11. HUNTER
11
I t’s as if my heart opens the moment the words leave her lips. As if the polluted air that has been surrounding my head since the accident cracks through like the sun bursting through a thick cloud. I can breathe for the first time. Her palms burn on the small of my back while I hold her head close to my body, and I settle my nose against her soft hair.
Just know that I’m here if you want to talk instead of fight.
There’s a need that plunges through my chest. It sets roots in my heart with a force that’s painful. The need to stay this way forever. The need to make her mine, knowing she deserves better than everything I am. Everything I can give her.
She deserves a prince charming for the rest of her life, and I’m nothing more than the villain. Because truthfully, there is not much that can scare me in this world anymore. I’ve lost too much to have anything left to be scared of.
But I’m scared for her.
Scared that I will never be able to let her go once I’ve had her, corrupting her more with every touch, every stroke, and every kiss.
I can’t do that.
I can’t be selfish when it comes to Charlotte.
So, instead, I push every longing thought away as I look up at the stars in the sky with emotions flooding the corners of my eyes. I’ve been doing this for the past weeks, and once again, I remind myself she’s my friend while I rest my chin on her head.
“If I do, it wouldn’t be anyone else, Charls.”
She untangles herself from my body, looking up at me with her bright eyes. The moonlight reflects in the green swirls even more illuminating than I’ve ever seen. They keep me hypnotized, the gravity of her pull slanting my vision until I’m locking onto her plump lips. They are slightly curled in the sweetest smile.
“Good. Let’s go.” She rushes me back to reality when she drags her hand over my stomach, tearing a moan from my throat that I try to muffle as much as I can before she moves herself past me to walk back to my truck.
Torture . Complete and utter fucking torture, but I can’t convince myself to walk away from her. I know I should. Eventually. But the primal roar in my heart at just the thought says it all. She holds it in her grasp without even knowing it.
“Wait, hold up.” I rapidly snatch her wrist to pull her back. “Can you keep this for me?”
She looks at the paper bag I’m holding up with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Keep it somewhere safe.”
“What? No?” She takes the bag out of my hand, peeking inside, then looks back up to me with a broad gaze. “This is a lot of money. How much is this, anyway?”
“Five grand.”
“Five—What the fuck, no, you keep it.” She pushes the bag against my stomach, turning around and walking back to my car.
Dammit.
I quickly stalk behind her with big steps before I gently push her against the vehicle. With parted lips, she peers up at me through her lashes, and I realize the mistake I made when I put one hand above her head, caging her in with my torso. The weight of her arousal is throwing me off, giving me a hard time to keep my mind straight. All that is on my mind is filth. My head thinking about how beautiful she would look on the hood of my car.
Naked.
Shut up, Hunt.
With my fingers pressed against her stomach to keep her in place, I give her a serious look.
“Charls, the day we met at the creek, my mom found my money. Twenty grand.” God, just the thought of it makes me wanna go back inside and ask Phil for another fight. It was my ticket out of here after graduation. It would give me the opportunity to rent something on the West Coast, doing as many fights as I can until the AFA picks me up. “It was what I had earned in these fights over the last year. She said it was about time I started paying rent. I was saving that for after graduation,” I reveal, the desperation etching through my voice. “To get the fuck out of here.”
She stays quiet, while a frown forms on her forehead, making the corner of my mouth curl a bit. She’s looks so gorgeous underneath the light of the moon.
“I really don’t like your mother,” she mutters with a scowl.
“You and me both, babe,” I agree, enjoying every second of her sass. “Please, just hold on to it for me?” I give her a pleading look, lowering my face to hers.
“Okay.” She reluctantly takes the bag out of my hand, her cute frown still in place.
“Thank you.” I give her a grateful smile, then urge her into the car. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
We both climb in before I hit the ignition, the engine vibrating alive beneath us as I maneuver my truck out of the parking lot and onto the road. She quietly stares out of the window while we drive back to town, and after a few minutes, I can’t resist brushing my hand through her hair.
“Hey, I’m sorry I freaked you out.”
Her head rears toward mine, her gleaming eyes instantly burning through me when I put my hand back on the wheel.
