My Favorite Mistake
Chelsea M. Cameron

www.miraink.co.uk

Two secrets.

One bet.

Who will break first?

Taylor Caldwell can’t decide if she wants to kiss her new college roommate or punch him.

On the one hand, Hunter Zaccadelli is a handsome, blue-eyed bundle of charm. On the other, he’s a tattooed, guitar-playing bundle of bad boy. Maybe that’s why Taylor’s afraid of falling in love with him, or anyone else. She doesn’t want to get burned, so she needs him gone before it’s too late.

Hunter himself has been burned before, but Taylor’s sexy laugh and refusal to let him get away with anything make her irresistible. Determined not to be kicked out of her life without a fight, Hunter proposes a bet: if she can convince him she truly loves or hates him, he’ll leave the apartment--and leave her alone. The problem is, the more time they spend together, the less she hates him, and the more she moves toward love.

But when the man behind Taylor’s fear of giving up her heart resurfaces, she has to decide: trust Hunter with her greatest secret, or do everything in her power to win that bet and drive him away forever.

My Favorite Mistake is a New Adult Contemporary Romance and is suitable for ages 18 and up. Contains violence, language and sexual situations.

For anyone who has ever made a mistake in their life…Maybe it wasn’t a mistake after all.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Acknowledgments

About the Author

One

The first time I met Hunter Zaccadelli, I punched him in the face. Granted, he completely and totally deserved it. He also asked for it, in so many ways.

When our fourth roommate bailed on us three days before school, Darah, Renee and I assumed housing would take care of it and shove some poor unfortunate in with us. Probably some poor girl who had decided to switch colleges at the last minute to follow a boyfriend, or someone who had their apartment plans fall through. We weren’t sure what to expect, but come move-in day, I did not expect who was waiting outside when I opened the door. I knew the upper-class housing was coed, but never in my wildest and craziest dreams did I think it would actually happen to us.

Instead of a desperate and frazzled girl, he showed up with a footlocker, a backpack and a guitar. It was so beyond cliché that I didn’t say anything for the full three seconds it took for me to assess him. Dark hair buzzed so short his head was almost shaved, purposeful five o’clock shadow, piercing blue eyes and at least a foot on my five feet. And a cocky smile to top it all off. He might as well have had Trouble tattooed on his forehead. Speaking of ink, I could just make out some on his arm, but I couldn’t see what it said. His thin T-shirt hugged his chest in a way that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Maybe he’d borrowed it from his little brother.

“Are you Darah, Renee or Taylor? You look like a Taylor to me,” he said, looking me up and down.

I wasn’t at my best, considering I was dressed for moving heavy objects in a blue UMaine T-shirt and black soccer shorts, and I had my light brown hair in a haphazard bun against the back of my neck. His eyes raked up and down twice, and for some reason the way he assessed me made me blush and want to kick him in the balls at the same time.

“There must be a mistake,” I said.

He adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “That’s a creative name. What do you shorten it to? Missy?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

His grin somehow got wider. Either his dad was a dentist, or he was really into flossing because those teeth were pretty perfect. I noticed things like that, having gone through my own dental saga between three years of braces and night headgear. I still had to wear a retainer every night.

“Is that her?” Darah called from her room, where she was arranging her photo frames so they were exactly level. She was neurotic like that.

“I’m Hunter, by the way. Hunter Zaccadelli.”

Of course his name was Hunter. The only Hunter I’d ever known had been a complete douche. Looked like this guy was going to carry on the tradition.

He pointed to his footlocker. “So, should I bring my stuff in or…?”

My brain wouldn’t stop misfiring.

“Who’s that?” Darah finally emerged. Our other roommate, Renee, was still unloading stuff from her car.

“New roommate, hey,” he said.

“You’re the new roommate?” Her eyebrows migrated so they were nearly hidden under her dark bangs. She gave him the same up and down as I did, but he didn’t do the same to her. He was still looking at me.

“Yeah, my housing plans fell through at the last minute. My cousin was going to let me live at his place, but that didn’t work out, so here I am. Do you mind if I come in now?”

“You can’t live here,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Why? This is a coed living facility, last time I checked.” He flashed his grin again and shouldered his way into the room, completely ignoring me as his chest brushed mine, and I got a whiff of cologne. It wasn’t that cheap crap that punches you in the nose. It was spicier, almost like cinnamon. I stood my ground, but he had height and weight on me. But I had surprise on my side.

“Well, it’s better than sleeping on my cousin’s couch,” he said, plunking his bag on the floor and surveying the room. The suites were small, with a kitchen and tiny nook for a dining table on one side and a tiny living room for an apartment-size couch and a recliner on the other. The bedrooms were the worst, with two lofted beds crammed perpendicular to each other along the wall, the desks crammed underneath, and room for only two small closets.

“Can I see some identification?” Darah said, propping her hands on her hips. “How do we know you’re not some random creep?”

“Do I look like some random creep?” He spread his arms out, and I finally saw what the tattoo on his left biceps was. A number seven in curling intricate script. My eyes moved up to his face.

“How are we supposed to know?” Darah moved closer to him, using her stature. They were almost the same height.

“Look, all I know is that I submitted an application and they sent me an email with a room number and your names. Here, I printed it out. Do you treat all your guests like criminals?” He drew out a many-times-folded sheet of paper and handed it to Darah. She glanced at it, sighed and handed it to me.

“Why wouldn’t they have notified us?” I said, once I’d read it. There it was in black-and-white.

“Who knows?” Darah said, still eyeing him warily.

“Oh my God, I swear I’m never moving again,” Renee said from the top of the stairs, her arms full of boxes and two bags dangling from her arms. “Who left their crap in the hallway?” She stepped over the footlocker and guitar case, giving them a look of disgust. “Has our new roommate showed up—oh, hello.” Her voice changed from irritated and dry to sweet and sugary the second she saw Hunter. “I’m guessing that’s your guitar in the hallway.” She dropped her stuff and proceeded to pop her hip out and lean to one side. Oh, please.

“This,” I said, pointing to Hunter, “is our new roommate, according to housing.”

“No way.” Renee’s eyes got wide in her tiny face. Renee looked like a blond-haired, blue-eyed china doll you plucked off a shelf and put in a Victoria’s Secret tank top. “Are you shitting me?”

“What a reception,” Hunter said.

“Shut up,” I said. He just smiled again. God, I wanted to smack that smile right off his face.

“I should probably get my junk out of the hall,” he said, going and picking up the footlocker as if it weighed nothing more than a shoebox. Show-off.

Hunter had to navigate boxes and random pillows and crap that littered the rooms, which he did with grace. He found a spot and set the footlocker down, looking at us.

“So, who am I sleeping with?” he said, leaning against the door to my bedroom.

The agreement had been that since Darah and Renee had already been roommates last year, and I was joining their little group, that the new girl would live with me. But that was so not happening now that the new girl wasn’t a girl.

“Did you seriously just say that?” I said.

At the same time Darah said, “The only free bed is in Taylor’s room.”

“There is no way he’s staying with me,” I snapped, readjusting my arms so they covered my boobs better. He’d been staring at my chest since he’d made the sleeping with comment. Not that I had much of one to speak of, but that didn’t stop his eyes from traveling there.

“No, we’re calling housing right now and straightening this out,” I said, pulling out my cell phone.

“Tay, they’re not open on Monday,” Renee said.

“I don’t care. There must be someone there. It’s move-in day.”

I grabbed the campus phone book that had been on the doormat when we’d gotten there that morning and thumbed through it until I found the number for housing.

“Aw, c’mon, Missy, you don’t want to live with me?” Who did this guy think he was? I’d known him all of ten minutes and he’d already given me a nickname and propositioned me.

“Call me that one more time…” I didn’t finish as I furiously typed in the number. Darah and Renee whispered to Hunter, but not quiet enough so I couldn’t hear them.

“It’s best to let her go when she gets like this,” Renee hissed.

“I wouldn’t mess with her,” he said as I listened to another ring.

Finally, a message picked up, telling me what the hours were and giving me some extensions I could try. I punched in the first one. No answer, but a message machine picked up. I left a short message, explaining the situation in the most urgent of terms, and then called back the original number. I didn’t stop until I’d left messages for all five of the contacts on the housing voice mail list. I slammed my phone down on the counter.

“Feel better?” Hunter said.

“No.” I chucked the phone book on the couch. Darah and Renee were looking at me like they were worried I was going to explode. I was on the verge. “If you were a gentleman, you’d offer to sleep on the couch,” I snapped.

“Well, Missy, you’ll come to find out that I’m not a gentleman. I plan to take full advantage of this situation.” My mouth dropped open in shock. No guy had ever talked to me that way.

“Is it hot in here? I think I’ll open the window,” Renee said, scurrying over to our one window, located at one end of the couch.

Darah looked at me and then Hunter and back. “Well, there’s nothing we can do right now. Let’s get his stuff in, and then maybe we can go down and see if anyone is at housing,” she said. Darah was always the peacemaker.

“Sounds good to me,” Hunter said, walking right into my bedroom as if he owned the place.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I said, closing my eyes. I heard “Back in Black” by AC/DC coming from my room. Hunter’s ringtone.

“Hey, man. No, I just got here. Room 203. Yeah, that would be great…” He nudged the door shut, and I glanced at Renee and Darah.

“I didn’t think we were going to have to do this so early, but I think we need a roommate meeting,” I said. We’d agreed that we would have weekly roommate meetings to air our grievances. I was all for getting that shit out in the open so we didn’t end up hating each other. I’d had a horrible roommate last year, and I didn’t want to deal with that again.

I listened, but it sounded like Hunter was still on the phone. I could hear him rummaging and prayed he wouldn’t break anything. Then I would kill him.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Renee said. “I mean, it would be the same if one of us had a boyfriend staying over. Paul stayed over all the time when Darah and I lived here last year.”

“But that was because you were sleeping with him,” I said.

“Maybe I’ll sleep with Hunter,” she shot back. Renee had broken up with Paul extremely recently and was on the prowl for a rebound. We all knew she and Paul were meant to be and that they would eventually realize that, but Renee was still in the anger stage.

“Are you uncomfortable with staying with him, Taylor? It’s okay if you are,” Darah said.

“I can’t imagine why I would be uncomfortable about sharing an extremely small room with a guy I’ve known all of a half hour who keeps making creepy comments. Can’t imagine why I’d have a problem with that.”

“If you want, Renee and I can switch. I’ll stay with him, and Renee can stay with you,” Darah said.

“Why can’t he stay with me?” Renee whined.

“Because you’ll rape him in his sleep,” I said.

“You can’t rape the willing, Tay,” she said, winking.

“You’re disgusting.”

“How about we draw straws?” Darah said.

“Do we even have straws?” Renee said. “How about we do numbers or something? Here,” she said, grabbing a UMaine notepad that someone had left on the kitchen counter, along with a pen. “I’ll write our names down and we’ll put it in…” She grabbed the baseball cap I’d discarded earlier. “And Hunter will pick. There you go. Problem solved.”

My door opened and Hunter emerged, another grin on his face.

“You weren’t talking about me, were you?”

Like he didn’t know. I rolled my eyes as Renee wrote each of our names on little bits of paper and tossed them in my hat. She put her hand over the top and shook it up.

“Pick one,” she said, shoving the hat in his face.

“Okay,” he said, sticking his hand in and pulling out a folded slip of paper. Renee slowly unfolded it. We all waited as she paused dramatically.

“Taylor,” she said, turning it around so we could all read my name in black-and-white.

“Shit,” I said.

Two

“What’s with all the peacock stuff?”

It was an hour later, and I was just as stuck with Hunter as I was when he’d walked in the door. I’d even gone down to housing, which was right down the hill from our dorm, but no one was there. Too busy making sure the freshmen didn’t collapse under the weight of their massive electronics when they carried them down the hall, no doubt.

I was doing my best to ignore Hunter, but he wouldn’t shut up. Clearly, he was one of those guys who liked to chat.

“Don’t you know peacock feathers are bad luck?” Out of the corner of my eye, his biceps with the seven tattoo flexed as he pulled a couple of shirts out of his footlocker.

Yes, I did know they were bad luck for most people. It was none of his business why I had them everywhere, including on my comforter, hung in frames on the wall and strung on a dream catcher my sister had given me. It was none of his goddamn business.

I wished Tawny was here. My sister would have known exactly what to say to Hunter to get him to leave. She couldn’t get out of her work as a paralegal, and Mom couldn’t get off work, either. I guess they figured since I was a sophomore, moving wasn’t such a big deal. Still, I missed Tawny.

“You pissed at me, Missy?”

The nickname was the last straw. I whirled around and glared at him. “Look, I don’t know you. You don’t know me. As soon as humanly possible, I’m getting you out of here, got it? I’m not your baby. I’m not one of those girls you can smile at and crawl into bed with. Got it? Stay the fuck away from me.”

Those blue eyes seared into me. He was the kind of guy who could see things that other people couldn’t—things that I’d spent my entire life covering up and hiding from the masses. I’d only met a few people who could see past my carefully cultivated facade. I’d dropped most of them like a bad habit, with the exception of one. I’d have to squash this ASAP before he decided he might want to see what the world had done to piss me off so much.

“It’s kinda hard to stay away from you when we’re living in the same place,” he said.

“I. Know. That,” I said through gritted teeth.

He held up his hands. “Don’t be mad at me. Fate picked your name.”

