“Thank you for cleaning me up.” His smile is soft when he opens his eyes and looks at me. I press a kiss to his upper lip, licking the scar.
“You don’t ever have to thank me for anything. If I do it, it’s because I want to.” He scoots over, and I lie beside him on the bed. Hunter intertwines our fingers together and rests them on his stomach.
I think he’s going to leave. Why would he stay? He has class tomorrow, and that fucking date with Thomas. But he doesn’t.
“When I was younger, my mom used to read to me every night. I’m pretty sure I remember every word ofWhere the Wild Things Are.”
I lay beside him in silence, staring up at the ceiling and not moving at the risk of ruining the moment. I count the breaths we share while I wait to see where he goes with that comment. And just when I think he’s asleep, he speaks again.
“It might be slightly wrong, but just remember this is from my memory only. And it’s spotty at times…”
Turning on my side, I prop my head on the cool pillow, feeling my cheek sink into it as I keep my eyes on his side profile. His nose is upturned slightly, and from this angle, I barely have a glimpse of the scar on his upper lip.
“Max wore his wolf suit, made mischief, and his mother called himwild thing… and Max replied I’ll eat you up!” His voice rises in pitch, mimicking the young Max and turning feminine when it’s supposed to be the mom. He brings the story to life for me as I lie in bed beside him. This is what he used to experience when he was a kid, someone loving him so much that they acted out stories for him. And often enough that even all these years later, he still remembers. “So she sent him to bed without eating.”
I fight sleep, my eyes burning as I try to stay awake to listen to Hunter’s deep timbre as he gives me a piece of himself that I never would have gotten if I hadn’t gone home with him. I don’t want to fall asleep, because I’m afraid that when I wake up, it’ll all be a dream my emotionally starved brain created to torture me further.
25
HUNTER
Thomas holds the door of his car open and offers his hand to help me out. It’s a nice gesture, and I should be wowed by his gentlemanly behavior. Instead, I’ve spent the last thirty minutes since he picked me up in the parking lot of my dorm fixating on the fact that he’s not who I want to be on a date with.
The restaurant is fine. The hostess leads us to our seats, and Thomas pulls mine out for me and pushes me in before taking his own seat. The waitress approaches our table, asking for our drinks.
“Water, please.” I smile at her, and Thomas orders the same. When she leaves, I silently scan the menu. Who would have thought that deliberating between pasta dishes was so exciting?
“Danielle told me you’re studying English lit, that’s cool.”
“Yeah, I guess I won’t know if that’s really what I want to do until I get into my upper classes. But it’s been fun so far.” As fun as basic intro classes can be. Which has been honestly more boring than I anticipated. My days consist of going to class, coming back to my dorm to work on art for my bookmarks, or studying with Danielle. The only benefit is my roommate hasbeen laying off on his bullcrap lately, so I haven’t been kicked out of my room since that night I slept in the lounge.
“What classes are you taking now?” I list them all off, ticking my fingers as I go to keep track.
“Intro to drawing? What is that?”
“It’s an elective, I like to draw and stuff in my free time, and I have a small side business that requires me to be artsy sometimes. It’s nice, though, because I can use my skills from that for inspiration for my bookmarks.”
“You make bookmarks? Can I see?” His face lights up, and I feel a smile take over my face at his interest. The only person who’s shown interest in my bookmark business is Danielle. My parents support me, but I don’t think they realize how much time and creativity actually goes into my work.
“Yeah.” I pull out my phone and swipe open my photo album full of past projects and new projects I’m hoping to upload soon. Thomas takes his time, politely praising the ones he likes and asking questions about the more abstract ones.
“You’re really talented,” Thomas says, handing back my phone. My face flushes under the compliment, and I preen. I take pride in my work, and it makes me feel good when other people notice and appreciate my hard work. It might not make sense to everyone, but I enjoy it. So I’ll keep on with it until no one buys them anymore.
“Do you know what you want to eat?” Thomas asks, looking at me over the top of his menu.
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you want me to order for us?”
I hesitate, because do I trust Thomas enough to order food for me? What if I hate it, and he’s offended? Then this whole date will be awkward. But it would get me out of here quicker, and I am supposed to meet Adam after Danielle, Brittany, and Zoey leave.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
What I didn’t expect was for him to order multiple items. Plates of different pastas, appetizers, and bread line our table. My stomach rumbles appreciatively while my gaze tracks over the food, wondering what I’m going to try first.
Thomas prepares a plate and hands it to me. Each section is separated so it doesn’t touch. Small, bite-size servings of pasta are carefully placed into piles. Tortellini with alla panna sauce, angel hair pasta with oil and herbs, and lasagna.
I moan around each bite, soaking in the exquisite flavor of each dish. Thomas smiles at me while he twirls the angel hair pasta around his fork.
