Hunter (Broken Bad Boys 1): A New Adult Bad Boy Romance

by Heart,Skylar

  “Yeah, it’s fine. I get why you had to do it.” I put the helmet onto the bike and put the lock away.

  “Good. I don’t want to make this all harder for you than I have to. I thought that this might be a better idea than having you in the class.” Tamara puts her hand on the bike. “This one is different from the one you had before the summer.”

  I flinch. That came totally out of nowhere and I’m definitely not ready to talk about that just yet.

  Tamara pulls her hand away, looking at my face. “Sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

  “It’s just…” I breathe in deeply and let out a short sigh. “Too many memories. I’d had that bike since I was still in high school. I needed a change.” I needed to break from my past before it broke me, broke me even more.

  She steps aside, nodding, her eyes clouded. “I get it. Anyway, good luck tomorrow. I need to get going to the workshop before people break it down.”

  “Break it down?” I grin, glad for the change of topic. “Are they that bad?”

  She looks to the edge of the campus, her eyes further away. “You don’t wanna know what those photographers get up to sometimes. Nothing has been broken, yet, but it’s not all safe. The things they build to take the perfect pictures…” She sighs as she looks back at me. “You can come with me if you want to.”

  “Nah, I’ve got to get to my parents’. Mondays I work at the horse riding school.” I put the helmet on as Tamara nods.

  “Have fun. I’ll see you soon.” She steps back as I get onto the bike.

  I kickstart it and take off, the sudden movement making my heart race, making me feel alive. I don’t feel like working at the riding school today, but it’s a good way to keep busy and I think my parents really like it when I’m there with them. I turn off the car park and make my way to the edge of town.

  I speed-walk through the hallway. I’m so fucking late for class. I stayed over at my parents’, as I often do, and when I woke up this morning, I suddenly felt the urge to draw. That hasn’t happened to me in a long time. I think going back to classes may have triggered something, at least a little bit. I check the numbers over the doors. I should be nearly there. I look around, but the hallways are quiet. I got so wrapped up in drawing that I lost track of time, and now I need to hurry.

  I open the door and all eyes are on me. Great.

  “Ah, Hunter. How nice of you to finally join us. Please take a seat as I explain what we’re going to do this semester.” Prof Cartwright turns back to the board behind him, clicking on a few things and then pulling up a document.

  I quickly sit down in the only empty chair, right next to Lizzy. She looks at me for a moment but then looks back at the professor. Okay, way to be ignored.

  “The first couple of weeks will be to test your skills, and to improve where needed. The final assignment will be a portrait of a classmate. I will announce the pairs at the halfway point of the semester. This will be based on individual strengths and skills. The task will be to portray the person and their dreams. You can go big, you can go small, but it has to be creative.” He turns back to the class. “Any questions?”

  Everybody stays quiet. I don’t think there is much to ask right now. I know that Professor Cartwright is usually fair when grading and his classes are interesting. Or, at least, they were last year.

  “Okay. Let’s get the supplies out. I’ve got a couple of items laid out and I want you to draw them, paying close attention to shadows and details.” He walks to the middle of the room and pulls a piece of cloth off a table. On the table there is a glass bottle, a creepy doll, a box of matches and a book. “Go ahead.” He steps away and then turns to the class. “You’ve got until the end of the class, so… about three hours.”

  I take my supplies from my bag. Luckily I was using them just now, or I might have forgotten them in all the rush to get here. I look at the objects, at their angles, at the surfaces. So many things to consider. I slowly start to get to work, getting a feeling for what is going on.

  When I take a peek at Lizzy, she is already working, concentrating as her pencils move over the page. She looks beautiful like this—the full concentration in her eyes, the decisive movements, her hair pulled back so that it won’t get in her way. It’s nice to really be able to see her when she’s not aware. I’d like to draw her like this, but I guess that’s not the task for today. I turn back to my paper as I realize Prof Cartwright is standing right next to me.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” His voice is soft, but I nod.

  “I was distracted by something, working on my art. I won’t be late again.” I put pencil to paper and get back to work as he moves on to look at the work of another student. Conversation avoided.

  Now I just need to get through this class.

  Chapter 5

  Lizzy

  I slowly make my way out of the classroom. So many people around, so crowded. I’m not used to it yet. I’ve been locked up in my room or my parents’ house for most of the summer, and if I escaped, I went to the forest behind the neighborhood. I didn’t really go places where there were a lot of people, no matter how much Lola or my parents begged me to. They took me away from my dream college, I don’t think they deserve to put more pressure on me now.

  I stop when the sun hits my face as I step out of the building. Oh. This feels nice, the rays hitting just right, warming me up, while there is a little bit of a breeze, not too hot and not too cold.

  A laugh behind me makes me twist around. Hunter is staring at me, still standing inside the building.

  “What?” I put my hand on my side as I shrug my bag up higher.

  “I wouldn’t think that you’d like the sun. With all your black clothes and gothic stuff and things.” He steps outside, next to me. The sun hits his bleached hair, making it whiter than it really is, creating a halo that doesn’t match his personality.

  “So? What’s it to you?” I don’t get why he keeps saying weird things to me.

