by Jenna Scott
“Mind if I come with?” Isabel smiles up at Matt.
He shrugs. “Sure. So long as you promise not to bring up that closet.”
Before she leaves, Isabel slips behind me and lowers her head to whisper against my ear. “I’m going to find out if Hunter’s coming to the dance tonight, that way you can relax and stop looking over your shoulder.”
By then, dinner’s over and people have started to flood onto the dance floor.
I stay at the table, chatting with Emmett. Isabel and Matt haven’t come back from their puff of green under the bleachers, but even though she said she went for information scouting—which I’m sure she’ll do—I also know Isabel enjoys partaking in a little weed smoking here and there if it’s within proximity.
Then two hands land on my shoulders, and the faint smell of pot fills my nostrils. “Come on, Milla.” Isabel grabs my arm and pulls me off the chair. “Let’s go take some pictures. You too, Emmett!”
I peer into her eyes, which are red-rimmed. “Took a few puffs too many, did you?”
“Maybe.” She giggles. “Matt always gets the best stuff. Don’t judge me.”
“I never would,” I tell her honestly.
While we’re walking to the photography area, she tugs on my arm so I lean my head closer to her. “And he doesn’t actually know if Hunter’s coming. No one does.”
There’s no repressing the sigh that leaves me. Of course Hunter wouldn’t commit to attending this event or not. He thrives on being surrounded by the douchebag air of mystery, and leaving people guessing.
We take pictures, some with the three of us, others with me and Isabel, others with Emmett and me, and others with the two of them. And even though she laughed off the idea of dating him, when they’re posing for the photographer, I can’t help thinking that they’d make a cute couple. Is it bad if I ship my two best friends with each other and call the joint entity Emmabel?
The dance floor is next, and we sort of dance in our own small circle. There I am, happily moving with my friends, when someone knocks hard into me—and thanks to the heels I’m not used to, I lose my balance, and crash into Emmett.
When I turn around, lo and behold, it’s Hillary. She’s dancing with some jock, wearing a gold dress that looks like it was painted on, acting like she didn’t just push me on purpose. Emmett’s hands are on my arms, and Isabel is fuming next to him.
“Did that bitch just…?” Isabel asks, frowning. “And is that not the tackiest dress you’ve ever seen?”
“Yes to both,” I say, and before Isabel launches herself at Hillary, I hold her back. “Just leave it. She’s not worth it.”
We head to the bar, where Jenn finds us. “Can one of you go to the ticket line and help out Amanda? Lisa’s supposed to be there, but we can’t find her, and I still haven’t gone to the ladies’.”
“I’m sure Lisa’s sucking Tim’s face somewhere,” Isabel groans. “Whatever. I’ll go—and maybe I’ll take some time to snitch to the principal after all. You go pee.”
This leaves Emmett and me, hanging out at the edge of the dance floor, him with a Coke, me with a bottle of water. The loud music begins to echo in my head, and my feet are throbbing, thanks to these incredibly hot yet very uncomfortable heels. There are way too many bodies crowding in around us, and the air turns stifling.
I clutch at Emmett’s sleeve. “Can we go outside for a bit?”
“Sure.” He tugs his tie, loosening it a little. “I could use some fresh air.”
We go out the double doors and into the quad. Some people are out here smoking, a teacher included, and we move away until we’re clear of their cancer fog.
“Ahh. It’s so much better out here,” I say, breathing in the cool night air as I lean against a brick column. “Shame we couldn’t do the ball outside.”
“And how’s your first formal going?” Emmett asks, standing before me with his hands in his pockets.
“Aside from when Hillary pushed me? It’s been fun.” I give him a small smile. “Thanks for escorting Isabel and me, by the way.”
“I should be thanking you,” he says, “‘cause I’m pretty sure I was the only guy walking in with two dates.” He tilts his chin up to appear smug. “People will finally be aware of my limitless charm.”
“Come on.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re pretty popular already.”
