Hunter (Broken Bad Boys 1): A New Adult Bad Boy Romance (3 page)

I stub the cigarette off in a bin and slowly walk to the building. Literature. I hate literature.

“
W
here were you
?” Hanna is waiting for me right inside the doors, swiping her card over the payment point of the snack machine.

I shiver. There is nothing but chocolate, sugar and other calorie bombs in there. “Sorry, the meeting with Prof Winters ran late.”

“Really? She always seems so to the point and strict.” Hanna grabs a chocolate bar from the tray and opens it greedily. She breaks off a piece, pops it in her mouth and offers me some too.

Eww. I shake my head, hoping my disgust is not visible. Chocolate is one of those things that people just can’t convince me has any use… Why would I eat it when there are other foods that are healthier and taste better?

“You sure?” Hanna eats another piece. Fifty calories in just one bite.

I nod, not trusting my voice.

“Glad you found it on your own. See, it’s not too bad on campus.”

I want to tell her that Hunter showed me the way, but given the way she looked at him before, that might not be a good idea. And I still have no clue how to get here. I just followed him through the campus, trying not to stare too hard at him. When he showed me pictures of his art installations, I could see the boy underneath the darkness. His art was big, bold, daring, like his bike, like the way he looks.

“Let’s go upstairs. I don’t want to be late. Prof Doyle can be a pain in the ass if you don’t get there on time.”

“And not showing up?” I’d love to leave right now. I’ve seen enough people for just the one day. I want to curl up in my blanket and draw, release the stress.

Hanna stares at me for a moment but then moves again. “Ehhh… no idea. I haven’t dared to try that with Prof Doyle yet.”

Now the idea is stuck in my head and as I follow Hanna up the stairs, every step makes it harder not to turn around and leave again. Fuck classes. I’ll have them the rest of the semester too. But I keep following Hanna up and up the stairs. The literature class is in one of the highest rooms in the building, built to look somewhat like an old British school or chapel, I guess.

“Here.” Hanna points to the end of the hallway, where twenty or so more students are waiting outside a door. She runs her hands over her shirt, smoothing it down. “Great for the figure, all those stairs.” Then she looks me up and down, like she’s measuring herself against me. “Not that you need to worry about that.”

I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted, but the image of the bar of chocolate Hanna just wolfed down is still in my head and I know that even walking up and down those stairs four times would not negate the calories from that. I don’t say anything but look behind me as I hear heavy shoes on the stairs downstairs. Just the sound of them intrigues me somehow. I can hear them come up each of the three floors and as they stomp up the last flight of stairs, short bleached hair comes into view. My heart beats. Hunter.

He looks up, and our eyes meet, making him stop for a moment. He nods at me and then climbs the last steps, waiting at the end of the stairs instead of coming closer to the door, keeping himself separate from the rest of the group. His crossed arms in front of his chest makes his shoulders look even bigger, more imposing.

Hanna nudges me, and I turn to her. “I thought you didn’t know him.”

I shrug. “I don’t.” Not really anyway. How well can you know someone after just a conversation?

“Then why did he acknowledge you? He never does that to anyone.”

Not to her, she means. “I don’t know. I’m standing closest to the stairs?”

Hanna laughs and her attention is diverted away from me again.

I look at Hunter from the corner of my eyes. The shoes that made such noise don’t look like anything I recognize. They sort of look like army boots, but not like the models I know. And I don’t see any particular brand designs on the laces or the shoes. There are bands of leather instead of laces, and they are higher than most army boots.

Hunter makes a noise, and I look up, my cheeks flushing.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry?”

“They’re tank boots.” He obviously saw me stare.

“Tank boots?” I feel Hanna grab my arm, and I turn to her. “What?”

“We need to go in.” Hanna points towards the door, and a group of students spills out.

I step back, away from the crowd. The group coming out is loud and rowdy and I step back further, a panic coming on. I bump into something. At first I think it’s the wall, until the wall moves.

“Let’s leave.” Hunter’s whisper is close to my ear and even though he pulls on my arm for a moment, he immediately lets go and turns around, merging into the crowd. I twist after him, barely able to grab the sleeve of his jacket before he disappears from view.

Yes, leaving, not being here. My chest becomes lighter just at the thought of it.

* * *

H
unter stops
outside the building and turns to me, his eyes scanning my face. “You okay?”

I nod, not sure what to answer. I just followed a guy I don’t know, skipping another class on the first day, and I’m actually glad about it. I don’t normally do this, especially not with guys I barely met. I promised myself that I would never do anything someone asks just because they asked, especially when they were of the opposite gender. But it wasn’t like he asked—it was more that he vocalized what I had thought only moments before. I didn’t want to be stuck in a room with way too many people, not now, not today.

“Hey.” Hunter touches my shoulder, and I pull back. No touching. “Sorry. You’re just a bit pale.”

Pale? I guess he didn’t look closely at me before. I’m always pale. “I’m okay.” And I’m not lying—I’m okay now we’re outside.

“You want to go into town or something? Now we’re not going to class anyway.” Hunter points towards the buses.

“Sure.” It’s not like I have anything better to do. Nobody expects me home yet. I would have to face more annoying questions if I returned right now. “Don’t you need to take your bike?”

