Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
HUNTER
I can’t help but chuckle as Lennon stomps around, huffing and cursing me out like she does every morning. It’s our own little fucked-up routine, but without the make-up sex afterward.
When we met almost two years ago, I knew she was special. Call it instinct or maybe fate—I don’t know what it was—but I felt it right down to my bones that Lennon Corrigan was meant to be in my life. The way she looked at me, our flirtatious banter, the electricity that soared between us—it all made me come alive. The fact I’d never felt instant chemistry like that with anyone before her had me wanting to get to know her.
Imagine my shock that night when I saw her standing in my kitchen after fucking my best friend. As much as I wanted to be happy for Brandon, I was slowly dying inside. I still am, and I’ve wanted to ask her why so many times.
Why him?
Why not me?
Why didn’t she give us a chance?
I’ve concluded the moment we shared at the bar must’ve been one-sided. She’d flirted to get a free drink, and that’s all it was. She came up a few more times with her friends but never made it clear she had felt what I did. Of course she returned for more drinks, but I clearly spun it in my head into something it wasn’t, which made me a goddamn fool.
She chose Brandon, and I refused to stand in the way. However, that doesn’t make it easy to see them together, even now. You’d think I would’ve gotten over it, considering nothing happened between us, but the more I saw her on the weekends and the days she’d sleep over during the summer made it impossible for me to forget her. We shared something special at that bar, or at least my heart fed me that lie anytime she was close. I quickly decided the only way to deal with her constant presence was to get under her skin and frustrate her as much as I could because that was what she did to me.
It was all fun and games until eight months ago when Brandon announced she’d be moving in permanently. Lennon found a job at one of the schools here so they’d no longer have to date long distance. It was easy to see how happy he was about it too. I could’ve said no, made an argument about how there wasn’t room for her in our tiny apartment, or even mentioned how I didn’t approve of their relationship. However, I’d never put our friendship at risk by making him choose between me—his best friend—and the woman he loved.
I refused to be that guy. If the tables were turned, I knew he’d wish me luck and give me his blessing. So that’s what I did and continue to do.
Now hearing her sing in the shower each morning, watching her dance in the kitchen while she makes coffee, and doing her stupid yoga in the living room have tortured me for the past eight months. Everywhere I turn, there she is—invading my space and creating dirty thoughts in my head that I’m always pushing away.
It’s been fucking hell.
The only way to erase the thoughts of Lennon from my mind is to find someone else. Or that’s what I keep telling myself, at least because I’ve tried many times and failed miserably. Something’s obviously broken inside me because no matter what I do, those feelings for her don’t go away. I know she doesn’t reciprocate them, and you’d think my dick would get the memo and stop getting hard anytime she’s in a tight skirt or low-cut blouse. You’d think my heart would stop racing each time she’s near. You’d think after hearing them having sex and her screaming his name, I would stop obsessing over my best friend’s girlfriend.
But no.
I’m fucking broken.
Nothing in my head works right when it comes to her, and even screwing random girls to erase the thoughts that haunt me hasn’t worked so far.
Though it doesn’t stop me from trying.
Once Lennon leaves for the day, slamming the door behind her, I let out a breath of relief. I still have thirty minutes before I have to leave for work, and since I showered the night before, I drink my coffee in silence without distraction.
I didn’t always shower before bed. Normally, I’d do it before work every morning or after the gym, but then Lennon blamed me for hogging the bathroom and making her late for work. I prefer to shower before bed now—I’ve come to like it—but hell if I’d ever admit that to either of them. During those early days when Lennon first moved in, we’d fight over who showered first in the mornings, which led to a lot of shouting and toilet flushing sabotage. Needless to say, Brandon begged me to compromise so the three of us could live together in peace.
For the sake of my best friend, I did, and once again, Lennon got her way—the bathroom is hers in the morning.
“Sounds like you two got off on the right foot today,” Brandon says, slowly making his way into the kitchen. With eyes half closed, he reaches for a mug and pours himself some coffee. Then he adds creamer and sugar before meeting me at the kitchen table.
“Not my fault she’s wound so tight,” I say into my cup before taking a drink. “She gets pissed over the smallest things.”
“Probably doesn’t help that you egg her on before eight in the morning,” he kindly reminds me as he’s done dozens of times before. He takes a slow sip and releases a deep breath. “She likes routine.”
“Doesn’t mean she has to force her ways on everyone,” I tell him. “If my dishes are dirty, I’ll clean them when I feel like it. She gets her panties in a knot because I don’t do them on her watch.” We have this same conversation every few weeks, and you’d think he’d learn by now that I won’t change my ways for anyone, especially her .
