“What’s going on? Please tell me. I can help,” Katie says, her voice pleading. I swallow past the pain in my throat, wondering if I should tell her. She’s such a good friend, she’s going to color the reality that I live in, feeding that hopeful glow in my chest until it’s all I can see with.
I shrug, looking up at her. Maybe if I had her confidence. Maybe if I let my hair grow longer, wore heels every day, worked out harder – maybe then I’d understand this game Hunter is playing.
“Hunter almost kissed me last night.” There. I said it.
Katie’s shriek – I wasn’t expecting that. “Are you freaking kidding me? Why do you look like your dog died all over again? This is awesome!” She does a little dance in her seat, a wiggle of her hips, fingers snapping to a song that isn’t the one playing on the speakers.
“Why aren’t you shaking your booty? WHY are we drinking coffee? We need sangria! Or some Jack! Where’s the waiter?”
“God, stop what you’re doing.” I cover my face with my hands, taking deep breaths through my mouth. “This isn’t a cause for celebration.”
“Uh, yeah it is! Well, I mean, we could ply ourselves with strawberry daiquiris in celebration for the kiss that’s going to come. Oh! Are you seeing him tonight? Say yes and make my day, punk.”
“You’ve seen Dirty Harry too many times,” I inform her, trying to decide where I want to stab the brownie.
Katie snorts, taking a corner off and stuffing it in her mouth. Her eyes roll back in her head from the chocolate overload.“Sweet Virgin Mary that’s good. C’mon have some, Sera. I can’t eat this all by myself.” She snickers – we both know that’s a lie.
“I want to spend the entire week at your place.” I hold up a hand while she swigs some water – she’s gone and choked on the brownie. “Hear me out. I- I can’t be at my place for this week. What’s a measly seven days for your bestie’s frame of mind, huh?” I pull off a fake smile, pulling all the appropriate muscles into place. Katie stares at me long enough that I know she’s reading me better than the profilers from Criminal Minds.
“Did he threaten you? Hurt you? Does he scare you?”
“No, no and yeah.”
Her eyebrows get low on her face, and her lips thin out. “Does he hurt his kid? Any bruises? Does the little guy seem scared of him at all?”
“God, no. Matty loves him.”
Another corner of the brownie gone. Katie: two, brownie: zero.
“How does he scare you, then? I’m hearing a problem when there doesn’t seem to be one.” She licks the tines of her fork and I hear the two college kids sitting behind our booth give little groans. Katie smiles and keeps on licking – this time even more slowly.
I wonder what would happen if I tried that on Hunter. Like it’d even work.
“He...he says these things, and I get terrified.” Heart hammering against my ribs, I clear my throat to continue. “Like last night. He told me to tell him I didn’t want him, so I did. But then he kept insisting, Jesus, he wasn’t forcing me, K, but coercing me, if that makes sense.”
“You mean, he used his big, sexy body to his advantage, knowing that you like said big, sexy body? He has tats right?”
“Frak yeah, he has tats. And pierced nipples. And the blue eyes, and his fraking grin that makes prehistoric butterflies attack my stomach.” I groan, shove my hair behind my ears, adjust my glasses. “It’s just him. I... I really like him.”
Katie grins, and slaps my wrist. “You naughty girl! So he’s your Jax Teller?”
I shake my knee underneath the table, all my nervous energy in one tiny, spastic movement. For the love of the Winchesters, why do I feel like I’m the one that just told Harry he’s the last freaking horcrux?
“Yeah, he’s Jax without the gun-running, and the bike. Hunter’s an upstanding member of society even though I’m not really sure what he does for a living. That seems like an important question to ask. I know he grew up in those big fancy places in the West End. Bloody big house, K. There was a butler and everything. We dropped off Matty the other night when we went to dinner.”
“WHY am I only hearing about this now?” Katie plants her fork down and glares at me.
I ignore that. “I’m scared. Really, really scared.”
“Why?” Her hand squeezes mine on the table – my knee stops shaking. I hold my breath.
“He makes me want him, K. It’s all I thought about today – what my first kiss would’ve been like. I couldn’t sleep last night, imagining it over and over in my head. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I never thought I would feel like this for anyone. I’m terrified of getting hurt. I’m terrified of letting myself believe that he really wants to kiss me. That he wants me. Hence the attractive circles under my eyes.”