Page 112 of The Chase

“You had to see your academic advisor, right? How’d that go?”

“Not great. Richmond hates my guts.” My cheeks hollow as I grind my teeth together. I force myself to stop. “He pretty much baited me into saying one of my professors creeps meout and then scolded me about how I shouldn’t be making accusations.”

“Accusations?” Hunter sounds alarmed. “What’s this fucker done?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Really, he hasn’t done anything. But he creeps me out, and he’s kinda handsy. I told Richmond about it and, like I said, got scolded.”

The waiter returns with our waters and asks if we’re ready to order. Neither of us has even opened the menu yet, so Hunter says we need more time.

We pick up our menus. I try desperately to concentrate on the app list, but my brain is still back in my bedroom with Fitz.

Hunter releases a heavy sigh.

I lift my head. “Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine.” He gives a wry shake of his head. “You, on the other hand? Doesn’t seem like you’re fine.”

I offer a feeble assurance. “I am.”

“Summer, I’ve been living with you for a month now. I’m pretty good at deciphering your moods. You’re extra distracted tonight.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I clasp my hands in my lap. “I…”

He hesitates for a long moment, then asks, “What’s going on between us?”

Misery burns my throat, stings my eyes. I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling, because I don’tknowwhat I’m feeling.

My heart drops as I realize I’m in the exact position Fitz was in twenty minutes ago. The position I put him in. Demanding access to his thoughts. Insisting he tell me how he feels about me.

Maybe he truly doesn’t know. God knows I can’t quite describe what I feel forhim. Yet I’m expecting him to, what, fight for me? Declare his undying love for me? And now here Hunter is, asking me what’s going on between us, and I cannot for the life of me answer the question.

“Summer,” he says roughly.

I clamp my teeth over my bottom lip. I don’t like disappointing people, but I’m not sure there’s much of a choice at the moment. “I think I have to go,” I whisper.

Hunter doesn’t respond.

I lift my gaze to his. There isn’t an iota of surprise in his eyes.

“Is it Fitz?” The words are curt, low.

Despite the guilt and shame weakening my body, I force myself to say, “Yes.”

His hard gaze slices into me and then through me. I couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what he’s thinking right now. And I’m not sure what he’s going to do. Drop his napkin on the table and calmly exit the restaurant? Lose his temper and call me a heartless bitch?

He does neither. He scrapes his chair back and walks over to help me out of mine.

“Come on. I’ll take you home.” He tosses a twenty on the table, way more money than necessary for two waters we didn’t even drink.

Trying not to cry, I follow him to the door.

__________

Neither of us says a word on the drive home. It’s awkward as hell, and it only gets worse when Hunter stops in the driveway but doesn’t kill the engine.

“You’re not coming in?” I ask, then curse myself for giving voice to the stupidest question in the world. Of course he’s not coming in. I just rejected him. It’s not like he’s going to sit on the couch with me while we watch 1D music videos on YouTube together.

“Naah.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. He seems wired with energy, or maybe he’s impatient for me to get out of the car. “I can’t be in there right now. I’m gonna go out, find a party.” He shrugs. “Don’t wait up.”

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