“It’s your funeral, man. This fight is between you two.” He shrugs, surrendering. Brandon knows this apartment is as much mine as it is his, and he can’t force me to do anything as long as I keep up with my half of the bills and chores. I hate putting him in the middle like this, but if I bow down to her every demand, she’ll never stop. Considering I already hate having to see her every day and live in this agony, she’ll have to deal with me the way I deal with her.
Before Lennon moved in, we’d clean once a week, and that was enough. Between working full-time jobs and mostly ordering out food, there wasn’t much to keep up with. Now, Lennon cooks for Brandon every night, does their laundry twice a week, and tells me when it’s “my time” to vacuum and dust the apartment. After enough nagging, I do the chores she assigns, but only when I’m ready.
However, vacuuming up her panties and cell phone charger got me thirty minutes of scolding and a lesson on checking the floor beforehand. Then when she found out I used bug spray instead of furniture polish to dust the apartment, she stomped her foot and screamed at me for being an idiot.
Safe to say, I made my point on how I felt about her assigned “chores.”
“Nah, don’t worry, man. It’s how we show affection,” I reassure him, chuckling and then finish my coffee. “If she hates it that much, maybe she’ll go live with one of her sisters or friends or something, and we can get our bachelor pad back!”
I stand and walk to the sink where I set my empty mug. A few of my cereal bowls that Lennon soaked in soapy water are still there, and I shake my head at how she tries to control everything.
“If she moves out, you know I’m going with her,” Brandon tells me softly. “She’s the love of my life, and you’re my best friend, so I’d hate to even have to pick, but she’s my future. However, moving out is the last thing I want.”
His words have my jaw tightening at how pussy whipped he is. I know he loves her, but fuck. I miss the days when it was just us. We’d play video games, order pizza, and then head out to the bars. In college, we were so broke that we’d take advantage of all the happy hour 2-for-1 deals so we’d have enough money to buy a drink for a girl or two. Mason and Liam would always be there to fuck shit up too. Through thick and thin, it was always the four of us, and there was a strict no girls tagging along rule until Lennon came along.
Brandon’s one of the good guys, and deep down, I know he deserves to be happy, but I can’t help feeling like he stole something from me. It’s unfair to say, considering he had no idea how I felt about her, and once they hooked up, I knew none of it mattered. Even if it’d been nothing more than a one-night stand, Lennon would always be off-limits. Bro code and all that shit. You don’t dip your toes where a buddy has already been. The second he claimed her, my chance was shot.
“I know, man,” I finally say, grabbing my bowls and emptying out the water.
I don’t want to have these feelings for her. Hell, I’d do anything not to have them. The only thing that seems to work, even if only temporarily, is pissing her off. She’ll scream, tell me how immature and irresponsible I am, curse me out until she’s red in the face, and for a split second, those feelings of lust dissipate.
Approximately thirty seconds later, she’ll do something adorable like shake her ass as she stomps away or force a smile in my direction to pretend she’s not seething, and those stupid feelings quickly rush back.
Heading to my room, I grab the last of my things that I need before I leave for work. I spot three more bowls, a glass, and silverware on my desk and carry them to the sink.
Brandon’s already finished his coffee and left the kitchen by the time I return. Knowing this will piss Lennon off, I place them next to the other dishes I left her this morning, and a smirk hits my lips.
My cell phone beeps, and as soon as Lennon’s name flashes across the screen, I know it’s going to be a passive-aggressive comment. When her message is what I thought it’d be, I reply like I always do—with anything to set her off even more. When she doesn’t respond to my last text, I take a picture of my dirty dishes and send it to her, knowing it’ll have her steaming. Nothing satisfies me more.
To be honest, I don’t know why she even tries anymore. She’ll text me with a simple request, and I always do the exact opposite, so you’d think she’d learn by now.
Her messages are usually along the lines of:
I’m making Brandon dinner tonight, so don’t bring food home for him or he won’t be hungry later.
Or…
I have to stay late at work, and my sisters are coming over right after. Do you think you could sweep the kitchen when you get home since you’re the one who made the mess?
Or…
It’s your turn to do laundry. Don’t forget the towels in the bathroom this time!
Of course I brought home a six-pack of beer and two large pizzas. Instead of sweeping, I walked around in my work boots caked with dried dirt and stones from the worksites. And I did do laundry that night, just not her towels. Hearing her scream my name the next morning when she realized the linen closet didn’t have any was totally worth it.
You think she’d understand she can’t boss me around like a child. She’s living in my apartment, so maybe I should start giving her a to-do list. Hell, the lease has my name on it, not hers.
