This Hurt (This Boy Book 2)

by Jenna Scott

  “What started the rumor? Or did it just come out of nowhere?” I ask. This whole thing is unbelievable.

  “I was in the newspaper club back then, and one day, I stayed late finishing our op-ed. It was about spyware and the shit we install on our phones, and like, how a bunch of apps track everything you do.” She sniffs. “Anyway. I’d been fighting with my mom recently, and I wasn’t looking forward to going home to her usual drunk-ass belligerent behavior. So I stayed after way later than usual, and then…Mr. Harris offered me a ride home. Someone took a picture of me in his car, at the exact fucking moment I smiled at something he said. You can guess how that went over.”

  Oh shit. I hold her hands tighter, and she squeezes my fingers tighter still.

  “People started saying I traded sexual favors for As. Everywhere I went, people would cough slut. My locker was vandalized so many times, the school stopped trying to paint over it. Every day, people would put condoms and trash inside, and Post-its saying trash deserved trash. People would pull my hair in the hallways, and in PE, they’d push me. I had my clothes stolen after class, and had to stay there in a towel until someone from the staff found me, crying in the bathroom.”

  “God, Milla. I’m so sorry.”

  She’s full on sobbing now, and I don’t know what else to do other than climb on the bed and pull her to my chest, holding her tight so she can cry it out.

  I keep imagining the things she told me, and I want to tear the world in half for being so horrible to her. I picture her, huddled in a corner in a wet towel, head leaned against the stall as she cries…

  “I had to leave,” she murmurs. “I started skipping school, and I thought I’d have to get my GED and go to college that way. When I got the scholarship to Oak Academy, it felt like a fresh start. Or at least, it was supposed to be.”

  I could not feel like any more of a dick for the way I treated her. And it wasn’t just me who was cruel. Obviously, Hillary and her friends still are.

  No wonder Milla’s so desperate to escape. No wonder she thinks leaving this town and going to college will save her, no wonder she was pissed when I ruined all that with a lie. It all makes sense now, how she reacted when her Reed Scholarship chances evaporated, and how upset she was when she thought I’d found out about the rumors between her and her old teacher. Which, for fuck’s sake—who does that?

  Those asshole kids tried to ruin her life out of jealousy. And I did the same—out of love, and desperation, but still. I made up a lie, the same way they did.

  “This is what you thought I told my dad, to pull the scholarship,” I say, my fingers combing her hair. It’s like silk, and she closes her eyes before she nods.

  “Yeah. I thought you knew. It never occurred to me you’d just make something up out of the blue,” she says. “And I was hoping I’d never have to tell you about what happened at LJ, but then Hillary cornered me in the pantry, and she knows…”

  Understanding dawns on me. “She threatened to blackmail you with this.”

  “Yes,” Milla admits.

  All the times I thought about escaping this town, and my dad, it never once crossed my mind that it’d be the same for her. Worse, even. I thought she was just trying to get away from her mom, which I could—and still can—help with. But this is about so much more, and my prior lack of understanding has me floored.

  “I am so, so sorry. For everything you’ve been through. With everyone. Even me.” It sounds stupid and pointless, but what else can I say? “This shit ends now.”

  “That’s the thing,” she says, shaking her head. “It doesn’t. People will never stop saying bad things about me, Hunter. The rumors follow me like a plague. Even the kids at the Academy think I’m only with you because you can get me things.”

  With a sigh, I roll onto my back, bringing her with me. Her hair is splayed across my chest, and I stroke the back of her neck gently, as soothingly as I can. She’s no longer crying, but she sounds defeated. Hopeless. That’s not the Milla I know.

  “Listen to me,” I tell her, and she turns her face up to look at me. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else says. I’ve got you now, and I’m not letting go.”

  “You got me?”

  I nod, and tighten my arms around her. “I do. And I will always believe you.”

  Milla closes her eyes, and takes a shuddering breath.

  “Please don’t cry. Not over them,” I whisper, feeling myself break along with her. I kiss her brow, her cheek, her lips. “I love you.”

