Chapter six Hunter
Chapter six
Hunter
It’s a bit of a dick move, but when the others message me to say we’re meeting up with Bexley after school to tackle Operation Who Gives A Shit, I feign injury from gym class and head home early.
While I’m able to ignore the pestering text messages that follow my noticeable absence, sadly, I’m not able to dodge the phone call that comes as I pull into my driveway.
“Yes?” I sigh when the bluetooth connects, bracing my hands on the steering wheel.
“What’s this I hear about you being injured?” my father questions, sounding far more annoyed than anything else. “You know your attendance is crucial at this point of the academic calendar, Hunter.”
My jaw clenches painfully. “It’s just one class, Father. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Leaning my head back against the leather rest, I inhale deep before answering. “I’m just taking care of some business. I didn’t want that information getting out, so I told Millar I was injured.”
Nurse Millar and her fucking big mouth.
Not surprisingly, he accepts my excuse. But instead of perking up enthusiastically like he normally would, I’m met with a tsking sound of irritation.
“I told you not to get involved, Hunter. I’m still trying to undo your mess. The last thing we need is you three meddling where you don’t belong.”
I should just keep my mouth shut. Agree with him. It would be the sensible thing to do. Except for once, I find myself going against my better judgment, irked by his less than warm attitude.
“You wanted me involved before.”
He scoffs disapprovingly. “This is no longer schoolyard play, child. And after what you’ve cost us, I no longer trust you and your friends to handle it. This is adult business.”
Tai and Rylan’s earlier conversation comes back to me, their comments about us being nothing more than an extension of our fathers.
At the time, I had vehemently disagreed with their opinion. After all, my whole life I’ve been conditioned to take his word as final. I am his successor, his legacy. That was my entire existence and sole purpose, especially while at Willowbrook.
And to be fair, I was fine with it.
I wanted it.
Now? I hate the idea that I’m starting to see their point of view.
It’s expected that I remain at his beck and call, but now that I’ve suddenly done wrong in his eyes, I’m being dismissed and tossed aside like trash—implied that I’m not mature enough to handle things.
Not to mention the clear disregard that the all-important role bestowed upon me was just schoolyard play.
It’s beginning to sound as though everything was just a test of my compliance and I failed, therefore now deemed worthless.
Keeping my voice steady, I reply, “It was one minor hiccup that we’ve now sorted. I’m more than capable of handling this.”
I’ve said too much. I’m sure he probably assumes I’m referring to Spencer and the Cedar Heights students, but I need to tread carefully.
If I give it away that we’re looking into the fire—sorry, fires—this whole situation will become even more difficult to navigate.
We’re already walking around on eggshells to hide our investigation.
The last thing we need is to give our position away and alert them to the fact we are snooping against their orders.
Elizabeth’s voice appears faintly in the background before my father lets out a growl. “Hunter, you will do as you’re told.”
Click.
I doubt he even listened to me at all, attention obviously focused on his true and only passions—job and reputation.
The frustration is threatening to send me head first into a downward spiral, barely fighting back against the overwhelming urge to not do as I’m told.
Instead of going inside, I throw the car in reverse.
Driving away from the house, I barely give any thought to my actions.
Maybe if I was gripped by some resemblance of rationality instead of sheer annoyance, I’d make better choices.
But instead, I find myself parked out front of the last place I ever expected to be.
Soft footsteps grow louder after I bang my knuckles loudly on the peeling wooden door, and when it swings open, I can tell she’s equally perplexed by my abrupt and unexpected arrival.
“Lannister, what the hell are you doing here?” Spencer asks defensively, crossing her arms.
That’s a great question, Duchess.
“We need to talk,” I reply snidely, barging past her into the house.
Spencer mutters a curse under her breath, making her protests loudly known but I’m too distracted by the sight of her living room. It’s so… simple.
Well, at least it’s tidy. I’m not sure what I was expecting. This was very much an act now, think later kind of impulsive decision. I didn’t think this through at all. But it’s too late to turn back now, unless I want to admit to her that I’m fucked up.