“It’s okay. It was only scary until I realized how good you are at it.” I throw her a side glance, detecting a bit of pride in her tone. “That was some serious shit. Who taught you how to fight like that?”
“I did. After the accident, I needed a way to get rid of my anger, my energy. I bought myself a punching bag and started hitting that thing every night until I was drained. Then a year ago, some punk-ass kids were challenging me, nagging me, and I knocked out two of the three within three minutes. It was in front of Phil’s garage. He came out, asked me if I was interested in fighting for money, and I figured why not?”
“But your mom doesn’t know?”
My mom wouldn’t know if I was part of a gang right now. She’s too wasted every day to register anything.
“She doesn’t give a shit about anything I do, so I never bothered to tell her.”
The first time I came home with a black eye, I felt kind of proud, thinking she must be able to see me now. She must show me she cares. When she didn’t say a word, glancing at my shiner, I knew she really didn’t give a shit. That I was as dead to her as she felt inside. It was the day that whatever hope I still had left at things becoming better got tossed out of the window. I had parents and a loving family until I was fourteen, and unfortunately, there wasn't any more in the stars for me.
Charlotte lets out a deep sigh, and she closes her eyes as if it’s too hard to hear, while I glance back and forth between her and the road. Her emotions drift through the car, piercing their way through my skin. I am seen by her. Like I’m in fucking hell and she’s holding out her hand, but at the same time, I don’t want to take it, simply because I don’t want to destroy her.
“I give a shit about you,” she states. It’s firm. It’s clear. And it’s filled with promise that envelops my heart like a warm blanket. “From now on, promise me you’ll tell me everything? Friends first, remember?”
Two words.
It’s only two words, but those two words are more loaded than any other thing that has ever reached my ears. Two words that warm my heart, because I need her as my friend. Two words that carve through my soul because I want her to be so much more than that.
“I promise.” I grab her hand, braid our fingers together, and squeeze it.
She gives me a gentle smile, and I hold on to her hand a little longer just because I want to. Looking at the time on the dash, I notice it’s almost eleven p.m.
“You want to get some ice cream at that late-night ice cream parlor?”
Her head tilts, her smile spreading to a smirk. “Hunter Hansen, you’re a feeder.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I glance over at her with a playful grin.
“Oh, hell no, I’m a foodie, so we match perfectly.”
Perfectly.
“Right.” I release her hand with a deep exhale.
I’m sure as fuck not perfect for her, but I know she’s perfect for me.
My eyes move back to the road while we continue our drive in silence until we arrive at the ice cream parlor, and I park my truck in front of it.
“You wanna go in or eat in here?” I fix my attention on her, turning my frame.
“In here. I’ll go get it. What do you want? ”
“Definitely three scoops.” I reach into my door to grab my wallet, tossing it in her lap. “Lemon, raspberry, and clementine vanilla.”
A grin splits her face as she takes my wallet out of my hand.
“You’re a fruit lover,” she states, then holds up the leather folder. “And I’m only agreeing to this because I forgot my bag.”
“Oh, yeah, definitely a fruit lover. So many good fruits—peaches, melons.” I wink, earning me an eye roll before she gets out of the car, shaking her head with her cheeks high as the sky. I watch her as she marches in, casually brushing her dark blonde hair to the side, then flashes the cashier one of her famous smiles.
I swear to God, I could watch her all day.
I’m used to girls that are high maintenance, always taking an hour to get ready, eating salads instead of burgers, and not wanting to get their hair wet when we go out to the lake.
Charlotte doesn’t care about all that shit.
I’ve popped up on her front lawn more than once, shooting her a text to come take a ride with me, and she takes no longer than a minute, looking sexy as fuck in just a hoodie and some jeans. She is feisty as hell when she needs to be, not willing to let anyone step on her toes, but she’s also the most caring and loving person I’ve ever met. It’s not just her mom who she helps in any way she can. It’s me, it’s the freshman getting lost in the hallway, it’s the junior who needs tutoring, and it’s the senior getting bullied she spends lunch with if I’m not stealing her away. She has the biggest heart, and I can’t deny it’s fucking refreshing. And addictive.
