Page 99 of Through the Flames
“Not everything is about sex,” I said primly, as if I hadn’t been contemplating getting my back blown out after this during the entire practice, and tossed my empty bottle into the bin.
“Sure,” Brianna said sweetly. “And I’m joining a convent after nationals.”
“Whatever.” I grabbed my racket and headed for the next drill like my life depended on it.
Not because I couldn’t wait to hear about my sloppy backhand, but because I had no clue what to say if someone asked about Hunter again.
What were we?
I couldn’t even stick a label on it in my own head, and somehow that made it worse.
Hunter had never spelled it out.
Sweat rolled down my back as I stuffed my racket into my bag before chugging the rest of my electrolytes.
Why the fuck did I have to pick a sport with so much running involved?
Digging out my phone out of the depths of my bag, I checked my messages.
Hunter: You done?
This was boyfriend behavior, right?
Ella: Wrapping up now.
Hunter: Good. I’m waiting.
Ella: You could’ve told me before. I was dealing with the existential dread of having to walk home.
Hunter: Didn’t feel like it.
Ella: You’re infuriating.
Hunter: And you’re still texting instead of coming out.
After two hours of running suicides under a sun intent on doing me in, the air was cooler than it had any right to be.
My damp ponytail was plastered to the back of my neck as I crossed the parking lot, my phone buzzing in my hand.
Hunter: Where are you?
Ella: Walking out.
Hunter: Hurry up.
I rolled my eyes but picked up the pace nonetheless.
Hunter’s matte black truck sat rumbling in the lot. He was inside, his forearm draped over the steering wheel, expression unreadable. I tugged the door open and climbed in, my body already relaxing into the leather seat like it knew where it belonged.
“Hey.” My voice sounded casual, like I hadn’t spent the last hour with girls side-eyeing me and asking if Hunter’s staminaextended off the field.
He glanced over, a muscle in his jaw twitching once before his eyes dragged over me — sweaty tank top, skirt, all of it — like a slow inventory. “Hey.”
I swallowed and pulled my phone out again, holding it like a shield. “Well, umm … practice was fun. People are kind of starting to ask questions.”
“So?”
I shot him a look. “So, I don’t know what to tell them.”
