Page 18 of Because I Liked A Boy
“Everything’s on my way when I feel like it.”
Before I can argue, my phone buzzes. Ruby’s name flashes, and I answer, already bracing myself.
“Girl. Why didn’t you tell me you and Hunter Hayes were a thing?”
My blood spikes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Hunter leans in, grin tugging. “What’s she saying?”
“That we’re a thing.”
He actually looks pleased. “Smart girl.”
“Don’t. This isn’t funny.”
Ruby’s laugh crackles down the line. “Don’t you hey me, Belle. You think you can walk into the diner with Hunter Hayes and not expect me to hear about it within ten minutes?”
“It wasn’t—”
“Oh, it was. Breakfast. Together. Him looking like sex insneakers, you all flushed and starry-eyed—”
“I was not—”
“And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way he looks at you at the Bean. That man has been eye-fucking you over his black coffee for months. Better than Netflix.”
Heat scorches my neck. “Ruby—”
Hunter, no sense of self-preservation, leans closer and says loud enough for her to hear, “She did blush. Multiple times.”
I smack his arm, but Ruby gasps. “Is that him? Oh my god, Belle, put him on!”
“No!” But Hunter’s already plucked the phone from my hand.
“Hunter Hayes,” he says smoothly. “And for the record, she ate every bite of those pancakes.”
Ruby squeals so loud I wince. “I knew it. My ship has sailed. This is it. My OTP.”
Hunter chuckles and hands the phone back, smug as sin. “She’s all yours.”
Ruby is still laughing. “Belle, I am living for this. Please don’t ruin it by denying anything.”
“I hate both of you,” I mutter.
“Love you too, babe,” she sings before hanging up.
Hunter’s smirk widens as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Your friends clearly have taste.”
“This is why I keep to myself,” I snap. “One breakfast, and now half this nosy town thinks I’m starring in some fairytale with you.”
“Can’t blame them.” His eyes glint with trouble. “We did look good together in that booth.”
“You think this is funny?”
“Fucking hilarious.” He leans closer, voice dipping just enough to make my pulse stumble. “And admit it—you like me better this way.”
By the time we reach my door on Maple Street, my cheeks are hot and my patience gone. I shove my keys into the lock and slam it behind me hard enough to rattle the frame.
His laugh follows me into the silence, warm and smug, curling through the cracks like smoke I can’t keep out.
