Never Been Kissed(36)
It says I’m with them, not with you.
Fine. I can ask about this later. Hunter doesn’t owe me anything just yet.
“Midnight, you say?” She does that awful tisk, tisk, tisk sound that no one does anymore. “I think you should pick up my grandson at eleven - the latest. I’ll be in bed, of course, but Edouard will do an exceptional job of watching over him while you both are...out. Together.” A smile that looks like the edge of a dagger runs across her mouth. “You will be at your lunch with Alysha tomorrow, yes?” Her eyes are on Hunter. I’ve been dismissed. Now I know where he got that nifty trick from.
I have this awful habit of being struck dumb by shock. You think after years and years of verbal abuse from all members of my family, even myself, that I should have some inclination of the shit people come up with and allow themselves to say. Nope. I still see the good in people when I shouldn’t.
“No,” Hunter says, voice low like he’s too tired to put up a fight. Maybe his sugar isn’t stable, either? If so, then how absolutely cunning of the Duchess to get what she wants when his body is fighting him, he doesn’t want to fight anything else.
Bitch.
Her face snaps to mine like I’ve said the word out loud. I mentally scroll back the last few seconds, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t. Pretty sure.
“You. Make sure you’re done...eating,” Her eyes go up and down taking in my giant ass and thighs in my skinny jeans, “at eleven. You can skip dessert.” With another icy smile, she whirls like a fucking ballerina and picks up Matty again, who’s been quiet this whole time. The little guy’s yawning enough to suck out all the oxygen in the room.
If I were a badass, I’d slap the bitch right across the face. Or say something. But I’m me, and all I can do is sit there and take the harsh words, and hope the fleeting pain and humiliation goes away.
For Matty, I wave like I haven’t been insulted. For Matty, I paste a smile on my face, using the appropriate muscles to make me do so while the verbal knife is stuck somewhere in my ribcage. If I move, a single little twist, I’ll start bawling. I’m so sick of bawling about what I look like. But it hurts, and I wish it didn’t.
“C’mon, hotshot. Let’s go,” I lean over to Hunter, grab his hand and pull him towards the door. Once we’re outside, I realize my body’s shaking, my vision winking in and out, losing bits of time as those words ricochet in my skull, throwing them back at me.
I get to my door on my own, seat belt on before Hunter’s made the round to his side of the car.
“Take me home, Hunt. This was a mistake.” God, I wish I had my own car. When I get into shit situations like this, I would just have my own car and high-tail it the fuck outta here. But no, I’m stuck with Hunter MacLaine (squee!), and his sexy body, and his beautiful blue eyes, and badass skull-trim and I’m fat and not what he wants, and the bitch of the west just made fun of me and I fraking let her.
Hunter sighs, that weary sound escaping his lips in a heavy exhalation. I should feel bad, I shouldn’t be kicking a dead horse, but God, I want him to hurt, to realize why this will never work. As in ever. I want him to hurt for making me hope that he was different, that he could see past what I look like.
“Please, take me home. I can drive if you’re not up to it.”
“Shut up, Sera. Just shut it,” he growls, leaning over me to get at the glove compartment. He pulls out a juice box, tears off the straw with a kind of desperation that has my heart beating hard and fast. He sucks the juice back, and takes his time cranking the car over, putting the car in gear with jerky movements that tells me he’s reining his anger in. “I want to talk about something else. Please.”
I turn to look at him, shocked to find his eyes bleak, his face taut, skin pulled over his cheekbones, the rim of his mouth white with strain. Mayday, mayday, mayday. “Something funny?” I ask, watching his knuckles flash white on the steering wheel.
“Yeah. Just... I really hate that place. Really bad memories. And my sugar dropped again. You have no idea what it’s like.” He sighs again, hands strangling the wheel. “Look, I’ll take you home, I promise. Just tell me something good.” His hands tighten around the steering wheel even more, the leather groaning at the abuse. “Please.”
“I wear nerdy underwear.” I clap my hands over my mouth and shake my head. Holy Triwizard tournament I did fraking not. Where is the hole in the earth, oh please, open up for me. I want to die.
Hunter barks out his laughter, showing off his dimples. It’s deep and wonderful and rich. That insane urge to beat my chest comes to mind again, but I keep my fists in my lap.