by Sam Mariano
I nod. “Positive. Tell Ray to take the money. This is the break he’s been waiting for. And Hunter does have social media marketing experience. He models for his dad’s clothing line, but he runs the social media, too. I bet he could even model for some pictures to promote the gym. His body is… Trust me, it will do the job to convince people they should join his gym.”
“Yes, I’ve seen his Instagram,” she mutters.
“He’s perfect for this, honestly. And you know what? He’s not even out the money he’s investing. He said his dad was planning to buy him a starter business as a graduation present, anyway. Hunter spoke to him about the gym, and he’s agreed to finance this instead, so it’s really a win-win for everybody.”
“A… starter business?”
“He’s very entrepreneurial,” I explain. “He believes hands-on learning is the best teacher. Hunter will still go to college, of course, but his dad thinks you take things more seriously if there are real stakes—real people depending on you to make your business a success. One of his friends started doing it for his kids, so he borrowed the idea and decided to do it for Hunter since… well, he’s illegitimate and gets the short end of the stick in a lot of ways.”
Mom shakes her head. “Rich people are so weird.”
I crack a smile. “They have a different set of problems, that’s for sure.”
“Anyway, I wasn’t worried about if this is a good deal for Hunter,” she says, rolling her eyes. Focusing all her concern back on me, she says, “I only care that it’s a good deal for you.”
“It’s a great deal for me,” I assure her.
“But you didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Surely you have a good reason.”
“I do. I did. But…” I sigh, trying to think how to explain. “My hands were tied. I wanted to say yes, but I needed to say no. Now… Hunter has made it so that I can’t. He really just freed me up to do what I wished I could do anyway. We’re all good. I want this.”
“You’re sure?” Mom asks.
“Completely sure. And, how’s this for a bonus? We’re all invited to Italy for spring break.”
Mom blinks. “What?”
I nod, taking her arm and gently leading her back toward the kitchen. “Hunter comes with perks. But also costs. He wants my Friday nights from now on. Like, not just a date night—he wants me to spend the night with him at his place every Friday night.”
“His place?”
“His mom’s dating some guy in Miami, so she’s never around anymore. Hunter basically has the whole place to himself.”
“How comforting,” she says wryly.
I pat her hand. “It’s all worth it, trust me.”
She doesn’t appear to be entirely convinced, but I’ve ushered her through the worst of the doubt. I’ll let Hunter do the rest.
Ray looks between us as we come back into the kitchen. “Everything good?”
I nod, flashing him a smile. “Yep.”
He looks to my mom for confirmation.
Less enthusiastically, she nods. “You can start the steaks. I guess Hunter’s staying for dinner, after all.”
Ray accepts this and goes to grab the meat and head outside, but Hunter looks to me.
I wander over to him, sliding my arms around his neck and leaning against him. I’m not entirely comfortable with such public affection, but I think it’s important for my mom to see me loving on Hunter to ease her guilt about the money.
“Everything okay?” Hunter asks, draping his arms around my waist and holding onto me.
I nod. “I only wish I had known you were the investor. We wouldn’t have cooked at all. I would’ve made you do it.”
Hunter’s apprehension eases, an easy smile tugging at his beautiful lips. “Oh yeah?”
I nod more vehemently, then pull back so I can turn around and look at my mom. “We’ll have to have Hunter over for dinner one night and let him cook.”
“Hunter can cook?”
“Hunter can cook,” I assure her, with feeling. “I’m not talking boil boxed pasta and heat up jarred sauce, either. He can cook with real ingredients. His talents are pretty much boundless. It’s ridiculous. But the cooking I’m very happy about. If all of his other career options fail, he can open a restaurant and he’ll do very well for himself.”
Mom regards us skeptically. “I do like good food…”
I nod eagerly.
Hunter slides his arm around my waist now that we’re side by side and regards my mom. “And, I don’t know if Riley told you, but I’m buying her a car. Soon, it’ll be too cold for her to walk everywhere. I don’t know if you enjoy car shopping, but I do know you like spending my money, so if you want to take her out this week to help her pick one out…”
Mom’s eyes narrow in consideration. “I do like spending your money…”
Hunter looks over at me. “Did you tell her about Italy?”
I nod.
He looks at Mom.
She sighs. “I like Italy, too. I mean, I’ve never been there, but I imagine I’d like Italy.”
“I’m sure you will. It’s beautiful. Obviously, I spent some time there. I’d be happy to take you guys around, show you the sights.”
Mom still looks a bit conflicted. Her concern doesn’t ease when she looks at me and her gaze drops to my neck.
I’m wearing the Scorpio necklace Hunter sent over on the first day of school. He saw the box on my dresser and put it on me after I agreed to his terms.
Partially, it’s a pretty gift and technically his initial. Partially, it’s a symbol of ownership.
She wouldn’t have any sense of that part if I hadn’t let her read that note, but since she knows this necklace wasn’t given to me as a nice gesture, its presence around my neck does little to ease her anxieties.
