Chapter 28

After Hunter paid for our milkshakes, he walked me home. We trudged along side by side, the wet slush sinking into my left boot. Hunter wore his Vans, but he appeared as unbothered by the wetness as he did by the quiet between us.

The streetlights shone in bright patches on the sidewalk, separated by stretches of darkness. Nestled in the darkness was the warm glow of the houses we passed, their windows lit with orange and yellow. We passed one house in particular with a large front window showcasing the dining room table. We were undetectable in the dark, but we could see the family inside, plain as day. Hunter watched them as if he knew them, his eyebrows drawn together and his face pinched tight as though he was remembering something unpleasant, before he cut his eyes forward. I glanced back as we passed, but I didn't recognize anyone at the table.

When we arrived at my house, it looked as warm and inviting as all the others. I stopped at the end of the driveway to face Hunter, but before I could say anything, we were interrupted by beaming headlights as Chris pulled into the driveway. He stepped out of the car, eyeing us with a shit-eating grin. I tossed a desperate plea out to the universe that he'd mind his own business for once in his life, but of course, he didn't.

Instead of heading for the front door, he walked toward us. I emitted silent death threats in his direction, promising utter annihilation and pain, lots of pain, but he wasn't deterred.

He stopped between us, his face contorted in thought like the magnificent actor he was. "Hunter, is it?" he asked, as if he couldn't quite place him.

Hunter nodded. "Yeah, nice to meet you. Chris, right?"

Chris grinned, pausing to wink at me as he stretched his arms out wide on either side of him. "In the flesh." And then his obnoxiousness reached a whole new level. "I hope my sister invited you for dinner."

Hunter shifted, glancing at me. "Um ..."

Chris's eyes glinted with entertainment before he shot a horrified look in my direction. "Oh, dear me, how utterly rude."

I would have rolled my eyes at his theatrics, but I was too busy hyperventilating at the prospect of Hunter coming inside.

"My mom's making fajitas ... you have to stay," Chris went on. "She won't take no for an answer, and neither will I."

Hunter's gaze darted to me, but Chris waved a hand in my direction, the only indication he was still aware of my existence. "She wants you to stay. She's just too shy to say it."

When Hunter's eyes met mine, his face was so hesitant that I gave him a soft smile, because I couldn't bring myself to do anything else.

Chris swept another hand through the air. "See! There you have it! Come on ... our casa es su casa."

The smell of onion and garlic greeted us, and the living room proved to be warmer than promised as my cheeks thawed with a mild sting. I threw my coat and bag on the floor, but Hunter was hesitant as he slipped his shoes off. He gazed around the cluttered house in interest. It felt intrusive, and I couldn't help shifting in discomfort, because even though our house wasn't that small, the three-room floor plan was the size of Hunter's foyer.

"Guess who I found!" Chris called, sauntering into the kitchen.

My mom poked her head out, and her face lit up. "Oh! You must be Hunter! It's so nice to finally meet you!"

And I could have died, because she didn't even have the sense to pretend she didn't know who he was. She came bustling out with too much enthusiasm, and my eyes narrowed, but like Chris, she wasn't paying any attention to me. Taking his polite smile as an invitation, she clambered over to Hunter and threw her arms around his neck in something that could only be explained as a wholehearted mom-greeting.

Hunter glanced at me in utter confusion before settling on wrapping one arm around her shoulder in the most awkward embrace in human history. If I wasn't so mortified, I would have keeled over in side-splitting hilarity.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Matthews."

She parted from him and planted a quick kiss on my cheek, immune to the thought waves I sent in her direction.

"Please! Call me Jane!" She looked between us, and when neither of us said anything else, she filled the void. "Well, I hope you like fajitas, Hunter."

"Um, yeah, sounds great."

My mom beamed at him, then hustled back to the kitchen to attend to the sizzling stovetop.

