Page 89 of Hunter
You doing okay, demon girl?
Hermosa:
No, I’m fucking not.
I have a bad feeling about this.
I don’t want you to do any shit that could mess up your game.
Please, mi vida.
Mi vida.I Google Translate that and my heart explodes.
“You ready, Three? Drop your phone, man,” Jake demands, holding the bucket in front of me. I power it down before tossing it in while lifting my chin to Ed’s last words.You’re my life too, baby, and you’re worth protecting at all costs.
This shit is fucking violent,and the ball is weird. I can’t fucking concentrate on what’s happening down there. I’m chewing on the golden three hanging on the chain around my neck like it’s a dog toy, hoping that it will release this nervous fucking energy that I’ve got bottled up.
Evie seems to know what the fuck is going on, and Sloane is just staring at her man with hearts in her eyes, which is crazy to me since he looks just like mine out there in their gear and ice skates.
Tattoo guy and Drew are focused and sound like professional sports commentators, leaving me and the guy from my class fucking confused. And get this, he and Sloane are twins!
“This sport makes no sense. Football’s better,” he comments while staring down at the ice.Is he talking to me? Again?“In my humble opinion, of course.” I roll my eyes and click my tongue, feeling fucking agitated.
“I didn’t ask for it,” I snap as he turns to me. I did, however, ask to be here tonight even though it’s on my list of shit not to do. I hate being in places that hit their maximum limit for people, and have minimum ways to get all those motherfuckers out if shit pops off.
“You know what’s goin’ on out there?” he chin points back to the game, and I shrug my shoulders. I have no fucking idea; just a terrible feeling that’s being intensified by the “boos” that are being shouted all around me.¡Ay, diosas, wey!
“Damn, your boyfriend missed again,” he comments, shaking his head in disappointment. My man used his stick to hit the black thing toward the net, and it’s ‘gone wide’ every time.
According to Alvi, he’s having an off night.’ I know this is all a part of the plan. He told me before we left what to expect.Pero,just because I know what’s about to happen doesn’t mean that I like it. I don’t feel right about it at all.
Iliteralmentebegged him not to do this, and we got into a big ass argument. I told him we’d figure it out and that I wouldn’t run, but he wouldn’t fucking listen.
I was so mad that I locked his ass out of his own room and pulled my oracle deck out from the bottom of my bag, making him knock on his door and sit outside.Good. Fuck you, Hunter.
I’ve never cared about someone like this before, and knowing that his dumbass is putting himself at risk for me is as idiotic as it gets. He’s also thick-headed and not listening to anything I say. I fucking hate that shit!¡Pinche pendejo!
I needed a fucking three-card spread, a joint, and some fucking Nutella to calm down.¡Qué mala! Solo tenía dos de las tres. Too bad I only had two of the three.
I sat cross-legged on the bed and was so fucking heated that I shuffled the deck so hard that three cards fell out into my lap. The first one;Trust and Hold my vision,instructed me to have faith in my plans and remain steadfast in my resolve. The second one said to;Take time to breathe out,encouraging me to release tension and trust life rather than rushing into new actions, which was fucking hard to do when the easiest answer was to run away. The third and final card told me that the path forward is clearing and events are unfolding as they should.
I asked these cards for guidance, so I know that I should trust them, but even having their answers didn’t make the bad feeling in my stomach go away; if anything, it’s getting worse as this stupid game goes on. He said something about innings, but how fucking long are they?
And regardless of what Sloane’s brother thinks, it’s not the cheese fries that’s giving me indigestion, no, the pit of my belly is bubbling because being in the same room with Princess Payton always has a way of making my fucking stomach turn. And this bitch just took a seat with Gabe and thatbabosoDylan one section over.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!WHY WON’T YOU PASS TO ME? THREE FUCKING TIMES YOU GOT GREEDY AND THREE FUCKING TIMES YOU WENT WIDE!” my brother yells from the stall next to mine after the second period. “Stop fucking around! Play like you wanna fucking win!” he adds after taking a seat and a breath.
I’m playing like shit, and if anyone out there were to catch on, it’d be him. He knows and can anticipate my every move out on the ice. We complement each other’s styles so well that any pro team would be fucking bat-shit crazy to separate us.
I feel a little bad that he’s all hyped up, especially since I know that he’s gonna be disappointed when we lose. He needs to take a fucking break so he can continue to focus on himself—and his nasty ass feet. I don’t know how Red sleeps in the same bed with those things. He can’t put it off much longer, and this will give him the opportunity to get it done now instead of waiting until after this next round of games.
“Now tutor girl’s gonna know you're stupid and unathletic,” Monroe chirps while towel whipping me. “She looks bored up there, give her something to smile about, man.”
“Don’t be looking at my girl, Monroe,” I swat his ass back a second before Daddy Jake throws down the fucking hammer.
“THE ONLY THING I WANT YOU FUCKING LOOKING AT IS YOUR BROTHER’S STICK!” he shouts as I swallow a mouthful of Gatorade. “DO BETTER, THREE! IF YOU CAN’T MAKE THE SHOT, SEND IT TO CHASE! AT LEAST FUCKING TRY!”
The buzzer goes off, and we file out of the locker room. I feel fucking antsy while we wait to get back out on the ice. I’ve never played with pressure like this and rock my neck side to side to crack it away.
