With that, she gets out.
I smile as she sulkily heads into the store, then pull out my cell phone so I can text Hunter.
“How is the best non-boyfriend in the world doing tonight?”
“A little sore, but otherwise good. How was your shopping trip?”
I frown at the phone. “Shopping was amazing. The spa was heavenly. My mom is spitefully purchasing a toothbrush, then we’re heading home. Why are you sore?”
“I’m gonna need more details about this spiteful toothbrush purchase,” he tells me.
Since he evaded my question, I type it again. “Why are you sore?”
“I got into it with Sherlock at practice tonight, no big deal.”
My heart sinks a little. “What do you mean, got into it? Like a fight?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Hunter… I really don’t think you should make him a mortal enemy over all this. I know what he did was shitty and his methods are certainly unorthodox, but I truly think he was trying to help you. I don’t think he had bad intentions. And to be honest, without his interference, there would have been no day pass. We probably still wouldn’t be talking. And my mom agreed to let me spend the weekend with you! None of this would be happening if he hadn’t brought me to that stupid party.”
“He kissed you. He MARKED you. I couldn’t NOT punch him in the face.”
I sigh. “Hunter.”
“Riley.”
“You need to be nicer to your friend.”
“Not when he kisses my goddamn girlfriend I don’t.”
This is not the right time to remind him I am not—in fact—his girlfriend. I know what he means, anyway, so I overlook it and type back, “You know it didn’t mean anything. I think you should talk to him. No fists. Use your words. Find out if he was legitimately looking out for you or he just wanted to make trouble. I really believe it’s the former. If it is, you need to let it go. Don’t lose a real friend over this. You don’t have many of those.”
“It bothers me that you’re defending him,” he tells me.
“I’m only looking out for you,” I assure him. “I have zero fucks to give about Ryden Sherlock myself, but I don’t want to see you alienate someone who truly cares about you, even if it’s in his own weird way.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” he writes back.
“Makes a lot of sense, huh?”
“This is why I’m dating a smart girl,” he tells me.
I bite back a smile. “Do you think if you slip in ‘girlfriend’ and ‘dating’ enough times, I’ll forget it’s not true?”
“It’s worth a shot.”
I grin. “I love you,” I tell him with a trio of emoji hearts.
“I love you too,” he texts back, emoji-free.
Chapter Forty Four
Riley
I get another flower delivery Monday morning.
Mom complains that we’re going to run out of places to put flowers, but I wave her off.
I put the flowers in my bedroom and read the card.
“My nightmares are usually about losing you. I'm okay once I realize you're here.” -Peeta
(You’ve made me quote my fictional nemesis. Good job.)
I laugh out loud at what he wrote in parentheses.
I can’t stop grinning as I walk the card over and put it on my dresser along with the others. I love every note he has sent me (and regret throwing away the flowers that one time without bothering to read his note because I was so hurt and angry) but this one might be my favorite.
I grab my phone and text him, “This was the best one yet.”
“Glad you like it. I thought twice about that one. Made me think about that fucker Anderson.”
I locate the little yellow emoji with a monocle and write back, “Who’s Anderson?”
“Oh, you’re such a good girl,” he tells me.
I smile and blush pleasantly even though he can’t see me, then I slide my phone into my purse and gather my things so I can head to school.
___
Even though the weekend was pretty amazing, I’m wary of returning to school on Monday.
I feel like Hunter and I fare so much better outside of school.
For instance, Valerie? She doesn’t even exist until I walk into this building. She’s a vague bad dream, distant and hazy, easy to forget after a day or two unless she keeps popping up.
At school, she’s there. Even though Hunter has relegated her to his shit list, even though she has lost her uncontested queen bee status, even though she’s not even allowed to sit at the lunch table that was technically hers (the biggest hit to her status), she’s still there.
As I leave the lunch line with my tray of food, I prepare to head to my usual table to sit alone, but I only make it a few feet before Hunter stops me.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I say, offering him a little smile.
“Where are you going?”
I cock an eyebrow. “To my table?”