Page 44 of Antidote

Okay, yeah. I’m a weirdo.

Talking to my mom’s grave alone at night isn’t exactly my idea of a good time, but I had to come see her. It feels wrong not to have visited before now, and I realize I didn’t since I was afraid of seeing Hunter here. Fortunately for me, he was asleep before I left the apartment. Which is where I’m headed, if the cold raindrops are any indication. I’m not sticking around to get rained on.

I’m sitting on the couch an hour later, watching The Holiday. It was one of Mom’s favorite movies—one she all but forced me to watch with her every year. Now it’s one of my favorites too, if only to remind me of her.

The lights are off, and the TV is the only thing illuminating the small space. I chuckle at something Cameron Diaz says and cover my mouth with my hand to keep the sounds in. I don’t know if it was me or if he was already up, but Hunter suddenly walks in my direction and plops down on the couch right next to me. He moves my ass out of the way and presses himself against me, his entire front to my back, pushing me forward. I tense, unsure of what the hell is going on, and when his breaths meet my ear, I close my eyes.

This is pure fucking torture, and he knows it. How dare he play with me this way? He knows how I feel—he’s always known.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I breathe slowly, trying to disentangle myself from him, but he shoves one leg between mine and buries his face into the crook of my neck. Tears sting my eyes as I close them.

“You always did like those sappy fucking movies,” Hunter mutters, his lips brushing against my skin, feeling like a thousand zaps of electricity. “It’s not even Christmas, Oliver.”

I flinch, and my eyes fly open.

He’s back to calling me Oliver, like what he did to me a few days ago meant nothing. As if he didn’t call me baby and Ollie. Like I don’t matter—again.

“Yeah.” I nod slowly.

“Come here, Ollie.” Hunter pulls me impossibly closer until he’s completely flush against my back.

My stupid body warms at the nickname, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s finally holding me this close. I can feel his heart beating against my back—strong and fast. It feels like it’s about to give out on him, matching my own. “O-okay…”

Doing my best, I take in the shakiest breath of my entire life. I don’t know what it is about him right now, but he wants me. I’ve been dreaming about this moment for months, yet I never would’ve imagined my dream would come true. Mostly since I never thought we’d ever get close enough to be in the same room again. However, if he wants to pretend everything is fine? I can do that.

But then he removes his arm from over my waist. “Please, no,” I whisper. “Don’t stop this.”

“Beg me.”

“Please, Hunt.” I don’t even fucking care how embarrassing it is to be begging him after how shitty he has treated me. I physically can’t take him walking away right now. I can’t do it. “Don’t leave.”

Hunter sighs against my ear, then presses his soft lips to my temple. And now I want to cry all over again. Fuck. Somehow, I hold the tears in and grab onto his arm instead until it’s wrapped tightly around me.

There’s a tense silence between us, and I want to break it. For some reason I know he won’t be the one to do it. But at the same time, I wish we could just lie here in silence, pretending everything is okay. If I had a time machine, I would go back in time—to senior year in high school, when everything was fucking perfect. When he’d come into my room every single night and snuggle me to sleep. When he’d kiss me and make things right for me. When he defended me from everyone. And this, right now? Even if he doesn’t love me anymore, or won’t admit to it, I know a tiny piece inside him craves me. At least a little bit. Just enough to seek me out.

Hunter presses his nose against my hair and takes in a deep breath. “You smell the same as always, baby.”

My stomach flutters and drops at the term of endearment, and I swallow hard. “Like what?” I whisper, afraid that raising my voice will break whatever spell he’s under. I never want this to fucking end.

“Vanilla cupcakes.” His favorite. Our favorite.

Taking in a shaky breath, I let it out slowly. “You’ve always liked that.”

“Mhmm,” he acknowledges, tightening his arm around me slightly.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I turn around, facing him until our noses brush together. His breath is warm against my lips, and I close my eyes, fighting everything inside of me to not kiss him right now. Just when I think he’s going to throw me off the damn couch, he pulls my body in, shoving his leg between mine again.

Hunter’s eyes are searching mine, so fucking green that I get lost in them. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but he must find it if his lips tipping up one side is any indication. He leans in, brushing his lips against mine in an almost kiss, and I whimper in anticipation.

“I hate you, Ollie,” he whispers, licking his lips and my own in the process. “But I also hate that I don’t.”

Why is he being vulnerable right now? It’s fucking with my head. I’d rather think he despises me than know there’s a small part of him that doesn’t. It’s more painful this way—to know I would have a chance if it weren’t for what happened with our mom.

“I hate myself enough for the both of us,” I whisper back, and he cups my face, brushing his thumb against my cheek.

“I doubt that.”

Please no.

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