"I'm gonna run my bag up to my room, but you can sit down," I said, gesturing to the couches in our living room. They were topped with blankets, two of my pillows, and a pair of Chris's socks, and I cringed.

When I returned, Hunter was nowhere in sight, and I followed the sound of my mom trilling away in the kitchen. Hunter stood tall and lanky in front of the counter, head bent in concentration, as he chopped a green pepper with surprising skill. Well, maybe not skill exactly, but it wasn't his first time. My mom smiled at me, tilting her head in Hunter's direction with a double thumbs-up before handing me a container of mushrooms.

Instead of helping, Chris leaned against the fridge, supervising. He nodded at Hunter, his gaze full of amusement as he studied me. "Your boyfriend is proving to be a wiz in the kitchen, Alice."

I almost fainted out of sheer desperation to escape, but Hunter laughed, either not noticing the word or choosing to ignore it. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Chris leaned forward to inspect his cutting board, then shrugged. "Well, it looks good."

I unwrapped the container of mushrooms and began working at my own cutting board, grateful to have something to focus on.

Chris opened the refrigerator to investigate the grocery haul. When he grew bored, he paused beside me for no reason other than to be a bother. "Those mushrooms are too thick."

I didn't even pause. "Well, you can either cut them yourself, or you can fuck right off."

Chris burst into laughter, bracing himself against the counter while Hunter made a strangled sound, unsure if he should laugh or not.

"Alice!" my mom hissed. Her wide eyes darted to Hunter in apology.

Chris plopped down at the kitchen table, smirking at my mom as he opened a can of ginger ale. "Uh, I'm pretty sure Hunter has heard the word ‘fuck,' Mom."

She winced, her eyes going even wider. "That's not the point."

* * *

Chris didn't contributeto making dinner, but he did retrieve an extra chair from the dining room so Hunter could join us at the small table wedged in the kitchen.

My mom spooned rice onto everyone's plate. "So, do you have siblings, Hunter?" She paused before giving him an extra serving.

"No." Hunter's answer was quick, but his face caught as he glanced at me, as if I had the magical capability of removing him from the conversation altogether. "Er, well, I have a stepbrother, actually."

"Oh! A stepbrother! How nice."

Hunter flashed her a tight-lipped smile that some might have considered cute, but to me, it was just plain painful.

My mom returned the pot to the stove because there wasn't enough room on the table. "How old is he?"

"He's a few months younger than me. Goes to school with me and Alice."

"Oh, wow!" my mom said, as though a stepsibling was a novel concept to her. "Are you boys close?"

Hunter shifted in his seat, and I set my fork down, unable to sit by any longer. "What is this? Twenty questions?"

It was horribly rude, and maybe my mom's response was an indication of how insolent I was, because she just rolled her eyes, not at all surprised. "Ignore her, Hunter. For some reason, Alice is opposed to socialization."

The side of Hunter's mouth twitched, giving way to a smile, neutral and polite. "We're into different things."

Chris wasn't shy about hiding his entertainment, and seeing an opening in the conversation, he dived in headfirst, his grin mischievous as he gazed across from me. "Has Alice told you about all the things she's into?"

I aimed a kick at him from under the table, but my toes connected with the leg of the chair instead. It was supposed to be smooth, but the thud and my hiss of pain weren't at all inconspicuous.

Hunter shot me a look of concern, and once satisfied I hadn't broken anything, he leaned forward in amusement. "You know, now that I think of it, I don't think she has."

My mom might have saved me under different circumstances, but after my twenty questions comment, she let the wolves have me.

Chris tapped his fingers together in calculation, grinning at me. "Ah, well, allow me to enlighten you. First and foremost, Lord of the Rings. She's obsessed with Lord of the Rings ... has a Tolkien shrine in her bedroom."

I rolled my eyes and faced off. "It's not a shrine, and I know you're trying to embarrass me, but it won't work. Lord of the Rings is not remotely weird. It's a global phenomenon."

