Chapter 20

Hunter

The rain patters the roof of the quiet house, and I’m so tired but too comfortable to want to fall asleep and miss any of this.

She’s in my arms.

Her leg is draped over my body, her head on my shoulder, and I pull the sheet up over her back.

I almost told her I loved her so many times in the car tonight. And after we got back, went to bed, and made love again.

I’m glad I didn’t say it. At least not yet. I want to keep this for just a little while longer before I possibly find out it’s moving too fast for her.

“Will you come home?” she asks, just above a whisper.

I run my fingers up and down her arm. “Will you stay?”

I can’t see her smile in the dark, but I hear her little laugh. There’s no way her parents will let her stay once they find out she’s unsupervised.

And I promised mine I’d be home next weekend. Win or lose.

It was always a promise I knew I might break, but it won’t be for the reason I thought. When I told my parents I’d return, it was to make a deal. If they let me do this, I’d finish it and come home.

Now, it feels wrong.

I like my team. I like the teachers. I don’t want to use them. Falls High doesn’t want me back.

I have to get back in that house with Kade, though. Or I might be running from him forever.

“What’s he been like with you?” I ask her.

She knows who I mean.

Has he been kind? Protected her? Stood up for her?

But she just says, “I don’t want to talk about him right now.”

She slides up a little, and I turn my head, feeling her breath on my mouth.

She whispers, “How long have you wanted to kiss me?”

I chuckle. “Uh…for as long as I can remember, I guess.”

I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t drawn to her. As a kid, she was a ball of energy, and it didn’t fade in the least as she grew up. She wanted to be the reason people smiled, and never the reason they cried.

“There was always a charge in the air when I was in the same room with you,” I murmur, memories of all the longing hitting me hard. “I knew you didn’t feel it, too, I just…”

“Left,” she interjects. “You left.”

It wasn’t because of her. Maybe I wanted to see what would happen between them with me out of the way. Maybe my pride and ego constantly shriveled under his shadow.

What I do know for sure, though, is that I was sick of thinking about it. Wanting things I didn’t know how to get, and worried that I’d always be worthless to everyone just because I meant nothing to him.

I was fucking sick of the talk, talk, talk, fucking talk in my head, and I had to go.

“Kade’s like my dad,” she tells me.

I look down, seeing her eyelashes fan in the faint light.

“Like all our dads.” Her voice is so soft. “They dominate every crowd they’re in, and when you wish you could be like that, it makes their attention feel like some gift.” She threads her fingers up the back of my neck and into my hair. “He tugged at me. And then pushed me away. Tugged again. And then ignored me. By the time I was fifteen, I would go from feeling important one minute to just being one of the guys the next. I was a kid, Hunter. I still am in a lot of ways. There are so many feelings, I don’t know what to do with them sometimes.”

So many feelings. That’s exactly what it was like. I just needed to not see him every day.

“But then we started to grow up,” she says, and I hear her voice thicken with excitement. “And you grew your hair a little longer one summer and tanned really well and always seemed to be without a shirt or shoes.”

I smile, listening to her and thinking back to what I might’ve been doing when she started looking at me.

“Looking like you just walked in from the beach in your shorts or jeans,” she goes on. “And you started to get quieter and brooding, and I got a little sad when you stopped sneaking into my bed at night.”

I tighten my arm around her, my other hand finding her thigh over my stomach. I grip it gently.

“When we reached a certain age, it felt like I should wait for an invitation,” I admit.

“And what if I’m shy?” She lifts her head up, propping her elbow up underneath her. “What if I’m as shy as you and we fumble over our own insecurities and never do this again?”

Never again…

Her breasts press into me, the warmth between her legs touching my thigh but coursing through my whole body.

“What if I don’t want to be the one chasing someone,” she asks, “and you bury the things you want inside of you like you always do, and we go to colleges far away from each other and I meet someone else?”

I curl my fingers into her skin.

“And this time next year he’s kissing me?” she continues. “And holding me?”

Images flood my brain, every muscle in my body turning to steel.

“And what if I love him?” she asks me.

I exhale hard, flipping her onto her back and rolling with her, settling between her legs. Staring down into her eyes, I guide my cock inside of her, thrusting deep.

She whimpers, tilting her head back as I slide inside again.

And again.

“I’m the one who does this to you,” I whisper.

