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Hunter
Kade drives us back to Weston, and I don’t know why I let him drive my car. I don’t even know why he asked. He hates old things.
“Is this an actual fucking radio?” He presses each knob, the dial darting left to right as he searches for music. “Not like a satellite radio or anything?”
He looks at me with an expression somewhere between confusion and pain etched on his brow. I shake with a quiet laugh and look out the window.
“Bench seats are useful, though,” he adds with a playful tone.
Yes, they are.
We drive back through town and cruise down High Street, toward the river.
“Why didn’t you wait for her?” he asks.
“She’s going to be celebrating.” I take out my phone and start scrolling. “Her friends and family are there.”
“You’re her friend,” he points out the obvious, “and her family.”
I turn to face him. “I wasn’t invited.”
“Her boyfriend doesn’t need an invitation.”
“I’m not her boyfriend.”
I don’t mean to sound defeatist, but she didn’t send anyone with a message, telling me to meet her at Fallstown. She said she’d be late. That’s it. It was me who decided I wanted to be there for her. She didn’t ask.
“Hunter…” he chides.
But I cut him off. “Look, I know, all right? But I also know I’ve told her I loved her twice, and she hasn’t said it back. Whatever the hell we’re doing is confusing for her or some shit. I’ll fight with her another day. Not tonight. She’s feeling too good.”
She looked incredible on that track.
But if she felt the same way I do, she would’ve said so.
“Girls don’t like to be the one chasing a guy,” he mumbles. “That’s all I’m saying.”
I rub my forehead and then exhale. “Why are you coming back with me?”
I sound aggravated, and I’m hoping he notices.
But he just grins. “What’s her name? Arlet?”
Oh, fuck no.
“We need to talk about that,” I say in a hard voice.
But he just laughs. “I didn’t mean to do it in your bed.”
“Bullshit.”
“She started getting handsy,” he tells me, “and when she found out I wasn’t you, she didn’t seem to care, and hey, neither did I.”
“So you decided to screw in my room on the off chance Dylan would see.”
It’s not a question.
He just kind of shrugs and winces at the same time. “You know I don’t think,” he explains. “I won’t do it again?”