Hunter’s eyes go wide, a darkness passing over them just for a fleeting moment, but then shakes his head and it’s gone again. “Nah, I can take the bus back here and pick it up later.” His voice is a tad too casual, his smile a tad too forced. “It’s easier to get somewhere by bus anyway.”

I nod. It probably is, but that doesn’t explain him being uncomfortable. Hunter walks towards the edge of the campus and I follow him, staying slightly behind him, not wanting to focus attention on myself. Sometimes I hate how people ignore me, and at other times I hate it when people stare. Though it doesn’t help that people are staring anyway right now. Hanna was right, they’re not used to seeing Hunter interact with other people.

Walking behind him has the added advantage that I can take a better look at him without him noticing. He isn’t just broad. Since he is carrying his jacket in his arms I can see how his back triangles to a slim waist. The muscles in his back move as he walks and his legs flex under the tightly fitting jeans. How do people do it? Being so slim while not being thin? Hunter is broad but I don’t see anything that isn’t rock-hard muscle. I almost bump into him as he stops and turns around, too lost in my own mind. I blush hard when he cocks an eyebrow at me.

“Where do you want to go?” He almost reaches out, but then steps aside and moves his hands away. He learns fast, but why is there something inside me, a small voice, that wonders what it would feel like to have his hands on me?

“Ehh… I’ve got no clue. I don’t go into town much.” I take trips to the art store, but that is basically it. I don’t like going shopping and I’m not a people person.

Hunter smiles, his face lighting up, and then turns to look at the schedule near the bus stop. “I think I’ve got an idea.”

* * *

I
walk
after Hunter through streets that are barely wide enough for a single car to go through. I’ve got no clue where I am. I’ve never been here before. But I’m sure we’re still in the town I’ve lived all my life, because I didn’t see us leave the city.

“Where—” I start to speak, but Hunter puts his hand up.

“We’re almost there.” He slows down and walks next to me. “I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s a wonder you’ve never been here before.” How does he know? I’ve got no clue where we’re going, he didn’t ask, and he somehow just assumed.

As the street opens up into a square, all the different small streets converge here. It’s like a little hideout. “Where is this?” I look around but part of my view is obscured by Hunter, who keeps standing right in front of me.

Hunter grins and steps aside. In the middle of the space is a huge metal dragon on a block of cement.

I must gape as Hunter laughs and softly pushes me towards the center of the square. “You made this?”

Hunter nods. “A few years ago. You didn’t recognize it when I showed you the picture before, so I was pretty sure that you’d never been here. This is not a place many people quickly forget. Come.” He motions at the statue and as I get closer I can see that there are drawings on the cement block. “Wanna find an empty spot?” He pulls two black markers from his backpack and gives one to me.

“Is this okay?” I take the marker but don’t step forward yet. I know that other people have drawn on it, but that doesn’t mean I’m keen on breaking the law by doodling on some statue.

“It’s what it is meant for. Look around you, there is art everywhere.” He points towards the benches and other things around the square and I realize that nothing is painted. Everything is drawn on in different colors, covered in doodles that from further away give the appearance of the items having been painted, even if they aren’t. Hunter breaks my stare. “This is a get-together place for artists. It can get quite busy during the late afternoon and evening. The square is closed off—no cars can come here. The streets are too narrow to allow for safe navigation around this part of town. So the county decided that it could be an art hangout spot.”

I step closer to the cement block and check the art on it. Most of it I don’t recognize, but here and there are styles that bring up memories from years ago. It feels weird, the good kind, to see that the people I used to know from Tamara’s workshop also come here. “Cool.” I find an empty spot and open the marker, deciding what to draw on it. Nothing comes to mind and I almost close the marker again but Hunter draws a water drop in the spot.

“Now you do something with that.” He smiles and steps back again.

I draw a semi-circle around it and then Hunter steps in again. We keep going back and forth, completing the drawing as we go. When the spot is filled I step back, looking at the picture, at how it interacts with the doodles around it. While everything is different, the whole thing together creates something that has some sort of whole-ness.

“See? This is what this spot is created for, to have a place to create things together.” Hunter walks to a bench nearby and flops down. “I’ve spent a lot of time here the past couple of years.”

I sit down nearby on the cement edge of a raised bed of plants. “The idea is cool.” I know why I’ve never been here before. My parents would never have allowed me to come to this neighborhood—it’s in the older part of town, but not the nice older part, the slightly rundown older part. They’re so scared something bad will happen to me that they’d never allow me to come here. Always being watched by my parents and not having my own car, or a motorbike like Hunter—yeah, I didn’t really explore much apart from areas they were okay with.

The blood drains from my face as the world around me starts to spin slightly. I close my eyes, fighting against the feeling. No, not now. I can’t faint right now.

“Liz?” I feel Hunter next to me in seconds, hovering, still not touching me.

“I’m okay.” I keep my eyes closed as I reach for my bag, searching for my water bottle.

“Let me.” Hunter takes the bag from me, and a few moments later the cool bottle of water touches my hand. “Here.”

I open the bottle and take a few gulps. Not enough food, I know, and not enough liquids. But I don’t want to worry Hunter even more, so I open my eyes, not focusing on anything in particular, just opening them to show that I’m okay.