“I don’t believe in fate.”

He laughed. “Me neither. I just believe in luck.” He pointed to the seven on his arm. “Never can be too careful.”

“I don’t believe in luck, either.”

“Clearly.”

We were interrupted by a booming voice. Hunter stepped over the chaos that still covered the floor and poked his head out the door.

“Mase, man, what took you so long? You get lost?”

A male voice answered, “Nah, I just got held up. This your place?” Sure, just come on in everyone.

“No, I just walked into a random room and started putting my shit in it. Yes, this is my place.”

He walked into the living room, and I followed. Darah and Renee emerged from their room. I’d heard lots of banging and yelling, so they’d probably been hanging Darah’s picture frames to her exacting specifications.

Standing in our doorway was a guy who looked like he could have been Hunter’s brother. His hair was a little lighter, his build a little stockier and his eyes a little darker, but there was no mistaking the resemblance.

“And who are these lovely ladies?” the new guy said.

“This is Taylor, Darah and Renee, my roommates,” Hunter answered.

“Dude, are you serious? How the hell do you get so lucky all the time?”

“Born under the right star,” Hunter said. “This is my cousin, Mase.”

“Nice to meet you, Mase,” Renee said, diving forward to shake his hand. Mase took it and shook her hand, looking a little dazed. “I’m Renee.”

“Nice to meet you, Renee. I’m guessing you must be Darah,” he said, pointing to Darah, who waved. “And you must be Taylor. I’ve heard so much about you.” How could he? I glared at Hunter, who made an innocent face. “That was so nice of you to take in my poor, unfortunate cousin in his time of need. I thought he was going to be able to crash on my couch, but one of my roommates gave it to another guy who was willing to pay to stay, and I was overruled. Sorry, man.”

“It’s okay,” Hunter said.

For the first time since I’d met him, I could see something other than a cocky douche. Someone real. But that person was gone behind a cocky face before I could study him closer.

“I can see that. Do you need any help?”

“I think I’m good,” Hunter said.

Renee piped right up. “I could use some muscle. My bed’s a little askew, and I can’t seem to get it in the right spot. Want to give me a hand?” She twisted from side to side, as if she was showing him what could be his if he complied. Jesus, she was so obvious.

“Sure, no problem.”

With that, we let another strange guy into our apartment. I turned my back and returned to my room, hoping no one else was going to pop in. Hunter followed me.

“Are you hungry? I was thinking of getting some Pat’s. Their delivery guys are probably swamped, so I could go get it. My treat,” he said as he grabbed some more shirts to put in his dresser.

Was he trying to be nice to me? Did he feel sorry for me? I stared at him, trying to figure him out.

“Do you like pepperoni?” His voice had lost that cocky edge. It was softer, and…No. He was the same. He was still trying to play me. I knew how those guys were. They were only nice until they got what they wanted, and if they didn’t get what they wanted, they took it.

“I’m a vegetarian,” I said and went to the bathroom, just so I could get away from him.

As I passed Darah and Renee’s room, I heard Mase saying something that made them both laugh. Great. Just great. I shut the door of the tiny bathroom and braced myself on the sink. I was losing control. I looked at myself in the mirror. The horrible lighting didn’t do much for my complexion, but it really didn’t do much for anyone. I splashed some water on my face and then hopped up on the sink, setting my back against the mirror. In a matter of a few minutes, my sophomore year had turned completely upside down.

What was I going to do? This strange guy had just invaded my life. Not only my life, but my space. Our bedroom was smaller than a double-size dorm room. We’d be stepping over each other all the time. He’d see me when I woke up in the morning. He’d be the last voice I heard when I went to bed. I was going to see that damn tattoo and that smile all the time.

Hunter Zaccadelli would be the last thing I saw when I went to bed and the first thing I’d see when I woke up. That was not going to fly.

A knock at the door made me jump, and I banged the back of my head against the mirror.

“You okay in there?” It was Hunter.

“Jesus Christ, can’t you leave me alone?” I got down off the sink and yanked the door open.

“I’ll make you a deal, Missy.”

“Why would I want to make a deal with you?”

He smirked as if he was waiting for me to say that.

“Just hear me out. If you can prove to me that you hate me, absolutely hate me, then I’ll leave. Find a couch to crash on.”

I snorted. “That should be easy. You can go pack your stuff now.”

“You haven’t heard the rest of the deal. If you can prove to me that you love me, absolutely love me, I’ll leave.” For the first time his face was serious.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I would never, ever love a guy like you.” I would never, ever love anyone, but that was beside the point.

“Prove it. If you can prove either of those things by the end of the semester, I’ll go.”

“You’re going to be out on your ass before then.”

His smile was easy. He was playing with me.

“Maybe, maybe not. But you look like the kind of girl who likes a challenge.”

The small bathroom space contracted around me, the walls pushing us closer. He took a step toward me, and then another. I backed up until my legs hit the toilet.

“Prove it to me. Show me you hate me.” His voice was soft, and his eyes were demanding. My breathing became desperate, and my vision narrowed to those blue eyes. Something snapped, and my fight instinct took over.

Before he could move closer, I pulled back and slammed my fist into his jaw and my knee into his groin. He doubled over, clutching his face and his balls.

“I fucking hate you. Never corner me again, you son of a bitch.” In his compromised position, I was able to shove around him and get the door open to find three stunned faces.

“What did you do to him?” Renee said.

“Nothing,” I said, pushing past them and running down the hall, down the stairs and out of the building. My lungs heaved as if I’d been running for miles in Gym and had just been allowed to rest. I put my hands on my knees and gasped, feeling like my lungs would never be full again.

People gave me strange looks as they unloaded lampshades and pillows and under-bed boxes from their cars. I ignored them and started walking down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. I pulled out my phone and hit Tawny’s number, hoping she was on her lunch break.

“Hey, Kid, how’s the moving going?” Tawny’s voice brought instant calm, as did her use of my nickname. Everyone in my family had always called me Kid.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had.”

“Tell me,” she said without hesitation.

I proceeded to give my version of the day’s events, including punching Hunter. I had to hold the phone with my left hand because my right had started to swell from its encounter with Hunter’s jaw. I was going to need some ice soon.

I was surprised no one chased after me, but Darah and Renee knew about my freak-outs. They knew to leave me alone and give me my space. It hadn’t been the first time they’d seen me like that. I tried to keep most of it under control, but Hunter had pushed my buttons. No one ever cornered me in a tiny space and got away unscathed.

“Aw, Kid, why did you do that?”

“He cornered me, what was I supposed to do?” My hand was red and starting to turn a lovely purple shade.

“You could have told him to back off. That would have been the logical thing to do.”

“You know I’m not a logical person.”

“No shit.” She sighed, and I could hear her munching on something. “Don’t you think you should talk to someone again?” She’d asked me the same thing at least a thousand times.

“Because that worked so well before. No, thank you.”

Tawny sighed again. I finally found my car, Sassy, a red Dodge Charger, in the lot and hit the unlock button. I sat in the driver’s seat with the door open, chatting with Tawny about moving in and stupid stuff. Anything but Hunter.

I could talk to her for hours every day and still find something to say. We were six years apart, and we were as close as two people could be without being twins. Not that our personalities were similar, because they weren’t. Tawny was prettier, smarter, more well liked. I was shorter, not as pretty and angry. I didn’t try to be so angry, and I wasn’t most of the time, but sometimes it just happened. Hunter had made it happen today.

“When are you coming up to see me?” I asked.

“Probably this weekend. Lunch date at Margaritas?” It was one of our favorite semi-chain Mexican restaurants.

“You’re on. Hey, I completely forgot to bring that cute pair of pj pants and the top that goes with it. Can you stop by the house and get them for me?”

“I guess so. You gonna buy my lunch?”

“I guess so,” I said.

“Hey, I have to go, but call me tonight. Call me before you punch someone again, okay? You’re going to have to rein it in if you’re going to live with this guy. Also, you should probably ice your hand.”

“I’m not living with him.”

“Yeah, babe, you kinda are. Unless you win that bet. How the hell are you going to get out of that one?”

“I have no fucking clue. I didn’t technically agree to it.”

“I think you punching and kicking him in the balls was sort of a handshake.”

“Whatever. I’ll call you later. Text me if you want.”

“Bye, Kid.”

“Bye, Tawn.” I clicked my phone off and rested my head on my steering wheel. What the fuck was I going to do?

Three

I didn’t go back inside until my hand hurt so much that I desperately needed ice. The living room was quiet when I snuck in. Most of the boxes were gone, and Darah was unpacking her pots and pans in the kitchen.

“Hey, are you okay? We were kinda worried about you. Hunter, Renee and Mase went to get pizza.”

“I’m fine. Just need some ice,” I said, holding up my hand, which was purpling all over my knuckles.

“Oh my God,” she said, running to the freezer. Luckily, someone had left an ice pack in the freezer that maintenance had forgotten to clean out. She wrapped it in a dish towel she took out of one of the boxes and handed it to me.

“How’s his face?” I kind of wished I’d messed it up, just a little.

“You got him pretty good. He’s already getting a bruise.” Score.

“Did his nuts recover?”

“I think he’ll be able to have children someday,” she said, studying me as if I was going to freak and do it again. She leaned on the counter, her organizing abandoned for now. “What happened? All he’d tell us is that he said something that pissed you off and that he deserved it.”

“He said that?” I winced as the cold ice met my burning hand. I was surprised. I thought he’d blame everything on me and call me a psycho bitch. In the back of my mind I’d had a tiny ray of hope that my display of violence had freaked him out so much his stuff would be gone when I got back. No such luck.

“Yeah, he did.”

“Huh.”

Voices drifted down the hall. Familiar voices. I turned around, and they stopped when they saw me. Hunter had two pizza boxes, and Renee carried two bags with chips and soda. Mase had what probably was some beer, cleverly concealed in two layers of shopping bags.

“Hey,” I said to all of them.

They entered cautiously, in a way that was almost funny. I was both the shortest and youngest person in the room, but they were wary of me.

“How’s your hand?” Renee said, setting the bags down on the dining table.

“Fine,” I said. She started examining it anyway, and I looked at Hunter. “How’s your face? And your balls?” I cracked a smile, hoping it wasn’t too crazy looking.

Hunter grinned back at me.

“Both will recover, I think. You’ve got a hell of a hook, Missy,” he said, touching his jaw. There was an impressive-looking bluish mark starting. Nice.

“I misjudged you, I think. Respect,” Mase said, coming over and holding his hand up for a fist bump. I gave him one with my left hand, and he gave me a wink. Guess the cocky behavior was genetic.

“I got this one with all the veggies. Wasn’t sure what you liked,” Hunter said, holding out one of the pizza boxes toward me. Everyone held their breath as I took the box from Hunter. Hell, it was more delicious than an olive branch.

“Olives,” I said. “I hate olives. Everything else is fair game.”

“Shall we?” Renee said, now that the tension was broken.

“Sure,” I said, cracking open the box.

The heavenly scent of Pat’s pizza filled my nose. It had been the same recipe for however many years it had been open, serving hungry, hungover or stoned college students for decades. Somehow they had found the perfect ratio of cheese to sauce to thin crust to toppings. A perfect ratio, which was why they’d survived for so long in a town that had at least twelve pizza places per college student.

“Have you unpacked the plates yet?” Renee said to Darah.

Rummaging for plates, napkins and cups ensued, and somehow we all ended up on the living room floor with paper plates, paper towels and Solo cups with soda or beer. I wasn’t a big beer fan, so I stuck with soda. Darah, Renee and Mase were all twenty-one and joked about me and Hunter being underage. Hunter was only a few months older than me at twenty, while I was the baby at nineteen.

Turned out Hunter was also a business major; what a surprise. The only other major I would have picked for him would have been broadcasting so he could be a sports reporter and watch as many games while getting paid to do it. Mase was the biggest surprise. His major was international relations. Apparently he wanted to go work overseas as a diplomat or something. His real name was Johnathan Mason III, which explained the nickname.

“What’s your major?” Mase asked, winding some cheese around his finger.

“How about we guess?” Hunter said.

Didn’t I just punch him in the face? Was he asking for it again? I gave him a look, but he just picked up another piece of pepperoni and chewed thoughtfully.

“Education? No, that can’t be it. Not advertising. Boxing? Nursing? How about electrical engineering?”

I just rolled my eyes.

“Tell me what it is then.” The cocky smile returned as if it had never left his face.

“Women’s studies,” I said, picking off another offensive olive and setting it on my plate.

“Huh,” Hunter said.

“No smart comments? Not gonna ask me if I’m a lesbian?”

Mase snorted. Renee rolled her eyes. I should really tone it down.

“Are you?” Hunter raised one eyebrow. There were always jokes about the Women’s Studies Department being a bunch of men-hating lesbians. I’d chosen the major for a different reason, but he was never going to know about that.

“What if I was?” I said it slow.

Mase snorted his beer through his nose and choked. Darah banged him on the back. Yes, I still wanted Hunter gone, but I wanted to torture him a little as payback first.

“That would be one of the sexiest things you’ve said to me. Even if it isn’t true.” He leaned forward, a predatory look on his face. The room started to get hot, and I took a sip of my soda so I could stop looking at him.

“What is it with men and lesbians? I’ve never understood the attraction.”

“Are you kidding? Two women together is superhot, unless they’re butch. Then not so much,” Mase said.

