But now I do remember.
“Fuck.” I cover my mouth. “Did you kill someone?” I whisper.
Because all I see is a memory of Hunter doing just that. And I think it’s because of me.
“Drink this,” Hunter shoves a bottle of water into my hands. I have only a vague recollection of going to his room, but I know it’s his. His framed high school jersey hangs on the wall.
He lifts the bottle to my lips. “Drink.”
I sip, but I’m not thirsty. I’m sad. I’m confused.
“What’s going on, Hunter?” I whisper.
“Payback,” he mutters and hobbles over, sitting down on the bed beside me. His ankle is bandaged and he has ice packs strapped to it. He folds his large hands in his lap. “You really don’t remember?”
“No,” I whisper. “Not everything.”
“They hurt you. I stopped them. That’s about the gist of it.”
I wince and look at his face, searching for some hint of what the hell he’s talking about. “Who? When?”
He looks away.
“Hunter? Fucking tell me.”
He wrings his hands so hard that I physically feel the pain. “It was the last weekend in July. I just got home from football camp.”
I blink and suck in a sharp breath. None of this sounds remotely familiar, but there’s a pain in my chest I’m too smart to ignore.
“What. Happened?” I prod.
He shrugs. “We were drunk. You were walking home.”
“And?”
“At first they just pulled over and said some stuff to you. I didn’t even realize who they were talking to. But then I heard your voice—you were yelling at them, telling them off or something. They got pissed and got out of the car. They wanted to throw you in. They…wanted to do things to you.”
I press my hands over my heart. “What the fuck? And you let them?” Why don’t I remember? Why?
His head whips up. “No. I didn’t.”
My neck muscles contract. My stomach knots. My hands fist.
“That’s the fucking problem,” he says. “I didn’t let them.”
As expected, my mind offers explanations I don’t ask for. But in the recesses of my memories, I see Hunter pushing one guy back and then a fist hitting Hunter in the jaw. Then I see Hunter’s hands hit back. I think I know this guy fighting with him. He’s older than us by a few grades. Some jock Hunter used to hang out with when he was a freshman or sophomore—I’m not sure.
I see more flashes—like snapshots in a photo album—of the other guys pulling Hunter off the body on the ground he’s beating to a pulp. Hunter stands and stares down at the immobile lump on the ground. It’s dark, but the headlights of the car, facing away, are enough for me to see there’s blood. A lot of blood. Hunter looks at me and says, “Run, Tassie. Run home. You were never here.”
Trembling, I take a sip from the water bottle in my hand, my heart racing. I just can’t understand where these memories went or why Hunter never said anything.
I let out a slow breath. “All this time, I figured it was your dad or girl problems.”
Hunter gets up and sits across from me on his roommate’s bed. “No.”
“Did you kill him?” I ask in a quiet voice, because I don’t really want to know, but I must.
“Almost.”
“Thank God.” In my memory, the guy looked dead. “How come I never heard anything about this?”
“I was a minor. The other guys weren’t. I told them if they didn’t say I acted in self-defense, I would make sure everyone knew what they really were up to that night—why I stepped in. So they agreed. And they agreed to keep you out of it so they wouldn’t go through life with a sexual-predator tag on their names.”
“But still, I think I would’ve heard something in the news or…” I run my hands through my hair.
“My parents agreed to settle with the other guy’s family out of court if they kept it out of the press, but there were days and weeks and months when I wasn’t sure what would happen. I kept expecting the police to show up and arrest me, and then there was you and trying to keep you out of all that. It was a fucking nightmare.”
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I stand, cross over to him and sit beside him. My heart is pounding so fast, and I want to throw up. I’m in shock.
“Thank you,” I whisper, facing forward. I don’t know what else to say. I used to think I was strong, I was smart, but now I’m just human. Weak, flawed, vulnerable. I spent all this time caring about something that wasn’t real—Hunter was just some stupid jock and I was better than him. My destiny and self-worth were hinged upon becoming a Tri-Kapp. I didn’t do better in school because I was picked on. These were just a few of the lies I’d been telling myself.
None of it was true or important or real.
This is real. And I’m wholly unequipped to deal with any of it.
“Thank you,” I repeat.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Later that afternoon, I wake to a set of warm arms wrapped around my body. The bliss of being snuggled next to a strong man is quickly overridden by two things: one, I’m not quite sure where I am at first, and when I remember, the memory of this morning’s conversation is included.
Oh, God. This is really happening.
I don’t know how I feel, other than I’m grateful and sad. Hunter nearly ended someone’s life two summers ago, and it was because he’d cared enough to step in. The rest, I assumed, was a question of legal acrobatics to keep him out of hot water. But the financial burden on his family…
Oh God. This is why his parents can’t afford to help out with school. It’s because of me and all the money they had to pay to keep it quiet.
I slide my cheek over Hunter’s chest, feeling the heat of his body against mine and the soft murmur of his heartbeat in my ears. Now that I’m awake, really awake, I can’t sort out our next steps.
Are there any?
