Hunter (Broken Bad Boys 1): A New Adult Bad Boy Romance (6 page)

I
t’s hot
, and humid, and I’m in no mood to stay at home, so I grab my bag with tools and make my way down to the forest. Maybe being out in nature will ease the tension.

My parents were looking at me again. I apparently didn’t eat my dinner fast enough last night. Well, I was enjoying myself. Why would they be so uptight about that? I’ve been good, I’ve been really good lately, but still, that look in their eyes won’t go away. I even offered to step on the scale just so Mum would stop hovering. But she rejected it, almost offended somehow that I offered.

They don’t see me anymore, they see my illness. Ever since this started, they stopped seeing me as a person. Now I’m nothing more than my illness, a list of symptoms that need to be solved. I’ve become this thing to be fed, anything else I do no longer matters. Not my art, not that I’m a young woman who needs her freedom. Nope, just the food.

I walk down the main path through the forest, looking for the road less traveled. It leads to a nice secluded spot that has lots of sun and isn’t visible from the road. I like being there, especially during the summer months—the forest cools even the smallest amount of wind and there is a spot where the sun is perfect. I can sit there, the paper on my lap, and draw, draw for hours, not worrying about anything.

There it is, the clearing. It is hidden from the main road by some shrubbery and I haven’t been disturbed here before. People don’t like to walk off the path and when their dogs go off this far, they’re usually called back before they’re close to me.

I push the leaves aside and step into the clearing. The sun shines immediately onto my face and I smile.

Hello, sun, will you be my drawing partner today? Will you make the forest around me all pretty so I can draw it in its most glorious form?

* * *

T
he sound
of hooves nearby makes me look up from my drawing. I’m not sure what is going on, but I don’t hear horses here very often, especially not this far away from the main roads. I slowly stand up and make my way to where the sounds come from. I can smell the strong scent of horse before I’ve even stepped through the curtain of leaves that protects me from the rest of the world.

Just a couple of feet away there is a man on a horse, like a prince out of a fairytale, only the horse is a dull brown and the man doesn’t look very prince-like. He looks like he might be in pain as he moves slowly. His broad back bulges under a tight T-shirt and his legs look like steel in the leather pants.

He hasn’t realized I’m here yet, and I don’t really feel like talking to people today, so I retreat back into the clearing.

A stick snaps under my heel and both horse and rider turn to me abruptly. It takes me not even a second before I recognize the rider.
Hunter.
He may not be Prince Charming, but he definitely is a Prince of Darkness. There are bruises on his face and I now also see them on his arms. He looks… broken. I freeze in my spot, not daring to move, too scared to set him off. If he looks like that, I don’t want to end up on the other side of his fists.

Hunter slowly gets off his horse, letting out a hiss as he lowers himself to the ground. Only when he is standing right in front of me does he say something. “Lizzy.” His voice is rough, quiet, then he reaches up, almost touching me.

That finally breaks me out of my trance and I step back, shaking my head.

A smile tugs at his lips, but then he looks me over and I see the clouds gather in his stormy eyes. Fuck. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

What? Out of everything,
that
is what he wants to know? “It’s the weekend, there is a lovely sun out. What else am I supposed to be doing?”

The question seems to surprise him. He shrugs and lets out a sigh. “No clue.”

We both fall quiet. I can’t help but stare at the bruises. They look so dark, and so painful.

Hunter reaches out, takes my hand, and puts it on his jaw. I want to pull back, but he holds it there. “I’m not scary, or dangerous.” His low voice is pitched even lower and something stirs inside me.

He is though—he is scary, and apparently quite dangerous to someone, if the bruises are anything to go by. But I know that isn’t what he means. He means that he is no danger to me. And I don’t know how I feel about that… “And yet you are.” I quickly close my mouth and look away. He finally lets go of my hand as he lets out a laugh.

“I just make stupid choices sometimes, usually when I’ve had a bit to drink.” He steps back and reaches out to the horse, who pushes against him slightly. He murmurs something at the horse and then looks back at me. “What were you up to?”

I shrug, suddenly extra self-conscious. “Drawing.” It’s nothing special, just a way to relax really. I step back through the curtain of leaves, back into the sunshine.

