Page 38 of Hunter

“Twenty-two, actually,” I correct him, zipping up my hoodie with a little more force than necessary.

Hunter snorts, the sound almost bitter. “That’s the same thing. When I was twenty-two, the only thing I was thinking about was partying and hanging out with my friends. Not relationships. Not… any of this serious shit.”

I finish dressing and turn to face him fully, arms crossing over my chest like that might put some distance between us. The studio suddenly feels too small.

“Fucking isn’t a relationship,” I say flatly. “But now that you mention it… I don’t want either. Not with you. Not with anyone right now.”

I’m not ready to let anyone close enough to see the cracks, let alone touch them.

Hunter stays in the doorway, shoulders tense, jaw working like he’s chewing on everything I just said. The silence stretches between us, thick with unsaid things and the faint echo of Hozier still lingering in the air.

I can feel the pull anyway. That dangerous little warmth that flares every time his eyes stay on me too long. I shove it down hard.

The city hums outside the studio windows, loud and alive, reminding me I don’t need to invite more ghosts in tonight.

I slip on my shoes, trying to look more put together than I feel.

“I should go,” I mutter.

Hunter shifts, blocking the doorway just enough that I have to stop. “It’s late. City’s dangerous this time of night. Let me get you home safe.”

I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. “I’ve been navigating this city since I got here at eighteen. Trust me, it’s a lot less dangerous than where I came from.”

He doesn’t move right away. His dark eyes search my face like he’s trying to read every scar I’m not showing him. For a second, I think he might push it, might say something that cracks the walls I just reinforced even wider.

Then he steps back.

I follow him out, locking the door behind me with a soft click before dropping the key into my pocket. The night air hits my damp skin and makes me shiver.

“We ride the same subway,” he admits as we step back onto the sidewalk, voice low and a little rough. “So this is gonna be a bit awkward…”

I let out a short, tired laugh. “Then I guess you’re walking me to the subway.”

We fall into step, side by side, the city pulsing around us like it always does at this hour—sirens in the distance, neon bleeding across wet pavement, someone yelling at a cab a block away. My legs still feel loose and warm from the pole, but the ache in my chest is back, heavier now that he’s walking next to me instead of watching from the doorway.

I guess I won’t be sleeping tonight either.

Hunter keeps his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the breeze. Every few steps, our arms almost brush. I hate how aware I am of it.

After a minute, he speaks again, quieter. “I meant what I said in there. About it being beautiful. Not trying to…I don’t know. Hit on you or whatever you think this is.”

I glance sideways at him. The streetlight catches the sharp edge of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble. He looks tired. Older than twenty-two, that’s for damn sure. He’s at least in his thirties. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s hot.

“Thanks,” I say, trying to sound genuine. I take him at his word, even if part of me still doesn’t trust it. “For the record, if we were both in a better place, I would fuck you in a heartbeat.”

The words are out before I can stop them.

Regret hits me instantly, like I just yanked the scab off something that wasn’t ready to bleed. Fuck. I blame the lack of sleep, the pole endorphins still buzzing under my skin, the way his eyes looked at me in the studio as if I was something worth watching. I shouldn’t have said that. Not to him.

Hunter doesn’t miss a beat.

“Noted,” he says, low and even, like I just told him the weather.

Heat floods my face. I shove my hands deeper into my pockets and stare straight ahead at the subway entrance glowing ahead of us.

“Great,” I mutter, mostly to myself. “That was… smooth.”

We keep walking for a few more steps in painful silence. Then Hunter’s voice comes again, quieter this time, almost gentle.