Chris tilted his head, undermining my sanity with raised eyebrows. "She paints figurines."

Hunter's grin was so blinding it heated my cheeks despite my internal promise that I wouldn't allow myself to get embarrassed.

"It's not just Lord of the Rings, though. You have a bunch of little Star Wars guys too, don't you, Alice?" Mom asked. She smiled at me as though that tidbit was helpful. Chris snorted into his glass of water.

I shot her a death glare. "Yes, thank you, Mom."

Hunter took a sip of water, completely enthralled. "I'd love to see the collection," he said, and Chris nodded in seriousness.

"We can certainly make that happen."

I let out a reluctant sigh, and when Hunter looked back at me, he wasn't just smiling. Somehow, seated at my kitchen table, squished between my mom and Chris, he was genuinely having a good time.

"I can't believe you don't watch Game of Thrones," he said.

Hunter had texted me about a new episode one Sunday and was horrified to learn I'd never seen a single episode. The next morning, he'd overheard Margo and Scott in the kitchen, discussing their plans to catch up on the episode they'd missed. Naturally, Hunter had felt the need to inform them a certain someone had died. He'd been close to tears when he recalled the entire incident to me, finding great joy in their stricken facial expressions.

Chris slammed one hand on the table as he swallowed a mouthful of food. "Yes! Thank you, Hunter! I've been trying to get her to watch it for ages! I think the first episode of that show is some of the best writing in TV history."

Hunter nodded. "Oh, it's incredible."

Chris grinned in approval. "We should watch the first episode after dinner."

Hunter looked to me with eagerness, and I couldn't quite bring myself to squash his elation with an outright no. "Isn't it super inappropriate?" I asked, appealing to my mom.

I couldn't say I was psyched about watching full-fledged sex scenes squished between my mother, Hunter, and my brother, and I was surprised no one else had the same thought.

My mom didn't comment, and Chris rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you'll live."

"Hunter hasn't seen Garden State," I said, raising my eyebrows at Chris, because I knew him as well as he knew me.

"Oh, fuck yes. Sorry, Hunter. Next time ... we'll do Thrones next time."

My mom checked her watch. "It is a school night."

Chris waved a hand in her direction. "It's only seven thirty. I don't have anything else to do, and I know for a fact Alice doesn't. Hunter?"

"Gee, thanks," I grumbled.

Hunter grinned. "I have absolutely nowhere I need to be."

"Chris, honey, have you considered maybe Alice and Hunter don't want to hang out with us?" my mom asked.

Chris paused, considering it before he shoveled a spoonful of food into his mouth. "No, not really."

* * *

Chris sprawledon his regular couch, and Hunter and I settled on the other one. My mom joined us twenty minutes into the movie, and the room faded to darkness as she switched off the kitchen light. She'd seen it a thousand times, but like a good sport, she joined anyway, picking up Chris's feet so she could sit down. I knew every word, and it was a good thing I did because, despite the glowing TV, I couldn't focus on anything besides Hunter's leg touching mine.

I was vigilant of even the smallest movements, and when his fingers brushed my arm halfway through, my breath stopped. I could feel his soft breath blowing across the side of my neck, his chest rising and falling. He readjusted, and I drifted closer to him, his weight pulling me toward the crack in the couch cushions. With the repositioning, I only had to turn my head half an inch to align our lips.

I stared straight ahead, unmoving, and when Zach Braff raced through the airport, Hunter watched me instead of him. I'd seen the movie enough times to make someone else vomit, but the tears still came, and instead of wiping them with my blanket, I froze in place as Hunter brushed one away with tentative fingers.

I guess I thought I was Zach Braff running through the airport to a crying Natalie Portman, declaring I couldn't waste any more of my life without Hunter in it. The movie was romantic and beautiful, but Zach Braff had it right the first time. He should have boarded the plane and left Natalie Portman ugly crying near the baggage claim, because how was he supposed to be with her when he was so messed up?