“But lesbians generally don’t want men, so why would you be attracted to them?” Darah said.

“Doesn’t matter to me. I’d be happy to watch,” Mase said, bumping shoulders with Darah. She rolled her eyes.

“It’s because the female body is beautiful. It’s a work of art. All curves and softness. You double it, and you just have double the beauty.” Hunter looked right at me as he said it.

“Double your pleasure, double your fun,” Mase said and we all laughed.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the night? Hooking up the Xbox?” Mase said to Hunter.

“You have an Xbox?” Renee said. She was a closet gamer and had been searching for a used one on the campus message board forever.

“Yeah, I have a Kinect, too.”

“Please tell me you have Skyrim. Please, please,” Renee said, clasping her hands. I blamed Paul for her gaming addiction.

Hunter proceeded to produce the device, and they spent the next hour hooking it up and playing Skyrim.

Mase said he had stuff to do, so he left, saying he’d be back again. Lovely.

I went to unpack the rest of my room and text Tawny.

The rest of the afternoon was spent getting everything into drawers and making my bed and figuring out where to fit everything, including the massive amount of books I’d brought. I wished I could have moved off campus, but I had a scholarship that was specifically for on-campus housing, so I was stuck. With Hunter, apparently. He stayed out with Renee and Darah, which was great. I kept shoving his stuff out of my way, irritated, but at the same time curious as to what else was in the footlocker. Maybe it was a body.

Darah knocked on the door and asked if I wanted to go to the grocery store with her to get some provisions. I was itching to get out of the tiny space, so I grabbed my keys and got some cash from everyone and made a list.

“You need any help?” Hunter said.

“Do I look like I do?”

“Not really, but I figured I’d be an ass if I didn’t ask.”

“You’re an ass anyway.”

He nodded and went back the game. He was probably ready for another punch soon.

***

I came back loaded down and found the apartment in chaos.

“Hey, we’re going out to Blue Lagoon, you want to come?” Darah was sliding long silver earrings into her ears and had changed into skinny jeans and a glittery silver top.

“I can’t. Not twenty-one,” I said, pointing to myself.

Blue Lagoon was the current name of the club right off campus. It kept getting shut down due to underage kids getting in or too many bloody fights. Sometimes both. It had a new owner, but I didn’t hold out that this one would last any longer than the previous.

“Crap, I forgot. Sorry.”

A blow-dryer sounded in the bathroom. Oh, this must be serious if Renee was straightening her hair.

“Where’s Hunter?” I hated saying his name out loud.

“Hunter? Don’t know. His cousin came back, and they went off somewhere. He said he’d be back before we left.” She winced as she shoved one of her earrings in.

“He’s not twenty-one either.”

“You know he probably has a fake ID.” Yeah, he probably did. “Maybe we can sneak you in.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just hang out here. Maybe I’ll call Megan and see if she wants to come over.”

Megan was a friend from my women’s studies classes I’d gotten close with last year and the only other person I’d actually call a friend. She lived with her boyfriend in an off-campus apartment, but his friends were always crashing there so she was always desperate for girl time.

Just then the door opened, and Hunter and Mase came in, with two other guys trailing behind.

“Hey,” he said, nodding to me. “This is Dev and Sean. Guys, this is Taylor and that’s Darah.”

“Hi,” I said, waving.

Darah said hello.

Dev had lovely dark skin the color of earthenware, and dark hair and eyes. He was also crazy tall and thin as a rail. Sean was blocky and built like a wrestler, with short blond hair and brown eyes. They both gave me and Darah the once-over. I’d never been checked out so much in my life.

“So, you coming out with us, Missy?” He was staring at my boobs again.

I crossed my arms. “Some of us aren’t into breaking the law.”

“You are now,” he said, holding something out to me. It was a fake ID, complete with a picture of a girl who could almost be me, and a birth date that wasn’t mine, but was at least twenty-one.

“Where the hell did you get this?”

He shared a look with the guys. “I have my sources. Go, get ready. You’re not wearing that.”

“What’s wrong with this?” I would never go out clubbing in my current attire, but I wanted to push his buttons.

“I’d want to screw you no matter what you’re wearing, but you might want to spruce up a little so everyone will want you,” he said.

“Fuck you,” I said, chucking the ID in his face and going to my room. I heard the guys ribbing Hunter as I shut the door.

I rifled through my dresser, coming up with a pair of black leggings, a red tunic and a pair of black boots. I yanked my hair out of the bun and brushed it furiously before drawing on a quick stroke of eyeliner around my bluish-greenish eyes and slicking on some lip gloss. I walked into a cloud of my favorite grapefruit body spray, and I was ready.

“Better?” I said, leaning against the wall.

“Fuckable. Let’s go.”

Darah and Renee were already chatting with the other guys like they’d known each other forever.

I wasn’t going to admit that I was scared of getting caught. I was nervous, sure, but it was more than that. Being in the club would mean I’d be pressed up against a ton of sweaty strangers. That was the part I didn’t like. But there was no way I was going to let Hunter call me a pussy. So I shoved the fake ID in my pants pocket, grabbed some cash and followed everyone outside.

The night was balmy, the summer not having loosened its grip on Maine yet. We all walked in a large blob, no one really in front. Luckily, the club was within stumbling distance of campus.

“You won’t have to buy any drinks tonight,” Hunter said, turning around and walking backward while simultaneously leering at me.

“And why is that?”

He shook his head. “Do you seriously not see it? Mase, man. Would you screw Taylor?”

“Hell, yeah,” Mase said, giving me a thumbs-up. “I mean, if you wanted to.”

“Dev?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sean also agreed that he’d do me.

“Is that all you think about? Sex?”

“What else is there to think about? Everyone thinks about it. We’re programmed to think about it. Even you, Missy.” He stopped walking, and I nearly bumped into him. He grabbed my arms to steady me.

“Let me go.”

“It’s on you, Missy. I’ll be gone in five seconds. Just prove to me that you love me or hate me.”

“Love and hate are completely different.”

“Not really. They’re the two sides of the same coin. One flip and you can be on the other side before you know it. I’ll take either one from you.”

“I hate you right now. What do I have to do to prove that to you?”

He touched the bruise on his face that I couldn’t see in the dark. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” He turned around and jumped on Mase’s back, nearly taking him down.

The boys were acting like they were already drunk, pushing and laughing and being too loud. I stuck close to Darah and Renee because they had previous club experience. I didn’t.

The closer we got to the club, the more nervous I got. I could practically feel the music pounding through the pavement out front. The building was small and had no windows. Several people smoked around the edges, and a few girls wearing clothes that hardly qualified as clothes stumbled outside, laughing and clutching on to each other.

I rubbed my arms, even though I wasn’t cold. We made a line, and Hunter put himself in front of me. The bouncer looked like he was probably on the football team and greeted Mase like they were long-lost friends, doing that weird one-armed hug, back-pat thing dudes do when they don’t want to hug. He waved the other guys in and gave the girls IDs a cursory check.

“Jay, man, how are you? Long time no see. This is my new friend, Taylor.”

“Another friend, Z? You have more friends than I have socks. Nice to meet you. Be careful,” he said, laughing and waving us in before I could say, “Nice to meet you, too.”

The club was dark, loud and hot, just like I’d thought it would be. The ceiling was low; there were too many tables and too many people. Lights flashed, nearly blinding me.

“Let me get you a drink,” Hunter said in my ear.

He had to yell because the music was so loud. I couldn’t see a DJ anywhere. My eyes searched and finally found Darah, Renee and the guys at a corner table. They all had drinks.

“Come on. Let me buy you a drink.”

“Whatever,” I said and went to stand next to Darah.

“You made it through,” she said, cupping her hand over her mouth so I could hear her.

“Yeah, he didn’t even look at it,” I said, shrugging. No wonder this place was always getting busted.

“Lucky you,” she yelled back, sipping on her drink.

Hunter came back moments later, shouldering his way through the crowd. He had this amazing way of walking, like he had all the time in the world.

“You look like a rum and Coke kind of girl,” he said, handing me a glass. There was a lime wedge on top that I squeezed into the glass and then stirred it around before I took a sip. Hunter had a Coors Light. Typical.

I sipped my drink warily. I definitely didn’t trust him.

“I didn’t drug it, I swear. I wouldn’t need drugs to get you into bed,” he yelled in my ear. His hand brushed down my bare arm, and it took everything in me not to throw the drink in his face.

“Go ahead, throw it at me. You know you want to,” he said.

Bodies swarmed on the dance floor, gyrating and bumping together. Some had better moves than others. Some were practically having sex.

Instead, I took a sip. The Coke fizzed on my tongue and the rum chased it, the taste dark, heady and warm. It was freaking delicious. How did Hunter know I would like it?

“Is it good? I had him use the spiced rum. I figured you’d like a little spice.” Oh, bite me.

Darah and Renee sucked down their drinks and chatted with the guys, who were eyeing the dance floor. Mase caught Hunter’s eye.

“Dude, these guys are amateurs. Want to show them how it’s done?”

“I’m in. Dev?”

“It’s on like Donkey Kong,” Dev said, and they all headed toward the crowded floor.

“What are they up to?” Renee said.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“You’ll see,” Sean said, leaning back in his chair.

Mase went toward the back, where I finally noticed the DJ. They had a word and the song flipped to “Party Rock Anthem” by LMFAO. Dear Christ, what were we in for?

Hunter and Dev somehow cleared a space, and as soon as the song got going, they started dancing. Not just dancing, they were breaking. Mase joined in, and they rocked it.

The space around them got bigger, and people started clapping. Mase and Hunter had this routine worked out that was perfectly synchronized, complete with the worm and all these spins and moves that I’d only seen in music videos. Dev was doing the moonwalk in front of them and doing these smooth spins on his heels and toes.

For a white guy, Hunter could move. Like, really move. If I didn’t loathe him with every fiber of my being, I’d say it was damn sexy. There was nothing like a guy who could dance, in my opinion.

He did a turn and stopped, looking right at me. I couldn’t tell in the swirling lights, but I swore he winked at me. Douche bag.

The club was going nuts. Everyone was clapping and egging them on. Then Hunter grabbed Mase’s foot and flipped him backward. The club exploded with cheering and hollering. They finished out the song and everyone applauded. They all high-fived and made their way back to our table, getting clapped on the back the whole way.

“That. Was. Amazing!” Renee said as the guys grabbed their drinks and gulped. They were all a little winded and had a light sheen of sweat on their skin.

“What did you think?” Hunter asked me.

“Meh,” I said, shrugging one shoulder. “I’ve seen better.” I sipped my drink, savoring the rich taste.

He just grinned at me and lifted his beer to his lips. “Sure you have, baby.”

Now he was calling me baby? I ignored it and finished my drink.

“You want to dance?” Renee asked me. The alcohol had started making its way through my system, making my cheeks heat and my head floaty.

“Sure, why not?” I said, even though I was apprehensive about throwing myself into the chaos of strangers’ bodies.

Renee grabbed my hand in one of hers and Darah’s in the other, and we headed to the crowded space. I had to tell myself a few times that I was okay, no one was out to get me and I was going to have a good time. The alcohol also helped. I wouldn’t normally have waded into a mosh pit full of strangers, but when in Rome.

I didn’t have many talents, but dancing was one of them. I let the music take me over and didn’t care who was watching me.

There was one set of eyes I knew was on me. Hunter’s. At one point, I turned, swiveling my hips and dipping down to the floor and slowly coming back up. It might have been my imagination that he swallowed and his eyes widened a little. I’d classify the brief look that crossed his face as stunned. Take that, asshole. I smiled and grabbed Darah’s arm, twirling her around and then giving her a hip bump. We danced for three more songs before we got too sweaty and had to get some air. I was relieved to get out of the crush of bodies. I’d had a few moments where the panic threatened to attack me, but I’d managed to slam the door in its face and keep dancing.

The guys followed us outside, probably to protect us from drunken gropers. I’d read last year there were at least several episodes of unwanted sexual touching reported in the campus newspaper. Hunter put his hand on my back, but I let him because it was his hand or a strange guy’s, and I’d take the hand I knew over the hand I didn’t. Not that I knew Hunter. Christ, I’d only met him that morning.

Outside we stood in a cloud of smoke, but the air felt nice on my heated skin.

“I’ve seen better,” Hunter said in my ear. His warm breath tickled my neck, and I moved my hair to hide my shiver.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out. Mom. She always texted me at the oddest hours.

How are you, kid? Haven’t talked today :(

Good. All moved in. Drama city. Out with friends. TTYL?

Sounds good. Luv u, Kid.

Mwah.

“Was that your boyfriend? He worried about you being out late with strange men?” Hunter said, trying to read the messages over my shoulder

“Nope.” I wasn’t going to satisfy his curiosity. I checked my phone. It was nearly midnight, and I was toasted from getting up early and driving from my mom’s house in Waterville all the way to Orono and unpacking my stuff. And dealing with jerks.

“You guys ready to go? I have to be up early for macro tomorrow,” Darah said, miming shooting herself in the head. She was an accounting major, but hated economics with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

“You with Wesley in DPC 100?” Mase said.

“Yeah.”

“Me, too. Guess I’ll see you there,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw her smile at the prospect of seeing him again so soon.

We all walked back to Mase’s car and said good-night to Sean and Dev. Mase said an extra good-night to Darah. Oh, dear, there was definitely something there.

When we got back into the apartment I realized two things. One, I really needed a shower, and two, Hunter and I were going to be sleeping in the same room.