The idea of her falling in love…

Of her wanting anyone else…

“You were never anyone else’s but mine,” I tell her.

Throwing me over, she straddles me, and I grip her hips, watching her beautiful body ride mine.

And I was never anyone else’s, either.

“Can we get pancakes?” she pleads, skipping down the stairs in front of me. “I’m so hungry I could eat my shoes.”

We stroll into the foyer, and I pull her hips back into me, nuzzling her hair. “Yes, food,” I tell her. “Lots of food.”

It’s after eight in the morning, and Sunday or not, I never sleep in. I couldn’t move her, though. She fell asleep in my arms, and that’s how we stayed until she woke up. I drifted in and out, but mostly, I just held her.

I thought about sewing, the clarinet lessons I took when I was eleven, and the statistics behind junk mail. Like it still exists. Are people really opening it? They need to stop.

I thought about anything boring just so I didn’t get hard again with her naked body curled up into mine. The cute and soft little sounds she makes were impossible to ignore.

All I wanted to do was think about her. We should never have done it without a condom. I know what she feels like without one now and putting that between us won’t feel the same.

“You’ll have to pay for breakfast,” she tells me, taking my hand. “I think my debit card is somewhere under your back seat.”

I laugh, taking her face and kissing her, about to tell her I’ll find it, but something catches my eye, and I stop, mid-kiss. Looking behind her, into the living room, I see everyone sprawled out with posters and paint.

Farrow looks away, scratching under his nose to hide his smile, while everyone else stares at us silently.

I pull away, and Dylan turns, following my gaze. I scan the room, making sure there are no phones out, taking pictures.

“What’s all this?” Dylan asks, stepping closer to the massive piece of white butcher paper on the floor. Letters are painted in blue, but I can’t read what it says with the girls sprawled over it. T.C., Anders, and Luca blow up blue and white balloons.

“The parade,” Farrow announces. “In the Falls, remember?”

“Right.” Dylan nods.

We both forgot.

“Can I help?” she asks.

But Farrow tells us, “Go eat.” And then to me, “We’ll meet you on High Street at eleven.”

He tosses me my jersey that was in the wash.

I guide Dylan toward the door, hearing Coral’s words as she paints inside the lines of a block letter. “Looks like we don’t have to get those tattoos.”

All the girls laugh, Dylan biting out, “Shut up.”

They laugh harder, and I have no idea what’s going on, but I don’t really care.

I push Dylan out the door, taking out my keys as we jog down the steps.

I should’ve remembered the parade. We have another week of practices before the game, and they need me focused. Farrow wanted me to have her, but I can’t get distracted.

We slide into our seats, and I start the engine. Tomorrow, I’ll get back on track. Morning workout, after-school practice. The right food and plenty of sleep. I need to stay off her.

“Is something wrong?” she asks.

I look at her, sweat already breaking out on the back of my neck at the sight of my baseball cap over her hair, messy because of me. Fuck, all I want to do is drive out to the lake and only look at and talk to her for the rest of the day.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, you’re not wearing your seatbelt.”

I reach over and pull the belt across her lap and chest, strapping her in.

She kisses my cheek, and the tingle spreads down to my neck.

Heat rises to my face, and I turn away before she sees me blush.

I take her to eat at this old streetcar diner off the highway, out near the lake, and despite having a million questions for her, we don’t speak much. She takes two bites of her pancakes, pushing the rest off on me, as usual, because she just wanted a taste before enjoying her usual two eggs sunny-side up, with bacon, toast, and hashbrowns.

I want to know what schools she’s applying to for next year. If she wants to get a season lift pass for snowboarding with me this winter. If she’s planning any trips for winter or spring break.

Instead, I just ask her to come closer, and she does, slipping her hands underneath the table and leaning her shoulders in as I slide the single strand of hair away from her eye. Her blue and white flannel is buttoned up to her neck, the bruise I left from sucking on her there last night peeking out.

“Will you come over for dinner next week when I’m home?” she asks. “Just you?”

My heart swells painfully, because I don’t want her to go, but hell yes, I’ll come to her house for dinner. Even if Jared will know with one look what’s going on and will kill me before I even take my first bite.

“Depends,” I tease. “Which side of the field are you sitting on this Friday?”

She breaks into a smile, filling her mouth with food, so she doesn’t have to answer.

