Page 24 of Chosen Boy

“What’s that?” he says curiously.

“Perfect,” I whisper. “I don’t even have to try to be that anymore.”

He looks at me, as if seeing me as a real person for once. One with real feelings.

Eventually, he swallows. “And your job? What’s that?”

I cough on my soda, wiping my lips and nose with my napkin. “Working at a restaurant off campus.” I nod and am thankful as hell when the waitress drops the check on the table to distract him from asking anything else about my job.

Hunter quickly snatches it up, but I reach to grab it, but accidentally grab his hand.

“I can pay for my half,” I tell him, trying to ignore that my hand is on his. “It isn’t like we’re on a date.”

Shooting me an entertained look, he shakes his head and pulls his hand away from mine. Putting some cash with the bill, he shrugs. “Might not be a date, but you’re still not paying.”

He holds the cash and the receipt out to the waitress just as she walks by. “That’s all set,” he says.

“That looked like a huge tip,” I whisper.

Making sure the waitress is gone, he leans closer. “Did you see her stomach? She’s pregnant. And waiting tables can’t be easy while lugging a watermelon around.”

My heart does some weird fluttery thing, and I stare at him in shock.

“What?” he says, holding his hand out for me to take when I stand up. Like I’m a ninety-year-old woman. “Didn’t think I could be nice, did ya?”

“Have you met your parents?” I deadpan.

That earns me a deep, loud chuckle just before we head out through the door.

“I suppose I can’t argue with you there. We both know my parents are assholes.” Nodding toward the river, he almost looks nervous. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

For a moment, I stand there, unable to form a thought. Much less a word. Because the guy I painted in my mind as an asshole is starting to prove me otherwise.

Finally, I give him a small smile. “Sure.”

It’s dangerous when Hunter does nice things. Because I know it’ll end up with me wanting more. And I know him enough to know that his niceness…is going to run out.

Hunter

The walk starts off pretty silent. So much in fact that all I hear is the damn water rushing beside us as we trudge along lightly, her short legs trying their damnedest to keep up with mine.

Slowing a little, I grin. “Okay, so…let’s see how competitive you really are, brat.” I jerk my chin toward a black food truck at the end of the river. “Last one to the ice cream truck is buying dessert.”

She pats her stomach. “Dessert? Do you know how much food is in my stomach right now?”

“Well, yeah. I watched you eat like it was your last meal back there.” I nod my head toward her. “But what do you say? After all…it’s a bet.”

Her eyes flash with mischief for a moment before, suddenly, she rips off her flip-flops, bolting toward The Scoop. I’ve only been here one other time since I’ve been at Brooks, but they make their own products in their warehouse and then sell them out of this little food truck. And they are fucking incredible.

I take off behind her, impressed with how quick she is on her feet. But I’m a winger for the Wolves. Speed is what I’m trained for. I also refuse to lose. Even if I am enjoying the view of her ass bouncing as she runs.

Chasing her down is like being on the ice and heading toward the goal. I know what my plan is, and I will execute it.

I catch up to her quickly, but when she sees me passing her, she tries her best to get her lead back. But her little legs just can’t carry her that fast.

“Ouch, my foot!” she screeches.

I turn toward her, slowing just enough for her to lunge toward me, yanking my shorts down halfway.

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