He is—not in the way Hunter and his dudebros are, but in a more cute-nice-boy-just-helped-me-get-a-book-off-a-tall-shelf kind of way. I’ve seen it in action.
Emmett laughs and takes a step closer. “Nah. I’m really not.”
I arch my eyebrows. “No? After the library encounter? Or last week at lunch, when you carried Krissy’s tray because she had a sprained ankle? Or in World History, when you let Jessica borrow your pen and she spent the rest of class sighing?”
“That’s just because World History is boring,” he insists.
“No, it’s because she wants to bone you!” I tease, punching his arm.
He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “She does not.”
“Does too!” Of this, I’m 100% sure. The way Jessica acts around Emmett is basically the same way I acted around Hunter. All blushy and moony eyed, smiling dreamily whenever a positive interaction occurs.
Great, I’m thinking of Hunter again, and now I’m bummed out. I hug myself against the night, my gaze momentarily slipping to the ground. When I look up, Emmett’s closer, staring down at me, his eyes searching.
Before I have a chance to react, his lips are pressed against mine. It’s soft and gentle, and everything a girl should want. I want to enjoy it, I want to give in to this—but there’s no skip in my heartbeat, no butterflies in my stomach, no nothing.
Memories of how it had been with Hunter flood me, unbidden. The sparks and the burn. How his lips wiped my thoughts away instantly, leaving me with nothing but hunger and heat and need. I wish it could be different. I wish I could have that with Emmett. But I don’t, and so I pull my mouth away.
“Camilla, I—”
But I cut him off before this can get more awkward. “Sorry, Emmett,” I tell him. “I just…don’t feel that way about you.”
The look that passes over his face isn’t the one of sad rejection I expected, though. It’s almost like…relief. “Yeah. Wow. That felt like kissing my sister.”
“You’ve kissed your sister?” I joke, and we both start laughing a little too loudly, but it’s enough to dispel any tension or weird vibes between us.
“I feel like an idiot,” he says. “If you want to pretend that never happened, I’m cool with it.”
“No, I’m glad you tried,” I tell him. “Now we both know it’s not meant to be. And we can just be super good friends still.”
Emmett grins, and it’s not the fake kind. “Cool.”
I let out a huge sigh. “Honestly, I’m not over Hunter yet. I know it’s stupid, and that he’s a total a-hole, but I can’t help how I feel. I’m still horribly, undeniably in love with him. I don’t think I’ll be over it for a while.”
Pulling me against him, Emmett wraps an arm around my shoulders and jokes, “They do say love is actually temporary insanity. But in the end, you have to follow your heart. Even if it’s a heart with mental health issues. I support you.”
I try to laugh, but my voice trembles, and I have to fight back the tears threatening to spill so I don’t ruin my eye makeup (and the rest of my night). Something else just hit me like a bombshell, though. I’d never said it out loud before, but the second the words left my mouth, I knew they were completely, entirely, 100% true.
I’m in love with Hunter Beck.
Chapter Twelve
Camilla
Emmett and I go back to the dance, and the air feels lighter between us. We know where we stand now—friends, and just that—and we’re both happier for it. Soon enough we’re out on the floor dancing along with everyone else, except it’s more like hugging while simultaneously moving our feet super slowly. Still
, it’s fun. Mostly.
“Ugh, these shoes,” I groan, resting my forehead on Emmett’s shoulder. “Why did I let Isabel talk me into them?”
“Because they’re hot. But they do look like murder heels,” he snickers, tapping my upper arm. “Not only capable of killing your feet, but also a human being. You planning on taking somebody out tonight with those spikes?”
“Damn! My secret plan, discovered!” I say with fake outrage. “I should’ve just gone with the ballet flats.”
“Jokes aside, we can go sit down somewhere.”
“Nah, I’m fine. This is nice.” I shift my weight from one foot to another. Just then, a dark blur of movement over Emmett’s shoulder catches my attention, and when I focus on it, my breath hitches in my throat.
Because Hunter—dressed in head-to-toe black, hair combed to the side, eyes ablaze, all combined into sin incarnate—is heading this way.