I won’t be mad, either way. But if she sits on the Pirate side, I’ll have some fun making her pay for that.

We finish eating and head into the Falls, certain streets on the parade route blocked off and families already in their lawn chairs along the sidewalks. Kids run around in peewee jerseys, and parents in school sweatshirts, showing their pride. Weston is even here, teachers, parents, and Mr. Fletcher, all arriving to support the team.

I find a place to park behind Quinn’s shop, and Dylan and I head to the street, my chest tightening when we reach for each other at the time same. She takes my hand, I take hers.

Walking onto First Avenue, perpendicular to High Street, I look up and down the long line of floats, cars, marching bands, and cheerleaders. The Pirates are ahead, and Dylan and I walk toward the rear, finding Farrow and the guys.

He stands on a float decorated with wolves of papier-mâché, blue streamers and balloons attached everywhere.

“Aren’t you afraid they’ll throw milkshakes on you like last year?” Dylan calls up to him.

He lifts his eyebrows and walks over to the edge, lifting the lid on a cooler.

A dozen water guns lay inside, filled with something red.

“Paint?” I ask.

“Hot sauce.”

Dylan scoffs, throwing me a look. But Farrow won’t give a shit that it’s illegal.

I pull off my sweatshirt, leaving the dark gray Under Armour shirt on before I pull my jersey over it. I push up my undershirt sleeves.

Dylan pops up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek again. “Have fun.”

“Oh, no,” Farrows says before she can walk away. “The hostages are in the parade.”

Her face falls, and she looks at me. I just shake my head. “You don’t have to.”

She shrugs. “I’m no chicken.”

She hops up onto the float, while Farrow takes the throne, surrounded by the team, and instructs Dylan to sit at his feet. She rolls her eyes and plants her ass on the step between his legs.

“Hunter,” someone calls.

I turn, seeing a man approach me. He wears a yellow Clarke University T-shirt with a turtleneck underneath. His graying beard is tidy over his black skin, and he holds out his hand for me to shake.

“Hunter Caruthers?” he asks again.

I take his hand, shaking it. “Yes.”

“Good.” He laughs, letting my hand go. “You two look a lot alike.”

Yep. I’ve heard.

“Early admission letters will be going out first of November,” he informs me, “but I saw you standing here and thought it best not to waste a second.”

I dig in my eyebrows, not sure I understand.

“We’d hate to lose you to the University of Chicago.” His grin widens, and he shakes my hand again. “Congratulations,” he says. “I very much hope you choose to join us next fall.”

I glance at his T-shirt again. “I’m sorry?”

“Clarke,” he states as if I know what he means. “We were very impressed at your interview, and I must say, your admissions essay was incredible. Both yours and Kade’s. A couple of the best we’ve ever read.”

My interview? Admissions essay? Clarke is a university on the outskirts of Shelburne Falls. Hawke attends that school, and it’s a great university, but I didn’t apply there. My top choice is the University of Chicago, an hour away.

They interviewed me?

But almost immediately, realization hits.

Kade…

The pavement tilts under me. No.

“We should talk about maybe publishing it in the school magazine next fall,” he says. “It will be an honor to have you both in attendance there.”

He shakes my hand again, and I think I say, “Thank you.”

But it’s like someone else is saying the words because I can’t think. The man leaves. I didn’t even get his name. Obviously, he thinks we’ve already met.

Taking out my phone, I log into my application account for the University of Chicago, seeing the list of items needed to process my application—General Information, Transcripts, Essay, Recommendations…

And then I see, in red block letters, Application Withdrawn.

I drop my hand, my eyes burning. He called and had my application withdrawn.

I’m going to fucking kill him.

“Good morning, everyone!” my dad announces over a loudspeaker. “Thank you for being here on this beautiful Sunday, probably the last of the warm days this year…”

I rake my hand through my hair, feeling the sweat on my forehead. He had my application withdrawn for the only school I’ve wanted to go to since I learned it was one of the top research universities in the world.

He thinks I’m staying here with him after I fucking graduate? He thinks this won’t end?

“And we have two undefeated teams facing off this Friday,” Dad calls out to a round of cheers. “Please welcome the Shelburne Falls Marching Band leading our amazing Pirates’ team and cheer squad!”

The band kicks up the Pirate fight song, and the line starts moving, turning onto High Street. Batons and flags fly into the air, the majorettes leading the team.