Except she makes Brandon happy. That’s the only reason I put up with her shit.
Then as if she read my mind, she sends another text.
Before I head out, I double-check I have everything I need—phone, keys, wallet. I slip on a jacket since it’s a tad chilly, even for California in February, because I’ll be visiting the jobsite today to check the progress and get a status update from the contractors. I yell to let Brandon know I’m leaving, but he’s already in the shower. He’s a lucky asshole who doesn’t have to be at work until nine. As an accountant, he has the coveted banker’s hours. Meanwhile, I have to be out of the house by eight as a project manager at a construction company. Typically, I do a lot of the bitch work since I only graduated two years ago, but I was recently assigned my very own project to oversee.
Being in charge and making sure we stay within budget, on schedule, and have limited fuckups only add to my list of growing responsibilities. On top of managing a major project, I have business meetings with owners, subcontractors, and team members, plus a mountain of paperwork on top of that. I travel between the office and jobsite daily, and even though it’s busy and stressful, I love the complexity of it. Engineering and technology were always my strong suits, and working in the construction field during the summer while I was in high school helped pave the way to where I am now.
Once I’m in my truck, I stick my Bluetooth in my ear and get the day started. Liam and Mason like to give me shit for how much work crap I keep in here, but it’s my mobile office.
By the time I’m on the highway, I’m already on a conference call as I drive out to the build site. Four large units with eighteen apartments inside along with unattached garages are being built. On top of that, a community recreational center with a tennis and basketball court will be added. We’re only four months into the project and have six more months until it’s complete. Of course the owner wants it done as soon as possible to fill it with renters, so he’s already on my ass about getting ahead of schedule.
“Hunter Manning,” I say, answering another call.
“Where the hell are you?” my boss, Phil, hisses, and I can tell he’s already in a mood. “I’m ready to look at these plans, but I need you here.”
“Okay, I’m three minutes out. I’ll be right there.”
After hanging up, I press my foot down on the gas pedal and book it. Once I pull into the gravel driveway, I park. Grabbing my work boots from the back, I quickly put them on along with my hard hat and safety glasses. Since I have to be on the jobsite one minute and then in a meeting the next, I always dress professionally for work but also have a change of clothes and shoes in the car.
“Morning, Phil,” I greet once I find him.
“Hunter,” he replies flatly.
I flash him a confident smile, which he ignores.
After an hour of going over the plans, walking the jobsite, and proving to him I’m in control of the project, I’m on my way to the office to catch up on emails. I have a meeting at eleven, then another one at two, and after that, I’ll work on my computer until I leave for the day.
By the time evening rolls around, I’m emotionally and mentally exhausted and more than ready to go home and relax. Once I finally reach my apartment, I park in my assigned spot and groan when I see Lennon’s car next to it. Technically, it’s Brandon’s, but the moment she moved in, he gave it to her and now parks on the road. Pussy .
My phone rings just as I gather my things from the back seat.
“Hey, man,” I answer. My older brother, Hayden, is as busy as I am these days, which means we don’t get to chat much. It also doesn’t help that he lives in New York now, and our time zones are different. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Not much,” he replies. “Just thought I’d check in on my little brother and see if he’s staying out of trouble.”
Laughing, I take what I need from my truck and shut the door. I glance at Lennon’s car and frown, annoyed she’s home already.
“Always,” I tell Hayden. “Just getting home. What’re your plans tonight? You and Sav doing okay?”
He’s been dating Savannah since last summer and moved to be with her. It was shortly after Lennon moved in, and my life took a turn for the worse.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” The nervousness in his tone makes my heart race.
“What? You two break up?” I panic, knowing what it took for them to get back together after being apart for ten years. I’d be devastated for him if that were the case.
“No! Hell no. I’m not letting her out of my sight again,” he says, laughing.
“Whew. Scared me there for a sec, man.”
“I’m planning to propose to her. I’ve always known she’s the one for me and want to make her my wife.”
I’m smiling so big at his news. “Hell yes. I’m so fucking happy for you, Hayden. And honestly, about fucking time.” I let out a laugh as he sighs in relief.
“I haven’t told our parents yet, but I’ve designed and ordered the ring. I wanted it to be one of a kind—just like her—so now I have to find the right time to pop the question. It’s not all planned out yet, but I’m nervous as hell.”
I almost make a remark about how lovey-dovey he is, but I’d rather see this version of him than the hollow person he was without her.
“Don’t be. You know what her answer will be. And honestly, who cares what our parents or anyone else say? You know this is right. So do I. And I’m not a bit shocked.” I take the steps two at a time as I listen to Hayden’s plans. After I enter the apartment and drop my shit by the door, I hear Lennon singing in the kitchen and walk that way.
