“Fall jam, huh? Are you going to that?”
“I hope not. A cappella’s not really my thing, but if no one else wants to cover it, I will.”
“Always taking the work no one else wants,” Hunter says, shaking his head.
“That’s not true.”
“It is. You don’t have to do that, you know. You’re smart and talented—you should have your pick of assignments, but you’ve gotta be bolder. Take up more space. Stop letting people ignore you.”
“I don’t mind being ignored most of the time,” I inform him. “I’m not like you; I don’t enjoy being the center of attention.”
“Do you not enjoy it, or are you afraid of it?”
“I don’t enjoy it,” I state. “I’ve had attention on me. I don’t like it.”
“You’ve had negative attention on you,” he points out. “You haven’t felt the upside of popularity.”
“I’m never going to. And that’s perfectly okay with me. I don’t want it. I think popularity kind of sucks, honestly. It’s not sour grapes, I’ve just observed it, and I haven’t liked what I’ve seen. Those people don’t like you for who you really are, they like a polished snapshot of you. They like a shiny, perfect veneer, an idea more than a real person. It’s all fake. It’s superficial bullshit. Who wants that? What’s the upside? I’d rather be valued for who I really am. Or hated for who I am.” I shrug. “Makes no difference to me. At least it’s honest.”
A faint smile tugs at Hunter’s lips. His gaze lingers on me, but he rests his head against the trunk of the tree. “You always were braver than me in that regard. I guess some things don’t change.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’d rather be authentic and let the cards fall where they may. If people like you, great. If they don’t, fuck ’em, who cares? I admire the hell out of that.”
“Oh.” I shrug. “I don’t think it’s an exceptional mentality, I just don’t see the advantage of fake friends. I genuinely don’t understand the appeal.”
“You don’t care what people think,” he says easily. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“You shouldn’t care what people think, either.” I glance over at him. “It doesn’t matter.”
Hunter smirks. “And you shouldn’t get excited by paper. We’re clearly very different animals.”
I try to bite back a smile. “Hey, paper is awesome.”
Shaking his head, he says almost affectionately, “Weirdo.”
I lose the battle and smile as I reach for another potato chip.
I can feel Hunter’s gaze on me. After a couple of seconds of silence, he says, “I never think about that stuff when I’m with you. I never have. It’s like you pull me into your world, and all of a sudden, mine looks really fucking stupid.”
I can tell he’s being real when he says it, so I don’t glibly agree with him that his world is pretty fucking stupid. “You’re too good for that world,” I tell him honestly.
He laughs a little. I look over at him and he’s shaking his head. “How can you say that after what I did?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t have anything to do with that. They’re shallow people with the wrong priorities. Deep down, you’re not like them. Yeah, you’ve done some bad things. Those things suck,” I say, meeting his gaze so he knows I’m not letting him off the hook. “But you’re more than that. I never liked you because of your dreamy eyes or your Instagram following. I don’t care who your parents are or how much money you have. I just liked hanging out with you. I wouldn’t have enjoyed your company so much if you were strictly superficial. Honestly, your popularity is more an annoyance to me than a perk.”
He shakes his head, still relaxing against the tree. “You know, I believe that.”
“You should. It’s the truth,” I say simply, grabbing another potato chip.
“I don’t hear a lot of that.”
I pop the chip into my mouth and look over at him. “That must be rough.”
He shrugs. “Kind of an annoying complaint, but yeah. Having nothing but yes-men around can make you lose perspective sometimes.”
“Well, I’m happy to tell you no anytime,” I tell him glibly, flashing him a smile.
He chuckles. “I appreciate that.”
My smile softens, but lingers as I look down at the grass. It’s such a nice sliver of a moment, I wish he wouldn’t ruin it with more words. But then he does, and his words stun me.
“Will you go to homecoming with me?”
My heart doesn’t just sink—it plummets like it’s dropping fast down an empty elevator shaft.
“What?” I ask faintly. Trying to wrap my mind around the request, I add, “Are you in the mood to be told no again?”
He shakes his head, so deliberately vulnerable that I’m momentarily disarmed. “I’m asking for real. You dumped the purse-holder, so what’s stopping you? Go with me.”
I can’t even find words to respond. Maybe I shouldn’t be so shocked. I know he likes me, and he hasn’t hidden it despite everything since Valerie’s party, but...