Mom still looks a bit conflicted. Her concern doesn’t ease when she looks at me and her gaze drops to my neck.
I’m wearing the Scorpio necklace Hunter sent over on the first day of school. He saw the box on my dresser and put it on me after I agreed to his terms.
Partially, it’s a pretty gift and technically his initial. Partially, it’s a symbol of ownership.
She wouldn’t have any sense of that part if I hadn’t let her read that note, but since she knows this necklace wasn’t given to me as a nice gesture, its presence around my neck does little to ease her anxieties.
I don’t try to ease them right now. I’m not sure how. My own anxiety about the arrangement hasn’t even eased yet, but Hunter seems pretty confident that this is the right course. He said I’ve gotten in the habit of saying no to him, and we need to break it so we can get back to our natural rhythm.
He might be right, but it’ll take some getting used to.
Chapter Fifty Eight
Riley
As it turns out, life is a whole lot easier with Hunter running the show.
Monday morning, I get a lovely bouquet of flowers.
They’re not delivered to my house, though. They’re delivered to home room.
The flower delivery man looks a bit curious at the venue change as he puts them on my desk, but with so many people gazing at me with looks of envy or delight on their face, I don’t have it in me to banter with him today.
“Thanks, Ted,” I say simply.
The teacher smiles pleasantly, looking at the lovely arrangement on my desk. “Aw, that’s nice. Is it your birthday?”
“Nope. Just Monday,” I murmur, leaning in to smell them.
Since I don’t have a car yet and the bouquet is too big to shove in my locker, I have to haul the damn things around with me all day.
I’m pretty sure Hunter knew that would be the case, because when I show up to English class still toting them around, he gets a big grin on his face.
“Well, look at that. Who was so thoughtful as to send you flowers on this lovely Monday morning?” he teases.
I sink into my seat and place the vase on my desk. “My crazy boyfriend. Normally, he sends them to my house. Today, he wanted to make me parade them around the whole school.”
“He sounds like a keeper.”
I roll my eyes. “Mrs. Dowd better not figure out these are from you. She’ll flunk me, for sure.”
Hunter leans over so he can lower his voice. “If you really want to get your teacher’s pet on, you could pluck out the card and give them to her. I bet she doesn’t get flowers very often. Might get you some brownie points.”
My eyes widen. “I can’t give your flowers away.”
“It’s not like I won’t send more next week,” he states.
I bite down on my bottom lip, looking at the flowers in consideration. On one hand, I hate to give them away because they’re from Hunter. On the other, I don’t want to carry them with me to lunch, and I could definitely use some brownie points with Mrs. Dowd.
Before she looks over here and notices the flowers on my desk, I quickly pluck out the card and tuck it into my notebook. Then I grab the vase and stand, making my way to the front of the room.
Mrs. Dowd looks up, her expression pinched until she sees the vase bursting with beautiful flowers.
She sits up, a bit startled. “What’s this?”
“For you,” I say, offering them to her.
Her stunned gaze rises to meet mine. “For me?”
I smile and nod. “To brighten your week.”
“Oh.” Too surprised to hide it, she looks back at the flowers. “Well, that’s very nice. Thank you, Miss Bishop.”
I flash her another bright smile, then turn around and head back toward my desk.
Hunter lends a hand, checking out the flowers like it wasn’t his idea and saying, “Look at those pretty flowers.”
Mrs. Dowd leans in to smell them. “Miss Bishop brought them in for me.”
“She has good taste. Pretty flowers for a pretty lady,” Hunter says with a devilish grin.
Mrs. Dowd actually blushes.
“Sorry, sorry.” Hunter shakes his head. “Inappropriate, I know. I’ll try to control myself.”
I bite back a smile, stealing a glance over at him as I open my notebook.
He smiles and winks at me.
He’s a scoundrel sometimes, but his plan worked like a charm.
Mrs. Dowd is decidedly more pleasant for the rest of the class.
___
By the time lunch rolls around, I’m well on my way to having the nicest day of high school ever.
Not a single person has mean-mugged me in the halls, the teacher that didn’t like me was easier on me today due to Hunter’s interference, and even though lunch is my least favorite part of every school day, I’m not dreading it like I usually am.
Barring any totally unforeseen drama, it should be an altogether pleasant day.
I unpack my lunch and open my book, but I don’t make it past the first page before my solitude is interrupted.
Filled with dread, I look up to see who it is this time.
Surprise grabs me as Hunter Maxwell, rightful king of the popular table, takes a seat across from me at the social outcast table.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Hunter looks at me across the table. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Upsetting the social order.”
A faint smile claims his lips as he grabs a spork. “I was going to say sitting with my girlfriend, but I guess you can call it what you want.”
I glance past him at his usual table. “If you sit over here, people will be confused.”
“It’s good to push people outside their comfort zones every now and then.”
I look back at him. “What if they follow you? I kinda like not having a bunch of people sitting here at lunch. I know it was originally intended as a form of ostracization, but after four years, I’m really used to having my space.”
Hunter is blasé about the grand gesture he’s making, telling me, “If anyone follows, I’ll tell them to leave. It’s not a big deal, Riley.”
But it is a big deal. The confusion I predicted spreads around the popular tables. People keep looking over at us uncertainly, like they’re not sure how to react. Should they grab their trays and come sit over here with us? Do we want our privacy? What can they do that won’t make Hunter mad? His expectations of them aren’t as clear right now as they usually are, and they’re definitely uncomfortable with that.
I shake my head. “If you’re not careful, someone else might take advantage of your empty throne and try to take it from you.”
“Let ’em,” he says, as if genuinely untroubled by the prospect.
I frown. “You sound like you mean that.”
“I do. I’ve been thinking about what you said, how my popularity is more of an annoyance to you than a perk. It’s all I’ve ever known so I didn’t realize it, but lately it feels that way to me, too.” He looks at me across the table. “I can’t promise my life won’t always be a little like this, I tend to fall into certain roles no matter where I go, but it won’t always be this place, these people. Maybe we’ve outgrown high school.”