I actually stop moving and breathing, he looks so good. And then all of a sudden, his arms come between me and Emmett to wrench my friend away. As if that wasn’t enough, Hunter takes me by the shoulders, keeping me upright when I stagger back, and I’m in such a state of speechless shock, I don’t yell at him to keep his hands to himself.
All that’s going through my head is: Holy shit. What is happening right now?
“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Hunter snarls at Emmett. His blue eyes are dangerously narrow, the fury radiating off his tense body.
“Dancing,” Emmett replies calmly. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m here to see Milla.” Hunter pushes himself between me and Emmett. “If you touched her, Ortega, I swear to God…”
Hunter came to see me. And he’s obviously jealous of me dancing with someone else. Something’s clearly wrong with my brain, because that’s all I fixate on.
Emmett scowls. “Dude, first of all, what the hell? This isn’t the time or the place for you to throw a hissy, and in case you hadn’t noticed, everyone’s looking.”
He gestures around us, and although most of the couples nearby are still doing their thing on the dance floor, their eyes keep sliding over to stare at the obvious conflict going on in our corner. In a panic, I search the crowd for Isabel, before remembering that she’s still helping Amanda with the tickets.
“Secondly,” Emmett goes on, his voice dropping lower, “she’s not your property. Especially not after your epic fuckup. And in case you hadn’t noticed, Milla and I are friends. We’re allowed to dance.”
“That didn’t look like friends to me,” Hunter hisses.
I need to say something, but I’m frozen. I hate myself for being so weak, but goddammit, now that Hunter is here, it hurts to be so close but not touching, all while watching him get in Emmett’s face due to jealousy he has no right to feel.
“Even if it were more than that,” Emmett spits, “you two broke up. So back off.”
Hunter balks, lips transforming into a snarl. “Finally got your chance to make a move, huh? How’s that working out for you?”
My belly roils with instant nausea. Hunter’s not exactly wrong in his accusation, but Emmett’s “move” led precisely nowhere. However, admitting that to Hunter would be to admit that Emmett and I just kissed in the quad, and I get the feeling it’d just make this situation way worse than it already is.
“She’d never go for you anyway, Ortega,” Hunter taunts. “You have no game.”
Emmett’s face falls a little, and it’s enough to snap me out of it.
“Hello? I’m standing right here,” I interject, my arms folded over my chest. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Hunter. And you’re not going to ruin my night.”
“There you have it,” Emmett says to Hunter. “We were having a great time until you showed up.” Then he looks at me. “Is this human dumpster fire really the guy you want to be with, Camilla? ‘Cause honestly, you deserve better.”
At that, I see Hunter’s body go still, his arm pulling back for what I’m sure will be a knockout punch.
“Hunter, don’t!”
Without thinking, I lunge to grab his arm, though I know I won’t be able to hold him back even if I use all my strength.
“Stop,” I cry out, still clinging to him. “Hunter, if you hit him, I swear to God I will never talk to you again.”
Hunter instantly deflates, all the fight gone out of him. His eyes land on me, a storm of fury and hurt. It spears me right in the chest. “You don’t mean that,” he says.
“I do,” I say, and even though my heart’s thrumming at a thousand beats per minute, my voice is steady. “Look around you. People are filming this.”
As if snapping out of a trance, Hunter scans the dance floor and beyond. Pretty much the entire auditorium is looking at us now, elves included. I wonder where the chaperones have been hiding out, since they should have already come over here to intervene and put an end to this.
Hunter’s mouth falls slightly open taking in all the attention, and when he stares back at me, it’s with regret and confusion. And even though I should tell him to get the fuck away from me, that he’s done enough damage to my life, I can’t.
Even still, my silence must say enough.
“I’m sorry, Camilla,” Hunter says. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”
He shakes his head, gives me and Emmett one final look, and turns on his heel to disappear into the crowd. I’m left speechless and disappointed and embarrassed and why aren’t there holes in the floor for situations like this? Not just to hide me from the world, but to keep me from going after him. Which, goddammit, why did this toxic show of possessiveness turn me on? There’s this primal urge to follow him tugging at me, the knot tightening the farther away he gets.
