Unmaking Hunter Kennedy

by Anne Eliot

  She rolled her eyes, annoyed that he’d brought up the blushing. “I’m sure they won’t make any connection. Who would expect me of all people, to be sitting in a car with the lead singer of GuardeRobe?”

  “Not me, that’s for sure.” He laughed a little.

  Vere shot him a lightning fast glance.

  She wanted to tell him that he could do a lot worse, but she knew for a fact it wouldn’t be a true statement. The idea of the two of them even sharing the same space on earth was so ridiculous.

  But that idea made Vere realize that disguising this guy might actually work! No one would ever believe Hunter Kennedy had moved to Monument, Colorado and was hanging with her.

  Not ever! Not if there was a decoy, hanging in New York!

  “Seriously. Hide yourself a little more, please...somehow,” she whispered, heart racing. “Like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

  “No need to whisper,” Dustin whispered back with a little mocking grin. “They can’t hear us. And I think I like the part where I’m stuck with you. Just not all the other parts of my situation.”

  “Please. No need to lie. The truth won’t hurt my feelings.”

  He met her gaze and smiled before looking blatantly back at Curtis and Howie. “The dark-haired one seems to be very interested, though, doesn’t he?”

  “Watch your ego,” Vere quipped. “That’s Curtis. He, like every other unthinking, sheep-following, music fan, loves GuardeRobe. So please. LOOK AWAY!”

  “I work like 90 hours a week on GuardeRobe stuff. I won’t lie to you, but if you’re going to constantly insult my life’s work, maybe you should lie to me?” Dustin sighed and turned away from her, Curtis and Howie.

  Vere’s heart twisted all over again. “I’m sorry. Totally uncalled for statements. Please don’t be mad. I won’t do that anymore. Promise. I’m nervous, and when I’m nervous I say insane, thoughtless things. Forgive me?”

  “Forgiven.” Hunter’s shoulders shrugged, and he slouched away from her a little more. “Besides, that dude was not looking at me. He’s trying to catch your eye.”

  “Really?!” She accidently hit the brakes and jerked the car to a skid-stop.

  Dustin cringed in his seat and shot her an accusatory glance.

  Vere caught a glimpse of Curtis and Howie laughing at her in the side mirror. “Sorry again.” She threw another forgive-me grin at a now very pale Dustin. “Backing up is my only bad steering skill. I swear I can drive forward with no problems.”

  “Oh. My. God. Let’s hope so.”

  She eased up on the brakes, letting the car continue to roll backwards down the slanted driveway, watching Curtis. He did have his gaze trained on her!

  Yay!

  Pulse escalating to six-billion beats per minute, Vere managed to back up enough to turn her head, smile, and wave at Curtis as though she didn’t make a complete fool out of herself in front of him only hours before.

  She swerved a little when Curtis smiled and waved back.

  Bonus and success! Sort of...

  Vere steadied the steering wheel, grinned once at the side of Dustin’s head, and drove off, wondering if Curtis had taken note of the fact that she had an actual guy in the car with her?

  How cool would it be to make Curtis a little jealous?

  Ha. Imagine...

  12: dangerous driving

  HUNTER

  Hunter tried to make sense of the scenery around him.

  They seemed to be finally approaching an interstate that led out of the endless, winding seventies neighborhood where Vere and Nan lived.

  They’d been driving (or Vere had been swerving) for twenty minutes. Every other turn in the road showed houses boasting it’s own meadow. Little red-dirt pathways were everywhere. He could swear he’d spotted at least ten rabbits too. Real, wild, rabbits, munching on front lawns. Even a couple of deer.

  The place was like Teletubbie-Land meets the suburbs plus mountains. “Uh...I think you can stop hiding your face now.” Vere seemed to be struggling to make conversation again.

  “Sorry. Zoned out. I wasn’t hiding, just checking out the scenery. My zombie state is one of my many paparazzi-taught life skills. If I get too quiet you have to bring me back.” He turned forward in his seat and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

  “I understand. Sometimes, I need to be brought back too,” she mumbled, chewing her upper lip again.