Then Hunter follows me, him and the horse. Just looking at them like this makes my heart race. I don’t know what is going on or why, but my body is responding to Hunter like crazy. This is yet another side of Hunter, a side where he cares for the horse so deeply, a side where even though I can see the proof of his aggression, it’s still hard to believe he would hurt anyone.

I turn around, back to where I sat, back to my drawing, putting a safe distance between us.

Hunter saunters into the clearing, then turns around and loosens the girth on the horse’s saddle. He drapes the reins over a branch and comes over to where I’m sitting. “What are you drawing?” He steps behind me and I can feel the heat of his skin, smell his musk. It makes my body run haywire.

I swallow hard. “Just, nothing really.” I’ve been doodling mostly, small images overlapping, twisting from one to the other.

Hunter laughs and I look up at him, frowning. I don’t like to be laughed at, especially not about little doodles that I make. He holds up his hands. “I like it, they’re cute. I like how it’s all to do with night and darkness.” He’s quiet for a moment, then reaches out and points at one of the doodles. “Did you really personify the moon as a biker?”

“Possibly.” It wasn’t really the moon I was going for, but I can understand why he’d think so. I hadn’t even realized that I was doodling a theme, but then again, I’m not really surprised by it either. It wasn’t really the moon or the night I was thinking of, more like… Hunter. I flip over to the next page, too aware of Hunter’s presence to keep working on the page. In a way, scared that he’ll figure out that the drawings are a lot more personal than what is going on around us.

“You’re really good.” He walks a bit off and stretches in the sun. His muscles ripple under the shirt and the leather pants, muscles that show that this guy is used to working with his body. And not the type of muscles that you get from going to the gym—the type of muscles that you get from working hard in construction or something like that. He, in a way, looks more like a model than an artist.

“You sound surprised.” I cock an eyebrow at him and Hunter grins as he looks at me.

“Not really. Surprised by your style though.” He reaches for the hem of his shirt and takes it off. He drops it on the floor and slides down next to it. There are more bruises on his back and sides, dark bruises, scary bruises. They look like they really hurt. But also… there are tattoos spiraling over his chest and around to his arm. I never expected that. Sure, with his look and attitude, I should have known. I just never really expected it.

“Like what you see?” Hunter has a satisfied grin as he looks at me through nearly closed eyes, a smile that makes my stomach do weird things.

“You look like hell.” Oh, damn. What a silly thing to say.

Hunter shrugs. “I feel like hell warmed over. But it’s my own fault anyway.” He lies back on the grass and closes his eyes. The sun shines off his amazing abs and I’m trying my hardest not to stare at him.

I return to the page in front of me, drawing, doodling, but even as I busy my hands, I can already see what is forming on the page. It’s not Hunter as he is now, instead it’s him with fists coming at him fast. I keep going, adding details, making the image clearer. The image of why I can’t be with him, why Hunter is bad for me.

Aggression, fights, getting in trouble… I don’t want a guy like that, I don’t
need
a guy like that. So why do I keep looking at him? Why can’t I keep my eyes off him? Why do all my drawings from the last weeks have something to do with him?

* * *

“
A
re
you sure you’re fine?” Hunter walks next to me as we step out of the clearing, into the forest.

“Yeah, yeah. Just a little sunburn.” Sitting in the clearing, surrounded by the silence and totally focused on the image I was creating. I kind of lost track of time, and now I’m redder than a lobster.

“A little?” He shakes his head.

“It’s not like you’re much better.” I poke at his side and Hunter winces. “Oh, sorry, so sorry.” I’ve forgotten the bruises all over his chest and sides. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t break me.” And there is that smile again, the one that is so hard to resist, and still, I have to.

I roll my eyes at him. “You don’t have to walk me home, you know.”

He shrugs. “It’s not like I’ve got better things to do anyway. It’s nice to be out here.” He keeps his strides equal with mine, keeping the same pace.

“You’re a special kind of twisted, you know that?” I can’t help but sigh. He’s walking me home, even though he probably has better places to be. I’m on one side and the horse is walking on his other side.

