Page 42 of Baby, It’s You (Clairesville #1)

Hunter

A fter barely sleeping on Eddie’s floor last night, my neck is stiff, and my mood is even lower.

I decide I’m going to head home so I can work out and shower, knowing that will improve my mood.

I walk back inside from Eddie’s porch where I was taking in the sunrise and drinking some espresso from his fancy machine and head to his room.

Eddie is still out like a light, snoring like a foghorn, face-down on his pillow.

I shake his shoulder, and he stirs lightly but continues to sleep.

“Eddie,” I say.

Nothing.

I shake his shoulder again and say louder, “Eddie, I’m going to head out.”

“Huh?” His head shoots up and he looks confused as hell until he makes eye contact with me. “Shit, man, alright.” Then, he flops his head back down and is asleep again.

I search around his room for my phone, but then I realize I never had it last night in the house.

I must have left it in the car. I grab my truck keys and walk out of his place, turning his bottom lock before I shut the door.

I have my cheetah print shirt slung over my shoulder and I toss it into the passenger seat once I’m seated.

I refuse to put it back on when it reeks of alcohol and sweat at this point.

I want to wash off last night. Not the kiss but everything else.

I find my phone stuck between the driver’s seat and the floorboard and pick it up so I can turn on music. The first thing I see when I click on the screen is a text from Olive.

Hunter, please let me call you after my shift. I need to talk to you.

I tap my empty hand on the steering wheel, deciding if I want to call her right now or not. I conclude that I need to get myself right first. I will call her after my workout and shower. My mind will be clearer then.

I swipe the text away and open my playlist. Clicking on the happiest song I can find, “Mr. Blue Sky” by Electric Light Orchestra fills my car.

I’m going to trick myself into being happy right now.

My mom used to tell me even if you don’t feel like smiling, sometimes forcing a grin can improve your mood.

I’ve learned it’s true. I plant a stupid smile on my face and bob my head to the music, manually rolling down the windows as I pull out of Eddie’s neighborhood.

By the time I get out on the main road, my music is blasting and I’m yelling the lyrics like a madman. It’s not until I stop at a red light and the song ends that I realize there are two women smiling and laughing in the car to my right. My cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Don’t stop for our sake, cutie,” the driver of the car says, leaning out of her window.

She has curly black hair and a nose ring; she also looks to be around my age.

I would usually be attracted to her. Years ago, I might have even tried to get her number if I was feeling brave.

But right now, I don’t want to deal with this at all.

I just want to get home, and the only girl I want to look at is Olive.

“Sorry,” I tell her, feeling weird knowing I’m shirtless and unsure how else to respond. Is this what women deal with daily? Thankfully, the light turns green and I keep driving. I peek at my rearview mirror, and luckily, the women turn down a side road before the next red light.

Ten minutes later, I turn onto my street, and I’m taken aback when I see a car outside my house.

I’m even more shocked when I get closer and see it’s Olive’s bright purple car.

I see her leaning against the hood. If she didn’t instantly make eye contact with me, I might have tried to drive away before she noticed, but that’s not my luck.

I wish I looked put together right now, or at least had taken a shower before seeing her.

The last thing I expected was to see her at my place, waiting on me.

As I pull my car in, she stands from her leaning position on her car and heads towards me. I shut off the engine and get out. She looks over my body, shirtless, and my hair, wild. I push a few strands back, feeling scrutinized under her gaze.

“Long night?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Just stayed with Eddie; he was sick last night.”

Olive nods. “I texted you last night. I wanted to talk to you about…everything.” She looks down at the ground and pushes a small rock around with the front of her sneaker.

“Yeah, sorry.” I slide my hands into my pockets. “I didn’t have my phone on me last night. Left it in the car.”

Olive nods again, still not meeting my eyes. I’m beginning to grow exasperated from my lack of sleep and her inability to tell me what’s going on.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” I ask.

“Can we go inside?” She finally looks up at me. She shows worry and a little bit of hope in her expression.

“Okay, sure,” I respond, my rough exterior softening.

I unlock the front door and lead her into the house. She shifts on her feet uncomfortably behind me, so I go and sit down on my sofa, motioning for her to take the cushion next to me.

She does and then she takes a deep breath. Her floral scent makes me want to reach out and take her in my arms. I notice her shaking slightly and rest my hand on her back in concern.

“Are you okay?” I ask her and she meets my eyes. Her own are lined with tears, and she shakes her head no. “Tell me what’s going on,” I say in a low voice.

“Everything is a mess right now. Literally everything. I ruined our friendship by kissing you. I just found out my best friend is moving. Jane is dying, and Tripp's selling the bar. How much can one person handle? I feel like I’m breaking.”

At that confession, tears begin to stream down her face, and I reach out and wipe them away. “Please don’t cry,” I tell her.

“And you’re also related to Dennis!” she continues, blubbering out and pointing an accusatory finger at me.

“Wait, what?” I visibly shrink back. “You know Dennis?”

“Yes!” she continues to exclaim. “He’s my best friend Ivy’s horrible ex.”

I stare at her in shock and confusion. “Ivy is your best friend?”

“Yes! And now she’s moving, and I'm convinced that the main reason for it is so she can get away from him.” She continues to cry, her eyes spilling with tears.

It breaks my heart to see her crumbling like this.

I never even thought to mention that I retrieved Dennis’s boxes from the apartment below hers.

Before I can ask her another question, like summoning the devil, Dennis bursts in through my front door and shouts, “Hey, shitbag! I’m back!”