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Oh my God! That’s what Hunter does when he’s thinking. I’m mimicking his every move now! What the hell!
I shake my head as if to shake him from my mind. I lean forward and read another sentence in my bio text. Nothing. They’re only swimming letters which have no meaning. I shove the book away and start chewing on my pencil again.
I whisper. “When he touches me, it’s like I can’t move unless he tells me to. I wait for his every gesture, obey his every word. And my body reacts. Oh, God, how it reacts. I like it. No, I love it, but it scares me how much I do.”
I remember I’m in a public place. I peek over the carol bank to see if anyone is here. No one is. I breathe easy.Note to self, shut the hell up. Stop thinking out loud.
“Aye, aye, captain,” I say to myself and smile.
I look out the big picture window which faces into the enclosed solarium. All manner of palm trees and exotic shrubs and flowers happily grow in the controlled environment. I hear muffled birdsong, too. There's an entire ecosystem in there. So cool. So perfect.
My pencil end is once again in my mouth.
I don’t have any close friends here. Cindy, Gracie, and Maddie are fine to go out clubbing and have a laugh with, I guess. But Hunter is the only one I can confide in about my plans and my fears. He’s the only one who understands me.
But what about trust, girl? Do you trust this guy? It’s like he protects you one moment, then scares you shitless the next. What kind of relationship is that? Certainly not any I’ve seen my mom in, that’s for sure. Mind you, she’s the one who scares men. Not the other way around.
I roll my eyes. My mother. What a pretty beast. All perfectly done up like the blond housewife out of the TV series,Madmen. But she’s a wolf in a sheep’s housedress.
But as I roll the pencil around to get a better chewy grip, I wonder if it’s my cold fish mother who’s making me like this. Needy? Scared? Wanting love and attention at any cost?
No. I shake my head. I whisper. “That can’t be right. He’s not her. He’s the opposite. He takes care of me. He treasures me.”
Ah, shit! I did it again. I’m thinking out loud.
I lean back in my chair.Hunter is tight with Cash. How can I trust a guy who sees Cash as alright?But then I remember how he’s kept Cash at bay. Making sure his insults, his verbal attacks, don’t come too close and can’t hurt that deep.
I whisper once more. “It’s all so weird.”
“Coach held us back. Some idiot screwed up the three-man checking today, and we had to skate another fifty laps.”
I jerk my head up in surprise at the timbre of his deep voice and flash a smile like I’m not conflicted in the least.
“Hey, no worries. Saved you all the seats.” I wave my hand at the empty study area.
Hunter snorts a laugh that makes my core clench, and I have to fight to keep the blush crawling up my neck from rising to my cheeks.
“Let’s go to the solarium instead. It’s stuffy as shit in here,” he says after a moment, the intensity of his eyes making me wonder if he can smell the emotions rolling off of me.
“Sure. The big wrought iron glass-top tables are nicer out there, anyway.” I say.
“And so are the cushioned seats,” he adds with a wink.
What is that supposed to mean? Is he trying to insinuate something? Does he have plans to lay me down on one and…
Holy shit, what am I on about?
I shake those thoughts free violently when Hunter’s back turns, gathering up my things quickly. Everything seems light and easy andnormal, so why am I such a mess? As I get to my feet, Hunter grabs my hand and leads us into the cathedral high tropical oasis, electricity radiating through my body from where we touch.
At the doors, there’s a drink kiosk, and Hunter buys us each a lemonade. He finds a secluded table way in the back surrounded by all manner of palms, and we make our temporary study home there.
I watch as Hunter leans back on his chair and rocks back and forth, his arms above his head. “Man, it’s sweet in here. You can’t be troubled when you’re in here.” He looks at me so intently with his silver gray eyes. Every muscle in my body relaxes as if submerged in warm, bubbling water.
The afternoon wears on, and neither one of us opens a single book. We sit close and talk and laugh, and get close to crying. Or at least I do. They’re not sad tears. They’re happy.
Hunter gets me, he really does. My lack of love at home. My mother only out for herself. My inability to trust others or to simply believe in family love. Or love of any kind, really.
“I know you and I have had different childhoods, Wren, but rich people can have the same doubts and fears. Money doesn’t fix stuff like that. It takes a person. A man, a real man, to fix what is hurting inside you.”
