Dammit, why is instinctive protectiveness over him springing back up?
As I start to mull over the annoyance of that realization, Hunter slows to a stop. I don’t realize what I’m doing until I naturally slow to a stop with him and find myself standing here like a dumbass as he stops in front of his locker.
His gaze shifts to me, curious, but he doesn’t linger too long, probably not wanting to spook me into realizing I should have kept walking. I glance away, wondering how awkward the recovery would be if I swerved now and started walking by myself instead of standing by his locker like I’m waiting for him.
Before I can decide on a course of action, he starts talking again.
“Aw, how sweet. You shouldn’t have.”
The playfulness in his tone piques my curiosity. I focus my attention where he’s looking—at the front of his locker, where a shrine has been started. There’s a sign reading “Welcome back, Hunter!” in bubble letters with an abundance of pink and red hearts raining down around his name. Pictures of him with his friends—and stupid Valerie Johnson—are angled and taped above and below the sign, along with team spirit paraphernalia.
I roll my eyes. “Ugh. You know I didn’t.”
Hunter nods as he shoves aside some ridiculous curly ribbons hanging off the bottom of the sign and turns the dial to put in his combination. “That’s true. You would’ve probably just taped a new book list to the front of my locker, maybe attached a Mockingjay pin for a little pizzazz.”
I bite back a grin. “That does sound like something I’d do.”
Hunter smiles faintly and glances over at me, then goes back to exchanging books in his locker. When he goes to close the door, the ribbons get stuck in it and he sighs. “That’s gonna be annoying.”
“Everything Valerie has a hand in is annoying,” I offer innocently, hugging my books and leaning back against the lockers.
“I guess I don’t have to worry I’ve been forgotten,” he says lightly.
The idea of anyone here forgetting him is so ridiculous, I scoff as we start walking again. “Yeah, no, you’re still a god around here. When you started modeling for your dad’s clothing line, I saw that iconic picture of you with the perfect pout looking out at the ocean from an Italian cliff like… every single day. People here are obsessed with you. Somehow your legacy has only grown in your absence.”
At that, he smiles. “Hey, at least no one thinks you gave it up to a loser, right?”
I look down, shaking my head at his gall. “Wow. Still not ashamed of that, huh?”
“Someone had to be your first, why not me?” he says shamelessly.
I shake my head. “God, you can be such an asshole. You weren’t my first, that’s just the lie everyone believes.”
Hunter shrugs, then he gives me a little wink. “There’s still time, we’ll see what happens.”
I stare at him, torn between reluctant amusement and utter annoyance. “That’s rather presumptuous, isn’t it? What makes you think I’m still a virgin?”
With a certainty I find suspicious, he says, “I’m pretty sure.”
My eyes narrow on his face. “Why?”
Rather than answer me, he slows to a stop and points down a hall leading to a bunch of classrooms. “I’m this way.”
“You’re evading the question.”
As if innocent, he says, “I just want to make a good impression on my first day of school.” Then, dropping his gaze and nodding at the books clutched to my chest, he says, “You might wanna think about doing the same. We passed your next class a while ago.”
My face falls and I lower my books, grabbing at the schedule on top and quickly looking to see where my next class is.
Shit! He’s right.
I look up at him just long enough to see the smug smile on his face before he turns and heads off down the hall.
Frustration grabs hold of me. I don’t want him to get the last word, but I also don’t want to be late to my next class.
Self-preservation wins out and I turn on my heel, hastily making my way back the way I just came.
Chapter Fourteen
Riley
“Question.”
Sara turns around, looking a bit like a deer in the headlights as I slam my hand down on the counter, my schedule sandwiched between my palm and the smooth surface.
Wide-eyed and suspiciously tentative, she says, “Yes?”
“How is it that Hunter Maxwell knows my class schedule better than I do?”
Sara’s eyes widen even more for a split second, then she darts a gaze left and right to check for teachers—or worse, her mom.
Sara’s mom works in the office, and Sara is an office aide during the period before lunch, so she’s just finishing up. Normally, I meet her here and we walk to the cafeteria together, but most days I wait outside the office.
Not today. Today I am experiencing a strong sense of Et tu, Brute? and I want answers.
I cock an eyebrow expectantly.
Sara sighs and deflates, her shoulders sinking and her body hunching forward. “He may have asked for a copy of it before school this morning.”
“Sara!”
“I’m sorry!”
“Why would you give it to him?” I demand, wide-eyed. “And why wouldn’t you tell me? I didn’t even know he was back.”
“He told me not to tell you. He swore he wouldn’t do anything evil with it.”
“And you believed him?” I demand.
She shrugs apologetically. “I made him pinkie swear?”
“I am going to kill you,” I tell her.
“Can you wait until after lunch? I’m starving.”
“Only because it would be unkind not to allow one last supper, even if you are a Judas.”
She wrinkles her nose up. “I am not a Judas.”
“Tell that to the knife sticking out of my back. Empty your pockets, I wanna make sure he at least gave you your thirty pieces of silver.”
Now Sara rolls her eyes at me. “You’re so dramatic.”
“You are the second person to tell me that today.”
She turns to stack a manila file folder on top of a mountain of them, then looks back at me over her shoulder. “And does that tell you anything?”
“Yes.” I pause for a split second. “That you’re both wrong.”
When she turns around, there’s a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes. “So, what did he do with it?”
“I shouldn’t tell you. That’s confidential information only to be shared with friends—not double agents.”
Staring at me as if I’m being unreasonable, she asks, “Do you have any idea how hard it is to say no to Hunter Maxwell?”
Why yes, yes I do.
I guess I can let her slide this time.
With a sigh, I tell her, “Anderson kissed me today.”
Sara’s eyes widen. “What? Oh my God, I need details. How was it?”
“It was in front of Hunter,” I say, since somehow that’s the only thing about it that seems memorable. “And my teacher. She thinks I’m a ho-bag now.”
Somehow, her eyes widen even more. “Like on purpose? Does he know about you and Hunter already? Was he jealous? Was it a sexy gesture of possession to show Hunter you’re his now?” She sighs. “Why is your life so much better than mine?”