Page 15 of Through the Flames
Hunter throwing a party is like Joey from Friends cooking a gourmet meal. You’re curious, but also scared.
He always stalked across campus, like people in general were an inconvenience. So why would he want them in his home?
Not that it was any of my business, but Hunter had always intrigued me. “Intrigued” was a polite word. Obsessed was closer to the truth.
When he was in a room, my gaze had a mind of its own. Maybe he didn’t like people because he could feel them staring. Because Iwasstaring.
Hunter wasn’t interested in me, though, not in any way. Matter of fact, Hunter wasn’t interested in anybody, as far as I could tell.
Hunter carried strength in every thick cord of muscle, vibrating with a functional kind of power. The kind that could pin even a girl as tall as me without even trying.
We were opposites in almost every single way. He was all intensity, nothing about him was casual, while I somehow always ended up being the loudest in the room. But that was what made him such a fabulous object of my desire.
I would just continue to admire how attractive he was from afar — that was all there would ever be to it.
After a quick trip to Sierra’s room where she graciously fixed my eyeliner disaster, I surveyed my clothing options again.
After pulling out a few items at random, I finally managed to put something together that technically qualified as an outfit. Outfit number six.
Pausing in front of the mirror, I did a little twirl, my mouth pulling to one side.
Alright. This was … fine. It was party-acceptable. Covered the important parts and made me look like I had my life together, which wasobviouslya lie.
Could be worse.I’d worn more questionable things to McDonald’s at 2 a.m.
I sighed, resenting myself a little for caring this much. It wasn’t even the party, but morewhomight be at the party.
He wouldn’t even notice. He usually just stared at me like he was studying weather patterns and then just walked away.
Not that Iwantedhim to stare. I just wouldn’t hate it.
Adjusting a strap, I moved closer to the mirror, then stepped back again.
This’ll do.I wasn’t auditioning for The Bachelor, after all.
After a swipe of lip gloss and a deep breath, I walked toward the door to wait for Sierra.
As much as I wanted to be excited about tonight, I was highly prepared for disappointment. If tonight turned out to be a disaster, I could always fake an allergic reaction and Uber home.
Easy.
***
I was already halfway down the stairs when Sierra’s breathless question came from behind me.
“Why are we running?”
“We’re not,” I called back, grinning to myself. “But our ride is almost here.”
I could hear the suspicious hesitation in her footsteps, probably trying not to break an ankle in those platforms she stubbornly insisted weren’t death traps. I, however, was on a mission.
A mission, I hadn’t admitted out loud — not even to myself — but it buzzed under my skin, low and electric, with every step I took.
“You didn’t say we’d need a ride,” she added. “Aren’t we staying on campus?”
“Nope, we’re not.”
The orange glow of the setting sun was bleeding into the sky, and thick, warm air greeted me as I pushed the door open and threw Sierra a mischievous grin over my shoulder.
