by Jenna Scott
It’s awkward as hell with the doctor, and it gets even more awkward when I go home afterward and ask Hunter if he’s always been “safe” and if he’s ever had any sexually transmitted anythings. He gives me an amused look, and I think he’s going to avoid my question with jokes—but then he says he’s been getting tests every year since he was fifteen, and adds that he’s never had sex without a condom…aside from those five accidental seconds the other night.
“Well…do you want to?” I ask.
One of his eyebrows lifts. “Is that on the table with you?”
“It’s on the table for us,” I correct. “If you get tested again, just to be sure. I got the shot, and they said it works right away. So…will you go?”
I worried he’d get offended at my demand, but he just breaks into a grin like Christmas came early. “I’ll go tomorrow. It’s almost that time of year anyway.”
“Good.” I wrap my fingers around the collar of his shirt and lower my voice to a murmur. “I did like it when we had nothing but skin between us.”
After that, he takes me up to his room, and I don’t leave until morning. The next day, he does indeed go get tested, and being rich, he pays a premium for expedited results—if there’s something Hunter wants, little stands in the way of him getting it.
Friday night, I’m six pages deep into editing a term paper for World History when my phone buzzes on my nightstand. Assuming it’s Hunter text-nagging me to finish up this paper quickly so I can sneak up to his room, I force myself to ignore it as long as I can. Which, let’s be honest, lasts about five minutes.
But it’s not Hunter booty-calling me. It’s a text from Emmett.
Check your email.
My stomach drops like I’m on a roller coaster and I bolt back to my laptop, my hands shaking as I log in to my e-mail account. I scroll down past the IG notifications and spam, searching for something from Emmett or Mrs. Ortega, until I see an unread message…from Stanford.
Dear God, this is it.
Quickly, I clasp my hands in front of me and squeeze my eyes shut tight, praying to the universe or whatever higher power might be looking out for me. If I get this opportunity, I promise I won’t squander it. I’ll work hard, learn as much as I can, do everything in my power to succeed, and be the best human I can be out in the world once I have my degree. Amen.
Then I open the email.
I’m so jumpy and anxious that my eyes skitter all over my computer screen, and I have to read the message twice to make sure I haven’t skimmed over any important words. Then I read it one last time for good measure.
It’s about the scholarship Emmett’s mom recommended me for.
It’s been awarded…to me.
I got it. I got it! I’m going to Stanford on a full freaking scholarship, without paying a dime of tuition out of pocket! Holy. Fucking. Shit.
YES!
My heart’s thumping in my chest. My mouth’s hanging open. And from my throat, a high-pitched, uncontrollable squeal tears out of me.
“YESS!!!!”
Happiness radiates through me, filling me with ecstatic energy from head to toe. And the first person I want to tell is the person I love the most: Hunter.
I’m already out of my room and running across the yard, past the pool, whipping the back door open and bolting upstairs to Hunter’s bedroom.
I find him at his desk, looking at something on his laptop, and he smiles as he snaps the computer shut and gets up from the chair.
“I missed you too,” he jokes.
Without a word, I run over and throw my arms around him, squeezing as hard as I possibly can. Until now, I hadn’t quite realized that getting this scholarship doesn’t just mean a free ride to my dream school; it also means I can fully forgive and forget what Hunter did to me with the other scholarship, because it doesn’t matter anymore.
“What’s all this about?” Hunter laughs, squeezing me back.
“I got it!” I say, pulling back to beam up at him. “The alumni scholarship! I can go to Stanford next year, it’s a full ride!”
A shadow crosses his expression, but he smiles down at me anyway. “Really? That’s…that’s incredible, Milla.”
“Yeah. I can’t believe it.” I’m still nodding away enthusiastically.
“Congratulations,” he says. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to do great.”
But despite his words, his tone is all wrong. He doesn’t sound happy for me. And it’s not like I don’t understand why, but…I wish he could put his own feelings aside and just share this moment with me. This might be the most amazing thing that has ever happened in my life.
