Hunter:
Nice try, but you already told me you bought it on a whim.
Me:
It’s hard to guilt trip people when you don’t remember what you’ve said half of the time.
Hunter:
That doesn’t sound like a bad quality to me.
Me:
Yeah because now you get to use it against me. Enjoy the gift. It’s yours.
Hunter:
It’s distracting.
Me:
It’s a plant! What’s the problem?
Hunter:
The problem is that I’m an ass man ;)
I stare at the words, waiting for them to rearrange into his real reply. But they don’t change. Just keep staring back at me. Taunting me. Because … that was a joke. He’s joking with me. Intimidating Hunter suddenly isn’t so intimidating.
And I have an incredible ass.
Chapter 11
Hunter
I’m not sure which part of my brain knocked loose when I agreed to do this, but I can’t get out of the car. It’s a quiet street, Victorian home hidden behind a bunch of wild trees, with Rush and his roommates all waiting for me to show up.
I’m sure this crosses some kind of fraternization rules at work.
Then again, probably every one of our emails do too.
We exchanged more last night, and even though objectively I know I need to put an end to them, every time I close my phone and resist replying, I can’t stop thinking about it. I must be lonelier than I thought, and emailing Rush helps keep that emptiness away.
Maybe it’s one of those situations where people who go through shared trauma together bond. I’m not sure that seeing my fiancé’s side piece half-naked at our door could be considered traumatic, but it wasn’t pleasant.
Is shared unpleasantries a thing?
Whatever it is, there’s something there when I think of Rush that goes beyond him being one of the people I’m supposed to manage.
A face pops up in the window that’s visible between the trees, and I realize I’ve been spotted. I can’t even leave and pretend that I got lost and couldn’t find the place.
I leave my car and walk up the long front path, apprehension settling over my shoulders. What will Rush’s friends think? What’s he told them about me? Am I the asshole in this situation? Or do they think it’s weird that his supervisor is stopping by for a casual visit to plot revenge against our ex?
Fuck it, I’m here now.
I’ll fake confidence to get me through this, and if they all hate me, I know how to show myself the door. I haven’t done anything wrong, but I know from firsthand experience that means fuck all when you’re hell-bent on finding someone to blame.
I blamed Rush; there’s no reason to think his friends won’t blame me.