Page 26 of From Now On

“While sitting on the side of the highway? You really want me to answer that?”

“At least I wouldn’t die alone.”

Hunter huffs a laugh. I can’t tell if it’s a sound of genuine amusement or a pityingThis chick is crazykind of chuckle. “I guess.”

“Sorry. That was dark. I’m usually a little…cheerier. It’s just been a rough week.”

I trace one of the wildflowers I painted on the pants of my overalls—a yellow lily—avoiding looking his way after that admission.

“Yeah, I know.” Hunter’s voice is soft. A gentle tone you might use to soothe a scared animal.

He feels badly for me, obviously.

Which isexactlywhat you want from your crush.Not.

Admitting I have a crush on Hunter feels freeing. And a little uncomfortable, since he’sright here. But also healthy, a sign I’m moving forward, and a definite improvement from guilt. I never would have cheated on Ben, but the fact that Hunter made me feel giddy while I was in a supposedly happy relationship isn’t something I’m super proud of. Maybe if the same giddiness had happened around several guys, it would have mattered less.

But it didn’t—doesn’t—around several guys. Just Hunter.

“Have you changed a tire before?” I ask as a distraction from my thoughts.

“Not by myself,” he answers. “My dad got a flat once when we were on a fishing trip. I helped him change it. I remember the basics, and I double-checked an article after we stopped.”

That explains what he was doing on his phone.

“Don’t worry,” he adds. “It’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried.”

Hunter glances over as he cranks the jack, hearing the sincerity in my voice.

Getting stranded in the middle of Oregon? Not ideal. But I’m not worried. Hunter makes me nervous, but he also makes me feel safe. There’s a reason that my unsure freshman self struck up a conversation with him, which was wildly out of character. My mom drilleddon’t talk to strangersinto me a little too strongly. Or maybe that’s just the excuse I’ve used to stay in my comfort zone.

“You had class this morning?” he asks.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yep. My professor only allows us one unexcused absence a semester, so…”

“What class was it?”

“Comparative Politics and International Relations,” Hunter replies.

“So, you’re a political science major?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s cool.”

And unexpected. Most of the sports guys major in business.

I have this vague sense of who Hunter Morgan is. Bits and pieces I’ve collected over the past several years like some secret project.

He’s like one of my favorite paintings. For years, I’ve treated glimpses of Hunter as a chance to survey, to observe more of the details you miss at first glance. But there are some answers you can’t obtain by observing, no matter how hard or long you look. And I’ve never had the opportunity to ask questions before.

“Are you going to law school?” I wonder.

“No. Grad school.”

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