22. CHARLOTTE
22
M y ears register my bedroom door opening before a heavy weight on the mattress makes me shift in the bed. I wrap my blankets over my shoulder, tugging myself deeper into the warmth of the sheets, then turn my head, expecting Mama’s face there to tell me good morning. But a set of hazel-brown eyes peer down at me, regret in his gaze and fatigue on his face with his snapback on backwards.
“What the fuck, Hunt! What are you doing in my room?” I screech, my eyes widening in horror. He’s been relentlessly crossing every line in the last few weeks, but appearing in my bedroom at the crack of dawn is a new one.
“Your mom let me in.” He sits with his back against my headboard, his legs spread out in front of him, as if he’s been doing this his entire life, with his signature smirk gently breaking through the surface of his handsome face.
Asshole.
“My mom le—What time is it?” I glance at the clock on my nightstand.
“Six a.m.,” he answers casually.
“Oh shit, she couldn’t sleep. Is she in pain?” I turn around so I can look up at him while keeping my body safely wrapped in my sheets. If my mom answered the door at six a.m., that must mean she’s feeling like fucking crap, and probably has been hurling over the toilet the entire night. Thank fuck this was her last week of treatment.
“Yeah, think so,” he admits with a troubled look before it softens. “Don’t worry, I made her a cup of tea.”
My scowl drops in favor of a tiny smile. “You did?”
He hums in agreement as the corner of his mouth curls in victory, knowing he scored some points with that.
“That’s sweet.” I suck in a deep breath through my nose, closing my eyes, ready to go back to sleep.
“Are you going back to sleep?”
“Hmm, yeah.” I might be conceding to Hunter lying next to me, but I’m not going to entertain him at six in the morning. He was a dick last night, and even though I know he’s here to make up, I’m not going to give it to him that quick.
“No, get up!”
I open one eye with a frown on my face.
“Why?” He’s definitely not in the position to burst through my door and make commands. The little shithead took me to the creek when I didn’t even want to go, and then he was planning on fucking one of his bimbos in the back of his truck while I was waiting? Yeah, wrong girl, Hansen.
“I got you a puppy.”
“Really?” I quip with excitement, my lashes jumping up with hope.
“No,” he deadpans.
“Fuck you.”
“I wanna show you something,” he says, softly.
“You have a phone. Just send me a photo.” I glare, pursing my lips a little to keep myself from ending that sentence with “asshole.”
“Get up,” he groans with force this time .
I know he wants to push me out of the bed, but knows he’s going to fuck up more if he does. I like being in this position, making him hold back in his dominant ways.
“It’s Saturday,” I state matter-of-factly.
“Exactly. A whole day to fill.” He shoots me an excited look, giving me a slight push, and I keep my eyes locked with his, a scowl in place.
“I hate you, asshole.”
His expression darkens a bit, that little spark of desire attacking my stomach. “There’s a fine line between love and hate, babe.”
“Stop flirting with me.”
“Fine, but only if you get out of bed.”
“Funny,” I mock, “here I thought you preferred your girls in bed.”
His gaze finds mine, blinking frantically while lust forms in his eyes, his chest moving up and down slowly, and I realize the mistake I just made. He stays quiet, licking his lips before he drags his teeth over them, looking frustrated as fuck.
“Don’t tempt me.” His glare is confusing. A torturous mix of annoyance, desire, and hope, and when his gaze drops to my lips, I remind myself of what happened last night.
Am I mad at him? One hundred percent.
Am I also curious about how he plans to make up to me? Abso-fucking-lutely.
I let out a growl, turning my body away from him, not able to look him in the eye any longer. “Ugh, whatever.”
“Don’t ugh me either. I’ll wait downstairs.” The mattress shifts, as he gets back on his feet, and I turn my head again, watching him towering above me, making him look even bigger than he already is. He grabs the back of my neck, then lowers his lips to my forehead. The warmth of his skin on mine has me lowering my eyes, catching my breath .
“Just trust me, okay?” He tilts my head to force my gaze to meet his. “ Please. ”
“Okay.” I nod.
“If you’re not down in ten minutes, I’m coming to get you.”
“What?” I yelp, tugging the sheets up to my chin. “What if I’m naked?”
An evil grin appears on his face, and gone is his humble posture.
“Hmm, let’s make it five.”
“Stop flirting with me!”
He rolls his eyes, walking out of my room.
“Get dressed, Charls.”
“What should I wear?” I call out to the hallway.
“Something that can get wet!”
“You better not be taking me to the creek for a swim!”
