He shakes his head and nods in the other direction. “Come sit at mine.”
I hesitate, staying where I am instead of following him.
He turns back and frowns when he realizes it. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to,” I say apologetically. “I’m sorry, I know Sara’s sitting at the girls’ table now, but, honestly… I don’t like those girls. I don’t want to have lunch with them. I know it’s a nice offer, but I’d really rather sit alone. I brought a book and everything,” I tell him, holding up a used paperback copy of Hunger Games I picked up at a thrift store a couple of years ago.
Hunter frowns at it. “Where’d you get that? I never gave your copy back.”
“I know, I had to buy another. That’s why I don’t like loaning out books, by the way,” I say, lightly censuring his book borrowing manners.
“In fairness, I had to move to Italy.”
“There’s no excuse for not returning a borrowed book, Hunter.”
“You can impose a late fee, if you want. I still have it. I can give it back to you this weekend.”
I shake my head. “You can keep it now. I have this copy. And I’m going to read it while I eat, so…”
“I want you to sit with me,” he says. “Not with the girls. With me. Next to me. At my table.”
I blink at him. “But it’s the boys’ table.”
“You will not be stoned to death for sitting next to boys, I promise.”
“But… no girl ever sits at that table. Ever.”
“I’m aware. It’s my table. That rule was mostly to keep Valerie from trying to smother me.” He realizes immediately that mentioning her was not the right call, but rather than backpedal or apologize, he just grabs me around the waist and forcibly guides me over to his table. “Come on, you’re sitting with me. You can sit between me and Sherlock, how’s that?”
That gets my attention. “You didn’t banish him?”
“I decided to listen to my intelligent girlfriend and give him a chance.”
“Not your girlfriend.”
He ignores my commentary. “Now I’m relying on my level-headed, ‘words not fists’ minded girlfriend to sit between us and make sure neither of us gets suspended. See? I need you. You don’t want me to get suspended, do you?”
I roll my eyes at him. “That is a lazy manipulation, you just came up with it on the spot.”
He doesn’t point out that I’m following him, so it’s clearly working even if it is lazy, but I’m aware of it.
“This is going to be so awkward,” I complain.
“Because he kissed you?” Hunter asks, his tunnel vision leading him to believe I must be talking about lunch with Sherlock.
I shake my head. “Because I don’t like your friends, and the feeling is mutual.”
Hunter appears dismissive. “Nah, you’ll be fine. They’ll behave.”
Of course they will, because he’ll be sitting there with me, but it won’t mean they like me.
Oh well.
“Scoot down,” he says to someone I don’t know.
The guy promptly moves his tray, scoots down, and apologizes even though he has nothing to apologize for. He was sitting in an unoccupied seat.
Without another word to him, Hunter sits, leaving just enough space between him and Ryden Sherlock for me.
Sherlock looks up, cocking a dark eyebrow in surprise as I take a seat beside him at the table. “Well, this is a surprise.”
I nod at his bottom lip, which is split down the left side. “Nice lip,” I tell him.
Sherlock smirks, unperturbed. “I bit your lip, he split mine. Seemed fair.”
“Generous, even,” I tell him with feigned sweetness.
“Seems like it all worked out,” he says, glancing past me at Hunter. He looks right back, though. “In the moment, I kinda worried I set you up for more than I meant to, but it seems like you came out of it all right.”
“Undamaged and everything,” I assure him.
“And here at our lunch table,” he says, shaking his head. “We’ve never had a girl here before. We might not know how to behave.”
Hunter leans forward and looks down at Sherlock, wordlessly giving him some advice on how he’d like him to behave.
“Uh oh.” Sherlock cuts a mischievous look my way. “Your boyfriend’s getting jealous. I guess we should stop talking. Don’t want him to Hulk out again. He probably didn’t bring a change of clothes.”
I sigh, shake my head, and look longingly at the paperback on my lunch tray. “I could be reading right now.”
“A book you’ve already read,” Hunter points out.
“Still seems a better use of my time,” I tell him.
“Than talking to Sherlock?” he ribs, but almost good-naturedly. “I agree.”
___
The rest of the week flies by.
With Hunter’s friendship with Sherlock in the stages of repair after the party, my thoughts keep running back to Sara. She hasn’t made any effort to reach out to me, but I’m not sure why.