by Sam Mariano
What if I’m seeing the side of him I’ve heard about, but considered myself safe from? What if Hunter has been playing me all along? What if he was making it seem like he liked me, luring me in and making me like him, just so he could humiliate me?
What if he does like Valerie, and they thought it would be funny to make an absolute fool out of me? I never thought Valerie hated me, but she could take issue with my standing by Sara after she socially dismissed her. I don’t know.
It would be so mean and so unnecessary, but how many movies have been made where the jackass popular jock plays a trick on the nerdy girl he never noticed before? Maybe it does happen. Maybe he was playing with my heart out of cruelty and not actual interest. Maybe all of our interactions leading up to this moment were just build-up. He needed to get me to agree to go out with him; he needed to soften me up and convince me to break all my own rules to sneak out and see him, then he left me hanging, and he and Valerie are holed up somewhere together laughing about it right now.
In that case, yes, Mom would be right.
I desperately hope she’s wrong.
I expect her to ground me, even though I’ve never been grounded before.
I guess she thinks I’ve suffered enough, because rather than punish me, she gives me more hugs and support before finally going to bed.
I turn out the lights and climb into my bed. My heart aches, and the more time passes without so much as a text from Hunter, the more my imagination works to convince me I got played.
Hunter didn’t know me that day we met on the bridge. We’ve gone to the same school for ages, but we were strangers. Maybe when he started all this he didn’t feel bad about toying with my emotions because it was what Valerie wanted, but now that he’s actually gotten to know me… maybe he’s conflicted?
Does it matter if he is, though? If everything has been a lie up to now, then we’re still strangers, and we’re better off that way. I don’t want to know someone who would do something like this to someone for no reason other than sick amusement.
His own mother thinks he’s a bully. Maybe I’m the fool for thinking he’s not.
Chapter Nine
I’m not asleep when my room suddenly brightens. I look over at my nightstand where I plugged my cell phone in to charge. It’s all lit up and I can see a notification on the screen, but I can’t tell what it says.
I swallow, reaching for it and tilting the screen so I can read it. My heart falls when I see Hunter’s name.
His message reads simply, “Are you awake?”
Are you serious?
I don’t send anything back for a minute. A long minute—it feels like forever that I stare at the phone, unsure what to do.
Finally, when I can’t take it anymore, I unplug my charger and hold my phone up in front of my face. “You stood me up,” I send back.
“I know,” he answers, causing my heart to fall even more with the admission. “I’m sorry,” he adds.
“Why did you do it?” I demand.
“Is your mom awake?” he sends back, instead of answering.
“I don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter. I’m not sneaking out to see you again.”
I stare at the screen, waiting for a response. It takes a while, but I finally realize one isn’t coming. I lay the phone down on my chest for a few minutes, telling myself he’s not going to answer, but secretly hoping I’m wrong and my phone will buzz.
Eventually, I give up for real. I reach over and plug my phone back in, then I curl up on my side and hug my pillow. My mind is even more preoccupied now, but I try to clear my thoughts so I can get some sleep.
I’m just about to drift off when I hear the tapping on my window. At first I think it’s the weather. The rain has stopped, but it’s still windy. I’ve been hearing the gusts of wind hitting the house, so it’s not impossible a tree branch could be causing the noise.
I hear the knock again. It sounds decidedly like knuckles rapping glass, so I sit up and take a look.
My heart stalls at the sight of a human-shaped figure standing outside my window. The panic is just a knee-jerk reaction—I know who it is. As soon as my instinctive first response recedes, anger swells up inside me. I whip back my blankets and climb off the bed, going over to my window so I can open it and give Hunter Maxwell a piece of my mind.
I unlock the window and push it up, mean mugging him through the glass the whole time.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” I tell him as soon as I get the window open.
“I know,” he says. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
Ignoring me, he grabs onto the windowsill and starts to climb in anyway.
“Excuse me. I said—” The rest of my words get lodged in my throat as he easily climbs through my window and turns to face me.
My eyes are already adjusted to the dark since I’ve been lying here trying to fall asleep for thirty million years, and standing right here in front of my window, there’s enough moonlight streaming in that I get a good look at him.
“Oh my god, Hunter, what happened?” I ask, dropping my attitude and reaching up tentatively to touch his face while I frantically look him over and realize he’s hurt. His lip is split open and swollen. His eye is starting to swell, and there’s a gash on his head frighteningly close to his temple.
“Got in a fight with the asshole,” he grumbles, letting me touch his face even though it might hurt. I keep my touch light, trying not to cause him more discomfort.
“Stay right here,” I tell him, pointing to the edge of my bed as I make my way to the door. I slip out into the dark hall, checking to make sure Mom didn’t fall asleep on the couch. Seeing the coast is clear, I walk as quietly as I can into the kitchen. After the incident with the bag of corn, I bought a real cold compress to stash in the freezer just in case it ever happened again.
Of course, I hoped it wouldn’t.
I grab a washcloth from the hall closet and wet it with warm water in the bathroom sink, then I go back to my bedroom, my stomach in knots. Hunter is still sitting on the edge of my bed in the dark. I feel terrible for being so mad at him now.