I glare at the ground. I’ll make it end.

“There’s the anger,” a voice says next to me. “I was worried there when you came downstairs this morning looking like you were in love.”

I grind my teeth together as Farrow, having climbed off the float, turns to face me.

“Now that you’ve fucked her, it’s time to face him.”

“Leave Dylan out of this,” I say.

Weston’s band and cheerleaders march out, the drums setting the pace while pom poms shake in my peripheral.

“I’ll try,” is all he says.

He jumps back on the float, and I walk, barely seeing anyone else as I zone in on the Pirates ahead.

“And please welcome a team that always demands our very best,” Dad shouts, “the Weston High School Rebels!”

Boos fill the crowd, but the cheers and claps from Weston are louder, noisemakers and chants drowning out the assholes.

Groups of Rebels sing in sync, making everyone around me laugh.

I don’t, though. I glance back at Dylan. She gives me a smile.

And I turn back around.

We walk, and I pick up pace, leaving my team behind. The march goes on, the crowd on the sidewalks waving banners and taking pictures as I make my way through the cheerleaders, around the car carrying the coach and the administration.

“Hunter,” Dewitt calls, seeing me go.

I keep walking. Around the Pirate float. Through the Pirate football team. To the front of the pack where my brother walks.

I fall in next to him, keeping pace.

“Do you remember the time at the lake when you got me to jump off the dock?” I ask, raising my voice so he can hear me over all the music. “You’d done it a dozen times already, and I was scared.”

He stares ahead, and I see Stoli on his other side, keeping an eye on us.

“You waded in the water for five minutes,” I tell him, “encouraging me until I dove in?”

That was a good day, and the older we got, the less I remembered from being that young. But I always remembered that. He was in my corner, wanting me to succeed.

“Five years later…” I turn my head, staring ahead with him. “We were twelve, swimming in the same spot, and you got all of our friends to rush from the lake and leave me behind by myself.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Your friends,” I correct myself. “All of you hid from me the rest of the day, and I went and read in the back of Dad’s car, alone.”

It hurt to feel like I was on the outside. Unwanted.

What hurt more was that they planned it. He told them to do it.

“I used to think ‘I love him, but I don’t think I like him much,’” I say. “Now, I just fucking hate you.”

And I don’t care that tears fill my eyes or that I see my father on a podium to my left, watching us.

“If you ever impersonate me again,” I growl under my breath, “I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

“Do it now.”

And I fucking do.

I can’t contain it. Fisting his shirt, I slam my fist across his jaw and barely see him hit the ground before I’m on top of him.

“Oh, hell no!” someone shouts.

“Fight!”

Screams and shouting go off in the crowd, curses coming from the team. I straddle my brother and hit him again, my knuckles knocking the back of his hand as he shields himself.

He doesn’t stay down for long, though. His friends try to catch my arms, but Kade wraps one of his around my waist and hauls me off. Rearing his fist back, he punches me across the face, and I barrel into him, planting my shoulder in his stomach.

We crash back to the pavement, my hands scraping against the hard ground.

“You boys stop it!” a woman cries.

Someone calls out over the loudspeaker, “Break it up, break it up!”

And then Dylan is there, her arms around me. “Stop.” She comes in between us. “Please stop.”

I rise to my feet, Kade doing the same as more fights start around us, Rebels and Pirates never needing an excuse to join in on the fun.

“He needs to stop!” I tell her. “Aren’t you pissed? He made you think it was me with another girl in my bed? Don’t you have anything to say to him?”

He deserves this, and she needs to understand why.

But she just looks at me, her misty eyes hiding under my cap. I see her trembling lips, though.

“Dylan doesn’t want to be mad at anybody,” Kade says. “You never really did see her, did you? She always had my back.”

“And I had her in a way you never will,” I spit back.

Silence seems to fall around us, people still moving and fighting, the parade massacred.

But I don’t hear any of it, and the words have left my mouth and I can’t get them back.

All I feel are Dylan’s eyes.

I blink. No. I didn’t just say that. She’s not a competition. I didn’t beat Kade at anything by getting her into bed.

But that’s how it just sounded.

I look at her in time to see a tear spill down her cheek. She starts to back up, and I grab her to take her into my arms, but she shoves me away and runs.

She runs away, so fast, disappearing into the crowd.