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He turned away from me and Quinn followed his lead. My stomach lurched. If I couldn’t work this out with Liam, my friendship with Hunter had an expiration date. “I crushed on him, okay?” I said, pleading. Liam paused. Faced me again.
I swallowed. “I crushed on him and wished I hadn’t.”
“Are you still crushing on him?”
Jack? I spat out a laugh. “No. Not him.”
Liam studied me and then nodded, like this made sense. “I see why you want to make peace with me.”
My fingers felt sticky in my pockets. “You’re his friend. He thinks the world of you.”
“And I think highly of him. So I’ll say this once.” He tapped my chest with his pen. “He. Deserves. Better.”
Well, no denying that. “Absolutely.”
Liam was taken aback. “Yes,” he said, frowning.
“But pretend he wants something meaningless with me. Pretend we hang out, spend some time together. No feelings. No broken hearts. Just fun and . . . respect.”
“You want to fool around with Hunter?”
I looked Liam in the eye. “Yeah, I really do.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I just . . . You know him. He likes you. Your blessing would go a long way. Maybe you have tips about what Hunter likes, what might make a good impression. I’ve never met someone like him.”
“Paraplegic?” Liam stiffened, Quinn too.
“Someone confident and witty and”—I grunted—“totally good. Someone who fries my insides with a single look.”
I yanked my hands free from their pockets. “I guess he makes a lot of people feel like that.”
I twisted and Liam’s voice trailed factually after me. “He likes Peter.”
I whirled back around. “Huh?”
“I mean, he loves Peter. Like, crazy loves Peter.”
“Peter?” My stomach couldn’t drop any lower.
“Uh huh. Ask after Peter.”
Yeah. Not gonna happen.
“He also loves dancing. Going out . . .” Liam tapped his pen over his lips, thoughtfully. “We’re going to a club tonight. Phoenix. Know it?”
“In Shadyside?”
“A block from Hunter’s apartment.”
I breathed out slowly. Hunter hadn’t mentioned it, but then again, why would he invite me when he knew how awkward things were between Liam and me? “Was that an invite?”
“That was information. What you choose to do with it . . . Well.” Liam shrugged and turned his attention to Quinn.
I turned my attention to forgetting my horrible attempt at apologizing, and pushing Peter out of my mind.
Chapter Eight
I was close to throwing up at the entrance to Phoenix, which I might have used as an excuse to leave if I didn’t so badly want to see—kiss—Hunter again.
All my usual cool was shot. Nothing left in my bullshit reservoir to steady my thundering heart or the nervous twitch in my hands.
A group of dagger-heeled girls herded me inside, their killer shoes threatening to skewer my red Converse. A glance in the mirrored windows showed an ashen complexion under a mop of brown hair. The only thing in place was my Talk Nerdy to Me T-shirt.
I caught sight of Hunter laughing at a table with Liam and Quinn, and made directly—
For the bar.
I’d had two shots before taking an Uber here, and I downed another two.
Gin burned my throat as I leaned back on the bar and peered through gaps between dry-humping bodies towards a wide, laughing smile and devastating dimples.
Quinn broke from the table, parted the dance floor with his wide shoulders and charming smirk, and ordered drinks at the bar. His gaze flowed over me and snapped back. “Jill.”
I cringed but nodded. “Hey.”
Quinn sidled down the bar, unsure what to think of me. He shrugged off whatever he’d been thinking. “He’s using glittery spoke guards and feeling sexy tonight. Go make him swoon before someone else does.”
I itched for a third shot. “Right. Okay.” I clapped my hands together with purpose, pushing off the bar, and halted. “How?”
Quinn frowned. “Dance.”
“Yeah, sure.” I took a step in Hunter’s direction, and hesitated again. “How do I . . .” I gestured toward the dry-humpers and scratched the back of my head. “Like, a lap dance?”
“Oh, Christ. You’re a lost cause.” Quinn took a shot and passed it to me. I slung it back with gratitude. “Just ask him,” Quinn said, clapping my shoulder. “Swing him around, sing, laugh. Keep it fun. Don’t ever forget you’re not worthy of him.”
Good to know Hunter’s best friends were on the same page.
“Yeah. Haven’t forgotten.”
I absorbed the buzz that was growing and concentrated on the beat as I rounded writhing bodies. Hunter nursed a beer, watching couples dance. He wore jeans, silver sneakers, and a black tank top that molded to his toned chest.
Just ask him to dance. Don’t, not even once, ask him who the fuck this Peter guy is.
Easy.
Hunter spotted me, and his posture straightened. He set his drink down and folded his arms. In the glittery light, his hummingbird tattoos fluttered.
I cleared my throat. “Hunter.”
He rocked up a brow. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
