Chapter 28
28
HUNTER
The next morning, I cringe before I even open my eyes, my head pounding like a jackhammer. But the physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional gut punch as hazy memories of last night flood back. Groaning, I press my face into the pillow.
What the hell did I blabber to Dylan? Something about him being the nicest nice guy, and then… a princess and a nerd? Oh gosh.
I made a complete fool of myself. My skull throbs in agreement, the beginnings of a hangover taking root. Not the look I was going for on a day I’ll have to spend next to Olivia the Perfect. She probably sleeps a full twelve hours, wakes up humming a tune that makes flowers bloom, and has mice dressing her.
Meanwhile, my morning breath could qualify as an environmental disaster, a noxious cloud capable of wiping out entire ecosystems. I run my tongue over fuzzy teeth and wince. Did I even brush them last night? That I can’t remember the answer is significant enough.
With a sigh, I crack one eye open, immediately assaulted by the too-bright sun streaming through the blinds. Coffee. I need coffee. But that would require me to show my face in the apartment and face Dylan.
If I hide long enough, he’ll leave to go pick up Olivia, and I won’t have to see them until the engagement party. I’m supposed to catch a separate ride with Nina and Tristan, anyway. Problem solved.
I’ve barely finished the thought when a knock sounds at my door. I freeze. Keep quiet and pretend I’m still asleep or woman up and face the music?
“Hunt? You okay?” Dylan’s muffled voice filters through.
My stomach somersaults, but I manage a strangled, “Yeah, I’m good.” I overcompensate, sounding too cheery to be believable. But I don’t want him to worry on top of having had to put me to bed like a child. I try again, aiming for casual. “Just waking up.”
“Mind if I come in for a second?”
I hum an affirmative, not trusting my voice. The door cracks open and Dylan leans against the threshold, all tousled blond hair and broad shoulders. A modern-day Prince Charming wrapped in a Greek god’s body.
His eyes scan my face with a hint of amusement. “How’s the head?”
I tug the comforter higher, realizing I’m still in yesterday’s clothes. The fluffy barrier is my last line of defense, a plush fortress protecting me.
“I’ve had better mornings,” I admit, trying for a wry smile. “What time is it?”
“Just past eleven, sleepyhead.”
“Whoops, guess I’m living that rockstar lifestyle finally.”
“What do rockstars prefer to cure a hangover? Greasy breakfast or painkillers?”
“Can you add a time machine to that list?”
“Unfortunately not, but I can throw in some bacon.”
Fatty food and a cocktail of painkillers both sound like salvation, but the promise of crispy bacon wins out. “I’m sold. Breakfast, please.”
Dylan nods, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Coming right up. I’ll get cooking.”
He disappears down the hall, and I wait until I hear the clatter of pans before making my walk of shame to the bathroom. I crank the shower as hot as it’ll go, letting the scorching spray wash away the remnants of last night’s poor choices.
By the time I pad into the kitchen, hair still damp and wearing my favorite oversized comfort shirt, the room is filled with the most heavenly aroma. Sizzling bacon, melted butter, the earthy scent of scrambled eggs. Even the coffee smells richer than usual, more robust.
Dylan glances over his shoulder, pausing mid-scramble. For a split second, his smile falters, a glitch in his easy-going demeanor. But it’s back in a flash as he gestures to the table with the spatula.
“Perfect timing. Breakfast is served.”
He slides a plate in front of me, piled high with crispy bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and a buttered roll oozing with melted cheese. A steaming mug of coffee appears next, and I wrap my hands around it gratefully.
“You’re a lifesaver.” I inhale the rich aroma. “Thanks for this.”
Dylan smirks as he settles across from me with his own plate. “Just carrying out my nice-guy duties.”
I shoot him a mock glare. “Okay, now you’re being mean.”
“If I were being mean, there wouldn’t be coffee.”
“That’s more survival instinct. I’m a terror without caffeine.”
“Good to know coffee keeps you from becoming a supervillain.”
There’s no point fighting my smile. He might be taken, off-limits, but I still desperately long for him. This effortless morning banter is how I had imagined us falling in love before he moved in. Before I knew about Olivia. But I need to remind myself I’m not the one he’s taking to the ball tonight, so I change topics.
“What’s the plan for today?” I take a sip of coffee. “Do you know what time Nina and Tristan are coming to pick me up? How much time do I have to re-transform into a human being?”
Dylan’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth. He sets it down, flashing me a lopsided, almost apologetic smile. “There’s been a slight change of plan. You’ll be riding with me.”
The coffee mug nearly flies out of my hands as I choke on a sip, coughing as horror slams into me like a wrecking ball. Oh, hell no. Being stuck in the back seat while Dylan and his girlfriend make googly eyes at each other in the front for two hours? Playing the literal third wheel? Fuck, no.
“Alright?” Dylan frowns.
I wave him off, to catch my breath. “Fine, just… went down the wrong pipe.”
As the initial shock of the awful driving arrangements settles, I rack my brain to find a way out of it. How can I decline without revealing why I don’t want to go with him and Olivia?
Why did Nina cancel my ride? How could she do that to me? Well, probably because she isn’t aware of the consequences. I’ve never confessed my true feelings for her brother to my best friend. And now I’m paying the price.
“Oh, um…” I keep my tone casual as I push my eggs around the plate. “Wouldn’t Olivia prefer to have you all to herself? You know, quality couple time and all that?”
Dylan’s brow furrows, and he hesitates before answering. “Olivia went to the Hamptons yesterday. She skipped work and her friends whisked her away for a long weekend.” He says it with a grimace of regret as if spending a night apart from her left a gaping void in his world. Gah. “She’s staying at their house for the weekend. She’ll meet me at the party.”
Another emotion I can’t decipher flickers across his face—it’s almost pain. But it’s gone before I can analyze it further, but it leaves me unsettled. Is he holding something back? What?
“Oh.” I blink, processing this new information. “Why aren’t we all going together in one car, then?”
Dylan bounces his knees under the table, looking sheepish. “Well, I won’t be staying the night at the resort. I signed up to volunteer at a soup kitchen on Sunday a while ago. I need to head back to the city after the party.”
Of course he did. Cue the mental image of him feeding the homeless while looking like a real-life fairytale prince. Dylan, with all the charm of a storybook hero, ladling out steaming bowls of soup to the less fortunate, the picture of human perfection.
It is such a pity I am not the heroine in this story.
But at least the engagement party won’t turn into a romantic Hamptons getaway for Dylan and Olivia. No moonlit walks on the beach for them. Or hot hotel sex.
Not that being back in New York will stop them from copulating. Maybe they’ll do it in our apartment even— cringe.
All of a sudden, the idea of them having sex in the city doesn’t sound much better than them doing it in the Hamptons. I’m not sure what’s worse, but at least I won’t be here to hear it. I definitely prefer their sexcapades to happen in a different zip code from where I’m sleeping.