I curl up one of my legs and sit on it, leaning forward and silently cleaning his head wound with the washcloth. I am more than a little alarmed when I pull it away and there’s a bloodstain.
“Hunter… I think maybe you need to go to the hospital.”
“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” he says, surlier than I’ve heard him before.
“You might need stitches. I’m afraid to turn the light on. I don’t know if my mom’s asleep or not, and if she sees the light on, she’ll definitely come in.”
“I’m fine,” he says, gently pushing my hand away, but still not looking at me. “I just—you were mad at me and I needed to explain why I didn’t show up tonight. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to. Dennis was in one of his fucking moods and he and my mom started fighting. He put hands on her so I stepped in and… the situation escalated.”
“Where’s your mom? Is she safe?”
Hunter nods, his jaw locking. “Yeah. Seems they bonded over the sheer terror they both felt when he smashed my head against the sink so hard I lost consciousness. Not enough terror to call an ambulance, apparently, but…”
I can’t even breathe. I have no idea what to say. I’m physically ill imagining the scene he just described, but the terror of knowing his mom didn’t even call for help…
Because she didn’t want her trashbag husband to get in trouble?
She would protect him even at the cost of Hunter’s life? Because if he was unconscious, she couldn’t have possibly known he was okay.
Oh my God.
Tears spring to my eyes again tonight, but this time, they’re so much worse. I’m not just sad for Hunter, I’m not just angry at his mom—I’m frightened for him. She isn’t protecting him, and Hunter is too stubborn to back down. This is only the second time I know of that his stepfather got physical with him, but if it esc
alated this badly this fast?
I’m just so glad he’s here now. I’m still afraid he might not be okay and that he really needs to see a doctor and make sure he doesn’t need stitches or have a concussion or anything, but right now I just need to hug him, so I do. I wrap my arms around him and hold on tight, but I quickly loosen my grip when he hisses as if in pain.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, starting to pull back.
“No,” he says, placing a hand on my back to keep me there. “Stay put. I’ll be fine. I’m just a little sore. It was a bad fight.”
“It’s not a fight when you don’t stand a chance,” I snap, but it’s not him I’m mad at. “You’re 14 and he’s a grown man. That’s not a fight, Hunter, it’s abuse. He should be in jail.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, just keeps his arm around me while I hug him a little more gently this time.
I let go after a minute, then I wrap the cold compress in a thin cloth and hand it to him to put on his eye. We don’t say anything for a few more minutes, we just sit together in a companionable silence.
The gnawing in my gut won’t go away. I want to tell him he can’t go back home tonight. I want to tell him we need to wake up my mom. I want to tell him I know I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but I can’t keep that promise anymore.
What if tonight had gone just a step further? What if his stepdad had smashed his head against a sink and caused more than unconsciousness? I could never forgive myself for holding my silence if something happened to Hunter. It’s not his job to cover for the people who aren’t protecting him—it’s their job to do better.
I don’t know where his head’s at, though. I guess I need to find out.
“Did she kick him out?” I ask softly.
Hunter doesn’t say a word for the space of a few heartbeats. His jaw locks and he stares straight ahead. Even in the dark, I can see the storm in his gaze. The betrayal and heartache stirring there, and I have my answer. Tears spring to my eyes before he says a word.
“We’ve fought about him before. Especially last time, when he gave me the black eye. I know she didn’t make him leave after that, but I thought… She told me she was afraid to leave him. He’s kinda crazy and she was afraid of what he might do. Plus, I know she’s afraid to be alone to begin with, but I told her I could protect her. I wouldn’t let him hurt her.”
I want to tell him that’s not his job, but he goes on before I even get a chance.
“Turns out she was just making excuses, though. When I came to tonight… I lost it. I was fucking pissed. I grabbed the phone to call the cops. I didn’t even have to be the one protecting her this time. He had done enough damage that there’s no way he would’ve been allowed near us after that, but… she took the phone and begged me not to call. I didn’t get it. I’m so stupid, I believed her. I really thought she just wouldn’t leave him because she was afraid to.”
“That might be part of it,” I say carefully, but I definitely don’t want to take her side. With a mother like mine, I legitimately cannot begin to comprehend how his stepdad isn’t sitting in a jail cell right now. If someone ever did to me what Hunter’s stepdad did to him, that man might be the one with his head smashed against a sink because my mom would never in a million years put up with it.
Hunter shakes his head, staring off into nothing. “No. She was finally honest tonight. She sat on the edge of my bed, crying her eyes out. Not because of what he did to me, but at the prospect of losing him.” He pauses, inhaling slowly. I don’t know if it hurts to breathe deeply because of his physical injuries, or if the rest of what he has to say is just that heavy on his heart.
Then he answers my question and breaks my heart in half, but I’m not mad about it. I know his is broken, too.
“She told me she just loves him so much,” he says, his voice strained. He pauses to clear his throat and swallow, looking down at his lap and shaking his head. “And I guess… I guess I must be pretty stupid, because I thought she loved me.”