I don’t try to ease them right now. I’m not sure how. My own anxiety about the arrangement hasn’t even eased yet, but Hunter seems pretty confident that this is the right course. He said I’ve gotten in the habit of saying no to him, and we need to break it so we can get back to our natural rhythm.
He might be right, but it’ll take some getting used to.
Chapter Fifty Eight
Riley
As it turns out, life is a whole lot easier with Hunter running the show.
Monday morning, I get a lovely bouquet of flowers.
They’re not delivered to my house, though. They’re delivered to home room.
The flower delivery man looks a bit curious at the venue change as he puts them on my desk, but with so many people gazing at me with looks of envy or delight on their face, I don’t have it in me to banter with him today.
“Thanks, Ted,” I say simply.
The teacher smiles pleasantly, looking at the lovely arrangement on my desk. “Aw, that’s nice. Is it your birthday?”
“Nope. Just Monday,” I murmur, leaning in to smell them.
Since I don’t have a car yet and the bouquet is too big to shove in my locker, I have to haul the damn things around with me all day.
I’m pretty sure Hunter knew that would be the case, because when I show up to English class still toting them around, he gets a big grin on his face.
“Well, look at that. Who was so thoughtful as to send you flowers on this lovely Monday morning?” he teases.
I sink into my seat and place the vase on my desk. “My crazy boyfriend. Normally, he sends them to my house. Today, he wanted to make me parade them around the whole school.”
“He sounds like a keeper.”
I roll my eyes. “Mrs. Dowd better not figure out these are from you. She’ll flunk me, for sure.”
Hunter leans over so he can lower his voice. “If you really want to get your teacher’s pet on, you could pluck out the card and give them to her. I bet she doesn’t get flowers very often. Might get you some brownie points.”
My eyes widen. “I can’t give your flowers away.”
“It’s not like I won’t send more next week,” he states.
>
I bite down on my bottom lip, looking at the flowers in consideration. On one hand, I hate to give them away because they’re from Hunter. On the other, I don’t want to carry them with me to lunch, and I could definitely use some brownie points with Mrs. Dowd.
Before she looks over here and notices the flowers on my desk, I quickly pluck out the card and tuck it into my notebook. Then I grab the vase and stand, making my way to the front of the room.
Mrs. Dowd looks up, her expression pinched until she sees the vase bursting with beautiful flowers.
She sits up, a bit startled. “What’s this?”
“For you,” I say, offering them to her.
Her stunned gaze rises to meet mine. “For me?”
I smile and nod. “To brighten your week.”
“Oh.” Too surprised to hide it, she looks back at the flowers. “Well, that’s very nice. Thank you, Miss Bishop.”
I flash her another bright smile, then turn around and head back toward my desk.
Hunter lends a hand, checking out the flowers like it wasn’t his idea and saying, “Look at those pretty flowers.”
Mrs. Dowd leans in to smell them. “Miss Bishop brought them in for me.”
“She has good taste. Pretty flowers for a pretty lady,” Hunter says with a devilish grin.
Mrs. Dowd actually blushes.
“Sorry, sorry.” Hunter shakes his head. “Inappropriate, I know. I’ll try to control myself.”
I bite back a smile, stealing a glance over at him as I open my notebook.
He smiles and winks at me.
He’s a scoundrel sometimes, but his plan worked like a charm.
Mrs. Dowd is decidedly more pleasant for the rest of the class.
___
By the time lunch rolls around, I’m well on my way to having the nicest day of high school ever.
Not a single person has mean-mugged me in the halls, the teacher that didn’t like me was easier on me today due to Hunter’s interference, and even though lunch is my least favorite part of every school day, I’m not dreading it like I usually am.
Barring any totally unforeseen drama, it should be an altogether pleasant day.
I unpack my lunch and open my book, but I don’t make it past the first page before my solitude is interrupted.
Filled with dread, I look up to see who it is this time.
Surprise grabs me as Hunter Maxwell, rightful king of the popular table, takes a seat across from me at the social outcast table.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Hunter looks at me across the table. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Upsetting the social order.”
A faint smile claims his lips as he grabs a spork. “I was going to say sitting with my girlfriend, but I guess you can call it what you want.”
I glance past him at his usual table. “If you sit over here, people will be confused.”
“It’s good to push people outside their comfort zones every now and then.”
I look back at him. “What if they follow you? I kinda like not having a bunch of people sitting here at lunch. I know it was originally intended as a form of ostracization, but after four years, I’m really used to having my space.”
Hunter is blasé about the grand gesture he’s making, telling me, “If anyone follows, I’ll tell them to leave. It’s not a big deal, Riley.”
But it is a big deal. The confusion I predicted spreads around the popular tables. People keep looking over at us uncertainly, like they’re not sure how to react. Should they grab their trays and come sit over here with us? Do we want our privacy? What can they do that won’t make Hunter mad? His expectations of them aren’t as clear right now as they usually are, and they’re definitely uncomfortable with that.
I shake my head. “If you’re not careful, someone else might take advantage of your empty throne and try to take it from you.”
“Let ’em,” he says, as if genuinely untroubled by the prospect.
I frown. “You sound like you mean that.”
