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“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he queries. He’s currently wearing his suit jacket like a cape over his skull, as the sun is apparently too harsh for his skin.
“Because you’re a little bitch.” He clutches his sides, pretending to laugh at my joke, while I actually do laugh ’cause it’s funny.
However, I stop quickly when he smartly retorts, “I’ma little bitch? I didn’t just drive over a hundred and fifty miles to crashthe wedding of my ex-girlfriend, whom I have not spoken to since the day she left a Dear John letter over nine months ago.”
He’s right, so I stay silent because I’ve got nothing.
We walk in silence, Hunter’s words churning around my head. I’m the first to acknowledge that I haven’t thought this through at all, but I don’t regret my decision in the slightest. I would have regretted sitting around doing nothing while Madison marries someone who isn’t me.
Thisright here is what the sayingcarpe diemembodies. So I plan on seizing.
“So what happens if she actually loves the guy?” Hunter asks, obviously picking up on my pensive thoughts.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead. At the moment, I’m more concerned about getting there in time.”
“You really love her, hey?”
My heart hurts at the mere mention of her. “Yes, Hunt, I really do. I needed this time apart to realize just how much, so I can only hope she feels the same. However, seeing as she’s marrying someone else, she probably doesn’t. But I need to do this. Otherwise, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
“Whatever happens, man, know that I’m proud of you for trying. It takes balls to do what you’re doing.”
I turn to look at him and smile. “Thanks. I wouldn’t want to share this moment with anyone other than you.”
When he unexpectedly stops walking, I turn over my shoulder to see why. As he begins to unzip his pants, I chuckle, afraid to ask what he’s doing. He answers for me, mid-zip. “Are you going to suck my cock now? I mean, that was some sentimental shit back there. I thought you were giving off a ‘I wanna suck your dick’ vibe.”
“You wish,” I playfully counter, flipping him off. I suddenly hear a car coming up over the hill and groan when Hunter’spants are shimmying down his legs. “Zip your pants up, you creep. There’s a car coming!”
Thankfully, he complies and is zipped up and tucked in by the time a little white van comes into view. “We’re so hitching a ride in the Scooby Van,” he excitedly states, clapping quickly.
We hook out our thumbs, hoping whoever is inside this vehicle stops and isn’t a part of the Manson family. The van does indeed stop, and I’m quite certain the occupants are as far away from being serial killers as they come.
“Hello, boys,” says the driver. “Where are you off to?”
Hunter shakes his head firmly, indicating there is no way he’s getting inside the van. But this isn’t optional. I need to get to Madison, and I need to get to her now. “We’re headed into Westhampton Beach. Can we bum a ride?”
“Of course. We’re headed that way. Get in.”
Hunter is still shaking his head when I slide open the door and gesture with my chin for him to get inside. “No,” he grits out between clenched teeth. But we’ve wasted enough time.
Walking behind him, I shove him into the van filled with about ten…little old ladies. I don’t know why, but the silver foxes love Hunter. They always have. Sadly, he doesn’t feel the same.
“For the love of God, please no, Dixon, stop!” As I push his torso in, he digs his feet into the pavement and turns over his shoulder, whispering loudly, “It smells like grandma vagina in here.”
“What did he say?” a lady with purple hair shouts as she turns around.
“I think he said he’s a handbag designer,” the lady to her left replies just as loudly.
She nods, none the wiser. “Oh, how lovely.”
Hunter is still fighting me, but with one hard thrust, he falls forward, supporting his weight on the back of a chair. One ofthe ladies turns around, smiling a denture grin, when she sees Hunter hanging off the back of her seat. “Hello.”
He shudders.
I jump in behind him, pulling him up and dragging him to the back of the bus. His phobia needs to literally take a back seat because this is my ride to freedom.
“I’m Pearl. Where are you off to?” the lady in front of us asks, smiling at Hunter.
He hooks his thumb my way. “He’s stopping the wedding of the woman he loves.”