Darah and Renee said good-night and shuffled off to their room.

“Well, here we are,” Hunter said.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I said and prepared for the comment I knew was coming.

“You know what they say, conserve water and shower with a friend.”

I walked past him to gather my pj’s, not answering. I made sure to lock the door before I stripped and got in the shower. I wouldn’t put it past him to try and get me naked. Guys like that were all the same. They took what they wanted and left you with nothing.

Four

When I came back from the shower, Hunter was in bed, shirtless and in just boxers, sitting with his back against the wall, guitar in his lap. It was a scene most girls would have swooned over. Between the dancing skills and the guitar, he could rack up plenty of attractiveness points. He plucked a few strings before realizing I was in the room. For a split second, I saw a dreamy look on his face. He quickly hid it behind a smirk.

“You’re all wet.”

I didn’t miss the double entendre. I tossed my balled-up clothes in the hamper and twisted my hair in my towel to squeeze some of the water out.

“Not the kind of nightwear I was picturing, but it’ll do.”

I looked down at my oversize T-shirt and shorts. I’d thought twice about wearing a tank top and boy shorts, which normally I would have, given the temperature. I’d left my bra on so my nipples wouldn’t show through the thin jersey material.

“Are you one of those douches with a guitar, or can you really play?” I tried to keep my eyes on the guitar and not on his bare chest. There was another tattoo on his left pectoral. A four-leaf clover.

“I only play if you’re a paying customer. Although I’d take a trade instead of money.”

Why had I even asked? I’d been trying to break the ice, but he didn’t seem to want to. I went to my dresser and found a quarter that I chucked at him.

“There. Now play, music boy.” I sat down on my bed and faced him.

“What do you want?”

I thought about it. I wanted to pick a song there was no way he would know. I threw out anything hard rockish or folksy. He seemed like one of those guys who would be into Bob Dylan.

“‘C’est la Mort’ by The Civil Wars.”

He gave me a look like that wasn’t what he was expecting.

“What? Don’t know it? Not hip enough for you?” He looked away from me and down at the guitar. He plucked a few notes. I waited.

Then the song emerged from his fingers, slow and haunting. I sat back against my pillows, getting lost in the music. I hated to admit it; he played very well. He hadn’t had just a few lessons last week. He’d been playing for years. He finished the song with a flourish and looked up at me. The dreamy look was there again, and it took longer for him to put it away.

“Singing is extra,” he said.

“You can dance, you can play the guitar. Jesus, Hunter, what can’t you do?”

“I’m very good at a lot of things. If you want to come over here, I can show you a few more,” he said, laying the guitar back in the case. My throat suddenly went dry, and I had to swallow. His comments had been different when we were fully clothed and with a group of people. In this dark, quiet room they took on a heavier meaning, or at least they did to me. I was making too much of it.

I sat up. There was something about lying down that made me feel more vulnerable.

“I’m not sorry for punching you,” I said for no reason in particular. My hand was still swollen and sore, and I hoped his face hurt for a long time.

“I know you’re not. I’m not sorry you did either. Most girls bore me. You, Taylor, do not bore me.”

“Thank God, I can die a happy woman.”

“I’m not going to make a move on you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I had been, but I didn’t want him to know that.

“I never screw girls I like.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Wait, he liked me?

“Of course it does. All relationships end eventually, right? So why not end it before it begins and save yourself the trouble?”

“That’s pretty fucked up thinking, Hunter. What did your parents do to you?” In my experience, guys like Hunter usually had deep-rooted Mommy issues. It was why they could never have close relationships with women.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I got up and put my phone in the charger, mostly so I could stop making eye contact with him. Normally, my nightly routine would involve putting in my retainer, slathering my face with moisturizer and putting on an eye mask, but there was no way in hell I was letting Hunter see any of that.

It was too intimate, too personal. Maybe tomorrow housing would be open to finding him another place. I would simply tell them that I was uncomfortable living with Hunter. I wanted to believe that I would have the balls to tell him to get out. It would have been so much easier if we could have taken care of this hours ago. Also if he hadn’t played that stupid song. Why had I picked that? I should have picked something stupid like “I Am the Walrus.”

He clicked his lamp off, and we were left in almost total darkness. The only light came from the small lamp on my dresser that I hadn’t turned off yet.

“Just to let you know, I talk in my sleep.” He shifted on his bed and chucked something on the floor. It could only be one thing. “Also, I sleep naked.”

I made a sound of disgust. I was definitely sleeping with my bra on, even though I’d have uncomfortable marks in the morning. I climbed into bed and pulled the comforter up. I was the one who felt naked. I swore I could hear his sheets rubbing against his skin. Damn, I should have gotten some earplugs.

I wasn’t going to sleep at all.

I also talked in my sleep, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Well, good night. Feel free to dream about me naked and scream all you want. I’ll sleep right through it.”

I wished I had a pillow, or perhaps something heavier, to chuck at him. I quietly grabbed my retainer and put it in, hiding the case under my mattress. I wanted to pretend like I didn’t give a shit what he thought of me, but honestly, I did.

It felt rude not saying good-night, so I did. I got a mumble in response. I lay on my back and looked at the ceiling. Even with the memory foam mattress pad, the dorm bed was as comfortable as a sack of hay.

Hunter was breathing quietly, but his disturbance in the room was unmistakable. I didn’t know why, but guys breathed differently than girls. Deeper somehow. I heard every single time he shifted or moved or twitched at all. I knew the exact moment he was asleep when his breathing became slow and he stopped moving so much. I tried closing my eyes, but it didn’t work.

I grabbed my MP3 player and put it on Shuffle. I had tons of fast songs on there, so I had to keep skipping things. Usually, alcohol made me tired, but the soda had been a bad idea. It was too late to take my sleep medication, so I was stuck. I only had two classes the next day, and they didn’t start until eleven. I hoped Darah and Renee weren’t too loud in the morning. I hoped Hunter wouldn’t be too loud in the morning.

I hit repeat when “C’est la Mort” came on, and I finally faded off.

***

“Taylor, Taylor!”

A hand grabbed my shoulder, shaking it.

“What the fuck?” I said, flailing against it, trying to get it to let me go. “Don’t touch me!” I whipped my arms around and made contact with something warm and fleshy. A chest.

“Jesus Christ, stop it!”

I finally opened my eyes and assessed the situation. I was in bed, and there was a shirtless boy holding my arm. I froze, and he let go of me.

“What are you doing?” I snapped at him, but it came out slurred because of the retainer. I spit it out in my hand.

“You were screaming in your sleep and freaking out. It woke me up.” Shit. Usually when I took my sleep medication, I didn’t have the night terrors, but I hadn’t been able to tonight. Great, just great.

“I’m sorry. Go back to bed. I’m fine.”

“Do you, uh, need anything?”

He stood there, as if he didn’t know what to say. My eyes drifted down his chest and saw that he had a towel wrapped around his waist. At least it covered everything it needed to cover.

“No, I’m fine. Good night.” I flipped over, hoping that would be the end of it. He sighed, and I heard him crawl back into bed.

“Good night,” he said and flipped over as well.

Five

Hunter was gone the next morning when I woke up at nine. So was Renee, but Darah was at the dining table eating a bowl of cereal.

“How was your night with the boy?”

“Fantastic,” I said, stretching my arms over my head and listening to my spine pop. I shuffled to the coffeepot and found that there was just enough for one more cup. I had no idea how long it had been sitting there, but I didn’t care. Coffee only got really nasty if it was past four hours. I poured myself a cup and sat down with Darah. She looked about as bad as I felt.

“You’re okay with him here, really?” she said.

“No, I’m really not.” I sipped the sweet elixir, wrapping my hand around my cup. “But what can I do?” I still hadn’t told them about the bet, and Hunter hadn’t either. I wasn’t sure if I was going to go there. If housing could settle things, then they never had to know. I just hoped if housing found him another place, he would go quietly. I really had no idea what kind of a fight he would put up.

“Not much. Just give housing hell. I don’t know what they were thinking.” She shook her head.

“And they didn’t even notify us! It’s just crazy. This damn school.” I got up and slammed two pieces of bread into the toaster. There was something else that was bothering me, but I wasn’t going to tell Darah about it. Unless…maybe she had heard me last night. I glanced over my shoulder to find her watching me. Yup, she’d heard. “You probably heard me last night, didn’t you?”

“The walls are like paper, so yeah. I didn’t want to bring it up unless you were uncomfortable. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I forgot to take my meds. Sorry if I kept you up.”

“It’s no big deal—we were just worried about you. It’s been a while since you had one.”

“Renee woke up, too?”

Darah nodded. Great, just great.

“I’m really sorry.” It had only been twenty-four hours and I was already a bad roommate.

“Don’t worry about it. Did Hunter wake up?”

“Yeah, he actually woke me up. He sleeps naked, by the way.”

She snorted milk through her nose and had a coughing fit before she could answer.

“You’re kidding me,” she said, her eyes the size of dinner plates.

“I didn’t see Hunter Junior, if that’s what you’re thinking. He didn’t take his shorts off until he was under the covers. What a gentleman, right?”

“Listen, if he makes you uncomfortable, we can switch rooms. Although, we might have to pull Renee off him in the middle of the night.”

“He’d probably screw her. He seems like that kind of guy.” My toast popped up, and I spread some butter and drizzled some honey on it.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go to macro, but I’ll see you later, okay? Let me know if you hear from housing.”

“Will do,” I said, saluting her and munching on my toast.

She grabbed her bag, and, for the first time since moving in, I had the place to myself. I should spend that time on skimming the first chapter in my textbook, but I wasn’t that ambitious. Instead I plunked down on the sofa with a crappy reality show marathon and dazed out. I was just about to start getting ready when the door opened.

“Hey,” Hunter said, setting his messenger bag by the door. “You recovered from last night?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

I was not going to put up with him today, so I went to get dressed and brush my teeth. He grabbed the remote and changed the channel. Of course.

“Don’t you have class?” I asked.

“I don’t have another until two-fifteen. You?” He didn’t take his eyes from the television.

“I have Feminism in Cinema at eleven-fifteen.”

“Sounds thrilling,” he said, finally settling on the History Channel. Looked like a marathon about Hitler.

“See you later,” I said and went to get ready. He didn’t even say goodbye when I walked out the door a few minutes later. I’d never met someone who ran so hot and cold. He was worse than Maine weather, which changed with alarming frequency.

My walk down to class was relatively quiet. Our building was on the outer edge of campus, like a spoke on a wheel. UMaine centered on a grassy mall that had the library at one end and the memorial gym at the other. Most of the important buildings were near the mall, and the less important were behind them. The English building where I had my class was one of the less important and happened to be just down the hill from my dorm.

The class was relatively small, so it was easy to find Megan’s flaming red hair. Women’s Studies was a small department, so everyone pretty much knew everyone else and took the same classes.

“Hey,” I said, sliding in the seat next to her and pulling the retractable desk up with a horrible grinding noise.

“We meet again,” she said. “How was move-in?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” We had a few minutes before class started, so I gave her the quick and very dirty version of the previous day.

“You are kidding,” she said, sitting back.

“I wish I were.”

“I didn’t think housing could do that.”

“I know, right? No notice, nothing.”

We were interrupted by the arrival of our teacher, Jennie, who I’d had a previous class with. She was young, only about twenty-eight, and was so obsessed with movies, she made even the most boring topic interesting. She also wouldn’t let us call her by her last name.

Class started with the usual handing out of syllabi and going over rules and policies. I tuned out most of it and let my mind wander. Of course it wandered to my most recent irritation. Hunter Zaccadelli.

There was something seriously wrong with Hunter. One minute he was talking about going to bed with me, the next he said he didn’t want to have sex with me because he liked me and then he was colder than a Maine winter. Maybe that was something I could bring up with housing. I’d had to turn my phone off during class, but couldn’t wait to check it and see if I had a message. I also planned on stopping there after lunch, before my last class.

We finished early, and Megan and I decided to get lunch at the Union. She went for a cheeseburger from the grill, and I got a tomato wrap filled with hummus and veggies. Somehow we found two empty seats and set everything down.

“So you need to give me some more details on this guy.”

“I don’t really know much, actually. Except he’s a douche and he’s sleeping in my room.”

She covered her burger with ketchup and smashed the bun. “Is he cute?”

I had to think about my answer. There was no denying that Hunter was gorgeous. He had everything the typical female would want. Good body, perfect teeth, great hair and everything (that I could see) in proportion. Given a personality transplant, I would have been seriously crushing on him. He also had this fabulous jawline. Not that I’d noticed.

“Oh, he’s a hottie all right, but it’s his personality that could use some help.”

“Still, better a good-looking jerk than an ugly nice guy.”

“What category is Jake in?”

“He’s a little bit of both,” she said, munching a fry. “I like to think he combines the right amount of hotness and niceness.”

Megan’s boyfriend was a nice guy. It was just his friends that needed some work. They weren’t jerks; they were just gross. Megan often walked into her bathroom to find one of them had forgotten to flush, another had left hair and floss on the sink and another had left hair in the shower drain. She only stayed for love, she said. I would have been out of there faster than you could say Clorox.

“Well, Hunter is all asshat.”

“But a good-looking one. You can overlook a lot if he’s hot.”

“Trust me—it’s not going to happen.”

I finished my wrap, and we went to chuck our trays, saying goodbye to Megan, who had calculus.