Everything I’ve just now learned is in the past. Done. And talking more about this seems unnecessarily painful. Especially for him, and I don’t want that. I don’t want him to suffer any more than he has. But still, I need to talk about this or process or something, and talking to anyone else is betrayal. That leaves me with one option: pretending.
It never happened. We move on. He goes in his direction, and I go in mine. But that’s not what I want either.
“Tass, you awake?” Hunter says, rubbing my arm with his callused hand.
“Yeah. I guess I didn’t sleep much last night and it got to me.” Really, I think my brain needed to shut down for a few hours, because my heart is in pain. How could I not know all this?
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m not sure, but…” I sit up and rub my face. I need to be smart and handle this the right way. For him. Not for me. “I want to say something.”
“Okay.”
“I want…” I hesitate for a moment, reaching for the right words. “First, you need to know that there are no words to express how grateful I am.”
“Okay.”
“And I can only imagine what you went through and how hard you’ve had to work to put this behind you.”
“Okay.”
I continue, “So you should know that just because we never speak again doesn’t mean that I won’t be thinking of this every day for the rest of my life.”
He sits up, blinking those blue eyes at me. “Did you just say you’re never speaking to me again?”
I hold out my hand. “Wait. That didn’t come out right. What I meant is that I can see I’m just a reminder of this—this horrible thing that happened, and I feel like you deserve better. You deserve to put it behind you.”
“Tass, I have.”
“Have you? Because the look on your face when you told me and the—”
“I’m fine.”
“But how can you even stand to look at me?”
“For such a smart person, you can be a little dense sometimes, Tass. You didn’t do anything. Those assho
les did. So I did something back because there was no way I would’ve let them hurt you. Not ever.”
“Oh.” His words shock me a little and leave me wanting to ask why. But that would sound ungrateful and bitchy, like I don’t think of him as a good guy capable of doing heroic things. Clearly, that’s just not true. He’s maybe the bravest person I’ve ever met.
Unlike me. I buried it all like a complete coward.
“So…I’m not just some horrible reminder of the night your life went to hell?” I ask.
He smiles and shrugs. “Well, maybe just a little. But you’d irritate me either way, so I don’t see the difference.” His little smile turns into a shit-eating grin.
“Ha-ha.”
“And it resulted in having to take some anger-management classes, which I can’t say were all bad. It’s definitely helped me mature. Unlike you.”
He gives me a little push, and I nearly fall off the bed, but he catches my arm and pulls me closer.
“Hey,” I protest but suddenly realize our noses are inches from each other and our eyes are locked. That feeling in my stomach hits me hard—uneasy flutters and knots and—
“Wow.” I jolt to my feet. “I should go.” I point over my shoulder. “I have stuff to do, like…” Quick. Say something nerdy and convincing. “Like alphabetize my underwear.”
“Sure.” He looks a little—okay, I don’t know—amused, I suppose.
“We’ll talk soon.” I start backing toward the door.
“What about tonight?”
“Tonight?” I ask.
“The chick-flick thing at the Tri-Kapp House.”
“Oh. I completely forgot about that.” I suddenly feel like none of that matters. “I think,” I crinkle my nose, “it’s time for me to reevaluate that whole thing.”
“I thought you really wanted to get in to that sorority.”
“I don’t know what I want.” Everything feels different for me because this isn’t a game anymore.
This is real. Very real. And so are my feelings, which are a mess because they’re telling me that Hunter means a lot more to me than I realized and perhaps he always did. More shockingly, I might mean a lot more to him, too. Or not. It’s a lot to process. A lot.
“You want to quit?” he asks.
Why did he have to use that word? Quitting is practically losing, and that’s my Achilles’ heel.
“No. I’m not saying that.”
“You want me to still tell everyone we slept together?”
I don’t even know what to say. I mean, I suppose a deal’s a deal, but I wonder if we shouldn’t throw in the towel. Okay, but he just told you he saved you from those guys. Let him get his points so his housing situation is resolved.
“Was it any good?” I ask.
He flashes one of those dimpled smiles. “The best.”
“I don’t know, Hunt. I think it was a little, fast. I mean, I can’t even remember it, so…”
His jaw drops. “It was good. Amazing. You had the time of your life and orgasmed three times.”
Hunter simply saying those words instantly sets me off. My nipples tighten, my core tingles, and I need to get the hell out of here.
“Okay. Sure. Yep. Three screaming Os! See ya!” I jerk open the door.
“Where are you going?”
Clearly, I’m a coward and running away from you because I’m not ready to feel like I already do. Dammit! I’m not making any sense again, I think as I’m speed walking down the hall.
“Hey,” Hunter screams, “you forgot your panties, so I’ll bring them by at seven when I pick you up for movie night!”
Horrified, because the handful of students lurking in the hallway are staring and smiling, I glance over my shoulder.
Nice, Hunter. Real nice. Of course, my panties are right where I left them—on my ass—so he’s just doing it to mess with me. Case in point, he’s desperately trying not to crack up.
