Chapter 28
Hunter
“Do I have to go?” I whine as Juliet practically shoves me through the doors of the Ketten Club.
“If I have to go, you’re coming with me,” she shoots back, not slowing down for a second.
The place is exactly what I expected of Ivy’s idea of team morale. Neon lights buzzing like dying bugs, complementing floors so sticky they could rip the soles off your shoes. Mirrored walls reflect the disco ball hanging over a tiny stage. The whole place smells of stale beer and sweat.
Not exactly my idea of a good night.
“Oh my god. This is ridiculous,” I mutter, taking in the chaos. Half the team is already here, crowded around tables with pitchers of beer. I can hear Grayson’s voice booming over the sound system as he butchers some classic rock song.
“You love ridiculous,” Juliet corrects me, steering me toward an empty table. “You just pretend you don’t.”
“I do not.” I shoot her a pouting glance.
“Please. You’re the king of ridiculous. If I recall now, you once got into a fight with a mascot.”
“That’s not fair. That mascot started it!”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smile she’s trying to hide.
Truth is, she’s only here because Ivy and Jessa bullied her into it, same as me.
The difference is, she looks good doing it.
Too good, actually, in that little crop top and skirt that’s making every guy in this place take a second look. Possessiveness grips me.
I dare anyone to give Monroe a hard time.
I fold my arms and lean back against the booth against the wall, making it clear I think this whole thing is stupid.
But I also position myself so I’ve got a line of sight to anyone who might get ideas about approaching our table.
I’m glad that Ivy rented the club out; the number of guys eyeballing Juliet dropped dramatically when we stepped inside the place.
“You know you’re being obvious, right?” Juliet says, settling into the chair next to me.
“Obvious about what?”
“The whole protective caveman thing. Very subtle.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My lips twitch. “But I will gut anyone stupid enough to fuck with you.”
The look she gives me would make me scowl at anyone else. With her, I almost laugh. Almost.
She just smirks, rolls her eyes, and turns her attention to the stage. Beck is up there now, attempting what I think might be Queen. He can’t sing at all. The entire team is howling, doubled over while he screeches something that was probably supposed to be the chorus.
“Scabbagoosh! Scabbamooch!” he tries and fails to sing operatically.
The girls giggle. Ivy’s got her phone out, probably documenting this disaster for posterity, while Jessa makes faces that suggest she’s questioning every life choice that led her here. I agree with her.
“Oh my God, he’s so bad,” Juliet laughs. The sound makes something warm settle in my chest. “This is painful.”
“You want pain? Wait until they drag you up there.”
“They’re not dragging me anywhere. I don’t sing in public.”
“We’ll see about that.”
She shoots me a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Before I can answer, Connor gets shoved up on stage next. The poor kid tries to muddle through a Harry Styles song, his face turning redder with every line while the rest of us heckle him with catcalls and completely unhelpful advice.
“Louder, Connor!” Thorne shouts. “Project from your diaphragm!”
“What diaphragm?” Jett yells back. “Kid’s got no diaphragm!”
“He’s dying up there,” Beck says. “Do you need help?”
Several people answer at once. “No!”
Tate pouts. “Just an offer.”
Connor flips them both off without missing a beat, which gets him a round of applause that has nothing to do with his singing ability.
Juliet’s got her phone out now, taking pictures and recording videos. She keeps trying to get me to pose with her, telling me to smile, which I hate.
“Come on, just one perfect picture,” she says, holding the phone up. She has to stretch her arm all the way up just to frame us both. “You’re like a skyscraper.”
I grin. “You’re like a fire hydrant.”
“Ha ha. Now smile like you’re having fun.”
I repress the urge to smile. “I’m not having fun.”
When Juliet keeps shoving her phone in my face, I feel the corner of my mouth give. She’s the only one who’s ever dragged a smile out of me against my will.
“Fake it. Your fans want to see you being human.”
“I don’t want them to see me being human. The Chainsaw isn’t a person. He’s a machine. I should scare fans off, not invite them to karaoke night.”
“That’s exactly why you should do it. Show them you’re more than just the angry guy who fights everyone.”
I glare at her, but she just keeps snapping pictures. Eventually I give her what she wants… sort of. My version of a smile probably looks more like a grimace, but she seems satisfied.
“There,” she says, checking the photos. “See? You look almost approachable.”
“Almost approachable is my limit.”
She laughs and bobs her head. She’s evil.
Silas appears with a fresh pitcher of beer, doing his best to blend into the wall. My brother’s never been much for crowds, but he’s here because the team expects it. Same reason we’re all here, really.
“How long do we have to stay?” he asks, settling into the chair across from me.
“Until Ivy gets bored or someone gets arrested,” I tell him. “Whichever comes first.”
“Smart money’s on Beck getting arrested,” Juliet adds. “He’s been eyeing that disco ball like he wants to take it home.”
The genuine shock comes when Thorne steps forward and grabs the mic. I’m expecting another train wreck, but he sings “Rolling in the Deep” low and steady, smooth as hell. The bar actually goes quiet. I realize our captain has been holding out on us.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
“Right?” Juliet’s got that look on her face like she’s seeing Thorne for the first time. “Who knew?”
When he finishes, the place explodes. Everyone’s clapping and pounding on tables like they’ve just discovered their captain moonlights on Broadway. Thorne takes a bow, grinning like he planned this all along.
“Show off,” I call out, but even I have to admit it was impressive.
The room eats it up, but it grates on me. Everyone acts like we’re one big happy family. We’re not. I don’t trust half of these guys. I don’t like most of the other half.
It only gets worse from there. Ivy and Jessa hijack the stage next for some pop song I’ve never heard, throwing themselves into it with dance moves so dramatic that half the room’s got their phones out for blackmail material.