“I do. I’ve been thinking about what you said, how my popularity is more of an annoyance to you than a perk. It’s all I’ve ever known so I didn’t realize it, but lately it feels that way to me, too.” He looks at me across the table. “I can’t promise my life won’t always be a little like this, I tend to fall into certain roles no matter where I go, but it won’t always be this place, these people. Maybe we’ve outgrown high school.”
My relief at hearing him say that is so immense, I’m bowled over by it. “Really? I’ve been feeling that way, too. Not about the popularity stuff—obviously, I’m never going to be popular—but I’m so over high school at this point.”
Hunter nods. “That’s probably my fault. No part of the high school experience has been good for you. I’m sorry about that.”
I shrug. “College will be better.”
“Yes,” he agrees vehemently. “College and beyond will be infinitely better than high school.”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Daydreaming is probably more accurate terminology,” I admit, smiling faintly as I peel back the foil lid on my applesauce.
Hunter smiles at me. “Yeah?”
I nod. “I’m excited. I love to learn, and I feel like when I get to college, there will be more focus on that, less on the cliquey bullshit.”
“I’m sure there will still be cliquey bullshit, but you can stay out of it. We’ll be living on our own, embracing adulthood. Things will be different.”
“Yes.” I grin. “The only thing that could ruin next year would be if Valerie went to an in-state school and we still had to cross her path on occasion.”
Hunter shakes his head. “She wants to go to the west coast.”
I sigh happily. “Music to my ears.”
“And Sherlock has his sights set on Columbia,” he says, glancing up at me.
“Everything you’re saying right now is good.”
He smiles. “Boston’s all ours.”
I smile back, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to ask something I’ve been thinking about since all of this came up. “Do you really want to go to school in Boston, or are you just looking there because it’s where I want to go?”
“I don’t care where I go to school, Riley. You know stuff like that doesn’t matter to me.”
“I do. I also know your life is charmed,” I say, dunking the spoon into my applesauce. “You’ll probably casually make a friend at the gym and it will be some big deal at Harvard who rolls out the red carpet and literally begs you to attend their school.”
Hunter smirks. “You never know.”
I roll my eyes. “If I didn’t love you so much, it would be so easy to hate you.”
His smirk grows more devilish. “I’d just tell you ‘no’ and you’d have to stop.”
I take a bite of my applesauce, then narrow my eyes as I deliberately entice him with my lips and tongue as I pull the spoon out of my mouth—just to remind him what I’m capable of. “Don’t mock me, Hunter,” I say sweetly.
His heated gaze meets mine. “Don’t tempt me, Riley.” Patting his thigh threateningly beneath the table, he says, “I’ll tell your pretty little ass to come sit on my lap while you finish your lunch.”
I open my mouth to tell him I’d never do it, but then I remember I’m not allowed to tell him no.
He looks so smug as the realization hits me, but I have no choice but to simmer down and shoot him a look. “You don’t play fair, Maxwell.”
Looking not one bit ashamed, he says, “Correct. I play to win.”
___
Around midweek, Mom and I start shopping for cars.
It ends up being pretty easy. The blue Lexus Hunter sent me the link for is still available, and the price dropped by a few hundred dollars. It’s still way outside of my budget, but since Hunter said it was within his, we go to look at it.
The inside is so pretty and it drives so smoothly. I’m still hesitant to
let him buy me such an expensive gift, but since I’m technically not allowed to refuse it, I say yes.
On the way home, Mom teases me about having a nicer car than her, but I can tell that whatever reservations she has about Hunter, she can’t deny that he must be pretty serious about me if he actually bought me a car.
I’m glad she’s feeling a little friendlier toward him, because I have to follow that up with the news that I’ve quit my job.
Her expression freezes. “You… quit your job? I thought you liked your job.”
“I did,” I say cautiously.
“Hunter didn’t?” she guesses.
“He suggested maybe I could work reception at the gym once it’s open,” I tell her.
Her facial expression doesn’t change.
“If I want to,” I add with less certainty. “I don’t have to work at all while I’m still in school. He said if I want to, I can just enjoy this last year at home with you.”
Mom sighs, looking like she knows what she’s about to say won’t be received well and she doesn’t want to say it, but she has to. “That’s really controlling behavior, Riley.”
“It’s not like that,” I tell her.
“If it looks like that and sounds like that…”
Conflict keeps my lips sealed shut for a moment longer than it should. I want to run to Hunter’s defense, but the only way to do that is to cast Sherlock in a villainous light once more.
I guess it doesn’t matter. Mom will never meet him. Hunter is the one I need her to like.
I’m still reluctant, but I chase the words out of my mouth. “He’s not without his reasons. Remember Sherlock?”
Her brow furrows slightly and she nods.
“Well, before everything happened with him, Hunter brought Sherlock up to the diner one night when I was working. I don’t think it’s a big deal, he’s probably being overprotective about it, but Hunter doesn’t like the idea of Sherlock knowing where I work. Where I close late at night sometimes. Where… he could maybe show up and get me alone.”
Mom’s frown deepens. “Should we be worried about this guy? Is he dangerous?”