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“We need to get you a date,” Harper says, turning her attention to Hunter.
I grin, glad that for once she’s not hounding me. I glance over at Hunter. “Yeah, Hunter. You need a date.”
He shakes his head, a frown playing on his lips. “I’m going stag. And neither of you will change my mind about that.” He gives me a pointed look—one that I can read all too well.
Hunter can’t have a date for homecoming. He can’t be distracted. Somebody is trying to kill me and if he turns his back for one second, they may succeed. There is no way he’d risk my life by taking somebody. It’s why he’s a good bodyguard
“Fine.” Harper pouts at Hunter. “But I know for a fact that half the dance team would love an invite from you.”
I would imagine so. Hunter is a good looking man—and I saymanbecause he is a man. He’s nineteen, no longer a high school boy, and he spends a lot of time working out and training. It’s no wonder the girls are all attracted to him.
“Talking about being oblivious,” Harper says, shaking her head. “Cove, Hunter will be surrounded by girls flirting with him and he’ll still have his eyes on you. It’s like he doesn’t care about them. You’re so lucky to have found a love like that in high school.”
I sigh, standing up from the table. “I’m going to grab another coffee. I need caffeine if I’m going to make it through the rest of the day.”
Hunter stands with me. “Same.”
Harper smirks, clearly thinking it’s true love. She’s wrong, of course. It’s not true love. It’s just Hunter doing his job of keeping me alive, which is actually harder than it sounds.
Truthfully, I’m not sure if I believe in true love anyway. Though, maybe I’m a little cynical because my first almost boyfriend tried to murder me so he could get the half a million dollar reward.
Love is the last thing on my mind right now. Surviving is at the forefront, for sure. And now…
Money.
How am I supposed to get enough money to buy a dress?
Spy School knows all.
I sit on the couch in the tiny cabin that Hunter and I currently reside in. My books are open in front of me, but I’m not at all paying attention to anything I’m reading. Instead, I chew on the end of my pen, wondering how in the world I’m going to pay for a stupidly expensive homecoming dress.
Why wasn’t I more insistent with Harper? Why did I let her talk me into homecoming, knowing that there is no way I can afford a dress?
I suppose I could always wear the dress I wore to the welcome back to school dance earlier in the year, but somehow wearing the same dress twice is worse than not going at all.
That’s it—I’ll just have to put my foot down and tell Harper that I’m not going. I wish I could explain why to her, but that’s just too embarrassing. Knowing her, she’d try to pay for it, which would be mortifying.
Everybody knows who my stepdad is. The last name Bradbury is very well known, especially on the Upper East Coast. What will they say when they find out that his stepdaughter can’t even afford a homecoming dress? What would they say if they knew how much he hated me?
I shake my head, trying desperately to focus on the mathematical formulas I’m supposed to be solving. Instead, I’m worried sick that Harper won’t want to be my friend anymore when I tell her that I’m not going to homecoming. No way am I going to homecoming.
The couch sinks beside me, but I don’t look over. I just keep chewing on my pen, staring at the book in front of me.
“Do you need help with your homework?” Hunter asks.
His voice startles me slightly. I look over at him, still in a bit of a daze. “No. I have an A in math right now.”
He furrows his brows. “Then why have you been staring at the same problem for the last thirty minutes?”
I sigh, shutting my book. “Maybe I just need a break or something. To clear my mind.”
Hunter gives me a pointed look. “Talk to me.”
I shake my head. “There is nothing to talk about.”
Jumping up from the couch, I walk past him, toward the kitchen.
Maybe I just need a snack. I open the fridge, looking inside. The only thing inside is a bottle of ketchup, a box of leftover pizza, which is likely stale by now, and a few bottles of water.
