Chapter 29

Chris didn't shut up about Hunter, and my mom was even worse. Chris liked him because his favorite basketball team was the Los Angeles Lakers, and my mom liked him because he offered to help clear the table when Chris and I hightailed it out of the kitchen. Neither of them was crazy about the smoking, but I guess you can't win them all.

When we pulled up to the curb the following morning, Chris rolled down the window and shouted a greeting. Hunter waved back with a broad smile as if they were old friends, then finally redirected his attention to me when Chris sped off.

"I fell asleep listening to the Shins last night," he said, grinning as he hooked his thumbs on his backpack straps.

And I wasn't sure if it was because Hunter had sat at my kitchen table or because he'd joked around with Chris, but separating myself from him became more daunting than it already was.

"That's all Chris and I used to listen to in the car," I said. "Did you listen to ‘The Only Living Boy in New York'? It was my dad's favorite song. Or, I guess, it probably still is. He used to listen to Simon and Garfunkel all the time when we were kids. When we first watched Garden State and that song played, Chris just about cried himself to death."

I hesitated, wringing my hands together, feeling stupid for some reason. "Or, wait, did you just listen to the Shins?"

I didn't know if I'd lost him with the rush of words or if I had spoken another language altogether, but his eyes had glazed over. "I listened to that song too. I listened to the whole soundtrack."

His voice was rough, and I nodded in response, hypnotized by the way he was looking at me—as if maybe, for one moment, I was the most captivating thing on earth. I held my breath, afraid his gaze would drop to my lips and he'd move closer, right in the middle of the parking lot.

"Hiya, guys!"

We both jumped. Hunter's face darkened as Melody shoved her way out of a dingy minivan. She waved one arm over her head as if we wouldn't be able to spot her otherwise.

By the time she stopped in front of us, Hunter's mouth had settled into a firm line. "What do you want?"

She glanced between Hunter and me in uncertainty, and it dawned on me that Hunter probably hadn't spoken to her since she'd accused me of sleeping with Scott.

"No, it's cool," she said. "Alice and I are friends now."

He scoffed, his glare deepening. "Oh yeah? Since when?"

Her light brown eyes darted to me, wide and imploring. "Since yesterday. Right, Alice?"

I'm not sure if it was Hunter standing next to me or the way his gaze had seared into me moments ago, but I shrugged. "Yeah, we're friends now."

Hunter's eyebrows shot up, and Melody threw her arms around me without any notice whatsoever, almost wringing my neck in the process. When she let go, she was beaming at me. Melody operated on one of two relationship levels—mortal enemies or best friends till death do us part—and it became apparent that sometime during our conversation the day prior, I'd no longer been declared the enemy.

Hunter glanced between us, his eyes still narrowed. "I have very clearly missed something."

Melody ignored him. "We're all going bowling tonight. You have to come, Alice. You just have to." I looked up at Hunter, but she waved a hand. "Don't worry, he's going too."

His head jerked in her direction. "Oh, am I? Thank you for informing me."

I bit my lip, smiling between them. "Sure, I'll go."

Melody clapped her hands together in triumph. "Perfect! We can carpool! Thursdays are cosmic bowling, and it's only, like, five dollars for a game and shoes."

Hunter's focus was on me despite Melody chattering between us. "Want to come to my house after school?" he asked. "We can hang out before we go."

A gust of wind blew strands of hair across my face, and Hunter reached out to tuck one behind my ear. When our eyes connected, he looked as surprised as I felt, his hand frozen in place as he stared at me.

"Eugh. Vomit. I'm right here, you know!" Melody whined.

Hunter dropped his hand to his side and blinked as though to steady himself. "Well, go away then."

Melody burst into laughter, his callousness her favorite thing on earth. She stepped closer to me, then secured my arm beneath hers and dragged me away. "Let's go. It's colder than a witch's tit out here, and standing here watching you two gaze lovingly into each other's eyes makes me feel left out."

She steered me toward school, and I went out of sheer bewilderment. Hunter trudged behind us, grumbling the whole time.

"Please get rid of her," he said, low in my ear, but it only made Melody laugh harder.

* * *

Hunterand I retreated to his room after school. Scott wouldn't be home for a while, if at all, and we didn't talk about it, but we both knew it. He'd have basketball practice, and even if he didn't, he was the type who milled around the parking lot, too enthralled in his high-lord-jock-of-high-school experience to return home.

Hunter and I sat on his twin-sized bed, his stereo playing whiny lyrics and heavy guitars. We worked on our homework—or at least we pretended to. Hunter plodded through his physics problems, eyebrows scrunched in deep concentration, while I used his laptop. I twisted a strand of my hair as I browsed SparkNotes of The Scarlett Letter, and when I looked up, uncrossing my legs, Hunter was watching me.