The corner of my mouth curls up when she strolls back out with two cups of ice cream, each with a spoon on top. I reach over to open the door for her from the inside.
“Lemon, raspberry, and clementine vanilla for the fruit lover,” she quips, lowering herself back in her seat .
“Thanks, babe.” I take the cup from her hand, scooping a bite of the lemon ice cream and putting it into my mouth. “What did you get?”
She gives me a playful glint, cocking her eyebrow in that cute way she does.
“What do you think?”
I purse my lips while I think about it as I keep our eyes locked.
“I’m gonna go for,” I say, dragging out the words, “cookies and cream, chocolate, and peach for a fresh bite.” My eyes narrow a bit while hers widen in surprise. Pride swells my chest when she nods her head, impressed with my answer.
“That’s close, Hansen. Damn close.”
“What is it?”
“Cookies and cream, chocolate, and orange.”
Fuck yeah. “I know you through and through, Charls.”
“I guess you do.” She chuckles, while the beeping of my phone echoes through the car.
I look up when I notice a message pop up, and I grab it to check who it is, while Charlotte shamelessly glances at the screen, her eyes going wide when she reads the words.
Oh, shit.
JASON: Yo, birthday boy! Wanna hang at midnight? Celebrate your birthday?
Her gasp echoes through the truck like an unwanted morning gong, and I already know she’s going to want to have my head for this.
“What the fuck, Hunter?” she screeches with a big scowl on her face. “You’re shitting me, right?”
“What?” I wince, feigning innocence, even though I know where this is going .
“It’s your birthday?”
“Well, technically, no. It’s tomorrow.” I casually take another bite of my ice cream, avoiding her pissed gaze. From the corner of my eye, her attention falling to the time on the dashboard for a split second.
“Which is in half an hour!” she yelps, quickly leaning in to slap my arm. But I’m quicker. Before she can hit me, I grab her wrist with a big grin on my face, amused by her blazing expression.
“It’s not a big deal.” I hold a firm grip on her arm, her pulse throbbing in the palm of my hand.
“It’s your birthday! Of course, it’s a big deal! How old are you turning?” Another gasp. Shit. “Oh, my fucking God!” Green eyes roll to the back of her head, then she swiftly tugs her wrist from my hand, giving her just enough time to softly slap my head.
“You’re turning eighteen, aren’t you?”
“Ay, what the fuck?” I laugh, ducking to avoid her hand connecting with my face again. I knew she had spunk, but I didn’t expect her to go violent on me.
I like it.
“It’s not funny! Are you turning eighteen?” She tries to keep her scowl in place, but I catch the fleeting grin pressing in the corner of her pink lips when she meets my dumbfounded look.
“Calm down, babe.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! Are you turning eighteen?” she repeats, reaching out her hand toward my face once more.
“Okay, okay,” I confess, putting my hands up in a placating gesture, not being able to keep my laugh inside. “Yes, I’m turning eighteen.”
She lets out a disappointed sigh, shaking her head.
“I’m tempted to shove my ice cream in your face, but I like ice cream too much.” She holds up her cup, bursting a full laugh from my ribcage.
“Thank God you like ice cream. ”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The disappointment that’s undeniable grinds my molars together. I hate to disappoint her.
“I don’t know?” I really don’t. Birthday parties are a thing of the past, and with my mother being in the state she is, I prefer it that way. “I haven’t celebrated my birthday since the accident, so I don’t feel the need to celebrate now. It’s just like any other day.”
“Except it’s not. It’s your birthday.” Her voice goes quiet, and I let out a moan in frustration.
“I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I give her a concerned look that is returned by an incredulous one from her.
“You didn’t hurt me, Hunter. It’s just sad that you don’t want to celebrate your birthday.”
Maybe it is. I guess I’m used to it by now. “Well, stay with me until midnight and it will be the best birthday I’ve ever had.” I brush my hand through her hair while she takes another bite of her ice cream. Her strands are like silk running through my fingers, stirring all the senses alive that should stay buried for as long as possible.
“Deal,” she chirps. “Let’s go to my house and hang out on the porch. That way, I can check in on my mom.”
“Sounds like a plan.”