“You don’t seem all that thrilled,” I tell him, feeling myself deflate. “I know it isn’t what you wanted, but…my dreams are coming true. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“Of course it does,” he says softly, sounding guilty. “I’m happy for you, Milla. Really.” He kisses my forehead, my cheek, my lips. “I knew you could do it. The scholarship committee would’ve been crazy not to choose you.”
I try to brush away my doubts. “You mean that?”
“Of course. And now…” His lips find mine, and our tongues mingle in a dance. “I think you deserve a celebration.”
I get the feeling he’s trying to change the subject, and get slightly pissed off at myself that it works. He picks me up and drops me on his bed, and doesn’t stop kissing me for more than a couple of seconds as he takes off my clothes.
Hunter’s always got this single-minded purpose of making me orgasm as quickly as possible, but today he’s even worse. After I come on his fingers, he uses his tongue until I come again, and after that he makes me come a third time using both.
All I can say as I pull away panting is, “Hunter, what the fuck?”
To which he replies, “We’re celebrating you, Milla.”
Then he covers me with his body, kissing me, and I stop thinking when he plunges into me, my limbs already weightless, my lips sore from my biting into them to keep myself from screaming, my entire body way too sensitive. I lock my legs around his hips, and Hunter grabs my ass and lifts me off the mattress.
The next wave of pleasure is way too strong, way too deep, shattering me. As I feel Hunter’s release, I start to cry against his shoulder, because everything feels like too much and not enough, and because it’s such a relief to be here with him inside me.
“Are you okay?” he whispers.
All I can do is nod, letting the tears fall as he wraps his warm, strong arms around me. My safe harbor, my whole heart.
The next morning, I send Emmett and Isabel a group text to meet me in the quad before first bell. I’m so excited to tell them my news, I can barely keep the grin off my face.
When I get outside, Emmett’s already there, back leaning against a pillar as he casually scrolls through whatever on his phone.
“Hey Emmett,” I say.
He looks up with a grin. “You’re in a good mood. And I bet I know why. My mom wouldn’t tell me anything, though, so I need you to confirm.”
My smile reaches from ear to ear. “Let’s wait for Isabel so I can tell you both.”
“Sure. But I have a feeling you wouldn’t be this happy if the news wasn’t good.” Emmett shakes his head. “Congratulations, Milla.”
“You’re right, I have absolutely no poker face. Oh well.” I pout, but it doesn’t last long, because I’m stepping into his arms for a tight hug. “Thank you, Emmett. I wouldn’t have gotten it without you. Or your mom.”
“You give yourself too little credit.” He hugs me back. “Sure, we helped, but they wouldn’t have given it to you without your grades. And the essay.”
“Still. I bet your mom made a pretty good case. She is a killer lawyer.”
We let go of each other, and he squeezes my shoulder. “I’m really happy for you, Milla. Fucking Stanford. You deserve it. And…guess who’s gonna be there with you?”
“Oh my God, no! Emmett, you’re going? You’ll be
at Stanford with me in the fall? Yes!” I’m so excited I’m about to start jumping up and down, but suddenly his brow creases, eyes focusing on something over my shoulder.
I follow his gaze, and it lands straight on Hunter. Even with the distance, I can see the scowl on his face. When I lift a hand to wave, he pivots on his heel and leaves.
“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath, knowing full well why he stormed off. He’s still threatened by Emmett. I can’t even begin to deal with that right now.
“What’s his deal? Are you not allowed to hug your friends?” Emmett scoffs. “Or does he seriously still think you’re sneaking around with me behind his back?”
“He better not,” I grumble. “I’ve told him a million times that you and I are just friends.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “Whatever. He can sulk. I’ll talk to him later—”
“I’m here, I’m here!” Isabel pops up around one of the pillars, hugging her textbooks to her chest. “Sorry I’m late, I grabbed the wrong book for AP Lit. So?”