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Milla. I do. I could write a fucking essay on how much I love you. You could even grade it for fun.” I trace the line of her collarbone. “To get that school kink of yours going.”

  “I do not have a school kink.”

  “Pssh. We both know you do. Don’t try to deny it.”

  She laughs, finally, her dark mood starting to dissipate, and we just lock eyes happily for a moment. Then she whispers my name, her lips soft against mine—all of her is soft against me, and I can’t get enough of it. I can’t get enough of her.

  I don’t think I ever will.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Camilla

  With the parental Becks out of town for the weekend and my mom granted a few rare days off, Hunter and I are left in charge of the house from Friday to Sunday night.

  On Friday afternoon, Harry’s friend Nick comes for a sleepover, and his mom is frazzled but grateful when she drops him off.

  “If he’s too much for you, just give me a call and I’ll pick him up,” she says.

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine, Mrs. Espinoza,” I tell her. “But thanks for offering.”

  And the truth is, I like the kid instantly. He’s excitable and kind of a loudmouth, but in an innocent way, and he can’t stop his eyes from going wide behind his glasses as Harry and I show him around the Becks’ mansion.

  Judging by his reaction, he doesn’t come from money. I’m sure I looked similarly shocked my first time here, unable to comprehend how some people can live in so much easy luxury while others struggle to cover their monthly rent and utilities.

  “And that’s where Milla lives!” Harrison says excitedly when we get to the backyard, pointing to the pool house.

  Nick looks at me, big brown eyes gone huge again. “Whoa. I wish I could live here, too. It’s like a castle!”

  My molars close on the inside of my cheek. Obviously I won’t mention that living here isn’t all that great, with Hunter’s parents and my mom under the same roof.

  While it’s still daylight out, we hang out at the pool. The kids giggle and splash in the shallow end while I watch them, perched on the edge with my feet swinging in the water. Hunter comes down to join us, and sits down next to me.

  Harrison’s face lights up as soon as he spots his big brother. “Hunter! Nick, look! My big brother’s here.”

  Nick’s eyes widen as he takes in the towering figure. “He’s like a giant!”

  “Yep! And he can reach every shelf.” Harrison swims over and climbs up the pool stairs to take Hunter’s hand. “Are you going to stay with us for dinner? Say yes!”

  “I don’t know. Have you asked Milla if she wants to cook for one more person?” Hunter winks at me. “Unless she’d rather be spared the trouble and we order in?”

  “Oh, Milla!” Harry beams at me, jumping up and down. “Can we have pizza? Please?”

  “Please, please! Pizza is the best food ever!” Nick, who’s also gotten out of the pool, joins in the chorus.

  I stay unmoved. “Nice try, but I promised your parents I’d give you something healthy, and if you have pizza, then you can’t have dessert.”

  Both kids pout, and in unison, say, “But Milla—”

  “How about we get Thai, then?” Hunter steps in to offer an alternative. “Those noodles you like, Harrison? And maybe Milla can make her amazing cookies.”

  I shrug, since I don’t mind making cookies instead of dinner—though I wonder ho
w Hunter would react if he found out I got the recipe from Emmett’s mom.

  “Fine by me,” I say. “And since you two are out of the pool now, you can go shower up and change into your pjs.”

  “We just got out of the water, why do we need to shower?” Harry pouts.

  With a shake of my head, I get up and dry my feet. “We’ve had this conversation a thousand times. You need to wash the chlorine off. It’s a chemical.”

  “Be good for Milla,” Hunter says as he comes to my side, resting a hand on the small of my back. “If you don’t behave, she won’t make cookies.”

  “That’s right. No shower, no dessert.”

  I have to resist the urge to kiss Hunter for helping me corral the kiddos. We have shared a peck or two or several in front of Harry, but I’m still a bit wary of public displays of affection, so I end up leaning against Hunter instead, momentarily resting my head on his shoulder in a wordless show of appreciation.