Tears well up in my eyes again, and this time, they start to fall. I take a labored breath and throw my arms around Hunter again, burying my face in his shoulder and holding on tight. I’m not careful this time. I can’t be. I just want to hold him and never let him go. I want to move him into my house and let my mom take better care of him than his stupid mom does. We might not have money, but what we have is much more valuable.
“I’m so sorry, Hunter,” I whisper.
I feel him nod in acknowledgment, his grip on me tightening.
“You don’t deserve this,” I tell him. “Your mom should protect you. She should love you and keep you safe. That’s her job. If she isn’t able or willing to do that, the problem is with her, not with you. Please believe that.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbles, voice low. He’s still holding onto me so I don’t try to pull back.
“It does matter,” I say, wanting my disagreement to be firm despite the comfort I’m offering. I have no idea what to do in a situation like this, but I don’t ever want him to feel like it’s somehow his fault. I try to imagine what my mom would say to me in a position like this, but I can’t even get there mentally. I want to wake her up, because I’m sure she would know what to do, but Hunter needs me right now and I can’t bring myself to leave him.
He takes the cold compress off his eye and sets it down on the foot of my bed. He pulls away, so I start to lean back too, but before I can, his hand moves toward my face. He cradles it in one hand, his touch sending tremors of awareness shooting all through my body. The muscles in my legs even tauten, then a sensation stirs between them and startles the hell out of me.
My face heats up as Hunter guides me closer. My heart starts to pound as I realize he’s going to kiss me.
It’s definitely not how I envisioned my first kiss, but as we sit here on my bed in the dark, Hunter leans in and brushes his perfect lips against mine. It doesn’t matter that his lip is split open and probably tender; it doesn’t matter that I spent more time crying over him tonight than I’ve ever cried over any boy, and it doesn’t matter that the kiss is coming before the date. My expectations are completely obliterated, and this moment is so much more real than any I could have dreamed about.
I don’t feel nervous or self-conscious because of my own inexperience. I’m sure Hunter has probably kissed other girls before, but I know that none of them could ever measure up to what we have.
He doesn’t deepen the kiss, but even just softly brushing his lips against mine, he reaches deep and roots himself inside me. I feel it happening. My affection for him grows exponentially, hardens into something unbreakable. It’s like my heart knows that loving him will be hard, that I need to preserve all the tender, protective feelings I’m experiencing right now or we’ll never make it.
I save it all in my memory. His tender touch on my face, his soft lips on mine. I was so sad just a moment ago, but now I’m so happy I could float away.
Hunter pushes me back on the bed, but it feels so natural I don’t hesitate to let him. It feels good when he climbs on top of me, when he flattens me against the bed and buries his face in my neck.
Maybe a little too good. My senses soar as he kisses his way up and down my neck, my nerve endings all going absolutely nuts. My heart begins to race, my breaths coming a little more rapidly, and then Hunter’s hand covers my left breast and I come to my senses.
“Hunter, wait,” I say, pushing at him lightly.
He stops, hovering over me and looking down at me. He doesn’t say anything, but I’m struck by how beautiful he looks. Everything about him feels dark right now. It’s too dark to really see into his eyes, but I can feel their intensity when he looks down at me. His dark hair is disheveled and a little too long. I smile, reaching up and threading my fingers through the soft locks.
I don’t want to tell him he’s moving a little too fast for me or that I’m not ready. I don’t even know if he was trying to do more than kiss me, but I know what I was
feeling. I know if I let him kiss me for much longer, I won’t have the presence of mind to say no if he does.
He doesn’t push, though. Without a word, he absorbs my reluctance and dials it back, settling in the tenderness but not pushing for more. He leans down so that our bodies are pressed together again, but I don’t feel the need I felt a moment ago. He’s put it away, caged it to make me more comfortable.
I’m grateful. He presses his forehead against mine and steals one more sweet kiss, then he eases down on the bed beside me.
I carefully wrap an arm around his torso and curl up close to him. Neither of us says a word out loud, but it feels like we’re saying so much.
I’ve never felt so close to someone before.
“Was that okay?” he finally asks.
“Yes,” I assure him, resting my head against his arm. “More than okay.”
“Good.”
We lay there together for so long, I almost drift off. When I realize it, I force myself to move away from the welcoming warmth of his body and sit up on the bed.
I’m not sure he’s awake at first, but after I sit up, he slowly pulls himself up, too. I notice he makes a faint grunting sound as he does and presses a hand to his side.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
Hunter nods wordlessly.
I lick my lips, then bite down on my lower one uncertainly. “Are there marks? I mean, other than the ones I can see.”
“I don’t know. Probably. I haven’t looked.”
“Maybe we should,” I tell him.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then he stands and tugs his hoodie off without another word. I watch in mild alarm as he drops his gray wrestling hoodie on the ground, then tugs off the white tee he was wearing underneath.
I skitter off the bed. It’s partially because he’s undressing in my bedroom, but I also need to turn on the light if I’m going to inspect his wounds.
We both grimace at the sudden brightness when I turn it on. I want to turn it back off, but the impulse fades and alarm takes hold of me when I get a good look at Hunter’s upper body. He didn’t take his jeans off, but there are angry red welts all over his upper body. He’ll definitely have bruises.