This is how it has to be for now, though. Once she gets to know Hunter, maybe she’ll bend on her no dating rule. We can have a do-over first date that she can help me get ready for.
It still won’t be the same, though. It’ll just be another lie I have to tell to be with Hunter.
For a moment, that reality bums me out, but I shove it away and continue getting ready. I keep it casual with the black leggings Hunter’s mom bought me and one of the tops. I survey myself in the mirror, smoothing down my hair and frowning. I don’t like my hair, so I put it up in a high ponytail instead, then I carefully pull a few tendrils down on each side of my face.
I’m satisfied with my appearance, but I think I could do a little better.
I look over at my closet door. The purse I had with me at the mall is hanging there, so I go over and grab it, fishing around for the tube of mascara Hunter’s mom bought me. After locating it, I go back to the mirror and carefully apply a coat.
I smile at my reflection, imagining several different scenarios of Hunter reacting when he sees me. They’re all good, and I’m so happy I could ride a cloud to the bridge.
Once I’m ready, I slide my stylish new jacket on, completing the look, and head out the door.
I’m full of nervous energy for the first two minutes of my walk. I get lost in daydreams after that. I think about what movie we’ll see, but I don’t even care about that. It’s the little things. Will he hold my hand? Will he give me a tight, lingering hug at the end before I go home? Will he kiss me?
My imagination is brimming with possibilities.
I left a few minutes early, so I get to the bridge a few minutes early, too. I’m just in time to see the sunset through the trees. I sit down on the bridge and dangle my feet over the edge like Hunter did that first day we talked.
I would have never imagined that day that anything would come of it, let alone this.
Sitting here in the woods and waiting for Hunter to show up for our secret date, I can’t help smiling as I imagine his response when he gets here and I liken it to Gale and Katniss sneaking out to hunt in the woods.
I know he’ll be entertained. I’m sure he’ll call me a dork. He might even weaken my knees and call me Catnip again before he reaches down and takes my hand.
I guess I never know exactly what Hunter will do, but man, I can’t wait to find out.
Chapter Eight
It wasn’t supposed to rain tonight. At least, I didn’t think it was. But here I sit on the footbridge with my feet hanging over the edge, watching raindrops pelt the water below.
I’m drenched. When the rain first started, I was worried about dumb stuff—it was going to soak my hair and cause my mascara to run down my face like it does in the movies. I shrugged my coat off and held it over my head for a while to try to protect my appearance, but eventually I gave up.
That was a half hour ago. My arms got tired. My heart did, too.
Hunter never showed up.
I put my coat back on, no longer caring if the rain ruined my hair or made my makeup run. I don’t know how many times I can text him without appearing crazy. I went with three. One text for every half hour I’ve spent sitting on this bridge like an idiot, waiting for a guy that wasn’t on his way.
I thought about walking to his house a couple times. It’s not like it’s far. The first time I told myself to be patient. If I walked to his house, what if he came another way and got to the bridge while I was gone? What if his phone had died so he couldn’t text me to let me know he was running late?
The second time I was more stubborn. I’m not walking to his house to remind him he was supposed to go on a date with me. If he got busy and forgot, then screw him. If it’s more than that… I don’t even know.
As if the weather is keeping up with my mood, the rain starts to fall harder. It’s coming down so hard it stings a little when it hits my face, so I finally push myself up off the ground, fix my purse strap on my shoulder, and turn around.
Even though there’s no reason he would be, no reason he would stand there without saying anything and torture me, my foolish heart hopes he’ll be standing there, just as wet as I am, looking back at me.