Page 130 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
“Right?” Juliet’s got that look on her face like she’s seeing Thorne for the first time. “Who knew?”
When he finishes, the place explodes. Everyone’s clapping and pounding on tables like they’ve just discovered their captain moonlights on Broadway. Thorne takes a bow, grinning like he planned this all along.
“Show off,” I call out, but even I have to admit it was impressive.
The room eats it up, but it grates on me. Everyone acts like we’re one big happy family. We’re not. I don’t trust half of these guys. I don’t like most of the other half.
It only gets worse from there. Ivy and Jessa hijack the stage next for some pop song I’ve never heard, throwing themselves into it with dance moves so dramatic that half the room’s got their phones out for blackmail material. They are actually good, which is annoying, because now they have set the bar.
Ryan and Wren, after arriving last, get pushed forward to the mics. They do “Endless Love” while pretending to hate every second. Wren seems shy, but Ryan holds her in place, refusing to let her retreat. But by the end, even I have to admit it’s kind of sweet. They look good up there together, like they belong.
“Aw,” Juliet says, watching them. “They’re cute.”
“They’re ridiculous.”
“This again? You love ridiculous things, remember?”
I mutter something under my breath about how this night is ridiculous, but Juliet’s sharp enough to notice the smirk I’m trying to hide. I’d rather be anywhere else. Trapped in a bar with guys I can’t relax around isn’t my idea of bonding.
She scoots closer, putting her arm around her and leaning into me. “See? You’re having fun.”
“I’m tolerating this for the team.”
“Sure you are.”
She’s got that teasing look in her eyes, the one that makes my pulse kick up even when I’m annoyed with her. Which is most of the time, if I’m being honest. Her bright red lipstick isdoingthings to me.
That’s when Thorne gets his revenge.
“Juliet!” he calls out, grinning like the devil. “You’re up!”
She freezes. “Oh no. Absolutely not.”
“Come on!” Beck joins in. “Don’t be shy!”
“I’m not shy; I’m smart. There’s a difference.”
But the guys don’t let up. They chant her name. I can see the exact moment she realizes she’s not getting out of this. Her face goes pale, then red, then back to pale again.
“I hate all of you,” she announces, but she’s already standing up.
And of course, as soon as she’s cornered, the chanting shifts to me.
“Hunter! Hunter! Hunter!”
“Fuck off,” I tell them, but the noise just gets louder. I bare my teeth. “You want a show? Go find another clown. I’m not here to sing. And I’m sure as hell not here to make any of you like me.”
“Come on, man!” Jett shouts. “Don’t leave your girl hanging!”
Your girl. The words hit differently than they should. If only that were the truth. I drag my ass up onto the stage before I can think too hard about why.
“I’m going to kill you all,” I mutter as I join Juliet at the mic.
“Get in line,” she shoots back.
We bicker before the music even hits, Juliet snapping that I’m dragging my feet, me firing back that she’s the one who let this circus happen. The guys are eating it up, hooting and hollering like we’re putting on a show.
Which I guess we are.