My mood is instantly lightened and I wrap my arms around her, the grin back on my lips. “So… Guess who’s going to Stanford, on a full ride?”
Her scream is practically enough to deafen me, but she drops her books right on the ground and hugs me back, jumping up and down as she yells, “You got it! Milla! Fuck yeah!!! My girl is going to Stanford, oh my God!”
“And so is Emmett,” I tell her.
“Gah, both of you!” she shrieks. “My God, this is the best thing ever!”
The rest of the students in the quad are all looking our way now, but I’m too happy to care about their snickers and stares.
Isabel pulls back to look at me, her face glowing with joy, and then crushes me into another breath-stealing hug. “Congrats, baby! I knew you could do it!”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “But I can’t breathe.”
She releases me, and we both laugh. Emmett’s laughing too.
I should be reveling in this, and I am…but I can’t help thinking that what’s tainting this moment is the fact that Hunter isn’t laughing along with us.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Camilla
It’s pretty obvious when Hunter goes out of his way to avoid me for the rest of the day, and my assumptions are confirmed when I get his text after the last bell saying he’s going to meet up with friends after school. Well, fine. Let him go ahead and blow off some steam with the guys. He’s been spending all his free time with me anyway.
No worries, I reply. I’ll be w/ Harry til 7:30- you know where to find me. I add a heart emoji just to make sure he doesn’t think I’m texting with an icy tone.
He immediately types back, I’ll make it up to you.
Hmm. Guess he’s feeling guilty about the sulking—just not guilty enough to get over it altogether. It’s still hard to believe he’s this upset over me hugging Emmett. A little male jealousy makes sense, I suppose, but for someone so good-looking, Hunter can be weirdly insecure. Especially when Emmett’s involved.
Then again, Hunter’s issues run deep. After the whole photo album thing, I’ve realized that everything emotionally fucked up about him is related to the lack of love he’s received from both parents. That’s why he keeps worrying he’ll be abandoned. Again. By me.
I really don’t think he’s quite grasped how bad I have it for him.
When Hunter still hasn’t shown his face by the end of my Harry shift, I accept an invite to grab dinner with Emmett and Isabel to celebrate my scholarship victory.
We go to a local spot for BBQ, and I’m delighted when Isabel and I walk in to find about a million balloons in the Stanford school colors all around the table Emmett reserved for us. The food is great and we have a good time, especially when Isabel sneaks off to ask the waitress to bring us over an entire red velvet cake with candles for me to blow out…but in those small moments when the conversation dwindles, I find myself wishing Hunter were here. Of course I love Emmett and Isabel, but this celebration—any celebration—feels incomplete without him.
When I get home, I’m disappointed to see that Hunter’s BMW still isn’t in the driveway. I hope for his sake that he’s not out getting drunk with his fake ID again.
It’s not until I’m almost drifting off to sleep that I hear the sound of water splashing outside. Footsteps soft, I pad to the pool house’s living room to look out between the blinds. In the dark backyard, a shadow cuts across the pool. The movements are swift, precise, the arm strokes not even making a splash when the hand slices back into the water.
Watching Hunter swim, I let out a sigh. Under the moon, it’s kind of like magic.
I’ve seen him in the pool with Harry plenty of times—and with a few girls, too, though swimming was the last thing on their minds—but I haven’t seen him really swim before. Not like this, anyway. He’s a machine, gliding through the water effortlessly, so naturally it’s like he was born to it. No wonder he was CIF State Champion before he decided to quit. No wonder pretty much every college still wants him to join their swim team. I’d be shocked if he didn’t have Olympics potential.
I ponder leaving him to it. I should go back to bed. Leave him to his swim-brooding. Then I remember the face he made when he was caught staring at Emmett and me, the way he fled the quad, and I know I won’t be able to sleep peacefully while he’s sitting around tormented by thoughts of me leaving him—for college, for Emmett, for whatever else he thinks I value more than our relationship.
