38. HUNTER
38
CHARLOTTE : Thank you for the book.
With one hand holding up the towel around my hips, I almost let my phone slip out of the other. My heart feels like a jackhammer trying to break free with excitement curling my lips.
Finally, she’s sending some kind of sign of life after four weeks of radio silence. I had to ask Jason to ask Julie if Charlotte was fucking okay.
“Tell Hunter to fuck off” was Julie’s response, which made it clear I was still in the doghouse. I figured changing my tactic to gifts might help. Thank fuck it did.
HUNTER : What book?
I wait for the dots to appear, my heart in my throat when she’s taking longer than ten seconds to reply. With each second that passes, I regret my joke as I anxiously wait.
CHARLOTTE : That Kamasutra book you sent me?
What the fuck.
CHARLOTTE : That wasn’t yours?
CHARLOTTE : My bad, must’ve been Brad then.
HUNTER : Who the fuck is Brad?
CHARLOTTE : The guy I went on a date with yesterday.
Oh, hell no . Vigorously, I hit the dial button, the tone sounding annoyingly in my ear, but it’s no surprise that it quickly goes to voicemail.
HUNTER : Pick up the phone, Charls.
CHARLOTTE : I’m not sure you have earned that privilege yet.
Goddamnit.
HUNTER : Are you trying to give me a heart attack?
CHARLOTTE : Maybe. Is it working?
HUNTER : Charls.
HUNTER : Please stop torturing me.
CHARLOTTE : I don’t think I’m ready to let you off the hook just yet.
Bullshit. The fact that she’s texting me back shows she’s giving me an inch. I just need to gently take it, make sure I don’t spook her so I can take the rest of her.
HUNTER : Then I’ll wait.
Five seconds later, my phone vibrates in my hand, her name flashing across the screen, and I answer it with my face split in half. Some smart-ass flirt sits on the tip of my tongue, but there’s still a CAUTION sign hanging above my head, so I settle for “Hey.”
“ Then I’ll wait? What is this, some reverse psychology? ”
Confused, yet amused, I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”
“The Hunter I know is a deaf son of a bitch and would have been harassing me the moment I texted you back.”
“Technically, I have been harassing you for a month now.”
“That you have.”
We fall into a loaded silence, and I assess my face in the mirror. The corners of my cheeks gently lower, frowning at my reflection.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” I tell her, eventually.
A gust of breath slips into my ear, my heart ready to jump out of my chest.
“I know,” she says.
“I fucked up.”
“You did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You already said that.” There’s less ice in her tone with each sentence, relaxing my shoulders.
“I mean it.”
The line goes silent again, and I anxiously wait for her to say something. Anything.
“I hate you,” she whispers.
“No, you don’t.” I know this girl better than anything, and as much as I deserve it, she doesn’t hate me. She’s not capable of hating anyone. This would be so much easier if she was. She could just cut me out with force, and at some point I’d have to accept that.
“You’re an asshole,” she repeats, as if I don’t already know.
My brown eyes dilate, gold specks growing as I stare back in the mirror. “I’m your asshole.”
I hope she can read between the lines, even though I don’t even fully know what it says .
“I need you to be my friend, Hunter.” Leave it up to this girl to rip out my heart and cradle it as it weeps in her arms. Her words kill me inside.
“I am your friend.”
“Then act like it!” Okay, I deserved that.
“I will. Just… just don’t ghost me, okay?”
“Don’t give me a reason to ghost you.”
I nod, catching my own grin rising in the mirror. “I won’t.”