His head peeks back in, that boyish smirk way too cheerful for my mood.
“I’m the first to admit I’m stupid fifty percent of the time, but I’m not that stupid.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
“I can fool anyone but you, Charls,” he says before he disappears again, and I shake my head.
I’m not so sure about that.
Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of his truck, though not wholeheartedly. He was smart enough to get me a tea to-go, and a donut, making it easier for me to be slightly nicer to him, even though he’s still number one on my shit list. I rest my head against the window, my eyelids still heavy, tempting me to close my eyes again as I watch the streets pass by .
I was so mad when I got home last night. I ignored the dozen texts he sent me, too raging with fire to type anything back that I wouldn’t regret later. That was, until Jason sent me a quick message, and my rage turned into pain.
“He said something about his mom being right,” it said.
And I realized exactly why he turned into a two-faced douchebag as soon as he decided drinking a beer was a good idea. I was fully planning to go to bed angry with a newfound determination to make him crawl back into my good graces. But when I remembered him telling me he got into another fight with his mother, my heart fucked my plan right over. Instead, I fell asleep with tears lingering in the corners of my eyes, wishing I could fix everything for him.
My sympathy doesn’t excuse his behavior, though. Just because he’s hurting, it doesn’t give him the right to treat me like shit. Best friend or not.
We reach the end of town, and he drives his truck toward the mountains, making me wonder where we’re going. He scans my profile, knowing I’m dying to ask, but instead I keep my jaw tight.
“Look, Charls...” He finally pushes out a breath, breaking our silence. “I’m sorry about last night, okay?” I keep my gaze focused on the road in front of me, taking a calculated bite of my donut. “I was a dick, and I should’ve brought you home.”
“You should’ve never taken me there in the first place,” I snarl.
“I wanted you there.”
“Clearly, you wanted to fuck Jen more.” I look into his guilty eyes.
“Kim,” he jokes, and I pluck a piece of my donut to throw it at his head.
“Whatever, asshole.”
“I did want you there, but you were with Julie the entire time, and Kim just… distracted me.” His admission is sad, and even though it reaches my heart, it also snaps my anger back in place .
“So, it’s my fault?” I sure as fuck hope he will choose his next words wisely, or I’ll bitch slap the hell out of him. Again .
“No,” he says with a firm shake of his head, then hits the brakes with more force than I anticipated, parking the truck on the side of the road. The sudden stop has me bouncing back and forth in my seat. My hair flops in front of my head, and I shoot him an incredulous look he chooses to ignore.
“It’s not your fault. Nothing is ever your fault. I’m an asshole most of the time. You’re my best friend, and the best thing I have in my life. Frankly, you’re the only good thing I have in my life.”
“That’s not true,” I whisper.
“It is,” he chides. “It’s fine. I know it, and I’m happy I have at least you. My mom was being a fucking bitch again. I take comfort in having you around. After those moments, I need to have you around. I know it’s not fair to you, and trust me when I say, I’m trying to work on it. But yesterday, I needed you. When you weren’t there, I did what I always did before I had you—distract myself with chicks .” He emphasizes the word, and I turn up my nose. “Because that’s what I do. That’s what I’ve been doing for the last few years. No, it’s definitely not your fault. It’s my fault for being a weak fuck, not just asking for your attention when I need it, but instead burying myself into the girls who don’t mean shit to me, when really, I should’ve just hung out with you and Julie.” He drags his hand over his face, and I notice the desperation in his features.
My heart cracks in my chest.
“Yeah, you should’ve,” I agree, unable to hold on to my grudge. “But I get it. Just don’t do it again. I’m always here for you, but if you need me, be with me. Don’t tag me along like some accessory.”
He lets out a relieved breath, relaxing his shoulders into his seat. Then, he rests his head back before that smug grin returns to his face .
“Hell, you’re one hot accessory, though.”
This boy.
“Stop flirting with me.” I jokingly scowl, but also reach out my hand to him. He grabs it without hesitation, linking it with mine, then presses a kiss on it.
“We cool?”
I’m not sure, to be honest, because even though the anger simmers out of my bones, it hurts to question if he will ever be okay.
I nod with a coy smile. “Yeah, we cool.”
“Thank fuck.” He lets go of my hand, pulling the truck back onto the road, and I take another bite of my donut. The air in the vehicle feels lighter, instantly lifting up my mood.
“Where are you taking me, anyway?”
“You’ll see.” He throws me a wink that makes a deep sigh escape my lungs, a burning desire forming between my legs.
Fuck.