I froze, staring back at him, and the faintest sprawl of pink crawled up his neck. "I'm really distracted," he said.

I bit the corner of my lip. "Maybe you're just distracted because physics is super boring."

He shook his head, his eyes wide and honest. "Nope. That's not it. I love physics."

"Can I play you a song?" I asked. I wasn't sure where the hell that had come from, and I felt my own eyes widen.

He inhaled sharply, then swallowed as he nodded.

There was a song Chris played in the car sometimes that was as vivid and heart-wrenching as Hunter. We never spoke when it played. I ducked my head to pull it up while he switched off the stereo with the click of a small remote. It was three minutes and thirty-eight seconds, and I couldn't bring myself to look at him, not once. When it ended, I shut his laptop and snuck a look in his direction. His gaze was so intense my heart stopped and restarted.

We stared at each other as the room glowed dark orange with the setting sun. Neither of us moved. I couldn't figure out where the soft light on the wall started and ended, and I couldn't figure out where we started and ended. I felt as if I was standing on the very edge, and either Hunter would kiss me and I'd teeter off a cliff, or we'd float on forever. He was bigger than Scott Henderson or the cuts on my wrists, and I itched to reach out to him and dissolve into everything he was.

"Beautiful," he breathed, but the song had ended, and he was only staring at me. He shifted on the bed, then moved closer to me, close enough I could feel his breath on my face, and before he even reached me, my eyes were tempted to flutter closed. He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear just like he had in the parking lot, his breathing heavier and more labored as he drew closer. His eyes trailed the motion of his fingers, and when his gaze returned to mine, neither of us moved for several unblinking moments.

"Hunter!"

We both flinched, his breath rattling against mine.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"Hunter!" It was a woman's voice, and my eyes widened as I processed the obvious fact that someone else was home. My heart rate picked up in a way that had nothing to do with Hunter's lips inches from mine. His fingers were still brushing against my ear, and he dropped his hand, his head hanging as he put more inches between us.

"Hunter!"

He swung upright, then stalked to the door like a storm cloud and wrenched it open. "Jesus! What!"

A high-pitched voice drifted back. "Don't take the Lord's name in vain."

His shoulders rose and fell as he caught his breath. He steadied himself with one hand on the doorframe. When he turned back to me, his gaze was overcast. "I'll be right back."

And then he was gone, leaving me in a room that was so empty I thought the white walls might swallow me whole.

Footsteps ascended the stairs a while later, and I knew it was Hunter. I knew his slow, lazy footsteps and the squeak of his shoes, but I still crept over to the door and closed it ... because what if it wasn't? The door swung open a moment later. Hunter's eyebrows were furrowed, as if he was trying to recall something as he studied me and then the door handle, but I said nothing.

"My stepmom is home," he said. "I thought they had some function tonight, but apparently not."

I nodded.

He scrubbed the side of his face with one hand. "She's insisting you stay for dinner."

I stared at him, because what in the actual fuck. I imagined myself sitting next to Scott at the dinner table, and the thought was so bothersome I felt as if I was having an allergic reaction to it, my throat closing in response. I didn't know what else to say, so the words that tumbled out were pure stupidity. "Stay for dinner?"

He nodded, his gaze weighted with remorse.

I swallowed a thick lump in my throat. "I ... I can't."

He tried to smile, but it was so glum it didn't reach his eyes. "That's okay, yeah, I wouldn't want to stay either. I can meet up with you guys at bowling."

"It's not ... I want to ..." I took a deep breath and started in a different place. "I just can't."

He nodded once, walking toward me. He stopped in front of me, then gave my hand a gentle tug to pull me to him and wrapped both arms around me, strong and solid. I tried to commit as many details to memory as I could. The spicy scent of men's soap and cigarette smoke. His chest hard and heaving beneath me, reminding me he was as nervous and desperate as I was. One hand touched my hair, and I thought I'd burn from the inside out, and though I might eventually forget all the details, I'd never forget that.

"It's not a big deal. You don't have to," he said. His breath touched the area of my skin behind my ear. "It won't be anything like dinner at your house."

I leaned away so I could look up at him. "What do you mean?"

He let out a gust of laughter. "It won't be remotely pleasant. My dad's a huge dick."

He didn't bother mentioning Scott, and it felt impossible that there might be a dick who outranked him. "Would he be less of a dick if I was there?"

Hunter smiled as he twisted a strand of my hair between his fingers. "Well, that's irrelevant because you're not staying."

I put both hands on his chest, pressing him to tell the truth. "But would he?"

He concentrated on something over my head, and when he brought his gaze back to me, there were flickers of torment. "I'm not sure. I've never had anyone over for dinner before."