“Huh?”
“The flowers were an apology. I was kind of a dick to you yesterday.”
“Oh. Right.” I shrug. “It’s fine. In case you haven’t noticed, I can be a dick too.”
Hunter laughs, and my stomach bubbles. Ugh, he’s so cute when he laughs. He looks like the human embodiment of a sunflower—bright and delicate and beautiful. Maybe that’s why I like him so much.
“I meant what I said in the note,” he continues. “I’d like to be friends, if that’s possible. We’re going to be sharing the beach all summer, and I think it’d be easier if we could just get along.”
I grunt. “You don’t want to be my friend.”
“I think that’s for me to decide.”
“Fine. Your funeral.”
Hunter laughs again. My heart accelerates in my chest. I need to get away from him before I say something I might regret, like telling him how badly I want to kiss him. Plus, we’re in public, and I’m likely staring at him with very obvious heart-eyes.
“Well, I should head home. My sister is probably wondering where I am,” I mumble, standing up.
The room tilts around me, and I immediately stumble. Fuck, my head’s spinning, and my CGM won’t shut up—another alert flashing that my blood sugar’s too high. I know I shouldn’t be drinking like this. I know better. But right now, I don’t care.
“Woah there,” Hunter says, grabbing my elbow.
The simple brush of his fingertips against my skin feels life-altering. I want to melt into his touch, but I can’t. Not here.
“You’re not driving,” he says firmly. “I’ll take you home.”
“No—”
“Just shut up and follow me.”
He rests his hand on my arm as he leads me out of the bar, keeping me balanced. It feels like there’s an anchor on one side ofmy body, trying to drag me down. It takes everything in my power to stay upright.
Hunter helps me into his car and closes the door like a gentleman. I slump into the comfortable leather seat. The interior of the car is futuristic, like a spaceship from a movie. The front console glows with buttons and screens. It makes my head spin.
“Where do you live?” he asks.
“Willow Brook Trailer Park. Near the post office.”
He jabs his thumb into a button to turn on the car. We roll forward, sending a wave of nausea rippling through my stomach. His car drivestoosmoothly. In my pickup truck, I can feel every pothole and crack in the road.
My head presses against the window as he drives. The glass is cold against my temple, which feels nice. I close my eyes and focus on taking a few steadying breaths so I don’t throw up in Hunter’s fancy car.
That would be humiliating.
“Which house is yours?” Hunter asks.
I feel the subtle vibration of gravel roads beneath the car as we pull into the trailer park. I look up to give him directions, too quickly, and a piercing pain rips through my skull. I rub my temples and exhale slowly.
“Third trailer on the left,” I manage to say.
The car stills when Hunter parks. My stomach lurches, and I know I need to get the hell out of here before I embarrass myself.
“Thanks for the ride,” I mutter, swinging open the car door.
I hear Hunter shout something behind me, but I ignore him. I rush inside and barely reach the bathroom before I’m on my knees, emptying everything I drank into the toilet.
Chapter Nine