  “And speaking of baths, can you show Nick to the downstairs bathroom?” I ask.

  “Yes! Nick, come on! You’re gonna love the shower, it has jets.”

  The two kids disappear into the house, yapping the whole way. Once they’re gone, I look up at Hunter, but my smile fades when I see the serious look on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “That’s the first time Harrison’s ever had a friend over,” he says.

  There’s sadness in how he says it, and it spreads to me. How couldn’t it? I know too well what it’s like not to have friends, and to never be able to invite the few you manage to get over to your house.

  “That sucks,” I say. “Maybe this will get the ball rolling, at least.”

  Hunter sighs. “I hope so. Harry’s great. He’s just shy around other people.”

  I snuggle closer to him. “Let’s make sure Nick has an extra good time, then.”

  While the kids get rinsed off and changed, Hunter and I set up the Switch on the living room’s big screen. When Harry and Nick come out, they start playing Mario Kart against each other—which could have the potential to ruin their friendship, so I’m relieved when Hunter joins them and the two boys gang up on him.

  In the kitchen, I get started on the cookies, thankful for the break I wouldn’t have if Hunter wasn’t here to help. Although technically I’m the one babysitting, Hunter’s helping so much I kinda feel like I should split my paycheck with him. Though to be fair, I know he’d rather have me show my gratitude in other ways.

  And besides that, I really, really need every penny I can get my hands on. I still haven’t heard from Emmett about the scholarship his mom recommended me for, and I now have two rejections from the other smaller scholarships I applied for, meaning I’m back to the option of either going to a cheap community college or taking out massive loans for a four-year school.

  The anxiety over my financial situation starts to knot in my chest. Some people would tell me to defer my admission and take the time to save up more so I won’t have to borrow so much in loans. But there’s no way I can stay in this town with my mother for another year, and risk running into La Jolla High people every time I turn around.

  I mix the chocolate chunks into the peanut butter dough with a sigh. Maybe I should defer anyway. I could get another job—one that would keep me so busy I’d hardly see my mom, nor have time to run into my old enemies. And I’d have Hunter for another year, at least. I’m happy when I’m with him. He makes me feel safe. Grounded.

  Footsteps sound behind me, and I don’t need to turn to know Hunter’s there.

  “How’s it going?” he asks, sliding behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist while I turn off the mixer.

  “Good.”

  It’s instinct to lean back into him, to cover his arm with mine and thread my fingers between his, to tilt my head to the side so he can kiss the side of my neck.

  “Mmm, you smell like vanilla and brown sugar. What can I do?”

  “I’m done,” I say, twisting further so I can kiss his lips. “Can you just get the nonstick cookie sheets down from the cabinet?”

  “Sure thing, shorty.”

  “Ha ha,” I say, grabbing a spoon so I can start scooping out the dough. “And thank you. How are the boys doing?”

  “Getting a little intense in there,” he jokes. “It’s the true test of any relationship: play Mario Kart and stay on good terms after someone inevitably blue shells you.”

  A giggle escapes me. “You’ve blue-shelled me, and I’ve blue-shelled you.”

  “And here we are, not killing each other over it.” He nuzzles the curve of my neck before pressing another kiss to it. I melt from the inside out.

  “Yeah, but you do kill me in plenty of other ways,” I whisper.

  “Fair. And if we were alone…” Lips against my ear, Hunter pushes us forward a step so my hipbones meet the cabinets. “I’d be doing it right now.”

  A thousand butterflies flutter in my stomach, and below, I helplessly tighten. It’s not just the image in my head of him lowering my shorts and sliding into me as I brace myself against the counter; it’s the way he says it, low and husky and breathless.

  I twist to look at him. “And I’d be letting you.”

  A grunt low in his throat, Hunter brings our lips together. “That’s unfair of you to say, because now I really, really want to take you to the pantry for a quickie.”

  Laughing, I finish lining the baking sheet with neat cookie-ball rows. “It’s never quick with you.”

