Wrecked (Forever 4)

He was right, I was running out of excuses. Was I really going to become friends with Hunter Jensen? What did I know about the guy? He was a fighter, had tats, was a senior, was incredibly gorgeous. And on top of that, he had saved my life. Come to think of it, what did he know about me? I’d tried avoiding him; I’d given him a lot of sass; I’d even stolen his clothes. What did I have to offer as a friend? He’d said he liked my company. But why? I thought about asking him why he wanted to be friends with me, but decided it was a dumb question to ask. What if I asked that to every person that wanted to be friends with me? “Hey, umm . . . so what are the reasons you want to be friends with me? Please present a list of bullet points on a 5x8 notecard.” It was a stupid question and for some reason had only occurred to me because of Hunter.

He made me uncomfortable and comfortable, restless and calm, annoyed and entertained—all at the same time. I was wary about his bad boy allure and how he could f**k me up worse than I already was. But as long as we were just friends, there wasn’t any harm right? It’s not like I was going to lose my head and fall for him. Dad said I was strong and I’d even told Hunter as much. Maintaining a friendship between us would only help prove that. Besides, didn’t I want to make new friends this semester?

I took a deep breath, looked him confidently in the eye, and shook his hand. “Alright, let’s be friends.”

He beamed.

“—But promise you won’t get boners around me. It’s awkward.”

He scoffed. “Are you cock-blocking me against yourself? You can’t say that. What if I asked you to not get hard tits when you’re around me?”

My eyes widened. “W-What? Where did that come from?”

“You think I didn’t notice? You weren’t wearing a bra after you showered at my place and I could see your ni**les poking through your shirt after you touched my leg. And you were talking about getting your eye poked out . . . I could say the same thing.”

“Oh my god!” I shouted, completely embarrassed that he’d noticed that. That damn baggy t-shirt was supposed to hide my chest. “It was the temperature, not because I was aroused!” I lied. “It’s not like I can really control it.”

“Well, I can’t really control whether I get an erection or not.” He crossed his arms in mock distress. “Besides it’s my body, I can do whatever I want with it. And there’s no way you’d know anyway.”

I knew he was right even before he finished. “Fine, fine, fine. You have a fair point, but at least you know where I stand.”

“Great, now that we have that settled, as a first sign of our friendship, Ms. Lorrie, I suggest we exchange digits.”

I pulled out my phone, brought up the Contacts screen, and handed the phone to him. “Okay, here type yours in.”

He quickly tapped in his name and number then handed my phone back to me. I looked at his handiwork. It said Gunther Handsome. I laughed.

“What’s so funny?” he said.

“Nothing, Gunther Handsome.” I showed him my phone.

He grimaced. “Stupid auto-correct. My thumbs are too big to type on your tiny phone properly. Lemme fix it.”

He reached for my phone but I snatched it away. “I think I’m going to keep it this way. It’s much more amusing.” And adorable.

“Alright,” he grumbled, apparently displeased with the name Gunther. “Gimme a call so I can get your number.”

I called and his pocket vibrated. He pulled his phone out and began pecking at the screen.

“Lorrie, what’s your last name?”

I hesitated. “I don’t usually give out my last name to people I don’t know very well,” I lied, deciding that it was better Hunter didn’t know exactly who I was—my past included. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for him to look it up or catch word of it, but I got the sense he wasn’t the prying type. I could at least delay the inevitable.

His brows furrowed. “But we’re friends now aren’t we?”

“Friends, but not good friends. I gotta trust you before I give you more personal information.”

He looked at me funny.

“I know it’s weird,” I said. “But that’s just how I roll. Can you dig it?”

“So to most people you’re like Madonna? Only a single name?”

“That’s right.”

“Alright, I’ll make up a last name for you then,” he said, a glint in his eye. He tilted his head up and tapped his finger against his chin. “I’m thinking Lorrie Hide.”

I stuck out my bottom lip. “Are you saying I’m the wife of ‘Mr. Hyde’? That I’m two-faced like him?”

He laughed then shook his head. “Hide as in H-I-D-E. ‘Cause you like to hide yourself from me, whether that’s trying to give me the slip or avoiding telling me things about yourself. I’m handsome and you hide. I’m okay with that. Are you?”

I thought about suggesting “Pretty” or “Beautiful” as a more flattering last name but caught myself when I noticed a hint of a smirk on his lips. He was probably baiting me into flirting with him. Too bad I wasn’t going to bite.

“‘Hide’ it is then,” I replied, feeling smug about outsmarting him.

We both laughed. It was a good feeling. It felt normal—laughing, exchanging numbers with a hot guy. It’d been so long, that I’d forgotten how good it felt. It sure beat sitting in a courtroom across from your mother’s murderer.

Hunter never prodded me on my past the rest of the night. He probably figured I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t probe him about his past either. We just continued walking around and joking with one another. By the time I got into the cab to go back home, I found myself thinking that maybe this semester wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Chapter Six

RUMORS

I woke up Saturday morning feeling pretty good. Last night seeing Hunter fight and going with him to the abandoned amusement park seemed like a faraway dream. Daniela gave me her notes for psych, and after lunch, I copied them into my own notebook. Some of the material was actually kind of interesting. Maybe Daniela was right: this class wouldn’t be too bad.

I was almost done when my phone buzzed. I thought it would be Hunter and my heart skipped a beat. Glancing at the caller ID showed it was Aunt Caroline. A pang of guilt shot through me. We hadn’t spoken since she’d dropped me off at the beginning of the semester over a week ago. I had visited my aunt and uncle regularly ever since Mom passed away but I’d been living with them just before Dad passed. After he passed, they practically adopted me. Although I sometimes took issue with Aunt Caroline’s overprotectiveness, I was truly grateful for their care considering they already had their hands full raising two adolescent boys. I felt bad that I’d probably made Aunt Caroline feel neglected because I’d forgotten to call her.