“Huh? What? Where are you going?” I think she follows my gaze, because she immediately says, “Oh, God, you’ve got to be joking. Hunter?”
“Sorry,” I say. “I really want to talk to him.”
She stammers, but I ignore her, and I hurry over to him.
When he sees me coming, he pulls up his hoodie, turns his head, and starts walking in the opposite direction.
I run up to him and grab his arm, but he jerks loose.
“Leave me alone,” he says as he walks through the cafeteria door.
“What happened to you?” I say.
I push myself past the doors and step in front of him. He looks miserable. His face has all the colors of a rainbow, like he’s been hit with a baseball bat. His eyes scare me even more. They look dreary. They’re red and big, as if he’s been sick or crying.
Or something way, way, worse. Drugs.
I can’t even think of it without wanting to puke.
The abrasive look on his face sends shivers down my spine. The only time I’ve seen him more upset was when he leaned against his door in the middle of the night, crying.
He closes his mouth, leaving a small gap in between his lips, as if he still wants to say something but doesn’t know quite what.
I swallow. “I asked you a question.”
It’s not like me to be this upfront, bold, but I have to. He looks sick, and it seems to me like he doesn’t even care. It’s as if he’s completely oblivious to the state he’s in. Or there’s something else going on that makes him ignore it.
“And I said: Leave me alone.” His hands curl up into fists, and I get the sudden urge to bolt away, but I don’t. I have to make a stand. I have to help him. I don’t know why, I just have to.
“I want to know what happened,” I say.
“Why?” His teeth grate, and his lips barely part as he speaks the words. It almost makes me feel like he’s angry with me, but that can’t be. I didn’t do anything. Or did I?
“Because you seem hurt,” I say with the calmest voice I can muster. I don’t want to make him angrier.
“Why do you care so much?” His voice is hoarse, and it almost sounds as if he finds it strange that anyone could even care.
But I do.
I don’t know why, I just feel like I need to care. Like I have to find out what’s wrong with him, so I can fix him.
As if I could fix him. Me. Little, goofy, broke me.
As if he’s been waiting for that. He just said he wants to be left alone.
He doesn’t want to talk to me. He’s been avoiding me since the moment he saw me. He doesn’t want my help. Doesn’t even need it.
But I can’t leave him alone. For some reason I feel this unspoken, undeniable connection between us. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s not tangible. I just know it’s there.
And I have to find out why.
“Because ... I just do,” I say.
Maybe I’m selfish for wanting to talk, but I think it’s worth it. If I can talk to him, I can find out why he’s been acting so strange lately. Maybe I can actually help him, even if he thinks I can’t. Maybe we could become friends. Maybe …
I look up into his eyes, which he keeps hidden behind his hoodie, and I can barely spot his glinting gray eyes. They’re half-mast and not even pointed at me. It almost makes me think he’s ashamed to look at me.
But why?
When I first saw him, he mocked me, but he was just playing around. He’s a cocky, confident guy with a cute, boyish smile I can’t ignore. His jokes make my skin crawl with anger, but that’s him.
This is not him.
He looks broken, damaged, beaten. Literally.
Seeing him this way breaks my heart, even if I’d rather be taken to hell than admit that.
Without realizing it, my finger lifts to touch the bruise on his face.
Hunter cocks his head and backs away before my finger reaches his face. “Don’t.”
His lip contorts, his eyebrows draw together, and for a second I almost believe I see tears forming in his eyes.
Then he storms off.
Chapter 7
Devilish Games
“Did you hear?” Evie says, as we walk to our classes the next day. “Someone got beat up yesterday. Here on campus. During the day. In plain sight.”
“Seriously?” I say, gasping.
My throat feels like it’s being squeezed together. Images of Hunter and his bruised face and bloodshot eyes flash through my mind. All I can think about is if it was him. Or maybe he did it to someone else.
“You know what’s even stranger? There were only a handful of people who saw it, and they said it looked like it came out of nowhere.”
“What?” I didn’t think my mouth could drop any farther, but it just had.