Page 162 of Breaking the Rules
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emma
Iavoid Hunter. Sleep late. Study at the library. Eat dinner in my room. Blast music so I won't hear his footsteps or the low roar of the TV.
It's supposed to feel good, ignoring him.
But it doesn't.
It only makes me emptier.
Lonelier.
I text Kaylee nonstop. Discuss anything but Hunter or, God forbid, Vinnie.
It's a relief, talking to her, but I'm still holding my cards too close to my vest.
I'm still crumbling under the weight of this.
* * *
My perfectI'm not seeing or hearing Hunter; I barely know he existsrecord falters when I arrive at Inked Hearts Thursday afternoon.
It's a nice day. Warm. Sunny. Peaceful.
Except for Chloe and Dean bantering, the shop is quiet. The music drowns out the buzz of tattoo guns and the low hum of conversation.
I alternate between work and studying—Ryan is obliging about letting me study during down time—but none of it distracts me.
I'm acutely aware of Hunter's presence.
He's right there. Hunched over a pretty girl, one hand on her side, the other adorning her lower back in ink. It's a yoga thing.
She's a yoga teacher and she's all bendy and smiley and blond.
Not that I stalked her social media.
She publicly tagged the shop. And Hunter.
It's not like I was looking.
Or like I'm jealous.
If she wants some guy who pulls this bullshitit's not you, it's me, I'm a bad person, I can't own my decisions—
Fuck him for touching her.
Fuck her for laughing at his joke.
Fuck everything.
I dive into art history, but it makes me even more aware of his presence. This was so much easier when he was drilling me. I mean, uh…
I can still taste his lips.
Feel the pressure of them.
The warmth in my chest.
