Page 134 of The Play

“I’d love to learn another language. You should teach me Spanish, and then we could practice together.”

“Deal.” I snuggle up closer to him. “Oh, and on the flight home, I tried bringing up the med school thing to my dad again. Mom is staying in Miami for another week, so it was just me and him. But he wasn’t having it,” I admit.

Hunter strokes my hair. “You still having doubts about that?”

“More than doubts.” I inhale slowly. “I don’t want to go.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever said that out loud.

“Then don’t,” Hunter says simply. “You shouldn’t go to med school for your father—you should go for yourself. You need to walkyour own path, and that means following your own dreams, not his. Your first priority should be pleasing yourself, not him.”

A laugh tickles my throat. I try to hold it in, but it ripples out.

“What is it?”

“I just realized what a sad pair we are.” I can’t stop giggling. “Here I am sacrificing my aspirations to be like my father, and you’re sacrificing your aspirations tonotbe like your father. That is fascinating.”

“Jesus. You’resucha psychologist. Is this what it’s always going to be like? Lying in bed naked while you psychoanalyze us?”

I prop up on my elbow, biting my lip. “Does it actually bother you?”

“Nah.” He flashes his dimpled smile, and I lean down and kiss one of those adorable dimples. “It’s funny,” he continues. “Most of the time, you analyze and rationalize and try to find solutions. And then other times, you’re batshit crazy.”

“I am not!”

“You have a violent streak, you maniac. You smash people’s game consoles.” He grins up at me. “Quite the dichotomy, Demi Davis.”

“Both crazy and sane,” I say somberly. “A rare condition, indeed.”

“Anyway.” He strokes his knuckles over my cheek. “You don’t need to chase your father’s approval—you already have it. I don’t think he’ll disown you if you choose grad school over med school.”

“You don’t know how he feels about PhDs, Hunter. For the rest of my life he’ll be making wisecracks about how I’m not a real doctor.” My buzzing phone captures my attention. “Shit, that’s probably Josie ordering me to come downstairs and hang more decorations.”

I stretch across his muscular chest to grab my phone from the nightstand. Hunter uses the opportunity to slide one palm between us to cup one of my boobs.

I shiver in pleasure, but my arousal dissolves when I see my father’s name. Speak of the devil.

I click on his message, and my eyebrows soar. “Oh, this is interesting.”

“What?” Hunter lazily caresses the swell of my breast.

“My father is inviting us to New Year’s Day brunch tomorrow.”

Hunter’s hand freezes. “Us?”

“Yep.” I sit up and grin at his panicky expression. “He wants to meet you.”

32

DEMI

AFEW DAYS AFTERNEWYEAR’S,HUNTER ANDIARE BACKon campus walking toward the Psych building. It’s the final lecture of the semester and we’re supposed to be receiving our case studies back, but while I’ve got a spring to my step as we amble down the path, Hunter’s long gait is stilted and his expression is sullen. He’s been sulking non-stop since we had brunch with my father.

“God, could you try to smile?” I demand. “It’s such a beautiful day.”

“It’s minus-fucking-twenty and your dad hates me. It’snota beautiful day.”

I suppress a sigh. “He doesn’t hate you. He liked you.”

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