But he almost hit Emmett. One of my best (and only) friends, who told me just minutes ago that he supported my feelings for the guy who just tried to punch him.
Gaze darting between Emmett and Hunter’s retreating back, I feel like my heart is ripping in half. I know I should be rational about this, let Hunter walk away and try to enjoy the rest of my night with my friends, but everything inside me is aching for him.
Turning back to Emmett, I say, “I’m sorry.” I glance in Hunter’s direction. “I know this is unhinged, but I think…I need to go after him. I can’t just let it be over like this. Things between us aren’t finished, and—” my voice cracks, and I stop.
“It’s fine,” Emmett says, shaking his head. “I’ve seen how fucked up you’ve been over this whole thing, and the way you still blush whenever you see him. You have to follow your heart. I get that. Even if I don’t like it.” He lets out a long sigh and then looks at me seriously. “But listen, Milla, please. He has a shit ton of making-it-up-to-you to do. Seriously. Don’t just let him off easy. Make him work for it.”
“I know.” I nod. “Thanks.”
Emmett forces a small smile. “Go get him.”
I don’t have words to express what his friendship means to me, so I squeeze his hand as tightly as I can, just for a second. Then I go after Hunter. He’s halfway down the hallway, making his way to the exit doors that open onto the parking lot, and I have to run to catch up.
“Hunter.”
He turns to face me and I take his hand. It’s warm, and touching it makes my heart beat faster. The music from the auditorium fades into the background as our eyes meet, and it’s like I’m struck by lightning. His tux fits him like a glove, and goddamn those cheekbones look like they’ll cut me deeper than his actions already have.
“You’re with Emmett now. It’s fine,” Hunter says. “Just let me go, Milla.”
“No. I’m not.” I step closer, so our bodies are almost touching. “And you really don’t get it.”
Even though I’m in heels, I still have to stretch up a bit to kiss him. His lips are still so soft, and he’s so tentative that I start to worry I’ve made a mistake. But when I pull back, it’s like a switch inside him has flipped. Hunter cups my cheek and d
raws my mouth back to his, then slides an arm around my waist to crush me hard against him. My tongue goes out to taste him, and everything that wasn’t there with Emmett is right here with him. My stomach’s fluttering. My core is aching. Sparks and heat and want and need.
I’m melting into him, he’s melting into me, and I don’t care if anyone sees us out here. I want Hunter, and he wants me. That’s enough for now.
I break away to catch my breath, and look up at his eyes. Hunter’s breath is rough against my mouth, and there’s a question in the way he stares at me, in the way he holds me to him.
There really is no turning back now. No running away from the force that pulls us together.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say.
We rush to his car, which is way out back—in its usual corner spot. We both stop next to the door on the driver’s side, and I look up at him. Hunter’s staring, lips parted, and I can’t help it anymore. Neither can he.
We meet in the middle, lips crashing together in a spectacle of tongue and teeth. My hand goes to his neck, his goes to my waist, and he presses me against the side of the car, his hips grinding into mine.
“Hunter,” I whisper, brushing the tip of my tongue against his. My leg rises to curve around him, and he slides his hand under my thigh, pressing us tighter together.
“Milla,” he growls as he devours my lips, and next thing I know, there’s the mechanical sound of the doors unlocking behind me. “Get in the car.”
His voice is low. Hoarse. I kiss him harder, and then turn to pull open the door.
My stomach flips, knowing full well what’s about to happen when we get in that backseat. And the part of me that’s helplessly in love with him wants nothing more.
Chapter Thirteen
Camilla
We go straight for the back, which is super tiny because fucking sports car—but after pushing the driver’s seat all the way forward, Hunter climbs in after me. Once he sits down, I waste precisely zero seconds straddling his lap. He grunts as our tongues meet again, hands going to my hips, pulling me into him. Our mouths never stop exploring, coming back together after every shift in our positions.