“Yeah, I know. I’m fully aware.” The smile disappears, his eyes focusing on something far away.

And I’m totally crap at holding conversations… “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

“You’re right though. I’m twisted. In bad ways.” There is something in his voice—a sadness, a determination—that stops me from asking any more questions. It’s that darkness again, that darkness I saw the first time I laid my eyes on him. That darkness that both attracts and repels me.

We walk side by side, first through the forest and then through the neighborhood where I live. The trees and fields give way to boring houses, row after row after row.

I stop when I’m in front of my door. The door to my own little place, that is, which was originally the door to the garage. “This is me.”

Hunter blinks as he looks around, then he smiles and nods. “For someone as creative as you, you live in a boring place.”

“I live in the garage. We converted it into a studio.” I do have some pride in where I live, especially since I’ve made it my own.

“Ah, cool. Maybe I’ll see it some day. For now though, I need to return home.” He looks me over. “See you tomorrow at lit class.”

I roll my eyes. “Ugh. I guess it can’t be helped, it’s not like I’ve really got a choice.”

“Nope.” He pulls on the horse’s girth, checking something, and then he pushes himself up into the saddle, trying to hide a groan that I still hear. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” I look after him as Hunter rides off the way we came.

I let out a deep breath, trying to calm my heart. Why does it keep beating like that when he’s around? I don’t want it to. I can’t do this. But that doesn’t stop what is happening.

And the darkness in his eyes… I saw it again just now. I can’t deal with it. I won’t survive it if his gaze ever falls on me that way. He’ll rip me apart in more than ways than one. We’ll both be left behind, more broken than we ever were before.

Then why do I wonder what it will feel like?

I
hold
the bright red dress out to Lizzy. Last night, after we spent the afternoon in the forest, I was inspired and had to make something. I stayed up almost the whole evening to finish it. “Come on. Please try it on. I don’t have someone to model it for me. I need to make sure I got the fit right.”

“Are you serious? You barely know me and you still want me to model a dress for you? Do you just expect me to drop my clothes right here and try it on?” She frowns, but at the same time, she’s trying to suppress a smile.

“You can change into it elsewhere, but yeah, I’m serious.” I make sure she’s looking at me. “It’s not like you didn’t use me as a model yesterday… and you didn’t even ask.”

Lizzy colors a beautiful scarlet, her eyes going wide and her mouth opening and closing. I love it when I can make her drop that indifferent persona she puts on, when I can make her react to me so beautifully.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t realize what you were doing, right?” I grin and Lizzy lets out a breath.

“Fine. But if it doesn’t fit, I won’t come out.”

“That’s fair.” I step back as Lizzy takes the dress from me. “See you in a bit.”

Lizzy stalks off, her strides measured, her back straight. She’s convinced that she won’t fit into it, that it won’t look good on her.

I can’t help but smile. Of course, I didn’t care that she drew me yesterday—I was kinda flattered—but it made for great leverage. I step back outside and let myself fall onto one of the couches.

It takes a few minutes, but then I hear footsteps inside, coming towards the doors. When I look up, Lizzy takes my breath away. The sunny dress falls exactly as I imagined it would, just the right amount of tight up top and flowy at the bottom. It might have been better in yellow, but I didn’t have any yellow fabric on hand and I don’t think Lizzy would have worn it either. She puts her hands behind her back as she slowly shifts her weight from one leg to the other. Then she turns her eyes up to me, the azure tempered by fear and insecurity.

“Stop staring.” Her voice is quiet, very little certainty behind it. “It looks wrong, right?”

I shake my head. “It looks great. Exactly as I imagined it.”

Her short laugh is without humor. “How can that be? I’m nothing like other girls. Clothes for other girls never look right on me.”

I want to tell her the truth, I made the dress to suit just her, not other girls. Instead I make up a lie. “This shape is flattering on everyone.”

She nods, obviously still not sure about my answer. She carefully sits on the arm of the couch. “Did you make this over the weekend?”

“Nah. Last night. I was inspired.” I can’t help but grin. She inspires me. I don’t know why, but she does.

“Inspired how?”

“The forest, the light, the summer. It inspired me to make it, that, and it was way too hot to fall asleep.”