Maybe when hell freezes over.
“Hey, dickhead—I asked you a question.”
Swinging around, I come face to face with a very cranky looking Spencer, and it suddenly dawns on me why my ridiculous fried brain opted to come here.
I need to fight with someone.
Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “Settle down, Duchess. The world doesn’t revolve around you. Or have you forgotten we are currently dealing with a situation? You shouldn’t—since you love to remind us about it every chance you get.”
My eyes drift down her body, stopping on the bandages and gauzes still plastered over her legs. Injuries, I’m so kindly reminded, that she obtained because Spencer decided to save me.
If only she knew I’m beyond saving and shouldn’t have wasted her time.
“Is this some type of mental breakdown?” she questions when I don’t immediately answer. “Seriously, just get the fuck out of my house, Lannister. I’m too exhausted to deal with you today.”
It’s because of her words I truly look at her wholly. While she’s doing everything in her power to portray complete composure, control, and what I can only assume is a weak attempt at physical strength, the usual fire is absent. No pun intended.
Dark circles are visible under her eyes, and the longer we stand in this face-off position, the more I see her start to struggle.
It’s clear she’s returned to Willowbrook far earlier than her body is capable of handling. I guess I have my father to partly thank for that too. But he can’t take all the credit. After all, it was my idea to have him threaten her graduation and throw that little grenade at her.
Ignoring her, I pivot and stroll into the living room. “Sit down, Spencer. A small breeze could knock you over at this point. It’s pathetic, really.”
Turning my back on her was my first mistake.
Provoking her was my second.
There’s no time to consider the incoming consequences of my actions before a foot solidly connects with the back of my knee, causing my legs to buckle. I manage to catch myself, but before I can fully straighten up, her hands shove me hard in the back.
Gross. The color of this carpet I’m now staring at should be illegal. Whoever designed it was clearly color blind and had no concept or understanding of blue. Or is it gray? It’s hard to tell.
Growling quietly, I push myself up from the ground, spinning around. Spencer’s eyes darken as I take a step toward her, her body tensing up like she’s getting ready to fight in the cage.
“You’re the pathetic one,” she snaps quietly, words sharp as a knife. “Now kindly fuck off and crawl back into whatever crinkle canyon you emerged from.”
My eyebrows shoot up at her insult. “Any crinkle canyon I delve into is still far more exciting than that whorish cunt you heave around. I suppose that’s why you had to dig your greedy claws into both Rylan and Tai. One just wasn’t enough?”
Spencer’s mouth tightens, and I have only a split second to react to the leg that comes swinging towards my dick. I dodge it, letting her foot hit my thigh before I instinctively act on reflex.
I’m not sure what possesses me to do it, but I shoot forward, jabbing two fingers straight into one of the bandages on her thigh.
I guess in hindsight, I was expecting Spencer to topple over, or at least, stumble away from me. Imagine my surprise when I have to block a flying fist from connecting with my nose. I successfully deflect her punch, but then another comes. And another.
Soon enough, the two of us are in a full-blown sparring match in her living room. Well, I’m calling it a spar to avoid the fact I’m clearly an asshole.
Dammit. I’ll never hear the fucking end of this from Rylan.
Whack.
Spencer’s punch to my jaw has me halting, stunned that she actually managed to get past my blocks. The woman in question just glares at me with intense hatred—clearly disproving my initial observation about her lacking fire.
“Get the hell out of my house,” she demands, chest heaving with ragged breaths. “Get out before I physically throw your ass out and rip your balls off your body.”
I rub my sore jaw from where she managed to clock me before dropping my hand in preparation. “You’re an insufferable and obnoxious bitch.”
To my horror and astonishment, my words have the opposite intended effect. Spencer stills, body relaxing. Only slightly though, as if she knows the initial danger has passed but could return at any second.
“I don’t know what this is,” she murmurs. “But I want no part of it.”
