that can be the greatest thing to happen to you, or the worst.”

“What do you think Hunter will be?”

“That's up to you. You've got him totally whipped already. Despite what he says, if you told him to jump off a bridge, he'd do it.”

“Yeah, right.” I put my head on her shoulder and pulled my feet up on the couch.

“Just wait, Kid.” Tawny didn't mess around and she called things like she saw them. But I couldn't believe that about Hunter. To him, I was just another conquest. A shiny toy that was out of reach. While he didn't know I was a virgin, I was sure he suspected. Guys like that had virgin radar.

“Just wrap it before you tap it, Kid.”

“Tap what?” Hunter came around the corner wearing a Radiohead t-shirt and black workout pants. Even that made me stare at him. He was really good-looking. How had I not seen that? He really did have a fabulous jawline. He’d shaved, but I preferred the non-shaved look on him.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Tawny said, grinning at him. 

“I think I do,” he said, taking the crappy chair because Tawny and I had taken over the couch.

“God, it's hot in here,” she said, fanning herself.

“You want some water?” I said.

“I'll get it,” Hunter said, before I could get up. 

“With ice,” Tawny called as Hunter went to the kitchen. What the what?

“Told you so,” she whispered in my ear. 

“You're crazy.” 

“No, I'm right,” she said as Hunter came back with a sweating glass, complete with ice.

“Thank you, towel boy. Now fetch me a piece of cheesecake.” I nudged her with my shoulder. “So, what's your story? Did you win the room assignment lottery?”

“Looks like it. I was supposed to live with my cousin, but that fell through. I contacted housing, and they sent me an email and I showed up. Your sister answered the door and that was it.”

“I also heard she punched you in the face.”

He rubbed his jaw, which was now bruise-free. 

“And kicked me in the balls, yes.” Hunter looked down and smiled, as if it was a fond memory. 

“What did you do to deserve that?”

 I was staying quiet through Tawny's interrogation. I wanted to watch Hunter flounder under her scrutiny.

“I may or may not have offered her a proposition,” he said.

“I heard, and that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, that my sister would agree to something like that. And YOU,” she said, pointing at Hunter, “you are an ass, plain and simple.”

“I am aware of that fact,” he said, calmly. “I thought it would give her a way out.”

“Yeah, but only when you decide. That's an asshole move, and you know it. How dare you take advantage of my sweet baby sister.”

“Tawny,” I said. “I think I can take care of myself.” This had been a bad idea. I’d thought she’d simmered down about the bet, but apparently not.

“No, don't you do that thing. I'm your sister and I get to be pissed if someone is taking advantage of you.”

“He's not taking advantage of me.” Hunter sat back and watched, but I could tell he was taking everything in. “Maybe he is, but I'm not unaware, and he knows that if he does anything I don't like, I'll punch him again. I'm not a damsel in distress. I'm not a baby, and you can't fight my battles for me.” I stopped talking, embarrassed that Hunter had seen that.

“She takes good care of herself,” he said.

“Don't you dare tell me about my sister. You've known her for five seconds. You probably don't even know her middle name.”

“Elizabeth,” he said. How did he know that? I couldn't recall ever telling him. “It was listed on your Mainecard. You left it on the table one day.”

“Oh,” I said. That was way less creepy than I thought it would be.

“Prove to me that I can trust you with her. I'm not leaving until you do.” Tawny pulled me closer and angled her body so she was in front of me. Oh, please. Now it was going to turn into a pissing contest.

Hunter stood up.

“Hit me,” he said, looking at me.

“What?” I said.

“Go ahead, hit me. I know you want to. You always want to hit me, so get it out of your system. It’s been almost a week since the last time.”

“I'm not going to hit you.” Given other circumstances, I'd love to, but I didn't want to do it just because he told me to.

“Come on, Missy. Go ahead,” he said, putting his hands behind his back and looking at the ceiling.

I glanced at Tawny, who was studying Hunter. 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Give him a good one.”

Tawny tried to pull me upright. What the hell was she doing?

“I am not going to hit him just for the hell of it. You're both crazy.”

“Why not?” Tawny said. Hunter started whistling the Jeopardy tune. That was it; they were both psychotic.

“Yeah, I'm going to go the bathroom. Don't kill each other until I get back.”

I got up and blew past them, not breathing until I'd shut the bathroom door and locked it. It was still filled with steam from Hunter's shower.  

I couldn't escape him. He was everywhere. In my head, in my room, in my face. I sat on the sink after wiping it off with a towel. I had to hand it to Hunter; at least he wasn't a slob. In fact, he was one of the cleanest guys I'd ever met. He didn't leave his clothes on the floor or hair in the sink when he shaved. He showered regularly and cooked. So what was the problem?

I put my head on my knees and let out a sound of frustration. I waited for a knock at the door and a voice to ask me if I was okay, but it didn't come. I took a deep breath and hoped that Hunter and Tawny weren't strangling each other in the living room. 

I peeped out the door, and laughter met my ears. What the what?

“No way, she did not do that.”

“I swear, she did,” Hunter said.

I came around the corner and saw that he was sitting down again and Tawny was back on the couch. There wasn't any blood, and no one was missing a limb, which shocked me.

“Hey, guys...” I said hesitantly.

“We were just talking about that night at Blue Lagoon,” Hunter said. “I was filling in your sister on your dance skills.”

“You hussy,” Tawny said. “I didn't think you had it in you.” 

“Why not? I went to plenty of dances.”

“There's a difference between high school prom dancing and club dancing and you know it.”

“Is there? Because I saw plenty of girls at prom who should have been attached to a pole.”

They both laughed at me.

“Has she always been like this?” Hunter said.

“Not always. She changed a lot after our parents’ divorce.”

I glared at Tawny. Hunter didn't need to know about Dad. 

“So your father isn't in the picture?” Great, thanks a lot Tawny.

“You could say that,” Tawny said.

I struggled to find some way to change the subject. 

“Why don't I give you a tour of campus?” I blurted out. It was the first thing that came to mind.

“That would be fun. I've never really seen the whole thing. You want to come?” Tawny directed the last part toward Hunter. “Unless you have somewhere else to be?”

“Not right now,” he said. “You okay with me tagging along, Missy?” His eyes teased me, knowing that my plan had been to get him away from Tawny.

“Fine,” I said, smiling brightly. Suck on that, Hunter.

“Let me just find some shoes,” he said.

I glared at Tawny when he left.

“Oh, Kid, you've got it so bad, but so does he.” She just shook her head. “I'll give it a week before he's tattooing your name on the other side of his chest.”

“I thought you didn't like him. What happened to being pissed at him about the bet?”

Tawny shrugged. “I was overreacting. Typical big sister move. He explained why he did it, and it makes sense, in a slightly twisted way. He's not a bad guy. He's just a jerk. But a nice one.”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“Men rarely do.”