“Trust me, you’ll like this one. It goes down so smooth. Just try it.”
As Hunter watches expectantly, I take a big swallow of his magical beer.
“Well?” he demands.
My gaze drops to my suede boots. “It tastes exactly like the other one.”
“Are you joking right now? You think Abbey House and Bud Light taste the same? I’m so ashamed of you right now.”
“I told you, I’m not a beer girl.”
“You’re a disgrace.”
“You’re a disgrace.”
Hunter grins as I stick out my tongue at him. He sips his own can of pretentious beer, then says, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Mr. Muscles.”
“It’s fine. To be honest, it was nice to get out of the house. And it’s good practice, right?”
We do some people-watching as we savor our beers. Well, Hunter savors. I just hold my nose and swallow. We crack each other up by creating fake backstories for various bar patrons, and in no time at all I’ve forgotten all about being ditched by Roy. I have more fun with Hunter, anyway.
Around nine-thirty we leave the bar and head for the parking lot. As I’m zipping up my parka, one of my earrings nearly gets caught in the hood and I curse under my breath.
“I hate these stupid things,” I complain as I move the hoop aside. “They’re a menace.”
“You’re a menace.”
Yes, this is our thing now. It makes us snicker every time, which I suppose indicates that either our shared sense of humor is immature, or we are.
Hunter starts the Rover and reverses out of the parking spot. “I’m taking you home?” He glances over.
“Yep, thank you.” I buckle my seatbelt, laughing when I notice that my Bluetooth is the device that connects to his car.
“You didn’t un-sync!” he accuses. “You promised me you did.”
“I lied to you, Hunter.” Chortling, I load a playlist that includes a bunch of Whitney Houston ballads, which I know he doesn’t like.
“You’re evil,” he says as he drives us away from town.
“Sorry, I can’t hear you. Whitney is singing.”
Then, just because I can, I sing along to “Greatest Love of All” until Hunter threatens to leave me on the side of the dark, deserted road if I don’t shut up.
“Hey, could you turn off my butt heater?” he asks. “My ass is on fire.”
“Sure.” I’m holding my phone, so I go to plop it into the cup holder. But the Rover hits a pothole at that exact moment and the phone slips from my hand and tumbles to Hunter’s feet.
“Chrissake, Semi. Grab that before it gets stuck under the gas pedal.”
“Chill out. Hold on.” I lean toward him and stretch out my arm, but the moving car sends my phone skittering across the floor mat. “Dammit, I can’t reach it. Can you try to kick it toward my hand?”
“No. I’m fucking driving.”
“Just try.”
Groaning, he tries to poke the phone with his left foot, and the SUV swerves slightly.
“Okay, no, stop doing that,” I order. “Focus on driving. I’ll do it.”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and crawl over his lower body. My hand begins wiggling around in the vicinity of his calves. The car swerves again.
“Pay attention to the road!”
“Trying to,” he grinds out. “But you keep bumping my leg.”
I bend over as far as I can, until my head is squished in Hunter’s lap. I stretch out my arm again, and—yes! My fingers collide with the phone and I swiftly close a fist around it.
“Got it!” I announce, and then I move to sit up and—
I can’t.
“Demi,” Hunter orders. “Move.” The car rocks slightly to the right.
I try to lift my head again, and a jolt of pain shoots through my ear. “Oh my God,” I wail. “I told you. I fucking told you.”
“Told me what? Jesus, get up—”
“I can’t!” My voice is muffled against the fly of his jeans. “My earring is stuck.”
“Stuck on what?”
“On you! On your jeans! I don’t know what.” The position I’ve found myself in has my head wrenched to the side, so all I can see is Hunter’s knees, and his foot on the gas pedal. Rather than attempt an escape, I keep my head planted flat on his thigh.
“Try to unsnag yourself,” he pleads.
I refuse to budge. “No. It’ll rip my earlobe off, Hunter.”
“It won’t.”
“It will.” Honest-to-God tears well up in my eyes.
He growls in frustration. “It’s not gonna rip your—fuck, you know what, hold on. Let me pull over,” he says.
And that’s when we hear the sirens.
21
Hunter
This is a disaster. I’m getting pulled over by the cops, and Demi’s head is stuck in my lap. She’s draped over me like a blanket, her face inches from my crotch, and I know that the second the officer reaches the driver’s side window, he’s going to think…
Jesus Chris, he’s going to think she’s blowing me.
“Why did they pull us over?” she hisses.
“Must’ve seen us swerving all over the road.” Shit, this is a nightmare.
I shut off the engine. As I wait for the cop to approach the window, I make a frantic attempt to pry Demi off me.
“Ow!” she wails.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I’m trying to get you free.” Her earring is caught, all right, but I’m not sure on what.
I think it’s one of my belt loops? But how the hell did it get embedded like that? Maybe it snagged on a thread? I’m not making a lick of progress, and every time I try to tug the hoop free, Demi whimpers in pain. I can’t believe I’m even thinking it, but…she might lose that ear.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Someone’s coming,” she whispers as footsteps thump on the pavement.
“License and regist—“ The police officer stops midsentence.
I sigh in resignation.
“What in the hell is going on here? Sit up, Miss,” he commands. “Now, please.”
“I can’t!” moans Demi.
The cop’s stern eyes fix on me. “I’m going to need you and your girlfriend to get out of the car and place both your hands on the hood.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Demi says, as if that’s our most pressing concern, being mistaken for a couple.
“We can’t,” I answer through gritted teeth.
“Look, kid, I realize this is a cool thing you college boys like to do—”
A cool thing we do?
“—but lewd behavior is grounds for arrest. Not only that, you were driving recklessly and endangering other drivers.”
I peer out the windshield at the dark and completely empty road. “What other drivers? There’s nobody here but us. A single car hasn’t driven by since you pulled us over.”
“And we’re not being lewd,” Demi protests. “I’m stuck!”