Me: That’s what you do when you have guests over. I’m not a complete Neanderthal.
Me: I’m also not the biggest fan of your confessions.
Even across the room, Hunter’s smirk sparked an electric frisson in my chest.
Hunter: After class I’m grabbing coffee with Liam, then I have a Skype date with my sister (she’s on an exchange in Germany).
Me: . . .
Hunter: Don’t be disappointed when we don’t chat.
Me: Disappointed?
I scoffed.
Me: Piss off.
But as soon as the lecture finished and Hunter rolled out, a heavy wave tumbled over me.
I headed to Scribe where I’d brought the tin box, and sat at my desk, pondering how to save the gazebo. Maybe I could interview the protesters? Or lure stories from past lovers . . .
Hannah sidled up to my desk with a tentative smile, a Goliath cautiously watching from behind her. Times like these, I wished I could wave my gay badge.
“Hannah?”
“You’ve been here for hours, staring at Hunter’s desk.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, so?”
She rocked back, and I chastised myself for the attitude.
“It’s Friday night. You used to love parties.”
I used to love Jack. Things change.
“Rumor has it there’s a secret party in the storage room behind the library. Roger and I are checking it out. Want to come?”
“How do students get in after hours?”
“Apparently some girl Daisy has a key card. Maybe a staff kid scored it? Not sure how long it will go before campus security close it down, but I’m after an article.”
“Sounds like it’ll be a good one.”
She flushed. “Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you.”
It did?
“God, I’d love it if you checked out one of my party pieces and gave me advice.”
My throat tightened weirdly, and I nodded. “Sure. Uh, but you’re a good writer, Hannah. I’m sure I won’t have much to say.”
Hannah left blushing, and I returned to staring at the tin—and Hunter’s desk.
And the tin again.
I pulled out the letters and studied them all a third time.
I wedged my phone from my pocket.
I had an idea.
Hunter waited under lamppost light, wearing an open jacket with the figure of DaMage on his T-shirt. His face was turned toward drunken student laughter, in profile to me.
Strong jaw and smoothly shaved cheeks, like a classically handsome geek statue. I swaggered toward him, and his gaze hit me with a shiver. A star eying a slutty fan in a knight-print shirt—and the tightest pair of jeans I owned.
Hunter eyed me up and down with a rogue smile. “Why’d you ask me here?”
“Because of your confession.”
“About cleaning up for me?” He cocked his head and studied my face when I paused before him.
I averted my gaze and swallowed thickly. “Your other confession. Last week. About being a Geek Force God.”
“God? You are so good for my ego.” I caught him smirk. “What about it?”
I hitched a thumb towards the union link. “Follow me.”
Hunter kept pace beside me as we smuggled ourselves into the secret party. Shelves of outdated books and old computers mazed around us, and about fifty guys and girls paraded around aisles with red cups.
I didn’t spot Hannah.
Students nicked their heads at us in casual hello. “Dude.”
“Dude.”
A guy with oily auburn hair and a shirt open to an equally oily chest raised his cup to us. “Hey, man on wheels. So, like, how do you piss?” His chuckle morphed into a stage whisper. “Can you still get it up? Do you feel anything down there?”
Hunter calmly met his eye with a charming grin. “Hey, guy-I’ve-never-met-before. Get to know me first and I’ll gladly tell you anything you want to know.”
“Oh shit,” some girl said, laughing. “Steve just got burned.”
I gritted my teeth, angry at shithead Steve for rudely asking the question. Angrier that I’d wondered the same thing and hoped Hunter might answer. “Should we leave?”
Hunter pinned me with an appraising look before wheeling toward the keg. “Shit like this happens time to time. I’m not cowering away. Why’d you want me here?”
I scoured the crowd. “This girl Daisy has a key card into the union link. That card also opens up the library. I thought we can sneak in and browse the 1972 yearbook. Narrow down all male students whose names start with V and later cross reference them with those that were drafted.”
“You know the library opens on Saturday, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So why are we here tonight?”
I don’t want to hang out another Friday night alone. The thought came like a punch, unbidden yet powerful. I forced a lazy smirk over my discomfort. “I’m impatient. Want to call it quits?”
Hunter poured a red plastic cup of beer and handed it to me. “So you lured me here for a sleuthing mission?”
“You brought your computer, right? You can do the cross-referencing.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep.”
“Marc?”
“Yep?”
“You’re allowed to look at me.”
My face heated, and I hid in a slow sip of cool beer. “I’ve looked at you.” Quick glimpses. “We need to focus on finding Daisy. I’ll keep my eyes on the prize.”