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She shrugged her backpack higher on her shoulder and looked down the hall. “Does your face hurt?”
He hesitated, like it was a trick question. “No?”
“Too bad.” She reached up to poke his bruise.
He was way too quick—he caught her wrist. “I am, Becca. I shouldn’t have picked a fight with that guy. Seeing him show up, with what you’re going through—”
“Chris and his brothers saved my life.” She pulled her hand free and turned away. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”
He put an arm against the wall and blocked her way. “So tell me.”
For a moment, it seemed his voice held a note of awareness, as if those three simple words meant more than they should have. She looked up to find his eyes close, intent on hers.
r spent the night.
She fell asleep curled against his chest, warm and secure between his body and the sofa cushions.
And that’s exactly where she woke up, seven hours later.
Hunter’s eyes were still closed, his breathing slow.
Becca started to push herself away, shoving her hair behind her ears. It felt like a tangled mess. She blinked her eyes a few times to orient her contacts. Hunter shifted slightly, his arm tightening to hold her in place. His eyes cracked open. “Hey.”
She froze. “Hey.”
His hand came up to brush hair out of her eyes. “Don’t run.”
Becca flushed. He was too perceptive. “I’m not. I’m gross.” She pushed herself upright, shifting into the corner of the sofa, wishing her cheeks would cool.
He watched her move. “You’re not gross.”
Hair fell across the side of her face and she didn’t bother to push it away. “I can’t believe you stayed all night.”
“Yeah.” His voice was careful. “That all right?”
She peeked up at him. He looked too good, his hair barely in disarray, a trace of stubble lining his chin.
She probably had mascara bleeding into her eyelids.
And he was still waiting for an answer.
Becca didn’t have one to give him. It never mattered what anyone did. It only mattered what people thought. She had to clear her throat. “Does anyone know you’re here?”
“I texted my mom to say I was staying at a friend’s.”
“But not—you didn’t put it on Facebook or something—like, about spending the night with me?” Her breathing felt a little quick.
“No. I didn’t.” He paused. “I should have woken you up—I’m sorry—”
Becca shook her head forcefully. She was about to ruin this whole moment. She could feel it. “No. I’m being stupid. People just—get the wrong idea about me, and I don’t like to give them more reasons to start something—”
“No one knows.” Hunter shifted forward and touched her face, brushing his fingers along her chin. “It’s all right.”
His touch offered security, like the night he’d taught her self-defense techniques. She leaned into his hand.
“Look, we have to be at school in a half hour,” he said. “Let me go home and change, and I’ll swing back to give you a ride. Then you can tell anyone who asks that I gave you a lift because your car was totaled.”
Would anyone really notice? She was being a freak. She knew it. But she nodded. “Thanks.”
