Love Under Construction (Love By Design 1)

“Maybe he respects me,” I said because that was all I had at the moment.

“Yeah, and maybe he doesn’t like cold little puffer fish who don’t put out.” Becky’s words were cruel and a reminder of my foolish hopes. She was a royal bitch and for her to mention my allergic reaction from last year, fan-freaking-tastic. I would never live that down. So much for the friend who comes to visit you at the hospital. Big faker, that’s what Becky was.

“Never mind,” I told their smirking faces, brushing past them into the hallway decorated with crepe paper and balloons rolling down the hall like lonely casualties.

I raced into the gymnasium to find Kristen and Damien, but they were gone. I was turning in circles when a hand pulled me into a broad chest.

“Whoa, little dancer, you spinning without me?”

I stopped, stunned. It was Hunter.

I turned in his arms, looking up at him, and asked him directly if what I’d heard was true. “Have you enlisted? Are you leaving New Paltz?”

“Shit.” Without preamble Hunter’s smile dropped and he pulled me outside through the slow dancing crowd. Warm air hinted of the coming summer and the breeze lifted the edges of my strapless chiffon and tulle.

“Are you?” I asked again, my voice cracking. I felt broken and betrayed, barely holding it together.

Hunter licked his lips I once thought so kissable before tonight. As Becky reminded me, I was a pathetic puffer fish and Hunter was nobody’s prince charming.

He hesitated in answering, and I stomped my foot, raising an eyebrow, asking again without words.

“Yes.” He had never been one for lengthy discussions unless we were debating Star Wars movies and apoplectic concepts in Blade Runner, his all-time favorite movie. Of course mine was the Princess Bride and I realized how different we were.

“Why?” I was choking on my tears and he was standing there. He just stood there. I punched his chest, angry at him.

Angry at me.

Angry at the world.

Hunter was supposed to be mine.

This was supposed to be magical.

What a fool I had been.

“Taylor Jane, look at me.”

I refused to budge even when his arms touched my shoulders. The calluses on his fingers that spent years carving wood animals rubbed the soft spots on my skin.

“I need you to look at me.” I turned to face him, his throat bobbing and his head down shame faced. He might not have lied to me, but it was an omission of the truth and in my mind, the same thing.

“You’re leaving me. I don’t think I can look at you.”

I pulled back until he let go. My legs pumped each step with the heels of my princess shoes clicking against the gym floor as Hunter called my name. I found Kristen sitting on the gymnasium bleachers, eye makeup resembling a raccoon, and drinking from the spiked punch bowl. We were twin messes and when she handed me her drink, I gulped down the bitter alcohol, no second thoughts. I didn’t have the energy from my own broken heart to be the good friend and ask what happened with Damien. Chase found us in tears and drove us home leaving Becky to sulk with her click. He was a good older brother and set us up with his stash of ice cream from the basement freezer, a box of tissues, and a movie marathon including Empire Records and 10 Things I Hate About You.

I never understood the allure of going to prom when the night ended in the worst clusterfuck of my teenage years.

25

Hunter

I left Taylor Jane at my house after a morning marathon of sex that had her begging me to leave her alone. I didn’t want to give her up even when she pushed me out the door. She hobbled hissing under her breath that I didn’t have to make up ten for years in one night. I might have disagreed with her. Since I was banned from her downstairs lady parts until further notice, I headed over to the project house to get some work done.

“Hey, buddy, it’s good to see you.” I shook hands with Whit, who pulled up to the house in his jeep. I decided if we were going to get this house flipped and stay on budget I was going to call in a few favors. Whittaker was someone who’d gone to school with us and ended up st

aying in town to be one of the local New York State Forest Rangers.

On the side, he operated a nice little landscaping business. Both his knowledge of forestry and landscaping would come in handy since Taylor Jane’s house looked like an advertisement for some creepy ax murdering bed and breakfast. The snarky video crew comprised of hippie looking college students who had more light stands than brains between them, and said the house didn’t have the right feel. If they wanted to argue design atheistic or the readings on the ghost meter, I was the wrong guy to ask. What I wanted to do was give each of them a kick in the ass. One had already fallen through the porch, and I figured I had one more to go. Until Taylor Jane held me back, the temptation was there.