  “Hey, I’m just enjoying myself. No worries.” He steps away but then turns around to me. “You wanna take a look at Tamara’s workshop?”

  I could go home and have fun with some paint and pencils… On the other hand… I guess checking out the workshop would be a good idea too. It’s not like I’ve got places to be. I shrug. “Sure, why not?”

  Hunter walks in front of me. Apparently he knows where the workshop is already. The warmth makes me a bit fuzzy, in a good way. It’s nice to just feel comfortable. To not feel cold all the time.

  “Aren’t you hot like that?” Hunter breaks through my thoughts.

  “Why?”

  “You know, dressed in black with long sleeves and all that.” He stops and really looks at me.

  I keep walking. I hate it when people stare at me, and he’s definitely staring. I’m not hot because I’m always cold. What does it matter anyway?

  “Not very talkative, I guess.” He walks next to me. “Did you enjoy Professor Cartwright’s class?”

  I shrug. Why all the questions? It’s not like this is any different from what I did last year. Drawing objects, it’s easier than having to draw people.

  “Can you at least try a little bit more? It’s hard to keep this conversation going on my own.” Hunter laughs, but I’m done.

  I take one hard look at him and turn around. I’m better off going home. There is no need to hang out with people who will try to change whatever I do or say. No, I’m not very talkative, deal with it.

  “Lizzy.” Hunter walks after me, and I automatically swerve to the side. His hand grazes my arm. He tried to grab me! So predictable. “Please. Stop. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just curious.”

  I shrug and keep walking. That’s not my problem.

  Then Tamara pops up from the parking lot. She smiles as she sees us. “Are you on your way to the workshop? I’ll let you in. I was going that way too.”

  I shake my head. I was going home, away from all the crazy people.

  “Aww. J
ust… come on. You’ll love it, and you haven’t been to the new workshop yet. Neither of you have.” She touches my arm for a moment and then starts walking. “I’m looking forward to seeing some new work from both of you. I know that you, Hunter, haven’t done much drawing in the last couple of years. Are you feeling up to it this year?”

  “Definitely. I was working on something new this morning.” Hunter walks on my other side. Now I’m between them and I can’t do anything but just follow them. “I guess that actually knowing that I should be working on my art, and having deadlines, works better than playing to be working on my art.”

  I can’t imagine not working on my art. Even when I’ve been at my worst, I was always creating. Then I remember what Hanna said, something really bad happened to him—something that made him drop out of class and get into trouble and stuff like that. I look up at him. When he talks about his art, he’s just a different person, he relaxes and even smiles. But when he came into class this morning… that was a whole other Hunter. The darkness in his eyes and the scowl… So not attractive.

  Then we stop, standing in front of a modern building. I wouldn’t have guessed that this would be the place, but it says it on the door: ‘Winter’s Workshop.’ I laugh. That sounds like a Christmas shop, not a place for artists.

  As Tamara opens the door I can already hear voices inside, loud voices. To the side, in the hallway, there is the steel bench that Hunter showed me a picture of yesterday. I’ve seen his art for years without knowing it.

  Hunter sits down on it, sprawling. “I didn’t think you’d keep it.”

  “Why not? It’s functional and shows that my students are the greatest.” Tamara waves us further into the building. “Out here there are the toilets, the storage room and my office. You need to be through here.” She steps into a large open space.

  When I say large, I mean huge. It is maybe three floors high and as large as a gymnasium. In one corner a couple of people are trying to raise some white curtains with ropes and pulleys and other things. It doesn’t look very safe. Just off to the side there is a tripod with a camera on it. They must be some of the other artists.

  “Tamara!” One of the boys from the group comes over, a big smile on his face. “We’ve nearly got the curtains up. We got them for a couple of bucks at the thrift store.”

  “That’s great. Do you think you can make it work?” She follows the guy to the others and Hunter and I stay, looking around. There are some paintings, some clay statues, other mediums, all strewn around the room. When I look up, I realize that even the lights overhead are pieces of art. I’ve definitely been away too long. Just seeing all this art in one place makes me want to stay here and work on something myself. Just being here makes me want to be creative.

  After a while, Tamara comes back to us. “This is the main room. There are some small, more private, rooms off to the side. And upstairs there is a small kitchen. We’ve got anything you need here.”

  “Do you have stuff for scrap metal?” Hunter gives her a look like he’s challenging her. This must be something that they’ve discussed in the past.

  “Okay, almost anything. You know that metal and welding supplies would be much harder to store.” She rolls her eyes with a smile and walks to the other end of the room. There are some couches and a door to the outside. “We’ve even got some outside space, for spray painting, but also to just hang out if you’d want. Also”—she looks at Hunter—“no smoking inside.”

  “I assumed as much. I wouldn’t do that with all the cloth and paint fumes.”

  We step outside and there are more couches out there too. Tamara sits down on one.

  Hunter pulls out his cigarettes and lights one as he slumps down on another couch. They both look at me and I lean back against the wall, right next to the door.

  “What did you think of your first classes?” Tamara talks to both of us, but looks at me.

  I shrug. What is it with everyone and all the questions today?

