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“Yes,” I answer quickly.
“Well, I’m glad to continue my streak of proving you wrong.” A cocky smile takes up residence on his face.
“Thanks for Wednesday night,” I say, not wanting to appear ungrateful. “It really was a big help. It was … nice of you.”
“Wow, Pheebs. Don’t hurt yourself saying something nice to me.”
I roll my eyes, but I feel the edges of my lips tug up just slightly. I turn my head to fit the thermos into my book bag, hoping Hunter doesn’t catch the expression.
It really was nice of him to take so much time out of his night and spend the effort to climb up a freaking ladder and shimmy through our bathroom window. I don’t know what we would have done without him. I doubt we’d have been able to reach our landlord near midnight.
By my count, this marks the third nice thing he’s ever done for me.
The first was in fourth grade. Shortly after we met, actually.
We were on a school field trip to an amusement park, and I was too scared to go on one of the roller coasters. The rest of the kids made fun of me, but Hunter stayed off the ride himself to keep me company while I waited with one of the teachers while the rest of the kids and staff went on the ride.
The second was when he punched Billy Ewins in eleventh grade.
Billy and I went on a date one weekend—my first date ever—and the next week, he spread a rumor around school that I let him feel me up. Which was a total lie.
A day later, I heard that Hunter got into a fight with Billy and almost broke his nose.
I know that the fight must have been about something else between them—no way would Hunter Landry fight for me—but it still felt good to hear that Billy had gotten some comeuppance, so I count it in Hunter’s favor.
When my thermos is zippered up in my bag, a new voice joins our conversation.
“Hey,Hunter,” a syrupy-sweet voice sings, drawing out that final r sound like she’s a horny drunk girl texting him for a booty call.
“Hey, Sarah,” Hunter says, turning in his chair to face her. “What’s happening?”
The way he angles his body towards her makes the fabric of his shirt strain against the wide planes of his chest. When I feel an unwelcomed warmth settling low in my core, I turn my attention back to my book as this girl shamelessly flirts with Hunter.
Even though I try to ignore their conversation, and her irritatingly eager laugh at Hunter’s very unfunny jokes, I’m not able to concentrate on my book. But at the least the letters let me occupy my eyes so I’m not just sitting here like an idiot while they obnoxiously flirt.
Finally, she has to go to her next class—and she actually walks backwards so she can keep staring starry-eyed at Hunter until she gets to the door.
I look up from my book once she’s gone, scrunching my nose in disgust. “Who does that?”
“Does what?” Hunter asks, genuinely confused.
“That girl! She just walked up to you and shamelessly started flirting even though you were sitting with me.”
Hunter rests his thick, corded forearms on the surface of the table and leans towards me, his thick hair bobbing with the forward motion. “Are youjealous, Pheebs?” he whispers.
I bark out a sarcastic laugh. “As if. I’m just revolted by a lack of basic manners. I mean, for all she knew, we could have been on a date.”
An amused gleam sparks in Hunter’s eye. “You think we’re dating now?”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously I know we’re not! But she didn’t!”
He shrugs his massive, boulder-like shoulders. “Anyone can tell at a glance thatyouandmearen’t together.”
I narrow my eyes, not liking the way he said that sentence. “What’sthatsupposed to mean?”
He only answers with a shit-eating grin and a wink. “Gotta get to class,” he says, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Catch you later, Pheebs.”
“Not later enough,” I grumble, getting back to my book.
