“The Hunter I know is a deaf son of a bitch and would have been harassing me the moment I texted you back.”
“Technically, I have been harassing you for a month now.”
“That you have.”
We fall into a loaded silence, and I assess my face in the mirror. The corners of my cheeks gently lower, frowning at my reflection.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” I tell her, eventually.
A gust of breath slips into my ear, my heart ready to jump out of my chest.
“I know,” she says.
“I fucked up.”
“You did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You already said that.” There’s less ice in her tone with each sentence, relaxing my shoulders.
“I mean it.”
The line goes silent again, and I anxiously wait for her to say something. Anything.
“I hate you,” she whispers.
“No, you don’t.” I know this girl better than anything, and as much as I deserve it, she doesn’t hate me. She’s not capable of hating anyone. This would be so much easier if she was. She could just cut me out with force, and at some point I’d have to accept that.
“You’re an asshole,” she repeats, as if I don’t already know.
My brown eyes dilate, gold specks growing as I stare back in the mirror. “I’myourasshole.”
I hope she can read between the lines, even though I don’t even fully know what it says.
“I need you to be my friend, Hunter.” Leave it up to this girl to rip out my heart and cradle it as it weeps in her arms. Her words kill me inside.
“I am your friend.”
“Then act like it!”Okay, I deserved that.
“I will. Just… just don’t ghost me, okay?”
“Don’t give me a reason to ghost you.”
I nod, catching my own grin rising in the mirror. “I won’t.”
39
My eyes bounce over the screen, picking up with a tiny smile when I realize it’s pretty early for him to call, considering it’s not even eight a.m. on a Tuesday.
“Are you okay?” I stroll over the UNC campus, my head buried in my faux fur hood to protect my face from the crisp January air.
“No.” Hunter’s resolute tone blasts over the line.
Yeah, I figured.
I wish that Hunter and I picked up where we left off, albeit from different coasts. But it turns out that our friendship works better when we were in the same state. We talk, but not as much and never this early in the morning. More like every other weekend to catch up, and even those phone calls are becoming more awkward lately. It’s just hard to discuss your life when you’re living so differently.