I had some time to kill before I had my next class and didn’t want to walk all the way up the hill to our apartment, so I went to one of the computers in the Union and checked the jobs board. Last year I’d worked at one of the dining commons. It hadn’t been horrible, and I’d made some good friends, but I’d had more than enough of chopping salads and making endless grilled cheese sandwiches. I wanted something new that might offer some intellectual stimulation. The library was my first choice.

I scrolled through the listings for student workers. Most of them were in the dining commons, but there was one that caught my eye for a library aide in the government publications department, whatever that was.

I clicked on the link and filled out the application, trying to make myself sound as academic and smart as possible. I clicked Send and hoped I’d get a return email for an interview. I scrolled through the rest of the jobs, but nothing jumped out at me. I quickly checked my email for anything from housing. I had nothing on my phone. I’d checked at least twelve times.

I decided that housing hadn’t gotten back to me, so I was going to them. Their office was on the third floor of the Union, so I took the stairs, composing myself before I walked into the office. The receptionist looked up when I walked in. There were two other students, a guy and a girl, waiting already. They both looked surly and unhappy, and the girl had clearly been crying.

“Can I help you?” the woman said, looking up from her computer.

“Yeah, I’m having a housing issue and I really need to talk to someone right away. I called and left messages, but you weren’t open yesterday.”

“Okay, let me check. You hold tight.”

She got to her feet and shuffled off to one of the offices, knocking softly on the door before going in. She closed the door so I couldn’t hear what she said. Damn. I grabbed a hard candy from the jar and unwrapped it, earning glares from the other two people waiting. A few seconds later the secretary came back. I tried to judge from her face whether it was good or bad news.

“I’ve talked with Marissa, the head of housing, and she’s aware of your situation. If you want to sit and wait, she’ll be with you as soon as she can. These people were ahead of you, and it’s first come, first served,” she said with a tight smile.

“Do you know how long it’s going to be? I have class soon.”

“Would you like to set up an appointment?”

“When is the soonest you’d be able to do it?”

“Let me check,” she said with a barely audible sigh. I wasn’t trying to be difficult. “This is a very busy week. Hmm…” She scrolled through her computer, her eyes looking for an empty space. “The earliest we can do it is Friday afternoon at two.”

“Friday?” Seriously? “Isn’t there anyone else I can talk to?”

“Let me check Roger’s schedule. He’s the assistant director.” She scrolled again, and I crossed my fingers. Not that I believed in luck. “The earliest he can do is next Monday at four.”

Great, just great. I tried not to scream in frustration.

“Okay, I’ll take Friday. What am I supposed to do before then?”

“You should contact your resident director and he can help you work through any issues you may have, okay?”

She wrote out my date on a card and took my name, typing it slowly into the computer. Yeah, our resident director. I’d seen the guy all of once when I’d moved in. He’d introduced himself and given some speech about how his door was always open. Yeah, I was going to go to some complete stranger with my problems. Not likely.

I thanked the woman and tried not to stomp out of the office. My phone buzzed, and I looked down to find a text from “Sexy Roommate.” I opened it, wondering what the hell.

Sitting in class, thinking about you. You thinking about me?

I had an idea who it was. More than an idea. I just didn’t know when he’d gotten hold of my phone to put his number in.

Who is this?

The guy u slept with last night. One of them at least.

Bite me.

Saw u walking across campus today.

U stalking me now?

I was minding my own business and u crossed MY path. Who’s stalking who now?

This is harassment. I’m going to report you.

Do whatever you want, Missy. You still haven’t given me an answer on our bet.

Me kicking u in the nuts wasn’t enough of an answer?

In most societies, a handshake usually symbolizes the making of a contract.

Whatever. I’m shutting my phone off.

I waited for a reply, but it didn’t come. I shook my head and turned the phone off. I still had some time to kill before class, but nothing better to do so I went to get a good seat. Somehow I’d managed to weasel my way into Human Sexuality. It was the most popular class on campus, and most people couldn’t get in until their senior year. Maybe I’d just gotten lucky. Ha-ha.

The class was located in what people called DPC 100. The DPC stood for David P. Corbett Hall. It was the largest classroom on campus and could hold up to 350 people. It was this crazy dome shape, with the seats stacked like a 3-D movie theater. It was always a thousand degrees in there from all the people, and you never knew if you were going to trip on a half-empty Starbucks cup.

Despite being nearly a half hour early, there were already at least a hundred people in the room. I walked down the sloped side, trying not to trip and also trying to find a seat that wasn’t close to anyone else. I liked my personal space, thank you very much.

Most of the seats on the outer edges were taken, but I found one near the front that had a buffer. The desk next to me was broken, so I was pretty sure no one else was going to sit there. I pulled out my e-reader so I could finish the story that had made me late driving up yesterday. It was the latest in a paranormal series I’d gotten addicted to this summer. I was fully engrossed when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Is this seat taken?”

I had to blink a few times before my brain registered that Hunter was standing next to me and he was asking if he could sit next to me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Learning about human sexuality. Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

I glanced down and then back up at him. Maybe he was a mirage. He smirked, clearly delighted.

Nope.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Granted, I don’t have much to learn, but I figured I could use my knowledge and get an easy A.” He slid by me and took the seat with the broken desk, setting his bag down by my feet.

“You are not in this class.”

“I am. You want to see my schedule? I’ll prove it.”

“Whatever,” I said, going back to my book and turning so that my back was as much toward him as I could make it in the small space.

“You know, if you ever want to practice any of the techniques we’re going to discuss, I’d be happy to be your study partner,” he said in a low voice. For some reason, his quiet voice made the proposition even more seductive. Not that I fell for it.

“Screw you,” I said before I realized I’d walked right into that one.

“I’d like to.”

“I thought you didn’t screw people you like.” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He stretched his arms over his head, his shirt riding up and showing just the tiniest bit of lean stomach. I snapped my eyes away quickly. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen it the night before.

“For you, Missy, I’d make an exception.”

I glanced at my phone, but we still had at least fifteen more minutes until class started. The room was nearly full, and the chatter echoed in the acoustically tuned space.

“I was thinking about making dinner tonight. You in?”

What was wrong with him? Seriously, he had to be bipolar. Or he just really, really liked messing with me. Or maybe it was a little of both. I shouldn’t respond.

“What are you making?”

“You tell me what you like and I’ll make it.” His face was set in a smile, but it was different than his cocky smirk. This was more genuine. The smile you’d give a friend if you hadn’t seen them in a while. Open, honest.

“You’d really make what I wanted?”

“Why not?”

There had to be a catch.

“You made me pay for a song, what do I have to do for dinner?”

“Sit next to me while we eat.”

“That’s it?” That couldn’t be it.

“That’s it,” he said, opening his hands.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to root out the catch I knew was there. He just looked at me innocently, which made me want to laugh. I was interrupted by a teaching assistant shoving a stack of syllabi in my hands and telling me to pass them down. I took one and handed the stack to Hunter. Our hands brushed briefly, and I pulled away as fast as I could, grabbing my notebook and writing the date neatly in the corner.

Our teacher was a woman with gray hair who wore a long purple, gauzy top and matching purple pants. She reminded me of someone who had been a hippie and had never really gotten over it. There were a lot of those at UMaine.

She called us to order as the TAs collected the last of the extra syllabi. There were four TAs for such a large class.

Marjorie, she introduced herself as, got her PowerPoint up and running, and took us through her extensive lesson plan, including her personal history and educational credentials, the papers she’d published and the degrees she held. For someone who looked airy-fairy, she certainly had a lot of degrees and accolades. I’d heard nothing but amazing things from other people who had taken the class, and I had to admit the subject matter interested me. How could it not? Sex was interesting.

“I’ll bet you already cracked the textbook open and took copious notes.”

So sue me, I’d skimmed it before class. I was curious about how graphic the diagrams would be. Turned out pretty graphic.

“I’ll bet you’re going to rip the pages out and plaster them on the ceiling,” I whispered back as Marjorie walked back and forth, using one arm to gesture and the other to click through the PowerPoint slides.

“It’s all up here,” he said, tapping his head.

I was facing forward, pretending to be engrossed in the slides. He grinned at me and pulled out a pen, tapping it on his knee one, two, three, four, five times before he paused and started again.

I stole the quickest of quick glances and noticed something else behind his left ear when he moved his head. Looked like another tattoo, but it was so small I couldn’t tell what it was.

The girls behind me yapped the entire class, and I wanted to tell them to shut up but didn’t want to start anything. The room buzzed with the hum of chatter the entire hour and a half. Granted, it would have been impossible to keep that many college students quiet for that long.

Hunter was fidgety the entire class. Whether it was pen tapping or knee jiggling or stretching or twitching. He was like a five-year-old high on cotton candy. I hadn’t noticed him twitching so much the day before, but maybe I just hadn’t been paying attention. But I thought I would have seen him vibrating like he’d had twelve cups of coffee. It was very distracting.

“Are you on speed?” I whispered as Marjorie was going through the grading scale for our homework assignments.

“Huh?”

“Are you on speed? Your knee is going a mile a minute.”

“I’m fine,” he said, leaning over and putting his ankle on his jiggling knee.

He started pen tapping again, and I reached out so he’d stop. My hand connected with his. It was the first time I’d really touched him. My fingers closed over his fist and the tapping stopped. I removed my hand without looking at him.

“Thank you,” I said.

He didn’t respond, but his hand stayed still the rest of the class. When it was time to leave, I was hoping he’d just get up and go, but that didn’t happen, of course. He packed up his things slowly, as if he was waiting for me. I took my sweet time.

“Do you have another class, or is this it for you?”

“I’m done for the day,” I said, standing up.

He followed suit and walked behind me as we left the room. I hated the fact that he was behind me, because he had a full view of my ass as I walked up the stairs. I half expected him to grab it, but he didn’t.

We walked side by side out into the bright sunshine. It was blinding after being in the dark lecture hall.

“Mind if I walk back with you? I don’t have class again until four, so I figured I’d crash for a little while.”

“It’s not like I can stop you. It’s a free sidewalk,” I said, looking left and right before crossing the road. He walked beside me, shortening his stride so he could match my stubby legs.

“True, but if I ask it makes me seem like a nice person.”

“You’re not a nice person,” I said.

He laughed. “You’re right. I’m not.”

He shook his head as if it was the funniest thing ever. It wasn’t, really. Most people wanted other people to like them so they tried and were overly nice. Hunter wasn’t like that. He was what he was and didn’t give a shit if people liked it or not. No matter how crazy he drove me, I had to admire that about him. Sometimes I cared too much what other people thought of me. It must have been freeing to go through life like that.

We didn’t talk much as we walked. At first it was strange, but the more we walked, the easier it was. It was the longest I’d heard Hunter go without a sarcastic comment or sexual innuendo. It was kind of nice.

“So, about dinner,” he said when we walked into the apartment. “What do you want me to make?”

The room was quiet; the other girls must still have been at class.

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

I set my bag down and leaned on the counter. Okay, Hunter Zaccadelli, you can make me dinner.

“Stuffed French toast, sweet potato hash and strawberries and cream.”

“Breakfast for dinner? You rebel, you.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I live on the edge. So, think you’re up to the challenge, Z?” I said, using the ridiculous nickname the bouncer had used last night.

“Piece of cake. Or toast, in your case. I’ll stuff your toast, baby.”

I rolled my eyes. Soon I would be desensitized to his comments, but I hadn’t quite gotten there yet.

“Whatever. I’m going to take a shower. No, you can’t come with me,” I said, cutting off whatever comment he was going to make.

“Anytime you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Unfortunately, I did.

Six

“How the hell did you do that?” I said, looking at the dining room table. It was spread with mounds of my favorite French toast that was stuffed with oozing Nutella; sweet potato hash that he’d made exactly how I did, despite my vague and confusing-on-purpose instructions; and strawberries that he’d somehow cut and stuffed with the hand-whipped cream. He’d even found champagne and made mimosas.

“I’m a man of many talents. Some of them are hidden. Some are not. Maybe sometime you’ll let me show you some of the hidden ones.” I was too dazzled by the meal to make a snappy comment.

“Holy crap, dude. I didn’t know you could cook,” Renee said, coming out of her room.

Darah had already picked up her job as a desk attendant at the Union and wouldn’t be back until late.

“We should probably eat it before it gets cold. Dig in, ladies,” he said, handing me a plate. There was definitely enough food for about twelve people. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Mase over. Dev and Sean might come, too.”

So that was why he’d made so much. I couldn’t really stop him from having his friends over, but I didn’t want our apartment turning into a frat house with beer cans everywhere and strange girls sneaking out in the morning from one-night stands on our couch. Yuck and ew.

“Fine with me,” Renee said, piling her plate with strawberries and cream and only one piece of French toast.

What was it with girls being afraid to eat in front of guys? I’d never had that fear, so I loaded my plate up. Just as I was about to plunge my fork into the French toast and unleash the Nutella-y goodness, there was a knock at the door. I had to hand it to them, at least they hadn’t just barged in.

Hunter opened the door, and Mase and Dev came in.

“What are you making? It smells fantastic,” Mase said, going right for the table full of food.

“I made this on Taylor’s request. She doubted my cooking skills, so I had to show her what I’ve got.”

“You should never doubt Hunter when he brags about something. Most of the time if he’s bad at something, he just won’t talk about it. If he’s bragging, it means he’s telling the truth,” Mase said, grabbing a fork and shoveling French toast onto a napkin.

