Hunter rolled in at quarter past, a smug smile on his face. “Get me a latte. I think it’s your turn to shout.”
When I came back, two coffees in tow, he slapped the comic shut. “That’s a good one,” he said with a wink.
I nodded and slumped onto the chair.
He took a sip, placed his cup on the table, and reached for his camera. “What party is up for tonight? I was thinking, maybe you want me to take some pictures that you could add to your column? If you want.”
My column. Oh, the party page. I couldn’t remember what party I was supposed to go to tonight. It was on my calendar. I’d check it later. I gave Hunter a short nod and dipped my finger into the foam of my coffee, swirling it around.
“That’s it?” Hunter asked, cocking his head at me. “I thought I’d get more than a nod.” He flipped off the lens cap. “Say cheesy balls.... Still a no? Okay, then cheesecake.”
Snap! Snap!
“I’m good, you know,” he said from behind his camera. “This could add some cutting edge to the whole overall impact of your column.”
That sore lump rose in my throat again.
“And that’s exactly what my work needs to be enjoyable, isn’t it?”
Hunter drew back, lowering his camera. “Whoa, man. It’s just an idea. I’ve been searching for something to do besides economics and thought maybe you’d put in a good word atScribe.”
I played with the froth on my coffee some more. “Sure, I’ll put in a word.” I glanced up at him. The last time we met had been the night we discovered the true identity of The Raven. “Have you had a chance to talk—?”
His jaw flexed and he rested his camera on the table with a lightthunk. “I tried.”
“And?”
“I didn’t know what to say, so I rambled on about basketball for longer than anyone wants to hear.”
Had he also been heavy with nervousness? Had his limbs felt as if they’d never feel normal again? “Were you nervous?”
He chuckled and veered his gaze away from mine. “Ah, fuck it,” he said picking up his drink. “I was shit scared. All I could think was, dude, I’ve known you my whole life, how could you not tell me about this? And suddenly, I didn’t want to hear the answer.” He shrugged, and gave a cursory glance toward his legs.
“Maybe it will go better next time.”
“Maybe.” He took up his camera again and stared at the screen. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I brought my foam-covered finger to my lips, but it seemed too much of an effort to lick it. I used a napkin instead.
“Come on. Spit it out.”
I shook my head even as I began spilling every detail about the BCA competition. “I just—I thought for sure... What’s wrong with them?”
“Them the judges? Because it’s obvious, a lot.”
“Them, my articles.”
Heat sprang at the backs of my eyes, an unfamiliar feeling. Iclosed them and kept swallowing until it was under control. When I opened them, Hunter was pushing his way around the table. He used his buff arms to yank me toward him and held the back of my head firmly as he pressed his forehead to mine. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that? Right now you make me wanna cry. I’m sorry the BCA thingy turned out to be a dud, but you’re gonna be awesome, Liam, and I’m stoked I’ll be around to see it.”
“Thanks,” I murmured as he slowly pulled away. “It’s... I mean... when I get your texts... I look forward to seeing you.”
He waggled his brows. “I tend to have that effect on people.”
The Buck Boozerwas exactly what it sounded like: a party selling beer for one dollar per polystyrene cup. Quinn, who rarely drank at parties, gave me a funny frown as he shared the backdoor step with me. “Drinking beer now?”
“It tastes horrible,” I said and took another bitter sip. “I thought you were hanging with Shannon.”
“Yes, well . . .”
