“What now?” Except the last bit doesn’t come out so well, since a little kid is standing at Hunter’s feet, waving at me. My hand comes up on its own and waves back. He looks so much like Hunter. Same nose, same eye shape, same build, even. How old is he? Four, five? I point at him. “You want Peter Pan?”
The little kid nods and gives me a sweet smile. Nephew. Hunter said the movie’s for his nephew. God, I’m sick.Who cares if it’s Hunter’s son or nephew or whatever. He’s not for you.
I turn and move to my DVD bookcase, grab the movie and hand it to the little guy. When I place it in his hands, he holds it almost reverently, like the movie’s a precious treasure of some faraway land. In a way, it kinda is.
“Thanks. He’ll have it back tomorrow, I swear,” Hunter says, nodding at me. He doesn’t touch the kid as he moves to his place next door.
“Fine,” I say, waving to the kid. Why would Hunter lie? If the little guy’s his son, but Hunter won’t acknowledge him, then it’s a dick move, and I don’t hang out with assholes. Katie moves to close the door, twisting my lock and adding the chain. My hand comes up, keeping her quiet.
“No talking. He might have Extendable Ears,” I whisper, finger over my mouth.
“God, was that another Harry Potter reference?” She crosses her arms over her chest and looks to my ceiling, praying for patience.
“Hell yes. I won’t stop ‘til you’ve read them all.”
“What series has seven books, huh? What is that?”
“It’ll be the greatest adventure of your life. I promise. Did you watch the fight?”
Katie nods. “I won’t ask who won.”
“As if you’d even know what I’m talking about.”
“WWE’s got nothing on Harry Potter.”
“Sera, I hate to break this to you, but you’re going to die alone.” The words are said with a smile, and an arm-squeeze around my shoulders as my best friend guides us back to my badass couch.
I wonder if she heard the truth in the words as much as I did.
A week passes, and I don’t see Hunter or his kid. I say his kid, because I’m not stupid, and when a kid is your clone, well, means he’s yours. Nephew.Pffffft. Right.
Katie’s called me every single day since seeing Hunter and his hotness, wondering when I’m gonna get on that. Like he’s a mountain I’m supposed to climb or something.
Shouldering my way through the lobby doors while attempting to keep all my grocery bags looped around hands, fingers and wrists, I’m now waiting for the elevator doors to close. I’m thinking about what I’m going to make for supper, mentally tallying what I bought in my head and deducting from my paycheck I’ll get next week. Anything to distract myself from the biting pain the plastic is causing, cutting into palms and fingers. I refuse to put them down at my feet. That’s admitting weakness.
I finally get to my door, totally screaming in my head to hurry up and get the door unlocked, when movement out of the corner of my eye makes me freeze and turn my head.
Hunter’s on his ass, back to the strip of wall separating our apartments, breathing hard like he sprinted up several flights of stairs. Something’s definitely not right. He doesn’t look good at all. I’m more than scared. The ostrich part of my brain just wants me to run away, lock my door and pretend he’s fine. The rest of me is wondering if this is a trick, and he’s going to stab me with a syringe loaded with a cocktail of drugs able to knock out Free Willy.
What decides me is the way he doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even look like he’s aware that I exist. I don’t know what trip he’s on, but it’s not hard to figure out it’s a bad one. His hands are holding onto each other like they’re the only thing he believes is real. His chest pumps up and down as he drags in air. As I get closer, I see little streams of sweat cascade down the sides of his face. The look in his eyes has me dropping my groceries and stuffing my hand in my purse to find my phone. I kneel down in between his spread legs, wondering what I should do, ignoring how much I now want to throw up. Call 9-1-1? Or get him back to his apartment? There’s a kid to think about, too, not just Hunter.
My heart’s beating hard enough, and my stomach’s twisting itself into a roller coaster. I’m panicking right along with him.
“Hunter? It’s Sera, remember?” His baby blues come at me, connect with me. He looks at me like I’m his salvation. It hurts my heart, the look on his face. He lunges to grab my free hand, squeezing it between the both of his. God, he’s shaking so much. His eyes are pin-balling in his sockets, searching my face, the hallway around me, everything. “Hunter, look at me? Do you need an ambulance?”