Hunter doesn’t want to talk about it anymore though, he closes his eyes and leans his head back against my headboard,inhaling and exhaling deep breaths. The tears have stopped, but his body is still slightly trembling.
I let go of his face and straddle his thighs. He doesn’t open his eyes, but that’s okay. I want to comfort him in any way that I can. I’m not the best at it, but I’ll try my fucking hardest to make sure he knows he’s not alone. He’ll never be alone again.
I wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his shoulder, holding us together.
We lay like that, wrapped up together, until my bladder screams in protest from being neglected for so long.
“I’m going to make breakfast,” Hunter says, pushing off the bed and kissing the nape of my neck while he walks by me.
“Please tell me it’s crêpes.” That’s one of the recipes his mom taught him when we were over there, and those things have something addictive in them. That’s the only thing I can come up with because I ate five in one sitting for dinner after helping Hunter’s dad put up their new fence.
“I’ll never tell.” He smirks and swats me on the ass, leaving me to take care of my bladder while he goes to the kitchen. He’s definitely making crêpes. I made sure to purchase all the needed ingredients and way too many options for toppings for them. We’re probably going to burn out on them at some point, but as my stomach rumbles in appreciation, I know that today is not that day.
The crêpes are delicious, and I’m not even surprised because Hunter puts so much time and effort into making them perfectly thin and crispy, but not too crispy. He even topped them with fresh blueberry syrup that he made from the blueberries I picked up at the store.
After breakfast, we sit on the couch withThe Officestreaming in the background while Hunter works on some art for his next bookmark he wants to release. He keeps flipping hisscreen around for me to oohh and aahh at. I don’t know much about creating art, but it’s his strong suit.
I watch him furrowing his eyebrows and nibbling on his bottom lip while he concentrates on the screen. I should be working on my own homework or researching, but sitting here just existing with him is something I don’t want to miss.
“I’m going to meet with Thomas for dinner,” he finally says, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and pausing in the middle of Michael Scott saying something.
“Okay. Where?” I’m not going to show up. I’m not. I’m just purely curious.
“The Mexican restaurant right off campus, I’m going to walk there and meet him.
“Want me to walk with you?” I offer, wanting him to know that I support him in doing this, and I’ll still stand proudly by his side.
“No, it’s okay. But I was wondering if you could talk to Danielle tonight as well? I don’t want this to come out and for her to feel betrayed by either of us.” I gulp. I know I should talk to her, but a part of me is still holding off on doing it. I don’t know why, and it doesn’t make sense. But I wanted to keep it from her, just a little while longer.
“Yeah, sure.” I force the words out with confidence I don’t feel. The thought of talking to Danielle stresses me out, but I know I have to do it because that’s the only way I can have him.
Hunter kisses me and walks out of my dorm room, taking the little slice of happiness that I feel with him away. He’ll be back soon, bringing the happy feeling back with him. He’s my only reason for existing at this point.
35
HUNTER
“You could have just told me,” Thomas says, and I shrink back in my chair. The loud sounds of the Mexican restaurant are killing my head, but at least I ordered a small queso before we got this underway. If I go back to Adam’s room hungry, at least I’ll have the memory of the delicious queso and the awkward conversation to keep me company.
Thomas huffs, and I shrink farther in on myself, feeling the disappointment radiating off him.
“I’m not mad at you, but I do wish you had talked to me.” I sniff, refusing to let myself tear up over disappointing someone. I’m a grown-up, people might be disappointed in my actions from time to time. That doesn’t mean I should automatically start the waterworks.
“I’m really sorry,” I stutter out, my voice cracking.
“It’s fine, Hunter. Really.” He reaches his hand out, and I place mine on top of his. The smooth skin of his palm feels wrong against mine, but I don’t pull away. “Look at me.” I do as he says, looking into his eyes. “I promise, it’s fine. There’s no hard feelings.”
“Why are you being so nice to me about this? You should hate me.” My words are strained, and my eyes are swelling with the pressure of holding the tears back.
“I don’t hate you. You’re cool, and we’re cool.” He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand.
“So, we’re still friends?” I ask. Hopefully, because he’s been so nice to me about this situation, and I enjoy just talking to him.
“Yeah, we can still be friends. And as your friend, this is me telling you not to cheat on anyone else.” He laughs at himself, and I cringe.
“I promise not to cheat on anyone else.” And it’s a promise I plan to keep. I still don’t understand how he’s being so understanding about the whole situation, but as we sit at the restaurant and he tells me all about how his midterms went, I realize I’m grateful. I’m grateful to have someone who doesn’t fault me for one bad decision and still wants to be my friend. He could have yelled and cussed me up and down every wall in this restaurant, but he didn’t.
And that says a lot more about him than it does me.
