52. CHARLOTTE
52
“ I t’s still fucking weird to see him on TV.” Julie takes a sip of her wine from the other side of the bar, glancing up at the re-run broadcast of the Met Gala.
I pick up a glass, drying it with the cloth in my hands. “I know.”
Hunter looks great in his three-piece suit, his brown hair not hiding below his signature snapback but pushed back in a cute crest. Laurie hangs on his arm in a white silk dress that hugs every curve of her body, her eyes smokey and alluring as fuck.
She looks gorgeous.
They both do. The little tug at my heart makes me believe I’ll never really love seeing them together, but with every photo or TV appearance I see, it becomes a little more bearable.
“We all know you are the bad boy fighter, but it’s good to see you clearly have a soft spot. Are you in love?” My eyebrows lift up at the screen hanging above the bar, the question of the reporter catching me off guard. Hunter’s hazel eyes grow big, but if it was fueled by fear, it quickly smooths back into a boyish smirk.
“Err, yeah, sure. What’s not to love?” He tugs Laurie closer into his chest, a broad smile on her red lips.
“He’s not very good with words, but we’re madly in love.” Her hand is draped over his heart, and I swallow away the nausea that now swirls in my stomach. Dread builds deeply, accompanied by something that can only be described as disbelief .
He loves her?
“Oh, shit.” Julie almost chokes on her wine before her gaze clashes with mine.
“Did that just happen?”
“Can I lie?”
“No.” I shake my head, fishing my phone from my back pocket. I have no right to have a racing heart and anger rising quicker than a fucking airplane for take-off, but I can’t fucking help it. I still see myself standing on that sidewalk and him telling me he doesn’t say those words. But clearly, that was a lie, wasn’t it?
CHARLOTTE : You love her?
Julie keeps her eyes trained on me as I keep staring at the screen, waiting for those blue dots to appear.
HUNTER : What are you talking about?
CHARLOTTE : TMZ, asshole. I thought we agreed to share the important shit with each other?
“Jackass,” I mutter, frustrated as fuck, then flip the screen to Julie .
“I’m sorry, girl,” Julie offers with a pitying look on her face, and I let out a growl in response when my phone rings. I don’t even have to look to know who it is.
“If you’re going to throw some bullshit at me, saying you don’t get why I’m pissed at you, you better hang up real quick, Hunter Hansen.” I scowl, holding my phone against my ear.
“It’s not what you think.” The guilt in his voice is undeniable, but I’m not going to let him back-peddle out of this one.
“You didn’t just tell her you loved her?”
“It doesn’t mean as much as it does to other people. I don’t even mean it. I mean, what is love, anyway? I like her, but love is a big word. I think.” His voice sounds heavy, like he’s barely believing himself, and I can’t blame him.
Clearly, he’s full of shit.
“Right, isn’t that exactly why you shouldn’t say them?”
“They caught me off guard. I didn’t want to make it awkward.”
I roll my eyes, his response not even surprising me. When it comes to his feelings, Hunter Hansen is the king of deflection, always trying to avoid whatever is going on inside of him. I could barely get him to talk about his mother, or the grief he was still carrying from missing his brother and father. It’s the reason why him saying those words in front of a camera shocks me even more.
“Well, do you?”
“What?”
I let out a grunt, pinching the bridge of my nose. “ Love her .”
“I’m not capable of love,” he whispers, a sad tone shimmering through his voice.
“Will you stop lying to me? Please? ”
“I’m not lying, babe.”
“Everyone is capable of love, Hunter. Including you.” I wish I could get through to him at some point, although the jealous streak inside me doesn’t mind his explanation. Something I will smack myself in the head later for because Hunter and I are friends again, but this phone call makes it very clear we’re nothing more than that.
“Maybe.”
“Well, don’t tell Laurie that. She won’t appreciate it.” I sigh, avoiding Julie’s gaze. “Share, Hunt. That’s the only way this will work. Just be my friend. That’s all you gotta do.”
“You’re right, babe. I’m sorry. I’ll share.”
“Right. I gotta go now. I’m at the bar with Julie. We’ll talk later?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“Bye, Hunt.”
“Bye, Charls.”
I throw my phone on the bar with a small thud, snapping my head toward Julie, who’s looking at me with a face that tells me she doesn’t agree with whatever he just said. I expect her to ask for a recap of the conversation, but she cocks her eyebrow with a frown on her lips, verbally kicking me straight in the gut with her question.
“I love Hunter. You know I do, but how long are you going to wait for that boy?”
“I’m not waiting for him.” I turn around, pulling a bottle of tequila from the shelf and two shot glasses before placing them on the bar.
“Yeah, you are.”
“He’s my best friend, that’s all,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and pouring the translucent liquid into the tiny glasses. I silently laugh as the words roll off my tongue like I rehearsed it in front of the mirror, because it’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
I love him.
I’ve always loved him, even though I keep telling myself he is my best friend. The smart thing would be to end this for good. To end our so-called friendship that we try so hard to keep alive, even though I know it’s doomed to end in pieces either way, just like it did two years ago. But I can’t break loose. I can’t let go. I can’t force him to swim on his own, because I’m terrified he’ll drown, knowing I’ve been his lifeline since that day at the creek.
My heart won’t let me live with that possibility.
“He’s not. But you already know that.”
“Shut up.” I hold the shot in front of her nose, and she reluctantly reaches out her manicured fingers to take it from my grasp.
“You can’t save him, Charlie.”
I swallow hard, knowing she’s right as my eyes well up. “I know, but I’m all he’s got.”
“He is going to drag you under.”
Her words cut through my heart like a knife through butter, feeling like a junkie that refuses to go to rehab. Never wanting to really let go, always in need of the next hit, even though I know, one day, it will kill me. It’s my biggest weakness. My biggest flaw, and maybe I’ll realize it’s my biggest mistake.
“He won’t,” I say, closing my eyes, praying I’m right before I let the tequila burn another hole in my heart.