“Hmm.” She doesn’t say anything else. Instead she stands up and twirls around, making the dress flare out. A smile appears on her face and it’s like she’s a totally different girl. A much… younger girl.

“Hey.” Tamara steps out of the main work area and guards her eyes against the bright sun. “Can you help me for a moment?” She looks Lizzy over and then shoots me a meaningful glance. She knows it’s one of my designs, she’s seen enough of them to recognize one of them. But she doesn’t say anything.

“Sure.” I stand up and Lizzy nods as we follow Tamara.

Tamara walks to the corner with the white curtain that a lot of the photography students use to take pictures in front of. She stands in front of the curtain, her hands on her hips. “I need two models for some pictures for a new sculpture I’m making.”

“Eh.” Two models, that probably means something with touching, right? And I know that Lizzy hates that. I’m pretty sure that Tamara knows that too.

“What would we need to do?” Lizzy’s voice is small.

“I need Hunter to lift you up. It’s a bit ballet-slash-modern dance-like. It shouldn’t take long. Are you up for it?”

I look at Lizzy, who, after a few seconds, nods. Her whole body is tense, but she still agrees to do it. Brave.

“You two are my best choice for this, as I’m pretty sure that Hunter can lift you without much issue. Right?” Tamara looks at me.

“I guess. I’m still not sure what the plan is exactly.”

Tamara nods. “Let me make sure the camera is set up right, and I’ll tell you.” She grabs the camera from a chair and guides us to the middle of the curtains. “Just stand here.” She walks around us and fiddles with the settings on the machine. Then she comes back over to us. “Okay, so, what I want is for Hunter to lift you up, and Lizzy, you have to lean back. I want the line of your body to be an extension of Hunter’s arms. Does that make sense?”

I shrug and look at Lizzy.

Lizzy looks at the both of us, the uncertainty still in her eyes. “I guess we can try.”

I reach out to her, and she lets me put my hands on her waist. “You good?” I search her eyes for any discomfort, for any signs that she wants me to let her go.

Lizzy nods, though her body is tense in my hands. The little muscle she has is tightened and her body ready to fight. She meets my eyes and my heart starts to beat harder. There is such a vulnerability in her beautiful blue eyes, but also such a strength and determination. Her breath speeds up, but after a light frown, just a movement on her face, she forces it back under control. She is a force to be reckoned with, I don’t doubt that for a moment.

“Okay, Lizzy, if you step on Hunter’s knees, it will be easier for him to lift you up. Yeah?” Tamara breaks the spell and I let out a hard breath. Now Lizzy’s eyes won’t meet mine anymore, she just stares into nothingness.

I bend my knees somewhat, allowing a better surface for Lizzy to stand on. She starts to lean back in my arms, then she takes my shoulders and steps onto my knees, first one foot and then the other, slowly pushing herself up. She finds my eyes again, her breath controlled but her body straining. As she fully stands on my knees, she lets out one deep breath.

“Lean back.” The words are only whispered from my lips.

Lizzy doesn’t break eye contact as she nods and slowly lets go of my shoulders. She curves her spine and lets her head fall back. Then her arms slide down and all her weight is on me.

I slowly stretch my legs, pushing up, standing straight. I hold her waist tight and slowly I feel her trust in me grow, slowly she relaxes in my hold. It almost takes my breath away, how she can trust me like this, how she even exists in my life. Something stirs in my chest and I’m not sure if I even dare to explore it. I keep my eyes on her, trying to see if she is comfortable.

No, that’s a lie. I just can’t keep my eyes off her beauty, her strength, her power. This girl is pushing her own boundaries because someone she trusts asked her to, and she trusts me to not drop her. There is this force hiding in her small frame that I don’t think anyone can break.

Then why does she look so broken?

It takes me a moment before I realize Tamara is taking pictures of us, and when I feel Lizzy tense up even more I know she has also forgotten. The spell between us is broken, our private moment invaded by the sounds of a camera shutter. We stay as still as possible until the sounds stop.

“Thanks. You can put her back on the floor again.” Tamara speaks up as she steps away.