I’m about to throw out some vengeful comment about tiny penises, but I realize I don’t feel much like playing the hate game anymore. Just like I’m not quite sure I want to continue the charade—at least for myself—or get into the Tri-Kapps. I really want to step back and reevaluate the whole enchilada. Including these feelings I have for Hunt.
Oh, God. I think I’m in love with him. And perhaps I have been for years.
I take the stairs, absolutely desperate for a big fat smart brain to converse with so I can process. I won’t tell Elle about what Hunter did to those guys—not my secret to tell—but I will explain the crux of it. She’ll get the picture. She’ll know what to do.
I get to my room, slip my key from my pocket, and open the door. “Hey, Elle! I—” I immediately realize she’s not alone. In fact, I’m staring at a huge pair of shoulders and a bare muscled ass wedged between two small kneecaps.
“Holy shit!” I close my eyes. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry,” I turn, slam the door shut behind me, and stand in the hallway.
I can’t believe it. Little Elle was getting down and dirty!
The door opens and out steps Henry in his boxers, his clothes and shoes all wadded up in front of his crotch. “Hey, Tass. Wassup.” He jerks his head and strolls away nonchalantly.
I can’t believe this. I just…can’t.
I go inside my room and see Elle in her bathrobe with her freshly fucked hair.
“Hey, Tass,” she says casually.
“Don’t hey Tass me. You screwed Henry?”
She shrugged. “I prefer the words had sex or intercourse, but yeah, we humped like a couple of randy farm animals.”
Okay then. “And how did this come about?”
“I won the date yesterday. He asked where I wanted to go. I said come to my room after class tomorrow. He said okay.” She blows out a long breath. “And wow. I can’t tell you how badly I needed that. Complete stress reliever.”
“Who are you?”
She grabs her bag of toiletries and smirks. “I’m a satisfied woman who just had her brains fucked out by a big strong man. I highly recommend it. Very beneficial for endorphin production.” She strolls by me with a grin and leaves.
I’m completely jealous. Completely. And the only thing I can think of now is what it would be like to be with Hunter. Logically speaking, if everyone thinks we’ve had sex, what’s the harm? Because I’d really, really like to feel as good as Elle looks.
Liar. That’s not why you’re wondering.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
That evening, I’m dressed in a short light blue summer dress and white sandals. I can’t decide if I really want to play this pretend game anymore, so I only go halfway on the makeup. Remember, Lainey and Jessica are supposed to believe that I caught Hunter simply by playing a part—easy, not so smart, fun. And the original plan for tonight was to demonstrate that I have Hunter—yes, big, ripped from head to toe, Mr. hottie quarterback—at my beck and call, completely whipped. Hunter is fully prepared to play his part so I win the bet and become a Tri-Kapp.
There are only three problems:
One, I cannot get this morning out of my head. The memories, though still foggy, hold just as much meaning as the fact that my brain went to great lengths to shield me from them. It’s been eating away at me all day. Why would I choose to forget all this? How is it even possible?
Two, I now question every decision I’ve ever made, because my unshakable foundation—the assumption that I’m intelligent and/or can think my way through any obstacle—is complete bullcrap. Example: this moment. I can’t think my way out of this. Another one: I thought I hated this guy who I believed loathed me for the last thirteen years. He didn’t. Not entirely. I misread the situation or didn’t want to see what was really going on with him. Did he tease me because he liked me all that time? No. But the assumption that he hated me no longer hunts. (No pun intended.) Twice, he stepped up to protect me. Twice. But that doesn’t mean he’s in love with me. That doesn’t make sense either.
I think…I think he actually sees me a
lmost like a sister or something. I got along with my big brother, but Rachel—my best friend back home—didn’t. She always complained about her brother making her life a living hell, but also being very protective.
My stomach curls with the thought. I don’t want to be in the sister zone. Mostly because of point number three: I can’t stop thinking about how puzzling our relationship was and is, and how he evokes chaos inside me. Mentally and physically. That body—tall, strong, and ripped from head to toe—is nothing shy of masculine perfection. I’ve seen him enough times with his shirt off, tossing footballs with his dad in their front yard. There’s not an ounce of fat to be found on those bulging pectorals or abdominal muscles with grooves so deep they could be mistaken for rain gutters. I remember once looking out my window, thinking how he looked like he’d been cut from angry steel, whatever that means. I can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to have those warm, steely ripples sliding over my soft bare stomach, the weight of his strong body over me, his breath mixing with mine.
Add all these things together, and I’m a molten mess. My present doesn’t hold the same meaning, my past doesn’t hold the same meaning, and my future is basically tied to one giant sinful moment that doesn’t make a whole hell of a lot of sense and won’t ever happen. With all the pretty fish in the ocean, Hunter would never be into me. Not like I might be into him. It’s a crude awakening to be the girl Lainey and Jessica said I was—needy. It’s even more harrowing not knowing what to do about it.
For the first time in my life, I’m completely lost.
As I ring the doorbell at the Tri-Kapp House, Hunter takes my hand. It’s warm and rough, and I try to ignore those two facts. He hasn’t said much since he came by to get me, but I know it’s because he’s reacting to my coldness.
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