Page 23 of The Confidant
To which I nodded and gave a half-hearted smile before continuing on my way.
I used to get lost in this huge house when I first became friends with the Hastings’ back in sophomore year. But after hanging out here most weekends for the past two and a half years, it was like a second home away from home.
I grabbed a glass from the cupboard by the Hastings’s industrial-sized fridge, filled it with chilled water, and then walked to the large windows they had in the dining area to look over their backyard.
I was lost in my thoughts, watching the snow lightly falling on the terrace, when I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned to see who had joined me and was both relieved and nervous when I saw it was Hunter. A few water droplets glistened on his chest like he hadn’t quite taken the time to dry off before coming in here, but he had a towel wrapped around his waist to keep him from dripping too much on the Hastings’s marble floors.
“Why haven’t you gotten in the pool?” he asked, coming to stand near me, his abs on full display. “I thought you loved pool volleyball. It’s why I suggested we set up the net.”
“I just wasn’t in the mood.” I turned back to the window before my eyes could try to rake in his six-pack.
Even though we’d swam in the Hastings’s pool more times than I could count, and we’d spent a week at their beach house in the Hamptons last summer, I still found it hard not to take him in every time he was dressed like this.
I liked to tell myself that the reason I was so curious about this shirtless image of Hunter was because I still wasn’t used to the way he’d been transforming from teenage boy Hunter into this more manly and mature version of himself.
But I knew I was just fooling myself. Because if it were only mere curiosity, I should have stopped being so attracted to him long ago. I should be able to just glance at him the way I did my other guy friends and have no trouble looking away.
But apparently, my brain didn’t always agree with the “modest is hottest” thing, either, because yeah…shirtless Hunter was a look I definitely liked. And if I didn’t have to worry about repenting for the unclean thoughts that I sometimes had about my best friend and myself—which involved fantasies of us kissing while his shirt was off and me running my fingers across his stomach to see if the muscles felt as good as they looked—I would probably commit this look of his to my long-term memory and revisit it over and over again as I lay in bed at night.
“Did something happen in your meeting this morning?” Hunter asked, bringing my attention back to the moment. “Is that what’s gotten you down? Was there an argument about who gets to wear what color of dress to the dance?” he asked like he was trying to lighten the mood.
“Of course not.” I rolled my eyes. “We all got our dresses weeks ago.”
And everyone was going to look fabulous, what with Ava and Elyse’s mom being a famous fashion designer, and Cambrielle’s family being literal billionaires and her having a closet worthy of that status.
My dress looked good too, though. I had to search all over New York with my mom to find one with sleeves and a high enough neckline, but it was pretty and complimented my figure in a way that made me feel beautiful and feminine.
“If it’s not that, then what’s up?” he asked.
“I—” I stopped and sighed, knowing my next words would make me sound bad.
“You what?” he prodded.
And since open communication had always been what made our friendship so good, I decided to stay true to that. “I guess I just didn’t like seeing you flirting with Addison today.” I turned away from the window to look at him. “Like, I know I have no right to care since we’re just friends but…”
“I know,” he said in a low voice, his green-eyed gaze flickering to mine through his long lashes.
“You do?” My throat tightened.
“You don’t think I ever get jealous of the guys you talk to at school?” he asked. “That even though you said you’re only going with Xander because your dad arranged it, I’m not still jealous you’ll be dancing with someone else all night?”
“You’re jealous?”Why does that make me feel so much better?
He glanced down at the floor briefly, as if weighing whether to say something or not. Then, looking back at me with barely veiled pain in his eyes, he said, “I’m not the one who broke up with you.”
My chest tightened and it was hard to breathe. After a few heart-pounding seconds, I swallowed and whispered, “I know.”
Our gazes locked and we stared intensely at one another. It was just like that night last spring that started everything. The night when we’d been goofing around in his room, and I’d jokingly pulled out my phone to do the old TikTok trend where you recorded yourself kissing your best friend to see how they would react.
I’d turned on the song, “Electric Love,” expecting him to run away when he heard it since we’d made fun of all the people doing the trend. But instead of telling me I was a dork and turning off the song, he’d pulled me close and kissed me like he’d been waiting just as long as I had for that moment.
Some people say there’s no way that a simple kiss can change anything, but one kiss with my best friend had changed everything for me. It had told me what I’d always wondered—that Hunter had, in fact, been hiding his feelings under the surface just like I had.
And it had felt amazing at the time to have my feelings reciprocated.
I’d basically lived on cloud nine for the next few weeks as we started dating and found more moments to kiss and hold hands and do all the things that people our age did when they liked each other.