Frowning, I run through the thoughts surrounding my growing confusion, attempting to pinpoint which direction this is heading. This is not typical Bexley Spencer behavior. She would never suddenly back down from a fight, or even relax if she felt she was in the presence of potential danger.
Which means she doesn’t see me as dangerous—and that pisses me off.
I just want to fight. And she’s the only one who can give me what I need. But she’s backing down, and that’s pissing me off. So, I try another tactic, desperate to push any and every button I can to make her snap.
“Why are you even home?” I ask with forced scoff. “Shouldn’t you be at a meeting?”
Spencer raises an eyebrow, still too calm for my liking. “Rylan and Tai postponed it. Apparently, you were sick.”
Great. Now I’m mad at them for telling her my private business. Even if it was a big, fat lie.
“Perfect opportunity for you to be alone with them. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You could have worked your magic some more to exclude me and be dicked down.”
Shit. That came out wrong.
She cocks an eyebrow, clearly catching the words as well.
“Regardless of what you think of me, Lannister, my life does not revolve around your friends or their dicks—though they are a nice bonus. Like I told you when you were so kindly handcuffing me to that damn table, your issue is with them. I have no desire to come between any of you.”
“But you’ll happily be between them.”
A silence falls between us, and part of me waits for Spencer to lunge at me again. Instead, she turns her back, walking toward the door. Opening it, she glances over at me. “Out. Now.”
“No,” I say firmly. At this rate, there’s going to be a Hunter Lannister-sized hole in her background soon. And I can’t deny I’m torn up about it.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Bracing myself as she marches over, I narrow my eyes, glancing down at her until our chests are practically touching. I wait for her to speak, not entirely sure what my next move will be.
Her voice drops eerily low. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, Lannister.
I thought we had reached some mutual understanding that night.
But I was wrong. You’re still as horrible as ever.
Frankly, I have zero desire to ever be near you again.
But for the sake of us getting the hell out of Willowbrook, I’m willing to put up with you in a bare minimum capacity.
However, if you think for one damn second I’m going to let you come in here and disrespect me, you are sorely mistaken. ”
“Why did you do it?” I ask abruptly. “If you hate me as much as I hate you, why did you push me out the window?”
Spencer frowns, taken aback by my question after her little spiel. “Why did I save you?” She repeats. “Does it even matter?”
Yes. It matters to me.
Because as much as I’m trying to move on and forget about that night, I can’t. It’s fucked me up. We have so much bad blood and hatred between us, yet she still made a conscious decision to do it.
My own father can’t even speak to me, let alone stand to have me around. All he wants to do is ensure I know my place in his list of priorities. Someone who doesn’t even like me chose my life over her own, and that has ruined everything I’ve ever known.
It doesn’t make sense. And in my world, everything must be reasonably explained. It’s ripping me to shreds because I just can’t understand her way of thinking or the fact that she’s managed to turn my best friends against their beliefs.
And I hate that every single problem in my life right now comes back to the purple-haired woman in front of me. Yet, she’s not the cause of them. We are.
But she’s easier to blame. She’s easier to hate.
I need to fucking hate her.
It’s the only part of my life I can still control—that I can explain.
Except she’s making it fucking hard to hate her when she does stupid shit like save me or act the rational one out of the two of us.
And it makes me sick seeing her with my friends. They are meant to be on my side.
“No,” I finally answer, straightening up. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just surprised that you showed weakness. I thought you were better than that.”
Nice one, Hunter. You stupid dipshit.
Just as I try to convince myself not to feel bad for the comment, I see her brows start to furrow, a classic sign that I’ve succeeded in hitting her where it hurts. But it quickly vanishes a second later, a cold, blank expression staring back at me.
“Get out. Or do I need to call Rylan to come escort you?” she threatens darkly.
I force a dry laugh. “Put a sheet down if you do,” I say, stepping past her toward the door. “I would hate for this disgusting carpet to get ruined.”