She has her headphones in, and she’s bobbing her head back and forth and shaking her hips. Either she hasn’t heard me come in yet or she’s ignoring me, so I walk past her, open the fridge, and grab myself a beer. Then I see a sandwich on the counter.
“You made me a PB&J sandwich?” I taunt Lennon, then grab it off the counter before she can stop me. “My favorite!” I take a huge bite and shoot her a wink.
“Hunter!” she squeals, slamming her hand down. “That was the last of the bread!”
“Good thing you’re going to the grocery store,” I say around a mouthful, walking into the hallway.
“Fucking seriously?” She’s seething, which has me smiling from ear to ear before I take another bite. “I wasn’t planning to go to the store yet!”
“Guess you have an excuse now,” I retort, not looking over my shoulder. I’m sure she’s glaring or giving me the finger. That’s her usual go-to move.
“Who’re you talking to?” Hayden asks.
“Satan.”
He bursts out laughing, knowing who I’m referring to.
“You two still fight like brother and sister?”
“Pfft. Worse.” I step into my bedroom and shut the door behind me, finishing off her perfectly made sandwich.
“When are you gonna get over your feelings for her? Don’t you think you’ve made both of your lives hell for long enough? Learn from my mistakes, bro…”
Hayden is only five years older than me, but I swear he’s an old soul. We’re the only two kids in the family. Our parents didn’t bother trying for a third after me, and it didn’t help that their relationship was always in the spotlight. My dad’s a piece of shit, but in public, he acts like Father of the Year.
As a California state senator, he has a picture-perfect image to uphold. I was the wild child who had him running to the doctor’s office, begging to get snipped. Though as I got older, I figured out it was so he couldn’t knock up any of his mistresses.
Hayden was more of a father figure to me than our dad ever was, and he tried to keep me grounded when I acted out for attention.
Needless to say, I never claimed to be an easy person to live with, and Hayden knows how I get. It doesn’t help that Lennon brings out this bitter side of me, and I want to make her life hell for forcing me to see her every goddamn day. I couldn’t give her what Brandon can anyway. For most of my life, I never met my father’s expectations with my grades, sports, and choices, and after living here and listening to her constant nagging, I know I would’ve never met hers.
It’s more than obvious that I would’ve never measured up to Brandon and his unconditional love for her since the very beginning. I pussyfooted around and didn’t make a move while he didn’t think twice about it. My hesitation came back to bite me in the ass, and now I have to live with that choice every day.
Brandon also eventually wants a family, and I have my own commitment issues to work through, which have only gotten worse since Lennon moved in. Though it fucking sucks she didn’t choose me, it’s probably for the best, or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. It could’ve ended badly with me hurting her, though I’d like to think I wouldn’t have. She’s a constant reminder that I’m not good enough and how I’ll never be.
“There are no feelings.” Lies.
“Yeah, and Donny’s my secret life partner,” he replies, cackling. “You aren’t fooling anyone, especially not me.”
Savannah’s gay best friend, Donny, insists on calling me Beefcake. At first, it was insulting, but now I know it’s a compliment coming from him.
“HUNTER!” Lennon slams her fist on the door. “Do you have to be an insensitive asshole?”
“Oh fuck.” Hayden laughs hysterically. “You really pissed her off this time.”
I roll my eyes as I take a swig of my beer. “What else is new?”
“Gonna let you deal with that. Call me later.”
“Will do.”
We say goodbye and hang up. I open my door with a shit-eating grin and wait for her to speak. Her face is beet red, with eyes narrowing in on me.
“Would it kill you, just once , to be a decent human being? I was starving and wanted that damn sandwich!” She’s seething, and fuck if that doesn’t make me hard.
Tense as ever, I take a pull of my beer and watch her over the bottle. “Oh, was that sandwich for you?” I furrow my brows as if I’m genuinely confused. “Thought you were making that for me.” I shrug, knowing how angry she already is, but hell, I don’t care.
“Argh! You’re the literal worst, Hunter Manning!” She turns, her hips shimmying as she walks away.
“Well, feel free to leave anytime. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out!” I shout my usual retort whenever she’s freaking out about something. A nice little reminder that she can leave any goddamn time and no one’s stopping her.
“You need to grow the hell up!” she shouts after I shut my bedroom door. The walls are thin, so I hear every word that leaves her lips. She’s muttering curse words, calling me every name under the sun, and I smile in victory. Getting her worked up is another step toward getting her out of my damn head, though sometimes it feels like hot foreplay.
Better to be under her skin than fantasizing about her being on top of me.