  “Can’t help that I like seeing you come apart in my hands.” He grabs my hand and swipes my finger into the dough before taking it to his lips. His tongue brushes the cookie dough off the tip, the silky feeling of it shooting straight to my cunt.

  “Hunter,” I breathe.

  He blinks down at me, blue eyes all innocent as he gives my finger a final suck before removing it from his mouth. “What? I’m just testing the dough. It’s excellent.”

  “You are torturing me, that’s what you’re doing. And you can make it up to me by finishing up the second sheet while I wash my hands.”

  The sound of running footsteps pulls us apart, and I immediately go to the sink to clean myself up. Hunter clears his throat and spoons out the remainder of the cookies.

  “Hunter, we want to start another cup!” Harry says. “Come play with us!”

  “It’s more fun with more people,” Nick adds, brown eyes gleaming.

  “As soon as I get these cookies in the oven,” Hunter says. “And only if the two of you will stop running me off the track.”

  “But that’s just part of the game!” Harrison protests.

  “All right, fine. But just one of the smaller cups,” Hunter relents. “It’s almost dinnertime.”

  As soon as they leave, my mind goes back to college expenses. I hope Emmett’s mom comes through. That scholarship would solve basically all of my problems. Without it…I don’t know. I don’t want to give up on my big college dreams, but maybe I should. My mom might be right, in a way. Maybe it’s time to stop reaching so high. Carrying the weight of hundreds of thousands of dollars in student loan debt isn’t going to help me get ahead in life, fancy degree under my belt or not.

  I head to the living room but stop in the doorway, taking in the scene before me. They’re on Rainbow Road, aka the most nightmarish, complex, frustrating level ever on Mario Kart. Hunter purposely drives out of bounds on the last lap, letting both kids pass him. Nick jumps up from the floor when he wins by a hair’s breadth. The whole room is filled with laughter and happiness, and I smile.

  It feels so natural, partnering with Hunter like this. Maybe this could be my future. Me and Hunter, as a family of our own. Hunter would take care of me, and I know I could be happy. Maybe we’d have a few kids. I know I wouldn’t lack for love. He says it every day, at least once.

  But the more I think about it, the more I realize the fantasy isn’t enough for me, despite its appeal. It’s not that I don’t want a family. I do. A
nd it’s not that I don’t want to be with Hunter. I want that, too. But I also want to be successful, to make a life and a name for myself. On my own terms.

  When it comes down to it, I have to choose me.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Camilla

  “So. How’s thing’s been over at Casa de Beck-o?” Isabel asks, scrolling through one of the celebrity gossip blogs she likes to read.

  “Decent,” I say. “My mom’s still the worst, but what can you do? We’re on totally different schedules, so at least we’re not in each other’s faces all the time.”

  I’m at Isabel’s house for a sleepover, and although we’ve seen each other at school all week, it’s nice to have some one-on-one time with my bestie. On top of that, despite Hunter being on his best behavior lately, it’s nice to have no boys around either.

  “She still trying to give you pointers on how to keep Hunter pussy whipped?”

  “Luckily no,” I sigh, “but she probably assumes I took her advice the first time.”

  I miss being with Isabel and talking about all the things. Her contagious energy, too. We’re in her living room, the TV on for background noise as we talk.

  “It sucks that the highlight of your mom’s parenting is to give you pointers on how to snag a rich dude.” Isabel rolls her eyes. “Most rich guys suck, anyway. I’d know. I grew up around them.”

  “You try telling her that.”

  Just then, the timer goes off in the kitchen.

  “Boom! Nacho extravaganza time!” Isabel crows, launching herself off the couch to go get our extra cheesy tortilla chip mountain out of the oven.

  I follow behind her, trying not to drool as I start fantasizing about all the pickled jalapenos and fresh guac I’m going to load onto my nacho pile. Turns out Isabel has a major cilantro addiction, which I never knew before. Also, she makes the best corn salsa I’ve ever had. My first bite has me moaning.

  “You need to share this recipe,” I tell her. “It’s better than Chipotle’s.”