They are actually good, which is annoying, because now they have set the bar.
Ryan and Wren, after arriving last, get pushed forward to the mics.
They do “Endless Love” while pretending to hate every second.
Wren seems shy, but Ryan holds her in place, refusing to let her retreat.
But by the end, even I have to admit it’s kind of sweet.
They look good up there together, like they belong.
“Aw,” Juliet says, watching them. “They’re cute.”
“They’re ridiculous.”
“This again? You love ridiculous things, remember?”
I mutter something under my breath about how this night is ridiculous, but Juliet’s sharp enough to notice the smirk I’m trying to hide. I’d rather be anywhere else. Trapped in a bar with guys I can’t relax around isn’t my idea of bonding.
She scoots closer, putting her arm around her and leaning into me. “See? You’re having fun.”
“I’m tolerating this for the team.”
“Sure you are.”
She’s got that teasing look in her eyes, the one that makes my pulse kick up even when I’m annoyed with her. Which is most of the time, if I’m being honest. Her bright red lipstick is doing things to me.
That’s when Thorne gets his revenge.
“Juliet!” he calls out, grinning like the devil. “You’re up!”
She freezes. “Oh no. Absolutely not.”
“Come on!” Beck joins in. “Don’t be shy!”
“I’m not shy; I’m smart. There’s a difference.”
But the guys don’t let up. They chant her name. I can see the exact moment she realizes she’s not getting out of this. Her face goes pale, then red, then back to pale again.
“I hate all of you,” she announces, but she’s already standing up.
And of course, as soon as she’s cornered, the chanting shifts to me.
“Hunter! Hunter! Hunter!”
“Fuck off,” I tell them, but the noise just gets louder. I bare my teeth. “You want a show? Go find another clown. I’m not here to sing. And I’m sure as hell not here to make any of you like me.”
“Come on, man!” Jett shouts. “Don’t leave your girl hanging!”
Your girl. The words hit differently than they should. If only that were the truth. I drag my ass up onto the stage before I can think too hard about why.
“I’m going to kill you all,” I mutter as I join Juliet at the mic.
“Get in line,” she shoots back.
We bicker before the music even hits, Juliet snapping that I’m dragging my feet, me firing back that she’s the one who let this circus happen. The guys are eating it up, hooting and hollering like we’re putting on a show.
Which I guess we are.
The track kicks in and I immediately want to die. “Call Me Maybe.” Of course. All hearts and flowers, the thing I’d rather eat glass than sing.
“I hate you,” I tell Juliet as the opening notes play.
“Sing the damn song,” she mutters back.
We stumble through the first verse with nothing but sarcasm and rolled eyes, and I’m pretty sure we sound nothing like the original. But then something shifts. I lean closer, put my mouth to her mic so our voices blend, and suddenly it doesn’t feel so terrible.
The team’s going crazy, shouting encouragement and probably recording everything for future blackmail. But I’m not really paying attention to them anymore. I’m watching Juliet, the way she’s getting into it despite herself, the way her eyes light up when she hits a note just right.
I catch our reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar and see what everyone else sees. A real couple, touching, singing together, grinning like idiots. Is that really how we look to other people?
Juliet’s flushed red, biting her lip between lines. For once, I don’t bother hiding how much I’m enjoying myself. Because the truth is, I am enjoying myself. More than I had in a long time.
When the song ends, the room explodes in cheers and wolf whistles. Someone shouts “get a room!” from the back, which gets a round of laughter.
Without thinking, I pull Juliet close and kiss her, dipping her back like we’re in some cheesy movie. The crowd goes wild, and when I straighten us up, she’s staring at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.
“What was that for?” she asks as I guide her off the stage.
I lean close enough that only she can hear me. “Because you looked like you needed kissing.”
She stumbles slightly, her pulse kicking against her throat. I have to bite back a grin. Two can play this game.
Back at our table, the guys are still giving us shit, making exaggerated kissing noises and being as mature as a pack of twelve-year-olds.
But I don’t care. I’m too busy watching Juliet try to compose herself.
The way she keeps touching her lips like she can still feel my kiss is making my stomach knot up.
“Not bad, Huxley,” Thorne says, raising his beer. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
“Apparently so is your girl.”
There it is again. Your girl. I should correct him, remind him this is all fake, but the words stick in my throat.
Because sitting here, watching Juliet laugh at something Ivy’s saying, still flushed from our performance, I’m thinking maybe it doesn’t feel so fake anymore.
Maybe it hasn’t felt fake for a while.
“You’re staring,” Silas observes, appearing at my elbow.
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re definitely staring. And smiling. It’s disturbing.”
“Shut up.”
He just shrugs and goes back to his beer, but I catch him watching me with that knowing look he gets when he thinks he’s figured something out.
The night continues with more performances, each one somehow worse and better than the last. Jett attempts rap and fails spectacularly. Three rookies do a group number that sounds like cats being murdered. Ivy forces Wren into a solo that actually makes people cry.
Through it all, Juliet stays close, taking pictures and videos, laughing at the worst performances and cheering for the good ones. She fits in with this group in a way that surprises me, like she’s always been part of it.
“Having fun yet?” she asks during a brief lull in the chaos.
“It’s tolerable.”
“High praise from Hunter Huxley.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
She grins and leans into me, and I don’t pull away. Because the truth is, I am having fun. More fun than I’ve had in months, and it’s mostly because she’s here.
Which is a problem, because this is supposed to be temporary. A business arrangement with an expiration date. I shouldn’t be forming attachments.
But watching her sing along to whatever train wreck is happening on stage, seeing her laugh until tears stream down her face, feeling the way she relaxes against me like she belongs there...
I’m pretty sure I passed attached about three songs ago.
And I have no idea what I’m going to do about it.