Page 13 of The Confidant
A secret relationship could definitely fit in the category of aprojectyou would continue to work on as long as itinterested you.
That was usually how relationships worked, right? You stuck together until it didn’t work, or someone lost interest and one or both of you wanted out.
Did Hunter have a secret pen pal he’d been writing to but didn’t want me to know about?
He’d become preoccupied with his project about a month after my dad had made us break up.
Had he been having a secret relationship online ever since then and just hadn’t told me because he knew it would make things awkward?
Maybe all those “podcasts” he’d been listening to were actually long voice messages from another girl. And the “articles and books” he’d been reading were really lovey-dovey emails or someone’s social media feed with its eye-catching photos and videos.
My heart squeezed at the thought of him pining for another girl.
Because if he was secretly talking to someone behind my back, she was most likely gorgeous since Hunter himself was a level of hot that would put him on the cover ofPeoplemagazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” issue. You know, if they broadened their research to include people who weren’t already celebrities.
I studied his profile with narrowed eyes as he preoccupied himself with putting his laptop into his backpack.
His lashes were long and dark—the kind of lashes I wished I had, since mine were almost invisible if I didn’t wear mascara. His jawline was no longer soft like it had been when we were freshmen—it had become more squared and defined as he’d matured into the eighteen-year-old man he was now.
His hair was short with a little bit of curl at the ends—the kind of hair I still daydreamed about combing my fingers through. And his eyes…my breath caught in my chest when he glanced up at me curiously, because his eyes were probably my most favorite thing about him. They were almost turquoise-green with a ring of gold around the iris.
“Why areyou looking at me like that?” he asked, wiping his fingers across his chin like he worried he had Swedish meatball gravy stuck to his face.
“No reason,” I said quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice how badly I wanted to take him into the library stacks and kiss him.
Just one more time so he would know what I couldn’t tell him. That I still wanted him. That I just needed him to wait for me. To wait for just a few more months until I was free to date whomever I wanted.
“Is it because I’m emailing myself?” he asked. “Because it’s not that crazy.”
Oh yeah, that was why I’d been watching him at first. I’d just gotten a little distracted by his good looks and the things they did to my hormones.
“I’ve just never heard of anyone emailing themselves,” I said.
“I do it all the time.” He shrugged. “Helps me keep track of my ideas.”
“Your ideas for your secret project?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Yes…” he said. “I mean, it’s not like asecret,secret project. Nothing weird or anything like that. It’s just something I’m doing for fun.”
“So you’re not emailing your secret girlfriend then?” I decided to just put it out there because I would only make myself crazy trying to dissect the half-answers he was giving me.
“What?” He pulled his head back, his eyes blinking rapidly, as if the thought of emailing some other girl would have never even occurred to him. “Who would I be emailing?”
“I don’t know.” I looked down at the pleats in my skirt. “A super hot Instagram model?” When he just stared at me like I was crazy to even suggest that, I added, “I just wondered if you didn’t want me reading your email because you have a secret pen pal you haven’t told me about.”
“I think you’ve watchedYou’ve Got Maila few too many times.” He smirked.
“Whatever. It’s impossible to watch a Meg-Ryan-and-Tom-Hanks movie too many times,” I said, focusing on that so he wouldn’t notice how relieved I was to learn he hadn’t been emailing another girl.
“I don’t know,” he mused. “I mean, I get why you likeYou’ve Got Mail. I’m not too macho to admit it’s notpuretorture to watch it twice a year with you.” A half-smile lifted his lips. We both knew he was the one who suggested it last time since it had been mid-October andYou’ve Got Mailwas made to be watched when the leaves were changing colors and the air became crisper. “ButSleepless in Seattle? Sorry, that one just didn’t do it for me. They barely even knew each other. How are we supposed to believe that it’s true love?”
“So you’re an expert on romance movies now?” I asked.
“I don’t want to brag or anything—” His green eyes brimmed with mirth. “—but giving my opinion on other people’s love stories is just a gift of mine.”
“You do seem to think you’re an expert on quite a few subjects,” I said. “I mean, you could probably give that girl who writesThe Confidanta run for her money in the opinionated-advice arena.”
“I take it she still hasn’t turned you into a fan of the column yet?” He laughed. “At least, not in the sense oflikingit. Since we both know you read everything she writes.” He winked.