  Hunter starts talking and I zone out, just listening to his voice and standing there in the sun. I don’t care if I get a tan. The black clothes are mostly just because people won’t talk to me when I wear them, and, I guess, a leftover from when I was still in high school.

  My phone buzzes and I check it. It’s a message from Lola. ‘Hey, I’m done for the day, you want to go home together?’

  ‘Yeah. See you at the car park.’ I reply and look up. Hunter and Tamara are both looking at me. “I’ve gotta go. My sister wants to go home together.” I turn around, and I’m gone before they can say anything back.

  I like the place, but I’m just too tired to really deal with people right now. I want to curl up with my drawing tools and make something, or maybe even just curl up and do nothing at all.

  “Are you sure it’s okay?” I wrap myself around the pillow in front of me. Lola is sitting on the other end of the couch. She’s been really cool about letting me have the garage. I know that she may have wanted it more, a place of her own, but I just didn’t want to live in the house with our parents and everything, so we converted the garage. This way I’m close without actually being in the same house. I like my independence, even if it’s only a little bit of it.

  “Of course. I don’t mind living at home. It’s not like I’m used to anything else.” She shrugs. “I like it when there are people around.”

  Lola likes people, she always has. I don’t remember her as anything but a social butterfly.

  “Hey, I thought you were supposed to work on that?” She points to a canvas at the back of my small living room.

  “I know. I was…” Distracted? Everything that happened yesterday just left me wanting to do some pencil art instead of paint.

  “Do you have something new to show me?” She leans forward. She knows that when I’m not painting, I’m doing something else. I’m always doing something creative.

  “Not yet.” I don’t want to show the drawing of Hunter’s dragon from the square we went to to anyone just yet, especially since it’s not done. “It will probably be done in a couple of days.” I’ve taken his design and just added more and more things. I like where it’s going, but for now, it’s not ready to be shown to anyone just yet.

  “Fine.” She pouts. “Then I won’t tell you about the new story I’m working on.”

  “No fair!” Lola is magical with words, she can do such awesome things with them. While my creativity is on the hands-on side, her creativity is all about words. Novels, short stories, even lyrics for music.

  “Okay, fine.” She sticks out her tongue and then sits next to me on the couch. I lean against her and she wraps her arm around my shoulder. She is the only one. She is the only person who is allowed to touch me. I like curling up with her, because it feels like we’re back to being one person, one ball of creativity.

  As she talks about the plot, the idea, the story, I can see it in front of me, slowly unfolding, and it gives me more creative ideas to keep working on. We’ve worked together before, made a short children’s story, with text and images, all together. It’s still somewhere in a drawer. Maybe we should do that again.

  Chapter 6

  Hunter

  After Lizzy left, I hung around the workshop a bit more, helped the group of people with their curtains and looked at some of the supplies that they have. Like Tamara said, they have a good range of things at the workshop—even if I can’t work with metal, they have good-quality clay, paint and thousands of pencils.

  I remember the feeling when I used to come into the supply room. I was only a boy. It was almost magical, all those supplies, all the different pieces of art that could be made from them. All these tools, just waiting around until they would be used to make amazing art. I could almost feel the creativity in the room.

  But then I went to boarding school for high school and was away from here for so long. A boarding school for gifted children. I had to basically beg my parents to let me go there. It’s where I met Tessa—we loved the same t
hings and learned so many things together. And then Joey, my younger brother, got sick, so sick. I almost didn’t graduate and I turned down all colleges. I just couldn’t leave my parents to deal with Joey on their own. So many good things turned bad, sometimes I wonder why I’m even still here. I lost Joey, I lost Tessa. I lose everyone I love. In three years I went from a happy guy to… I don’t even know anymore.

  “Hunter.” Tamara’s voice is quiet as she stands behind me. “Are you okay?”

  I try to smile. I try to not make her worry. “I’m okay, just remembering the good old days.” And then the not-so-good days.

  “Yeah, you were so young. I remember how you fought to get the metal for the bench under control.”

  I roll my muscles. “There are some upsides with working with materials that aren’t as pliable.”

  Tamara laughs. “Yeah, I can see that. Do you still have your workshop at your parents’ place?”

  “Yeah, I can’t fit it in the studio apartment. Plus, I don’t think my neighbors would appreciate it.”

  “I can imagine that.” She turns around. “These are all available—if you need anything else, tell me and I’ll try to get my hands on it. I don’t think working with metal would be best here, but I can do lots of other things.”

  “Thank you.” This is as much of a safe haven as it is a creative space. I hung out at Tamara’s last workshop a lot before I just… stopped. After Tessa’s crash… I didn’t want to do anything anymore. Tamara understood, luckily. “Hey, I’m gonna go home. I’ve actually got homework to do.” Finish that damn book.

  “That’s cool. Do you want me to get you a key to this place, or are you okay for now?”

  “I’m okay. I’ll just make sure there are other people around when I want to come in. Maybe I’ll even socialize.” I joke, but I can see that Tamara takes it exactly as I meant it. I’ve not been very good with other people around, I know that she knows about the fights I’ve been getting into. I don’t want her to know. I want her to see me as something else, but I’m not. It’s my own fault.