  What is she worried about now?

  “It’s not a bad thing, spacing out. Is it?” Hunter kept his tone warm and his expression placid, but when she didn’t answer he got a little nervous. The car careened through the curves in the road as her tension seemed to increase too. If she gripped the steering wheel any tighter it was going to explode and turn to dust.

  He figured if he could keep her talking, she might relax.

  Might not kill them.

  He tried again to start a conversation. “Your mom told me you and Charlie will drive me back and forth to school and to school functions? What exactly is a school function?” he asked, working to keep his tone calm.

  “She actually called them that?” Vere grimaced. “She makes it sound so clinical. Dances, club meetings and football games—all that kind of stuff. You’ll love school functions! They’re the best part of school because they don’t involve school!”

  Hunter smiled when her glitter-bright enthusiasm returned full force. No matter how endearing she might be with that, he didn’t want her to think he was going to join her golly-Pollyanna-pep squad any time soon. He answered carefully, “I’ll pass on that stuff. Being driven around like a little kid is already humiliating enough.”

  She nodded. “I hear you. I’m so glad Charlie and I have this car.” She glanced over, then back at the road. “You never learned how to drive, huh? Is it because you’re so fancy-famous and have a limo? You should be used to being driven around. Don’t be embarrassed,” she added. “Maybe you can get your license while you’re here. Or, do you need me to teach you how to ride a bike first?”

  He bit back a laugh, enjoying that she did not hide her disdain for his Los Angeles lifestyle. He told her some of the truth: “I don’t have a license because it’s been revoked. And yes, I have a driver and a limo. But I can drive. I’m here in Colorado because of a—car accident—thing.”

  “Oh. Oh.” She frowned.

  “Yeah. Big 'oh'.In addition to needing a rest, my mom’s holding me hostage here in Colorado because she’s pissed about some damage I did to my car and also our house. She’s punishing me for a bunch of other prank stuff I pulled too.”

  “Like what?”

  His heart clenched while he decided what to tell her. “I participated in what some would call a one night binge of teen stupidity. The legal terms my mom’s attorney slapped on me were reckless endangerment and vandalism, among other things.” He’d kept his voice deliberately flippant as he continued, “Enough about me. Let’s hear more about you. Your mom told me you’re really named Gwenivere.”

  Vere rolled her eyes. “Yeah. She’s really proud of my awkward name.”

  He added in a teasing tone to his words because he knew that would set her off. Off of him mostly. “Gwenivere, my cute, gnome-girl, chauffeur. I love King Arthur, and Shakespeare, by the way. Gwenivere is such a classic name. I’m with your mom. Why don’t they call you Gwen, though?”

  Instead of making her blush as he’d thought she would, she rewarded him with one of her snapping glares. “No one teases me about the name. I’m Vere because my mom liked it better. What are you? Some kind of literature expert?"

  “Yes. It’s my favorite subject. Poetry especially.”

  She raised her brows, surprised. "This is good. Jenna and I need a friend who can help us study Lit. And don’t think I can’t tell you’re trying to change the subject away from deeper topics.”

  “I’m not changing subjects, I told you what I could about me,” Hunter stalled, pulling at his sleeves, wondering how much more he should tell her
.

  “You told me only enough to make me curious. Keep going on your story.”

  It was nice to spill some of his secrets, but he’d promised Martin absolute silence. Plus he’d only just met this girl. It made no sense to bring up things he hadn’t told Barry. Even if those things were now on the tip of his tongue and ready to fall off like a waterfall of too-much-information.

  Besides, he didn’t want Vere to think she had to feel even more sorry for him. Or worse, believing he was crazy. Enough people already held that assumption.

  “Ask me questions and I’ll see if I can answer them,” he said finally. Figuring he could skirt the truth where needed.

  “Okay. If you did all that extreme vandalism stuff, shouldn’t you be in jail instead of here? I’m not an idiot, you know? I overheard Mom mention some major drinking was involved. Level with me?”

  To cover, he pretended offense.

