We lock eyes.
He freezes, and my heart does, too. Especially because he immediately grabs Valerie’s legs, unlocks them from around his body, and dumps her in the pool. He doesn’t miss a beat as he turns and slices through water, making his way toward the ladder to climb out.
“Wait,” he calls out.
I know it’s for me, but I only speed up. It feels like this hallway is three times as long as it was when I wasn’t trying to escape him, but he’s dripping wet, so he probably won’t follow me into the house. I just have to get through the door…
Before I can, Hunter’s wet hand locks around my bicep. “I said wait.”
“I heard you,” I snap, trying to tug my arm free from his grasp. He doesn’t let go right away, but when I pull harder, he does.
Since I didn’t make it through the door, I know I’ll have to face him. The surge of jealousy has thankfully subsided, but it might come back if I look at him again.
I try to steel myself as I turn around, tip my chin up, and gaze up into those magnetic brown eyes of his.
“You didn’t stop,” he points out.
“Correct. I saw you were busy.”
Dammit.
Hunter’s lips curve up, his eyes sparkling with amusement at my snippy tone. There’s no reason to be snippy about him playing grab ass with Valerie Johnson in his pool unless I care.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
“That’s not what I meant,” I say immediately. “I meant… you have all the worst people in the world at your house today, and I figured I would let you entertain them. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Unconvinced, he nods his head. “Uh-huh.” Then he casually runs his fingers through his wet hair. Little droplets of water fall as he does.
I don’t mean to check him out, but my eyes seem to have a mind of their own.
I already knew he looked good shirtless these days after seeing his Instagram photos, but in person, with rivulets of water running down over his cut muscles… damn.
I swallow, feeling my face warm. I can’t keep my bearings about me if I keep looking at his tanned, toned abdomen, so I redirect my gaze to something I know will annoy me—Valerie Johnson. Her gaze is glued to us as she climbs out of the pool.
I’m a heterosexual girl and even I’m distracted by the jiggle of her wet boobs in that hot pink halter top, by the sun kissed, perfect appearance of her toned cheerleader’s body.
She looks fantastic in that swimsuit, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s Satan.
When we make eye contact, her eyes narrow and she glares daggers at me.
I glare right back, but only for a moment.
Hunter’s the one who deserves my glare.
I don’t know why, but I can’t believe she’s at his house already.
It’s not like I didn’t expect…
Actually, I don’t know what I expected, but not for this to feel so much like a betrayal.
Before I can stop myself, I find myself snapping at him again. “You know, the guys, they just ignored me while you were gone, and that wasn’t such a big deal. I was already used to being more or less a loner. But Valerie? She was mean to me. She spearheaded the mission to keep everyone thinking of me as the class slut—which, honestly, if I managed to be the class slut when none of the guys around here will even look at me, I think I deserve a pat on the back, because that’s pretty damn impressive.”
His gaze locked on me with that unmatchable intensity he brings to the table a lot of the time, he asks calmly, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Did you encourage her?”
He shakes his head. “Not directly. Didn’t have to. She heard I fucked you—I knew that would make her jealous, and nothing brings out the mean in girls like jealousy.”
The calculation in that statement bugs me, even while the way he openly admits it to me comforts me somehow. “You don’t even like her, Hunter.”
His lips tug up only faintly, but this time the amusement doesn’t reach his eyes. With a directness I find disconcerting, he says almost gently, “Neither do you.”
I swallow past a lump of feelings lodged in my throat. I can’t tell what it is anymore. There are too many rushing me right now, so I’m not sure which one feels so constricting, but I have the strangest sense it’s fear.
I don’t know why it’s fear. What do I have to be afraid of?
I look past him at Valerie. She’s staying back, but still watching us closely.
Finally, I look back up at Hunter. I don’t even know if this will mean anything to him, I damn sure don’t expect to say it, but the words fall out of my mouth, completely unstoppable. “Not her.”
Hunter’s brows furrow in the briefest frown, then he clears it and straightens, still watching me.
I feel naked standing here, saying this to him, but I have to. I don’t care if it makes me look stupid, I don’t care if he’d never look at me that way again and by saying this I’m all but admitting that I…
But I have to stop him if I can. Something inside me won’t allow me not to try.
Maybe Hunter can be mean and reckless, maybe he’s stubbornly holding onto some grudge he insists I need to pay for even though I never meant to hurt him in the first place. But, despite all that, I don’t believe he truly hates me.
Maybe he wants to go to war with me, and he wants to win, but I don’t think he wants his victory to be the end of us.
If he wants there to be even a sliver of a chance of anything more at the end of his hateful crusade, he can’t use Valerie Johnson as one of his weapons against me. The satisfaction she would get out of it… I can’t stomach it.
In every war there are rules that must be abided by or else.
He doesn’t know my rules. I have to tell him, if I intend to hold him accountable to them.
I meet his gaze and keep my tone even. “You’re mad at me, I get it. But there’s a line, and she’s over it.”
Hunter’s eyes narrow. “Interesting strategy, leading your opponent right to your weakest spot and telling him how to hurt you.”
“It’s not a strategy. I’m not your opponent. You can strike at me all you want, Hunter, but I won’t fight back.” I pause, letting him absorb my words. “What you did to me sucked, but I’ve never wanted to hurt you. I’ve never hated you. If you want that to change… well, now you know how.”
I don’t wait for him to answer, and this time when I turn to leave, he doesn’t stop me.
I thought I’d feel better after talking to him, but I feel worse. More exposed. More scared. More vulnerable than I should make myself around someone who so casually refers to me as an opponent.
I don’t know how rash he is now. I know how rash he was four years ago, how he made the decision on a dime to completely ruin my reputation in front of all the biggest jerks we went to school with.
If he’s meaner now than he was then, he’s probably right—it was probably the wrong move to be honest with him. For all I know, the minute I’m gone he’ll haul Valerie Johnson up to his bedroom and screw her brains out just to hurt me.
The lie I would forgive him for.
That? No chance. Especially not now that I’ve warned him.
He’s not mine to warn, though. I had hoped to leave his house today with a clearer picture of where he stood now that he’s back, but instead I’m leaving with even more uncertainty.