Page 45 of Because I Liked A Boy
My pulse rockets.
Ruby narrows her eyes. “What did he say?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly, cheeks heating.
She grins like the devil. “Uh-huh. You’re glowing. Call me after. I want details. All of them.”
I hang up before she can make it worse, pacing like a lunatic. Lip gloss, mascara, perfume—check. Mints, deodorant—check. My reflection still looks like a girl seconds from imploding.
A knock rattles the door. I freeze. He’s here.
Hunter fills the doorway like he owns it, dark jeans, black t-shirt, hand braced on the frame. His eyes drop slowly, dragging from my boots to the strip of skin at my stomach. His smirk falters, heat flashing dark and sharp.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” His voice is low, rough. “You’re trying to kill me.”
My jaw drops. “It’s just a skirt.”
“It’s a god damn weapon.” He takes a step closer, eyes glittering. “Were you planning to warn me, or just let me walk into this blind?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to—”
“Yeah, you were.” His grin curves, wicked and knowing. “And it worked.”
He extends his hand, palm up, patient but certain. “Come on, trouble. You ready?”
I hesitate, every nerve screaming, then slide my hand into his. Warmth, steady and rough, grounds me as he tugs me out the door.
Locking it behind me feels like closing one chapter and stepping into another.
Outside, his car waits under the street lights, sleek and dark. He opens the passenger door with a flourish. “After you.”
I roll my eyes, but my pulse won’t settle.
Inside, the car hums to life. Music spills low from the speakers, his hand loose on the wheel, the other drumming the console. He drives like he owns not just the car but the whole night.
“So,” he says, glancing over, “first date jitters?”
I stiffen. “It’s not a date.”
His smirk deepens. “Keep telling yourself that.”
The street lights streak gold across the wind shield, my reflection staringback—wide-eyed, flushed, like someone already in too deep.
“Hunter,” I warn, aiming for steady, landing on shaky.
“Relax.” He taps the wheel, easy and smug. “I’ll behave. For now.”
My pulse hammers. The problem is, I’m not sure I want him to.
Silence hums in the car, broken only by the low strum of guitars through the speakers and the steady growl of the engine. Every bump in the road jolts through me, sharp enough that I catch myself clutching the seat, nails digging into the leather.
Hunter notices. Of course he does. His smirk fades, voice dipping low. “Isabella. You good?”
I nod too fast. “Fine.”
His eyes flick to my hands, then back to the road. “Sure looks like it.”
My chest tightens, breath stuttering. The truth slips out before I can stop it. “I don’t… like cars.”