“Do you want a plate?” I said.

“Nah, I’m good like this. Then you don’t have to wash an extra.”

How considerate. Dev was more cautious, asking me where the plates were and waiting until everyone else had gotten their fill before taking what was left, which wasn’t much. Sean followed suit. There weren’t enough chairs, so we crashed on the couch and the living room floor like we had the night before with the pizza.

Choruses of “oh my God,” “mmm” and “dear sweet Jesus” were interspersed with loud chewing and swallowing. Other than that, the conversation was nonexistent.

Okay, okay, I had to admit it. Hunter hit it out of the park. French toast was one of those foods that seemed easy to make, but was crazy easy to screw up. He’d overstuffed the middle with so much Nutella that it oozed out when I cut it with my fork and dripped down my chin when I bit it. I wiped it off and licked my finger. Hunter was watching me, as if waiting for my reaction.

“It’s okay, I guess,” I said, cutting up another piece and shoving it in my mouth. He raised his eyebrows and took a bite of his own, chewing slowly.

Sweet Christ it was like I’d died and gone to breakfast heaven. I really hoped he wouldn’t use his cooking skills as leverage for sexual favors. For this, I might have to give in.

“I think we need to have a toast,” Renee said, raising her glass. Well, it was really a plastic cup. None of us had brought champagne glasses with us when we moved in. “To hidden talents,” she said.

We all clinked our glasses. Hunter winked when ours met. I wrinkled my nose at him.

“If you guys are going to eat like this every night, I might have to move in,” Mase said. “All we have is microwave popcorn, beer and week-old fried chicken that no one remembers buying.”

I shuddered, as did Renee.

“My ex-boyfriend never stocked his fridge. I always had to bring my own groceries when I stayed over,” Renee said, emphasizing the word ex. As if everyone hadn’t caught it.

“I think it’s a guy thing,” I said.

“Not every guy,” Hunter said.

“Apparently not,” I responded.

My phone vibrated with a text from my mother, and I excused myself to chat with her. Hunter gave me a questioning look, but I hit Call, put the phone to my ear and ignored him.

“Hey, Kid, long time no talk! I thought you were lying in a ditch somewhere,” she said as I settled onto my bed to chat.

“Nope, sorry to disappoint. I’m alive and well. Sorry I haven’t called you. Things have been a little nuts.”

“How did moving in go?”

I gave her a quick rundown. I felt like I needed to record myself telling the story so I could just hit Play when someone asked. I left out a lot when I gave her the mom-version. I didn’t want to worry her. She always worried about me more than Tawny. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was the baby or because of my issues. Perhaps both.

“Oh, no.” She proceeded to urge me to go right down to housing and give them hell. I told her that was what I had done, but I hadn’t gotten anywhere.

“Well, I’m going to call and give them a piece of my mind. That’s ridiculous that they won’t do anything. They’re just being lazy. Hang on,” she said, and I could tell she was putting me on speaker so she could look up the number.

“Mom, it’s okay. I’ll deal. You don’t have to fight the bullies for me.”

“But I’m your mother. I’ll always want to beat the crap out of people who are mean to you.”

“No one was mean to me. It’s fine.” I was beginning to regret telling her. Mom was always trying to make up for not protecting me that one time. She’d been making up for it since I was twelve, and I didn’t know when it was going to end, or at least lower in intensity. I loved her more than I could say, but I didn’t need her to fight my battles for me.

“Are you sure? You know I can make things happen.”

It was true. That woman could talk her way in or out of anything. She had this way of making people believe what she wanted them to. In another life I thought she would have been a lawyer.

“I know you can, and I love you for it. I’ve just gotta deal with it, okay? How about we talk about something else. How’s work?”

She was reluctant to leave the topic but switched for my sake. We chatted for a few more minutes while she told me funny stories about her coworkers at the bank and silly customers who couldn’t understand how to use a debit card. She’d worked her way up at a local bank from teller to manager. I chatted a bit about my classes and told her about my job search. Nothing heavy, nothing serious.

“Your father called today,” Mom said, casting a dark cloud over our chat.

“What did he have to say?”

“Not much. He said he wanted to see you soon.”

He said that every time he called. My parents had gotten divorced when I was thirteen, and he lived in Connecticut now, which wasn’t far enough, in my opinion. He called me every now and then, but I always deleted his voice mails.

“I’m sure he does.”

“You should go and see him. I know he misses you.”

“If he missed me, he’d come to see me.”

“I know, Kid. I know.” She sighed, and I twisted my hair around one finger.

“Listen, I’ll call you this weekend and we can talk more, okay?”

“Okay, Kid. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I hung up and sat back on my pillows, closing my eyes. A soft knock made me sit up. “What do you want?” I knew it would be Hunter. The door cracked open, and he poked his head in.

“Just wanted to let you know the guys are gone, and Renee went to the library to get some reading done, so if you wanted some privacy you didn’t have to hide in here.”

Renee already had massive amounts of reading since she was a nursing major. She also had a sick obsession with gory descriptions of diseases.

“Where are you going to be?” I said.

“Where do you want me to be?” His smirk was back.

“Wherever I’m not,” I said, getting off my bed and pushing past him into the living room. I really didn’t have any homework that had to get done tonight, so I decided to finish the book he’d so rudely distracted me from reading that morning.

I got out my e-reader and folded myself on the couch. I had to use my left hand to hold it because my right was still recovering from the encounter with Hunter’s face. I should probably have put some more ice on it, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

The kitchen was spotless, the dishes already in the drainer and all other evidence of the breakfast buffet was gone. Guess cleaning was a hidden talent as well. Darah hadn’t had a chance to make our chore chart yet, but I was sure she was on it.

“Do you mind if I play?”

“No, go ahead,” I said, not looking up from my book.

He went to our room and came back with his guitar. I hadn’t really looked at it the day before, but it had definitely been through the ringer. It was black and dinged and scratched all over. He sat in the chair across from the couch and settled the strap around his neck. I kept reading but waited for him to start.

“Requests?”

“I thought I had to pay for them,” I said.

“I’m feeling generous. I’ll give you a few freebies.”

“How generous.” He strummed a chord. I thought about it for a second. “‘Smooth Criminal.’ Either version.”

He looked surprised for a second, and then he started to play. I couldn’t help but groove to the familiar tune. Against my will, my head bopped and my feet twitched. He didn’t sing, but he played the song and that was enough. He was very talented. When the song ended, he continued to strum a transitional tune.

“Next?”

“‘On My Own.’” There was no way he’d know that one. I’d had a brief obsession with musicals in high school and had a minor part in the community theater production of Les Misérables. I’d wanted more than anything to play Eponine, but there were too many other girls who tried out and had been in theater since they were born, so I didn’t get the part. I’d been mildly crushed for at least a month.

“You think you’re going to stump me, but I assure you, I can play pretty much anything,” he said before he launched into a guitar version of the song.

Honestly, I’d thought even if he knew it, he wouldn’t be able to play it on a guitar. I had been proved wrong again. I was still holding my e-reader, but the book wasn’t captivating me as much as Hunter.

He got lost in the music, throwing his whole body into the song. It was like he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing; he was just getting lost in the music. It was beautiful to watch. Hunter played with everything he had and he was good. No, he wasn’t good. He was amazing. Hypnotic. Could this be the same boy who’d said I was fuckable last night?

He abruptly ended the song, placing his hand on the strings so they’d stop vibrating.

“Free request time over. If you want to pay, I’ll continue.”

I could only imagine what he’d take in payment, so I just picked up my book again. After a few minutes, he started again, just picking out random notes and tunes. He’d play a few lines of a song, enough for me to recognize it, and then it would melt into something else.

“Can I ask you something?” I said a half hour later.

“You can ask whatever you want, doesn’t mean I’m going to answer.” He quickly plucked one string.

“Why are you a business major? I’d rather eat glass than admit it, but you have talent.”

“This?” he said, pointing to the guitar. I nodded. “So I can be a starving artist? There are ten thousand guys with guitars who can play.”

“But if you love doing it, then why wouldn’t you?”

“I am doing it. Right now.”

I just wanted a real answer from him. If I was going to be stuck with him for the rest of the week, we might as well get to know each other. He may have been a jerk, but he was an intriguing one. I wanted to know how he’d become the guy he was. You know, before I tossed him out on his ass.

“You know what I mean.” He shrugged and went back to strumming. “Oh, so you shut down when you don’t want to talk. I see how it is,” I said.

“You don’t want to know about me, Taylor. You really don’t. Trust me when I say those things are not worth knowing.”

“I could be the judge of that, I think.”

He gave me a smile, but it was twisted.

“That’s what they all say. Everyone says they want to know you, but they don’t. They want to know the nice things, the pretty things. No one wants to know the ugly parts, the parts that keep you up at night. They say they’re okay with it, but then they drift away and you never see them again. I’ve seen it happen way too many times. Girls don’t want to know that shit.”

“Maybe this one does.”

His smile appeared again. “That’s what they all say,” he repeated.

I decided to give up and went back to my book. He went back to strumming, and we stayed like that until Darah got back at ten-thirty. She seemed shocked to find us in our current positions, but she recovered quickly.

Renee got back a little while later when the library closed, her eyes glazed over from all the medical terminology she’d tried to cram into her brain in just a few hours. I was exhausted from the previous night, so I wanted to turn in early. I made sure to take my damn pill so I wouldn’t wake everyone up with my night terrors. I was already in bed and had my eyes closed when Hunter came in after his shower.

The smell of his clean skin overwhelmed the room, and I tried to pinpoint what it was. It was something similar to wood or cinnamon. Something warm.

I heard him get into bed and slip his boxers off.

“I don’t know if you’re awake or not, but good night, Taylor.”

I decided to pretend I was asleep. He waited for a response, but when I didn’t give one he rolled over and sighed.

“Damn you,” I heard him say under his breath.

Right back atcha.

Seven

I was the first to wake up the next morning. Somehow our blackout curtain had gotten pushed aside, and a crack of sunlight was poking under my eyelids. I opened them and moaned. Stupid sun. I rolled over and checked the clock. It wasn’t even seven yet. Why had I woken up? Then I heard a voice.

Hunter was talking in his sleep, just like he’d said he would.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. It was hard to make out what he was saying because his back was to me and he was mumbling. Figuring I probably wasn’t going to get back to sleep, I turned so I could see him.

“Don’t. Stop it. Put it down.” His voice was calm, but his words were not. He seemed to be having a nightmare. Guess I wasn’t the only one.

“Please don’t.” His voice had a hint of tears in it. I wondered if I should wake him up. He tossed in his sleep, throwing his covers about. I didn’t have time to shut my eyes, but luckily his blanket covered strategic places. It was also still pretty dark. Even still, it showed enough. His back was to me, and I saw yet another tattoo in the middle of his back.

“Stop!” he said louder.

I got out of bed and stumbled over. Maybe I could poke him and get back into bed quick enough so he wouldn’t notice. I shoved his shoulder, but he moved so fast that I stumbled and nearly fell on top of him. A hand lashed out at me, and I had to duck to avoid it.

“Hunter! Wake up!” It was déjà vu. I hoped this wouldn’t become a pattern.

A strong, warm hand grabbed my shoulder, and his eyes flew open. He gasped, as if he didn’t know where he was. His grip relaxed.

“Hey, it’s okay. You just seemed upset.”

He glanced at his hand on my shoulder as if it didn’t belong to him. He let go and pushed away from me.

“Go back to bed,” he said.

“Are you okay?”

“Go. Back. To. Bed.” His teeth were gritted, and he looked like he was angry that I’d woken him. My bad.

“Sorry,” I said before stepping away and crawling back into bed.

He breathed heavily and rolled back over. I didn’t go back to sleep, and I could tell he didn’t either. A half hour later I heard him get up and put his boxers and a T-shirt on. I pretended I was asleep. A little while later I heard low voices in the kitchen. Deciding it was about time, I got up and went to find some breakfast.

Hunter was hunched over a plate of eggs and toast when I came out of our room. Renee was on the couch with the television on and a bowl of cereal. I heard the noise of the shower and made the deduction that Darah was in there.

“Good morning,” I said to whoever would answer.

Hunter grunted and Renee made a similar noise. It was only the second day of classes, but everyone was still on summer time.

I grabbed a bowl of cereal and went to sit with Renee. I was getting bad vibes from Hunter. That boy and I were going to have to have a chat, sooner or later. I had the feeling he was going to avoid it as long as he possibly could. I’d have to be the one pushing.

One by one, my roommates went to their various morning classes until it was just me and Hunter. Surprise, surprise.

“We need to talk,” I said, “and you can’t do that thing where you shut down or don’t answer or make some sort of innuendo so I’ll get distracted or off topic. If we’re going to live together, we’ve got to be able to talk to one another. Got it?”

He put his plate in the sink and turned around, bracing his back against it. His eyes told me I was in for a battle.

“Don’t make me punch you again, because I swear to God, I will.” That elicited a smirk. His face still had a slight shadow where I’d gotten him. “I also have no qualms about going for your man bits again.”

“I don’t doubt you for a second, Missy.”

“I’ve talked with housing about you. I have a meeting on Friday with the head of housing.”

“Still trying to get rid of me?”

“I just don’t see how this can work out. You’re…you.” I couldn’t come up with a better way of saying it.

