“Boring.”
Hunter laughs, his chest rumbling against mine.
“I don’t think your art is boring, though. You’re so much better than those people.”
He’s quiet for so long, I think he’s actually fallen asleep.
“I think I want to open a bookstore. I mean, I want to do editing or something like that, too, that’s why I’m getting my degree, but I think owning a bookstore would be fun.”
I could picture him there, standing behind the counter and welcoming everyone in with a wide smile. His helpful nature and love for books would come through with every interaction.
“You would be good at it. You don’t want to do anything with your art?”
“No, that’s just for fun. If it became something more, I worry I would start to resent it. I don’t ever want to feel like that.” We fall into silence, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kindthat happens when you’re truly contemplating the person you’re with, admiring their traits and their characteristics.
“Whatever you do, you’ll be good at,” I tell him sincerely.
“Thanks,” he whispers, his words muffled because his lips are pressed against my hair.
“Instead of watching a documentary, want to start a TV show with me?” Am I needy for wanting to do that? Because it’s not that I’m actually interested in a show, especially when we’re lying like this. But if we start a show together, that’s guaranteed time for us to spend together. At least in my fucked-up mind.
“What were you thinking?”
The longest show that has been streaming for decades, and every episode is at least an hour long?
“I’ll let you pick.”
Hunter scrolls through the various streaming services his parents have, checking the reviews and ratings before he lands on a sitcom.
“The Office?” I say, watching the opening credits.
“I’ve never seen it, but a lot of people like it and it’s really popular. What better time than now to be like everyone else?”
One episode bleeds into two, and then three. When we hear the back door open, Hunter quickly pauses the show, and I rearrange myself on the other end of the couch. Our legs are pressed together, and he rubs his foot along my calf as Danielle and Thomas creep in from the back.
I catch Danielle’s eye, and she blows me a kiss as she walks into Hunter’s bedroom. Thomas walks into the living room, eyeing me and Hunter.
I whisper under my breath, “There’s more blankets in the hall closet if you need them.” I point at the small door to the left of the hallway that Hunter left partially open in case anyone needed a blanket in the middle of the night. What a good little host.
Thomas nods and grabs one, making himself comfortable on the loveseat. I have to hold myself back from the devious grin that wants to break out.
Checkmate, motherfucker. Hunter is mine.
31
HUNTER
In between keeping Adam and Thomas separated and making sure not to make heart eyes at Adam, I’m exhausted. The bone-deep ache in my body thrumming with every step.
My parents asked if we’re still up to go to the lake tomorrow, and thinking about sitting on a rocking boat for hours does not sound as amazing as it did when my parents first suggested it.
The only thing keeping me going right now is the promise of street food as we walk down the sidewalk toward the fair. Adam is walking on my right side, closest to traffic, and Thomas is on the other side. I’m the filling of an awkward Oreo sandwich.
Danielle is walking with my mom, while my dad trails behind them holding my mom’s tote bag.
Adam bumps into my shoulder, therefore bumping me into Thomas. When I cut my eyes at Adam, his smile is teasing. “Sorry, there was a car coming.” I roll my eyes at him and keep walking, ignoring the questioning look burning the side of my head from Thomas.
I need to talk to him. When I get back to campus, and our exams are over, I’ll do just that.