  “Wow. Nosy much? I don’t have a DUI, if that’s what you think. I drank some wine after the car thing. After. And this.” He motioned to the woods outside his window. “Is my jail, Gwenivere. You are my jailer.”

  He’d taunted her with her full name to distract her again, and it worked because she'd shot him a bullet-glare before turning back to the road.

  He continued, “My time here is actually part of a court agreement. I have to go to your lame high school. Worse, I’m not allowed to work. It’s a suck-ass situation that I’m not happy about and that’s all there is to it. You now know all. No more questions. The bits I’ve left out are between me and my mom. And none of your business. Deal?” He looked out the window again.

  “Okay. Charlie busts on me about being nosy all the time. I suppose it isn’t easy for you to lay the truth out for me, so thanks for telling what you did. I’m sorry if I sounded all mean again. I keep doing that to you!”

  She looked so completely contrite, Hunter felt guilty that she was the one apologizing. “You weren’t being mean.” He sighed. “It was all me.”

  “No. Me. I think I’ve been sort of mean to you since we’ve met.” Her voice softened. “I’m not usually like this. It’s something about rock-star you, that sets me off. I have this strange urge to treat you like I treat Charlie.”

  “With zero respect?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, maybe. I don't know what it is, but I feel way, too comfortable around you.”

  “Well...same for me," he admitted. "And remember, there is no ‘rock-star’ me. I’m Dustin. Dustin McHugh. Once you settle on that idea, possibly you won’t need to loathe me so much,” he teased, but immediately regretted it. He could tell he’d flustered her.

  “Some friend I’m going to be. If I already have you thinking I hate you, when, like I said, I'm pretty sure it's the opposite...” She’d trailed off with another self-deprecating laugh, the red color of her cheeks reigning high and flooding the rest of her face.

  “You think we’re going to be friends?” he asked.

  Her expression wavered then as though she expected him to give her a major set down.

  “Oh...well...we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. I thought that we would—eventually—become friends. I mean. Yeah.” Her glance was confused. “That’s how it works. Right?”

  Hunter didn’t know what to say. This was out of his area of expertise.

  Her face flooded double. And not in the cute way he’d grown used to. He felt really bad for causing it, because she looked positively like she might die inside her own skin.

  Worse, it had affected her speed. Her driving had spiraled out of control as she zoomed them into the off ramp with zero slow down.

  “I mean. I mean—I—thought we we’re getting along. And so—I—thought we—” She seemed locked there, staring at the road not noticing she was going to kill both of them by barrelling through the stop sign at the top of the ramp!

  No way was he going to die in some odd Colorado crossroads.

  He spoke quickly to cover for both of them. “Vere! Of course. Of course we’re getting along. It’s only that I don’t have many friends. Or any friends outside my band—friends that are girls, that’s for sure. It’s why I paused. I have no idea how to proceed, that’s all.”

  Hunter shook his head, wondering why he’d told her the truth.

  “Oh. Oh! Great!” She took in a deep breath and beamed at him as she rolled the car to a safe stop. “I thought you didn’t want to. You know? With me. Which is cool because you’re all famous and I’m just me.”

  He sighed. “How about you’re possibly amazing and I’m just an ass? And I’m not famous. Remember? You will have to stop slipping up with comments like that.”

  “Right. Me, possibly amazing. You, a nobody-ass. This whole thing is making me feel crazy.” She took a hard left and sped up into traffic.

  His heart did a double flip. Mostly because she was unbelievably cute at that moment, and he could swear she was going to ram their car into the pickup truck directly in front of them!

  “Jesus. Vere! Could you please watch what you’re doing? Slow down! You’re dangerous on the road.”

  She pulled back from the other vehicle, and Hunter could breathe again. He shot her a harried glance.

  “You didn’t have to shout.” She pouted. “It’s not my fault I’m driving so badly. It’s yours.”

  “What? You have got to be kidding. You swore to me you were good at it.”