“Yes, I am.” He seemed to get it. “But I fail to see that as a reason for kicking me out. If I came home drunk or had sex with strange girls or made you uncomfortable, that would be a reason.”

“You do make me uncomfortable.”

“But not in that way. I make you uncomfortable because I shake up what you thought about people. I make you nervous. You want me, but you don’t know why and you can’t stop fighting it.”

I sputtered for a second, shocked. “You are so…” My hands shook with anger. I really, really wanted to punch him again.

“I’ve hit a nerve, I see. Means I’m right.”

“You are the cockiest, douchebaggy asshat I’ve ever met, and I can’t wait to get rid of you.”

He laughed for the first time. On anyone else, it would have been sexy as hell. On him, it just made me more enraged.

“Fuck you, Hunter. Fuck. You.”

“You want to, that’s part of your problem.”

Before I could react, he crossed the room and stood right in front of me.

“Tell me you don’t want me. Look me in the eye and tell me if I kissed you right now, you wouldn’t kiss me back. Tell me.”

“I don’t want you,” I said, grinding my teeth around every word. Breathing became difficult. He was so close. I couldn’t see anything beyond him. My eye level was at his chest, where the ink from his tattoos showed through the thin cotton. His smell surrounded me, and I caught a tiny whiff of sweat. My mouth went dry, and I kept my eyes on his chest because I knew I couldn’t look up.

Two days ago, I hadn’t known Hunter Zaccadelli existed. Today, I couldn’t look him in the eyes for fear I’d lose myself. No, I had to shut this down.

I closed my eyes and stepped away.

“I don’t want you,” I said, looking at his eyes and not blinking. “Now get away from me.” He didn’t move, so I walked away.

One thing was sure: I had to get Hunter out of my life.

I wanted him. I wanted him to kiss me and touch my face and put his fingers in my hair. I wanted him to pick me up and hold me and be with me. I was losing it. Absolutely losing it. I had to get out of this space. He took up too much of it. He made my brain do funny things and not think clearly.

I had to get away.

I got dressed as quickly as I could and threw my books for the day into my bag. I dashed to the bathroom, hoping I wouldn’t run into Hunter. I could hear his guitar in the living room. I didn’t look at him as I rushed out the door. As soon as I was in the hallway, I was able to breathe.

What was it about him? Was it the tattoos? The way he called me Missy? The way he was so open about his sexuality? Maybe it was a combination.

It was a combination I couldn’t say no to, but I would have to. I was never going to fall in love. I was never going to be with someone like that. People only hurt you when you loved them that way. They took what they wanted and used you up. My mother still missed my dad, even though it had been so many years. She still looked at their wedding pictures and smiled, thinking about times when they were happy. But it hadn’t lasted. Nothing like that lasted.

Boys like Hunter burned everything they touched. Boys like that were dangerous. I knew that without a doubt. If I let him, Hunter would drag me down. I would not let it happen.

I spent the rest of the day looking for Hunter around every corner. I turned my phone off so I wouldn’t see his texts, if he sent any. I made sure to keep a lookout in the Union. I kept thinking I saw him, but it turned out to just be a look-alike. There were a lot of guys who sort of looked like him, but no one quite close enough.

I did everything I could to avoid going back to the apartment and ended up finishing all my homework before the end of the day. I had my last class of the day with Megan and offered to have dinner with her so she could avoid eating with the “cannibals,” as she called her boyfriend’s buddies. It wasn’t completely to avoid Hunter, because I really did want to spend time with Megan.

“Have you figured out your roommate issue?”

“I wish,” I said, biting into my chocolate croissant. Hunter was the kind of person who made me need chocolate therapy. “It’s really complicated.”

“Things with the opposite sex usually are.”

“How’s everything working out for you?”

She lifted one shoulder. “Jake’s my soul mate. I know that. Sounds cheesy, but I know that we’re not complete without each other. So I put up with his disgusting friends and their endless Family Guy marathons because I love him. Someday we’ll move in with just the two of us, and I’ll be able to have a clean bathroom. Someday…”

We finished eating, and I walked Megan to her car.

“Girls night this weekend? I think the guys are going to a party, so the house will be free. I’ll make margaritas,” she said in a singsong voice. “Come on, please? I’m inviting Haley and Robin, too.” They were two other girls from our major that we’d formed a little group with. They’d be the perfect antidote to too much Hunter.

“Sure, it’s on. Just text me when would be a good time. You want me to bring anything?”

“Every single girlie movie you own.”

“Done,” I said.

She squealed and gave me a hug before hopping in her car.

It was still light out, so I didn’t have to worry too much about walking by myself. I said goodbye to her and reluctantly walked back to the apartment. I kept my fingers crossed the entire way that Hunter would be gone or at least one of the girls would be there as a buffer.

I took a deep breath before I opened the door.

“Hey, where have you been?” Renee said, looking up from one of her massive nursing textbooks. The television was blaring; I didn’t know how she could focus.

“Had dinner with Megan. Where’s everyone else?”

“Hunter went somewhere, and Miss Darah is on a date with Mase, if you can believe it.”

“No way,” I said, joining her on the couch. “I thought I saw something there, but I didn’t know he’d move that fast.” College was a strange situation. Things always seemed to happen at warp speed.

“Me neither, but it was really cute. I think she really likes him.”

“I have a really hard time picturing them together, but if he makes her happy, then that’s what matters.”

“Well, she hasn’t even come home yet, so we can reserve judgment until then.”

“If she does come home,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“You know she’s not that kind of girl.”

I did, but I never underestimated anyone when it came to that.

“I’m bored. I don’t think I can do any more reading. You want to do something?” She closed her book.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Mall?”

I wasn’t much for shopping, but if we got to go to the bookstore, I was in. Also, it would get us out of the apartment in case Hunter came back from whatever he was doing. I only had a tiny temptation to text him, but quickly squashed it. I was staying away from him until I could get rid of him.

“Sounds good, just let me grab some cash.” I ran into my room to grab some money from the jar I kept in my desk. I had to leave my debit card at home when I went into a bookstore or else I would drain my account. I was about to leave when I saw something on my pillow. Curious, I picked it up.

This is me giving you space. See? We can live together without living together. You still haven’t given me an answer about that bet. All you have to do is prove one way or another and I’m gone. The ball’s in your court, Missy.

I crumpled the note in my fist. He knew what I was trying to do, and that infuriated me. I didn’t like him knowing what I was thinking, since I almost never knew what was running through his head. I shoved the note in my desk and slammed it shut.

“So what is with you and Hunter? I know you’ve got this weird I-hate-you-but-I’m-really-attracted-to-you thing going on, but could you, like, tone it down?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. You guys eye-fuck each other every second you can. It’s disgusting, really.”

I hopped into the passenger’s seat of Renee’s Mazda.

“We don’t do that.” We totally did, but it was Hunter’s fault. “I don’t mean to anyway. He definitely does.”

“That’s what attraction is. That uncontrollable urge to jump someone’s bones, even in mixed company. You guys haven’t…” She didn’t need to finish.

“Oh, God, no! I’m not that kind of girl, either.”

I had never told Darah or Renee that I was a virgin. The only person who knew about that was Megan, and that was because we were so close, and I knew I could trust her with something like that. I’d trusted her with a much bigger secret.

“Never say never, doll. Did I ever tell you how Paul and I met?” I knew they’d only met about a year ago, but had gotten serious, fast. “I was wasted at a party, and this guy was trying to take me home. I don’t really remember this, but Paul shoved him off me and asked me where I lived. I somehow managed to tell him, and he got me into a cab and helped me back to my room. Darah was gone for the weekend, so I was all alone. He stayed with me the whole night and took care of me. I puked my guts out, and he held my hair and everything. You’d think he’d never want to see me after that, but he ended up staying the whole day. When I sobered up I realized that he was pretty damn special. And I think you can figure the rest out. So, never knock sex early in a relationship. I mean, it didn’t work out with us, but it was great while it lasted.”

Her voice was filled with longing. I knew she missed him, but she refused to take his calls or answer his texts. I didn’t even know why they had broken up, but she insinuated it was something he had done. I asked her if he’d cheated on her, but she said it wasn’t that. Darah and I had racked our brains, but we hadn’t figured it out. We’d been tempted to ask Paul but didn’t want to go behind Renee’s back.

I’d never really had a boyfriend. I’d had too many public angry episodes for the boys I’d grown up with to even consider wanting to date me. In eighth grade when the other girls were having their first boyfriends and getting kissed, I had a mouthful of metal braces and a bad attitude. When I got older and other girls were getting serious and hooking up and so forth, I spent my time reading and glaring at any boy who gave me the once-over. Soon my reputation as an ice queen became well-known enough that the boys left me alone, which was how I wanted it.

I’d never been around anyone who challenged me and fought me on everything until I’d met Hunter. He scared me in a way, and I’d never been scared of a boy before. That was why I had to get rid of him.

Maybe I could take his bet. I hadn’t been able to make him see that I hated him, because I didn’t. I hated him at times, but my other feelings for him seeped through, clouding the hate into a murky substance that I couldn’t define.

The other part of the bet? The making him believe I loved him? I couldn’t do that either. I’d shut off that part of myself when I was twelve, and there was no turning it on now after so many years. Hunter would see right through me if I tried to fake it.

I was between a rock and a hard place. I was going to have to wait and see what Friday brought.

Eight

Hunter and I barely saw each other for the rest of the week. I assumed he went and hung out at Mase’s, but I didn’t know for sure because he barely said twenty words to me. When he did come and sleep at the apartment he always arrived after I was out and left before I woke. I didn’t know how he did it, but he was like a shadow, sneaking in and out.

When I did see him, he pretended not to see me. Darah and Renee noticed, but after making inquiries, which Hunter and I both shot down, they stopped asking.

Friday afternoon finally came, as did my meeting with Marissa.

I had to wait ten full minutes before Marissa finally opened her door and called me in. Her office was nasty-neat and could have been a stock image for what an administrative office should look like with the generic watercolor print and motivational poster. Gag.

She adjusted her glasses on her nose before sitting behind her desk, absentmindedly straightening her wrist rest. Everything about her was orderly: her short hair, crisp shirt and flat expression.

“So, what can I do for you, Taylor? You said you were having an issue with one of your roommates.” She leaned forward and braced her arms on the desk.

I gave her the rundown, leaving out a lot of what Hunter had done. I wasn’t repeating what he said, word for word.

“So he makes you uncomfortable? Have you tried talking with him about it?”

“Yes, I have,” I said. Her face had been blank when I’d told my sob story, and I could tell this was going to be a dead end. I could just feel it. But maybe I was being pessimistic.

“Have you gone to your resident director? They are always available to talk or discuss disputes, and they have training on how to help with those situations.” It was like banging my head against a brick wall.

“I was really hoping that this could just be resolved, seeing as how it was a mistake to begin with.”

“Well, there isn’t really anything we can do right now. Unless there is an emergency, we have to keep places available for those who really need them. It sounds like it’s more of a personality conflict. I’m going to recommend that you have some mediation with your RD, and you can come and see me in a few weeks, okay?”

I wanted so, so much to say, “Are you fucking serious?” but that wouldn’t have helped my case.

“So there’s nothing you can do?”

“Not unless there is a direct threat. Has he threatened you? Don’t be afraid to speak up.”

I thought about it for half a second, but I knew if I told her Hunter had threatened me, then he would get in trouble and could get kicked out of school. Campus security would get involved, and he could even get arrested. As much as the image of Hunter in jail amused me, I couldn’t be the one to put him there if he didn’t deserve it. Seeing as how I was the one who technically assaulted him.

I was stuck.

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Okay. Here’s my card. Never hesitate to call us if it’s an emergency. Sounds like you two just need to have a chat. I’ll have your RD contact you about setting up some mediation.” She stood and held out her hand, effectively ending the meeting. I had no choice but to stand, shake her hand and leave with her card clutched in my hand.

What a fucking waste of time.

I didn’t know why I had expected anything more. In a university with around twelve thousand undergraduate students, I was a number. That was why I’d chosen UMaine instead of a smaller college. Now I was paying for it.

I stormed back to the apartment. Darah had gone home for the weekend to celebrate her mom’s birthday, so she was already gone. Renee had a nursing group meeting, so I knew if anyone was going to be there, it would be Hunter.

I tried not to slam the door but failed.

“Rough day?” a male voice said.

I glanced at the couch to find him sitting there with his guitar. I held my composure for a second. “You’re on,” I said, walking over to him and sticking my hand in his face. “The bet, you’re on.”

He stared at my hand for a second, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Once we shake hands there is no going back.”

I nodded, but I pulled my hand back before he could touch me. “There have to be some parameters. This whole thing about loving and hating can’t be proved. I told you I hated you and punched you, but you didn’t believe it. If I said I loved you right now, you wouldn’t believe me. So how do we measure this?”

“It’s harder to say you love someone than to say you hate them. So you have to say the words. And they have to be real.”

“How will you know they’re real?”

He shrugged. “I’ll know. You’ll know.”

“And the hate part?”

“I’ll know you hate me when I see that look in your eyes. I’ve seen it before, and I’ll know.”

“So you’re going to determine this. I have no say?” I balled my hands at my sides, wanting to hit him.

“I’m not forcing you to accept this. You can call housing and tell them that I’m sexually harassing you. They’ll drag me to a disciplinary hearing and probably kick me out of school. You could say the word right now. But you aren’t going to do that.”

