“Are you kidding?” The guy screams, furious. “He started it! He’s fucking crazy!”
Jace says something to him, trying to calm him down. Whatever it is, it works: I can see both guys relax, still pissed, but not looking to throw any punches.
I catch my breath, relief breaking over me like the tide. It’s over. Hunter is safe.
But now the danger has passed, the world comes flooding back in. I realize I’m in the center of a huge crowd, and I can see their stares, hear all the whispers as their eyes rake over me, the gossip in their not-so-hushed tones.
It’s your fault. All this drama, they’re blaming you. They probably think you deserved it.
I feel a hot flush of humiliation as I realize just what happened. God, bad enough to have those assholes with their sweaty paws all over me, but he saw it all. He saw everything.
Hunter.
What must he think of me?
I check one last time to see he’s OK—bent double, but recovering from that punch—and then I whirl around and flee, fighting my way through the rubber-necking crowd until I’m out on the dark beach alone.
Damn.
I walk quickly, my feet bare on the cool sand, wishing I could leave that scene behind, like it never existed. But the shame trails me, sharper with every step. I always told myself, I don’t care what anyone thinks. Don’t care about the rumors and whispers and bitches in school spreading their lies, but the thought that Hunter sees me that way too—that he had to jump in to defend me, or stop them following through on their filthy comments...
I can’t take it. It’s different. I don’t know why, but it is.
Hunter...
I let out a sigh, thinking of him. Those blue eyes, brighter than the summer skies. The golden glint of his tanned skin, the artless, ruffled shock of blonde hair. All summer long, I’ve been fighting my attraction to him, writing it off as some useless hormonal crush. I mean, a guy like that would never look in my direction; I may as well daydream about some Hollywood actor or rock star, for all the good it’ll do me. Even now, I’m surprised to see he’s still in town. His family takes off after Labor Day, every year: back to their perfect, preppy lives in Charleston, and the privileged world I’ll never know.
But he’s here, tonight. And he saw me, with those guys...
The shame burns hotter. I wish the tide would surge in and carry me away. Now he thinks what the whispers say are true, that I’m just some cheap slut who’ll hook up with anyone.
“Brit!”
I hear a call behind me.
“Brit, wait up.”
Oh God. It’s him. Hunter. His voice calling me through the dark. The first time he’s ever spoken to me, and it’s now. What could he possibly want?
I brace myself and turn.
Hunter catches up with me, looking disheveled from the fight. He’s got a dark bruise already blossoming on his cheekbone, and I have to dig my nails into my palm to stop myself from reaching out and touching it.
He catches his breath, and when he speaks, his voice is even. “You weren’t even going to stick around and see if I was OK?”
I flinch, disappointment crashing through me at his words. So that’s it, he expected some kind of pay-back for stepping in back there, and is pissed I didn’t fall at his feet and do whatever he wanted. What he figured was a sure thing.
“I didn’t ask you to come flying in and rescue me.” I snap, coldly. I guess he’s just like the rest of them, after all. “I had it handled.”
“Didn’t look like it from where I was standing.” Hunter sounds pissed, but I don’t have time for this—not if he’s just looking for his ‘reward’.
“Yeah, well maybe you shouldn’t have been looking in the first place.” I tell him. I try to stay angry, but I can’t help the sadness slipping through my voice. I thought he was different, but I guess nobody is.
Hunter must have heard the catch in my voice because his expression changes. He lets out a long breath. “Hey. I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” His eyes soften, caring. “I just couldn’t stand to see them treat you like that.”
I blink, confused. “Maybe I liked it,” I tell him, still defensive. “Maybe you just screwed up the wild night I had planned with the both of them.”
“Hey, what did I ever do to you?” Hunter demands, looking hurt. “I was trying to do a nice thing back there, and you’re trying to rip my head off.”
I stop.
He’s right. He’s done nothing but be good and decent. I’m the one jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst about him. “I’m sorry.” I admit. “You’re right, you didn’t deserve that.” My voice is breaking, so I quickly say, “Thanks,” and then turn and walk away, back the direction I was heading across the empty moonlit beach.