Page 15 of Twisted Minds

Today he’s wearing a dark-blue hoodie with this year’s new hockey logo. The material of the sweater does nothing to hidehis muscles underneath, and the color really makes his brown eyes shine. Hunter has the jock look down, and goddamn, it’s just never done it for me like this before. Having spent most of my adolescence being the target of many jocks at my high school, I’ve built an aversion. Hunter doesn’t act anything like the bullies at any of my highschools, though. “What’s up?”

“Oh, if you’re not busy, I just wanted to talk to you for a moment.” Okay, good. This is good, right? This is what I’m supposed to do.

This is my shot. “Yeah, come inside.”

With him sitting on my bed, the gym shorts he’s wearing ride up his knees, and it takes everything in me not to glance down at his thighs. Muscular thighs. Muscular thighs I wouldn’t mind being between.Stop ogling the man’s thighs!Have I always been a thigh person?

Jesus! Focus. I try instead to focus on his handsome face and the dark beard that looks so soft to the touch.What would that feel like—“Sorry for sitting outside. I didn’t know where else to find you.”

That surprises me. “You were trying to find me?”

Crimson dusts his temples as he smiles, looking down at his lap. “I just wanted to say thank you for the other night. It meant a lot to me.”

“Oh, no problem. Sorry I drooled on you and uh, cuddled you.”

“Forgiven.” Hunter laughs and I can’t help smiling wider at the rich sound. I really like his deep voice. I like a lot about this guy. Why does he have me so twisted up? “I didn’t mind. I mean, I could have done without the drool, but I don’t mind.”

“I was making a joke; I don’t drool in my sleep.”

Pinching his fingers together, he smiles. “A little.” Hunter swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and my eyes trace it like a magnet.

“Is your friend alright?”

“Oh yeah, his sister got him out. Minimum damage. No charges. Momma bear doesn’t know.” I want to ask about Derrick but I’m afraid of the line of questions that may lead to. “If you’re not busy right now, do you want to go have coffee? Coffee is lame, maybe, but it’s all I have the money for. I just want to thank you somehow.”

As much as I hate myself for this, things just got both easier and harder. “How about you let me take you to get a burger instead, and I’ll pay.”

“I can’t let you do that. You paid for my food the other night.”

“I can hold those snacks over you another night. Let me do this. I want to. I insist.”

Hunter’s hands fidget in his lap. I don’t like the insecurity. I don’t mind paying. “Mark, that’s—”

“I’m going to be really honest with you. My self-esteem is holding on by a fraying thread and if you reject me, fuck, I don’t think my ego will recover.” That makes him smile. I just don’t want him to feel bad about me paying. “Please.”

“One meal, just this time.”

“Deal.”

We walk up to the little roadside restaurant and it looks like a shithole. The food here is honestly incredible, though, and the owners never stiff on the fries. I like to think it looks like the set of all horror movies because the people who own it spend all their money on quality food and not appearance.

I order for us both after Hunter can’t decide, and then we wait in the most awkward silence known to man for our food. Finally, our orders go up through the window—thank fuck—and I carry them over to one of the picnic benches. It’s getting colder now, and I wish I’d brought a sweater. My mind goes to Noah and the hoodie he stole. I need to get that back, it’s my favorite. I got it when I toured the Venom Edge building.

There are video games, and then there are video games made by Venom Edge. I bought the hoodie when my tour was over, and I wear it to remind myself that one day I won’t be touring that building, I’ll be working there. I have a feeling if I tell Noah that he’ll want to keep it even more.

“Holy shit.” Hunter takes another big bite like he hasn’t eaten in days. “This is amazing.”

“Told you. Looks can be deceiving.” I watch him eat, picking at my food as he pauses mid-bite. “What?”

He puts the burger down, lifting the bun and removing two pickles. “I don’t like pickles.”

“How do you not like pickles?”

“It’s easy, I just don’t.”

Shaking my head, I grab them from his plate and add them to my burger. “They are sour and sweet and delicious. I’m having doubts about bringing you here.”

“Because of the pickles?”

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