  She stopped at a red light and turned to face him. “Look. You must know your eyes are truly distracting, and you keep LOOKING at me. I’ve also never talked to anyone who sounds like a movie trailer announcer before. Your voice is so cool. I’m sure you know that. It’s probably part of your famousness. But here in this car it’s unsettling, because I have this sensation you might suddenly begin sentences with some dramatic start.” She lowered her voice. “like...IN A WORLD, FAR, FAR AWAY...”

  He laughed all the way down to his belly. “You’re beyond hilarious. You know that, right?”

  The light turned green and they drove on. “I’ve heard it before, but don’t get your hopes up. Your compliments will get you nowhere with me, player. No matter how pretty your face might be to others it’s not real to me. Though it does startle me off and on, know my heart is taken. So beyond the voice thing—you don’t affect me one bit.”

  “So you’ve said. That part about you is a huge relief actually. And ditto for me too,” he lied.

  “As if! How many times are you going to bring it up that I’m not your type? I so don’t care. Jeez. I’ll call you if I ever get implants, dye my hair platinum, start wearing stilettos, red leather zip suits and hire myself out for cash.”

  He laughed again. “Come on. Give me some credit. Only half the porn stars I’ve dated looked like that. The other half wore green leather zip suits and they were gingers not blondes. Besides, I never have to pay.” He grimaced.

  She gasped as though she totally believed him. “Really? Porn stars?”

  “No. Hell no! I’ve never once dated anyone remotely similar to your ridiculous descriptions.”

  “Well good. You scared me.”

  “Scared me that you believed it. It’s refreshing to hang out with you,” he added, contemplating her profile.

  She shot him a skeptical glance. “Why?”

  “You don’t take me seriously. I like it. If I ever seem defensive, know it’s a reflex. Maybe you’ve been treating me like Charlie, but I’ve been treating you like you’re some prying reporter. As for you not being my type and me not being yours...let’s drop that. It is what it is. But that doesn’t mean we can’t hang out. I do want to be friends.” He raised his brows. “If you’re willing to take me on—baggage, voice and all,” he paused to lower his voice. “I could be an asset to you. IN A WORLD WHERE BUNNIES RUN WILD,” he finished in his best movie trailer impersonation.

  She laughed. “Seriously. You could be so famous.”

  “I am. Remember?”

  She flushed. “I finally forget, and now you want
me to remember? Pick one.”

  They both laughed.

  “Final truce?” he added, pretending not to notice her blush.

  She kept her face averted. “Truce. Do you mean it about the friend thing? I’ve never been friend with a guy either. I most probably will botch it, so be warned too.”

  Her reply had been so quiet that Hunter wondered if she’d said it at all. Maybe she was giving him an out, a way to take back the offer. He could sense this was really important. Now that he’d spent a little more time with her, Hunter didn’t think he was capable of hurting this girl’s feelings—not on purpose. “If we mess it up, it won’t matter.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t truly exist,” he said with more confidence than he felt.

  “Yeah. I’ve been dwelling on that fact. Fake guys seem to be much easier to communicate with than real ones.”

  “Really?” he laughed. “Good.”

  “If you’re serious, I accept. You, Dustin McHugh, newly born fake person, can be my BGF. Best Guy Friend, here and at school. For as long as you exist in Colorado!”

  He shook his head, bewildered. “Sounds like a truly awful job title.”

  “Come on...BGF status is awesome. We’ll share secrets, advice, gossip about girls—and guys—and stuff.” Her eyes were sparkling sunshine again.

  “Fashion tips allowed?” He eyed her shorts.

  “Maybe.” She glared. “After I’m done unmaking you into social oblivion!”

  He grinned. “I’m in. Aren’t we supposed to prick our fingers and seal it?” He was rewarded with another one of her funny half eye rolls as he explained, “I was in a made-for-TV-movie where they did that. Is that not what real-best-friends do?”

  “If we were ten. You have one mixed-up view of the world, don’t you?” She smiled, and he could tell she was truly pleased with their tentative pact.

  “Yes. Get used to it. It’s the root of my problems. I’m not even close to normal.”