Tiptoeing back to my bedroom, I put on a bikini, grab a towel, and go back outside. My idea was to jump right in, but as soon as I dip my toe, I let out a yelp. Nevertheless, I go to the pool stairs and slowly step down into the icy water, using sheer will not to scream as the cold creeps higher and higher up my body.
By the time I’m in up to my waist, my arms are wrapped tight around my goose-bumped shoulders, and my teeth are chattering.
Hunter swims over to me, takes a look at my shivering form, and pulls me against him. “I thought you were asleep.”
I shake my head. “I heard you swimming and thought I’d join you. We have to talk.”
He sighs, his warm chest rising and falling against my ear. “About what?”
“You know what about,” I say. “Why did you leave the quad like that today?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Right. Jesus, are we back to this teeth-pulling? “Hunter. I saw you storm off after you saw me with Emmett. You know he’s my friend. Just my friend. He was excited about my scholarship.”
Hunter’s fingers trace the line of my spine, making me shiver even more.
“Of course,” he says tersely. “I get it.”
Frowning, I pull back and look up at him. “Then why do you have to be such a jerk about it?”
He looks away, seeming to deflate a little. “Because I know it’s stupid, and I know you’re going to lecture me over being jealous,” he says.
Before I can respond, he pulls me in for a kiss, the caress of his tongue swiping any words that might’ve come out of me.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to watch the two of you together?” he asks. “How can I look at that smile on your face, and his, and not be fucking angry that he’s got his hands on you?”
“Hunter, God. You don’t have to be jealous of Emmett. I guarantee you, nothing’s ever going to happen between him and me. He’s like a brother.”
“You don’t know that!” he exclaims. “One day he might actually grow a pair and make a move on you, and then you’ll realize he’s better—”
“He already grew a pair,” I cut him off, leaning back. I’d hoped I’d never have to tell Hunter this, but it’s out, and it’s the only way to reassure him that if something’s going to break us up, it’s definitely not going to be Emmett. “He already kissed me. And it was a whole lot of nothing. Obviously, since I’m with you instead of him.”
Hunter’s gone still. “When?”
“Spring formal. Before you showed.�
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“I fucking knew it—” Hunter punches the water in front of him, and I suppress a roll of my eyes.
“Seriously, stop,” I cut him off. “It wasn’t much of a move he made, and more importantly, neither of us was into it. Like, at all. So I’m glad he tried, because now we all know the truth. It will never work with him.
“And honestly, you know what I told him after?” I go on. “That I wanted to be with you. So every time you throw one of these hissy fits over Emmett and me being friends, you’re just making yourself look insecure and ridiculous.”
Hunter stares at me, his eyes dark in the moonlight. Then, softly, he says, “I don’t doubt you, Milla. But him—”
“He told me that kissing me felt like kissing his sister. How flattering is that?”
Finally, it’s like my words get through to him. After a moment of contemplation, Hunter shakes his head. “Those were his actual words?”
“Yep.”
“Wow. I knew the guy wasn’t the smoothest, but…”
“Ha, ha,” I say dryly. “Are we done talking about this?”
“I am,” Hunter says. “In fact, I don’t want to talk at all. I’d rather take your clothes off.”
His hand sneaks down, slipping under my bikini bottoms to grab my bare ass. “This is just for me,” he whispers. “All of you is just for me.”
“Hunter—”
His lips are on mine, hard and bruising. I gasp as his tongue comes in to caress mine, the press of his body making me heat up in the cold water.
He starts peeling down my bottoms, and immediately, I know what he means to do. And although I am hot and bothered, and would otherwise be very inclined to let him, I grab his wrists in a panic. “Hunter, no! We could be caught.”
Pausing, he kisses my shoulder, my neck, my jaw. “It’s fine. Everyone’s asleep.”