“I can’t,” I said. As much as it would get him out of my life. “You’re a jerk, but you’re not that. If you were, I would have gotten rid of you so fast, your head would have spun around.”

“Exactly. You’re not a girl who puts up with anything. You can take care of yourself—you showed me that on the first night. You’ll let me know when I’ve gone too far.”

“I will.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay,” I said, and we shook hands. I tried to let go, but he took my hand and pulled me so I crashed into his chest.

“So, here we are. You’re stuck with me until Christmas,” he breathed.

He let go of my hand, and I stepped back. It was not an easy thing to do. My body was drawn to his like the opposite pole of a magnet.

“You think you’re the one who makes my life difficult. I can make it so much worse for you,” I said, smiling sweetly. His blue eyes were skeptical.

“How so?”

“You really want to know? I’m going to invite a bunch of girls over, and we’re going to watch girlie movies and talk about our periods and burn all kinds of scented candles and we’ll probably stay up all night giggling.”

“When do the naked pillow fights and making out start?”

I smacked his shoulder. “You pig, that’s not what happens at sleepovers unless they’re in the movies. But Darah and Renee and I can gang up on you. You have no idea how bad it could be.”

“What makes you think any of that would make me uncomfortable?” he said, throwing a wrench in my spur-of-the-moment plan to get him back.

“Because all guys run away when girls start talking about their menstrual cycles. You’re supposed to run away now.”

He stepped closer to me. “Doesn’t bother me.”

“Tampon,” I said.

He took another step.

“Cramps. Bloating. Heavy flow.”

His chest was almost touching my nose. I tipped my head back to meet his eyes. He didn’t blink. I could almost feel the cotton of his shirt against my skin. He slowly reached up and put his thumbs on either side of my face.

“Keep going,” he said, pulling my face up, so I had to go up on my toes. Oh, my.

At that precise moment, my brain stopped working. It stopped thinking and even trying to think.

“Out of words, Missy?” he said, one side of his mouth tipping up.

That smirk snapped me back into reality. I glared at him and pulled away from his hands. He chuckled.

“You’re going to have to work really hard to prove you hate me. The other thing, maybe not so hard.”

“You’re full of it,” I said, crossing my arms.

“And you have no idea how sexy you look right now, so pissed at me.”

My mouth dropped open. I didn’t have anything to say, so I pulled my knee back like I was going to get him in the balls, but stopped short of hitting them. It was awesome to watch him flinch.

“Watch it there,” he said.

I just grinned at him. “Don’t forget you have something you value very much more that I can damage. Just remember that.”

“How could I forget?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Some other girls to objectify?” I asked.

“Why would I go anywhere when I have all I need right here?”

I was going to make a snappy comment, but couldn’t come up with one. It surprised me that a twenty-year-old, good-looking guy wouldn’t have plans on a Friday night. But hey, what did I know?

***

Hunter treated me with the same cocky manner he’d used the first two days I’d met him, which was quite a change from the cold indifference. He made comments that would have made me blush a few years ago. Renee came back from her meeting and kept giving me a look when he did it. The I-told-you-so look.

I wasn’t going to sleep with Hunter. I wasn’t going to sleep with anyone, at least not right now. I couldn’t even think of having sex without my hands shaking and my stomach turning.

I had no problem with other consenting adults doing it, but I knew that sex was messy. It was complicated, and some people used it as a weapon. I was never going to let that happen to me. If I did it, it would be because I wanted to. And I hadn’t met anyone who made me want to.

Yet.

He stayed up late on Friday night playing the guitar. I was exhausted from my failed meeting, so I went to bed. He asked me if I minded if he stayed up and played.

“Knock yourself out.”

“You wish,” he said and played a little tune from a commercial. Ha-ha. I rolled my eyes and put the covers over my head, as if I was blocking him out. “You know you like it.”

Yes, I did. More than I would ever admit.

I fell asleep to the sounds of guitar strumming. When I woke up, he was mumbling again. It would have been downright adorable if he wasn’t so upset. I considered waking him again, but I didn’t want to lose my face. So I let him go and listened.

“Mommy, wake up. Please wake up.” His voice was scared.

I looked around and found a pair of socks that I balled up and chucked as hard as I could at him. They bopped his shoulder, but he didn’t wake up. I tried to find something else. I looked around and found a metal coat hanger on my closet door. I unfolded it and used it as a poking stick to jab him. It took a few tries, but he finally grabbed at the spot where I was poking.

“What the fuck?” his half-awake voice said.

I quickly threw my poking tool down and pretended I was asleep. I heard him turn over, and I could feel his eyes on me.

“Did you just poke me?”

I decided to play dumb. “What?” I said, attempting a sleepy voice.

“You just poked me with something.”

“No I didn’t. I was sleeping until a moment ago.”

“No, you weren’t. You were poking me with that piece of wire that’s sitting on the floor. Very sly, Missy, but I’m not a moron.” He got up, and I heard him picking up my poking device. “I was talking again, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Don’t tell me what I said. I already know.”

“How?”

“Because I shared a room with my cousin growing up, and at one point he told me what I said.”

“You lived with Mase?” I asked, turning over. This was the first time he’d talked about his family. It was crazy early to be up on a Saturday, but this was worth getting up for. This was the first time Hunter had initiated talk about himself without me having to attack him for it. “What happened to your parents?” I said quietly. I didn’t want to scare him off.

He got back into bed. I rolled over so I faced him. He was sitting up, his back against the wall and his legs over the edge.

“They’re dead.” The air left the room, and I found it impossible to breathe. I couldn’t find words to say to him. Nothing I said would mean anything. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said after a few moments of my silence.

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t want to say something stupid. I was trying to think of something to say that wasn’t stupid. Guess I failed.”

To my surprise, he laughed.

“You don’t have a filter. It’s one of the things I like about you. Don’t start now. Say whatever you want.”

“I’d say that’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard, and it explains a lot.”

“Yes, it does,” he said, looking down at his hands. “And you’re one of the only people who has said they were sorry and I really believe you. People say things they don’t mean all the time. It’s easy to spot the bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is.” I was a professional bullshit spotter. It was one of my hidden talents.

“What happened to them?”

“Someday I’ll tell you,” he said, rubbing the top of his head with his hand, as if he was rubbing a lucky spot. I decided to change tactics and ask another burning question I had.

“Okay, then tell me about your tattoos.”

“I told you I didn’t believe in fate. I believe in luck. So I figured, why not have all the luck I can with me?”

“How many do you have?”

He turned his arm and showed me the seven. “One,” he said, and then pulled his left ear so I could see the ink behind it. “Two.” He turned his back and pointed to the one between his shoulder blades. “Three.” He pulled his foot up and showed me another that I hadn’t seen before, which was a star. “Four.” He pointed to the one on his chest. “Five. I want to have seven when I’m done, but I only do one when I get the urge, so I haven’t gotten one in a few months.”

“What are they? I can’t really see from here,” I said. It wasn’t a ploy to get him to come closer in his shirtless state, I swear.

He got off his bed slowly and walked toward me. The look on his face wasn’t confident. It was open, as if he was showing me a piece of himself that he rarely shared. I knew this moment was precious, easily broken, like a finger through a soap bubble.

“This one you can see is a seven. It’s a lucky number in many cultures. This,” he said, pulling his ear forward, “is your standard horseshoe. Sailors used to nail them to the masts of their ships to help them stay out of the path of storms.”

He turned his back, and I finally saw what the one on his back was. If I hadn’t done a project in sixth grade on Egyptian mythology, I might not have known it was a scarab beetle. The beetles would shed their outer skins, carapaces, and the Egyptians saw that as a symbol for rebirth and thus thought the beetles were immortal.

“You’re really mixing up your mythologies there, Z.”

He glanced at me over his shoulder, rolling his eyes at the nickname. “I’m all for diversity,” he said drily.

I got out of bed and went to study it closer. It was beautiful, the colors nearly shimmering on his skin. Whoever he had gotten this from was a real artist. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch it to see if it was real.

“So, there you have it,” he said, turning around. “And then I just have a little star on my foot. Now you have my ink history. Show me yours.” His mouth turned up at the side, and Mr. Cocky was back. What a shock.

“Sorry, dude, none to show,” I said, hopping back in bed.

“I wasn’t asking about your tattoos, Missy.” He leaned forward and braced his hands on either side of my legs, almost, but not quite touching my skin. Even though he wasn’t touching me, my skin tingled as if he was.

“Why, Hunter, are you asking to see my lady parts?”

“Asking is putting it mildly,” he said, and there was the tiniest growl in his voice.

The want to push myself forward and mesh his body with mine was so strong, I had to grab on to the sheets to stop myself from doing it.

“You’re just messing with me,” I said, my voice a little breathy, like I’d just run up the stairs. “You said you didn’t screw girls you liked.”

“Oh, Missy, if you only knew,” he said. He slowly moved forward until his face was right in front of mine before pulling back and walking out the door.

Damn him. Damn him and his blue eyes and his interesting tattoos and his take-what-I-want attitude. The fact that he had a tragic past just added to the mystery of Hunter Zaccadelli.

***

“Hey, Kid!” Tawny said, hopping out of her Volvo convertible. I ran to smash her in a hug. I had seen her only a week ago, but I’d missed her.

“Whoa, you okay?”

I’d hugged her a bit too enthusiastically. She also must have read the tension on my face.

“Let’s get you a drink and I’ll tell you about it.”

We walked into Margaritas, the only decent Mexican place in downtown Orono. It was crammed between a clothing store that sold fashions for larger women and a real estate office. It was ridiculously narrow, but it had two floors so there were plenty of cozy nooks and private places. The tables were hand painted, and there were tons of sombreros and chili lights strung on the wall. Soft music played in the background.

Tawny and I went upstairs and found a table for two in a corner behind a large beam. I ordered a Coke, and Tawny got a margarita.

“I’ll give you a sip when no one is looking,” she said.

I filled her in on the whole Hunter saga while we waited for the waitress to come back so we could order.

“He sounds like an ass,” was her assessment.

“He is,” I said, laughing

Tawny paused with her drink midway to her lips. “Oh no.”

“What?” I said, looking around.

“You like him.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

She put her drink down, her mouth dropping open in surprise. “Yes, you totally do! Jesus, Kid, what are you thinking?”

“I do not like him,” I said, lying through my teeth.

“Don’t insult my intelligence. I know your face better than anyone else. I also know every single tone of your voice. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you’re not lying to me. So, tell me about him.”

“He’s…” I said, struggling to find words to describe him. “He’s a jerk, and he says whatever is in his head and he is always pushing my buttons and pushing his luck. He says he doesn’t sleep with girls he likes, but then he’s always coming after me. He’s complicated.”

“He sounds complicated. Good-looking?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Well then, what’s the problem?” she said as the waitress came to take our order.

We paused the conversation. I ordered nachos with extra guac, and Tawny went for the steak quesadillas. I tried to think about my answer to Tawny’s question.

“You know what the problem is.”

“Kid, that was so long ago. I got over it.”

“You never get over something like that,” I said softly.

“No, you’re right, you don’t. But you learn to live with it. Like a scar. You need to stop hating everyone.”

“I don’t hate everyone,” I said.

“Close, Tay, close.”

I changed the subject, and Tawny let me. We didn’t come back to Hunter until we were sharing our fried ice cream, which was ice cream covered in a crunchy topping with honey drizzled on one side and chocolate on the other. I had the chocolate side.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You know what the worst is,” I said.

“You can’t let one bad apple ruin the whole barrel. There were a lot of signs that I chose to ignore. Does Hunter make you feel unsafe? Is he controlling?”

“No,” I said. Hunter had never made me feel like he was going to hurt me physically. Kiss me, yes. But those were two different kinds of fear.

“You know the signs. You know the red flags. Have you seen any of them?”

“No.”

“Then why not stop being so hostile?”

“He likes me hostile, I think.”

“Okay, I’ve gotta meet this guy. I also want to see your new place.”

I hadn’t planned on taking Tawny to the apartment. In fact, it hadn’t even occurred to me to do so.

“I guess. I can’t promise he’s going to be there.”

“Text him. I didn’t come all the way up here from Belfast and bring your clothes to not see this guy.”

I sighed and pulled out my phone.

U home?

Maybe. Y?

Bringing my sister by.

If she looks like you, she’s welcome.

And if not?

I’ll vacate the premises.

U ass.

He didn’t answer, so I shut my phone.

“He said he’ll be there as long as I said you looked like me.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that guy totally wants you, Kid.”

“He’s just pushing my buttons.”

“That’s not all he wants to push,” she said, pointing her fork at me. Ugh. Maybe Hunter and Tawny would get along. That would be the worst.

We left Tawny’s car downtown and took mine back to campus.

“Stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” I snapped.

I was freaking out, and I couldn’t exactly say why. Maybe it was because Tawny’s was the opinion I trusted the most. I trusted her judgment more than my own. If she didn’t like Hunter, really didn’t like him, that was it.

“Aw, this is so cute,” she said when I opened the door. “Not nearly as scuzzy as I was expecting.”

I glanced around, but I didn’t see Hunter. Guess he’d decided not to be home after all. I heaved a sigh of relief, and then the bathroom door opened and he emerged in a cloud of steam, wearing only a small towel around his hips.

He saw us, and his face spread into a grin.

“Hello there, you must be Tawny. I’m glad I stuck around. I figured if you shared the same genes you would be just as hot.”

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