I bend my knees and Lizzy moves her feet until she is stable again. Then she lifts her head and looks at me. My breath catches at the emotions in her eyes. I pull her closer, giving her a better angle to get back down again. But she reaches out and wraps her arms around my neck, coming closer, pushing against me and hiding her face in the crook of my neck. I wrap my arms around her waist, pull her close and hold her tight.

Our breaths are ragged, my heart beats at an insane speed and I’m scared I’ll crush her if I hold on even tighter, even though that’s the only thing I want to do. I put my head against her shoulder and smell her scent, a combination of orange, something sweet and the residue of paint. Having her here is the only thing on my mind—for the first time in forever, my mind is in a place of calm. That realization scares me.

As soon as our breaths have calmed down, I slowly let her slide down, putting her on her feet, and when she finally lets go of me, I immediately and acutely miss her touch.

She steps back, blinking, her hands shaking. She glances around and only then do I become aware that Tamara has left us alone. Lizzy opens her mouth, but no sounds come out. She shakes her head and tries again. “We—we can’t do this.” Her whole body shudders as she gasps, her eyes going watery.

“Lizzy…” I reach out, wanting to touch her again, comfort her. But as soon as I move, she flees.

Crap.

* * *

I
t takes
a few more breaths before I dare to move, before I’m sure that I can actually function. What the hell just happened? I turn around. Back outside. I need some fresh air.

Outside, Tamara looks at me as I step through the door, her eyes hard, but also troubled.

“Don’t say anything.” I sit down on the couch and grab my pack of smokes.

“You can’t do this.” Tamara’s words are like fists to my stomach.

“Like I said. I don’t need you to tell me.” I light a cigarette and stare into space. Like I don’t know this is a bad idea, whatever
this
is. I’m no good, and I can’t bring her into my messed-up world.

I know that Tamara wants to say more, but quiet footsteps make us look up. Lizzy is standing in the doorway, her hand on the frame as she looks at the both of us.

Tamara smiles, her eyes on Lizzy. “He did well on the dress, right? I haven’t seen this particular design before, but it suits you perfectly.” Tamara turns to me. “You did an amazing job.” Then she frowns as I try to covertly sign for her to shut up. Lizzy doesn’t know, and she doesn’t have to.

Lizzy’s eyes go wide, then she moves her hands over the dress, the way it captures her form perfectly, the way that it’s the perfect length. “This design? You mean that he”—she licks her lips, her voice unsteady—“he didn’t just make it, he
designed
it?” She looks at me, betrayal and panic rising.

“I just… I only altered a pattern. No big deal.” I can’t look at her anymore. Not when I know I’ve betrayed her trust in me. She trusted me, she trusted that this was not a big deal. I lied to her, all for egotistical reasons. I knew she would never agree to wear it if she knew the truth.

“You made this for me? Specifically? It wasn’t that you needed
a
model, you needed
me
?” Her voice rises.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I nod.

Quick footsteps move away over the floor as Lizzy flees once again.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I thought she knew.” Tamara tries to talk to me, but I can’t do this. I stub out the cigarette and rush after Lizzy.

I find Lizzy in the hallway, her shoulders shaking, her back to me. “Lizzy?” I keep my voice quiet, careful.

“You can’t do this, Hunter. You can’t keep doing this.” Her voice shakes as much as her body.

“What can’t I do?” I want to touch her, comfort her, but I keep to myself.

“Treat me special, make me things, and then lie about it.” She looks up at me, her eyes and cheeks wet. Even when she’s upset with me, she looks stunning.

Of course I can, I’m a free man. But I guess she has a point too. We’re supposed to be friends, and I’m totally overstepping my boundaries here. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the right kind of girl for you.”

I bristle. Who is she to decide? But the look she gives me makes the words die in my mouth.

“I’m going to change out of this, you’re going to take it back, and we’ll never speak of it again.” She marches into the bathroom. Leaving me alone in the hallway. This girl is definitely a force to be reckoned with.

I thought that after Tessa, a girl would never look at me that way again—that combination of attraction and heartbreaking pain. A look that tells me that we need to stop doing this for our own good. That there is no way this will end well. That if we combine our dark pasts, we may never recover from it.