Page 10 of Because I Liked A Boy (Because I Liked A Boy Trilogy #1)

New Beginnings

The first thing I feel when I wake up is my skull splitting in half.

The second is disappointment when I reach across the bed and find nothing but cold sheets.

Hunter’s gone.

Of course he is.

The sheets are twisted, cold where his body should’ve been.

My throat tightens, stupidly disappointed, even though I told myself not to expect him there in the first place.

A faint trace of cedar and smoke still lingers on the pillow beside mine — proof he didn’t just vanish out of thin air, proof he’d actually been here.

He folded the blanket I kicked to the floor.

Straightened my phone cord so it wouldn’t tangle.

Stupid, tiny things that no one’s done for me in years.

It’s infuriating, how he makes himself unforgettable without even being in the room.

The water, the painkillers, the phone plugged neatly on my night stand — reminders he’d been here. Proof he cared enough to look after me, but not enough to stay. Not arms I can fall back into.

I swallow the pills, chase them with water, and stumble to the en suite.

The shower is a mercy. Steam scrubs away tequila but not the ache in my chest. My brain won’t stop replaying his words: Not tonight, Isabella.

Friends. That’s what he said. But we’ve been circling each other for months now—sniping, sparring, stealing glances I pretended not to notice.

Friends don’t look at each other like that.

Friends don’t leave you water and painkillers like it matters.

He didn’t mean friends. He meant patience.

Restraint. A line I’m not sure how long either of us can hold.

By the time I towel off, my head feels clearer but my chest worse. I knot the fabric under my arms and push into my bedroom—

—and slam straight into him.

Hunter. Filling the space like he belongs here. The impact knocks me off balance, towel slipping.

“Fuck!” I hiss, scrambling to grab it. Too late. It hits the floor. I’m bare, dripping, mortified.

Hunter swears, jerking his gaze to the ceiling like it might save him. “Fuck, Princess. You trying to kill me?”

I yank the towel back around me, cheeks blazing. “Maybe don’t sneak into a girl’s bedroom!”

“I didn’t sneak,” he says, still staring skyward. “I knocked. No answer. Thought you’d passed out again.”

“So you just strolled in?”

His mouth twitches, fighting a grin. “Pretty sure you’re the one who strolled in on me.”

My cheeks burn hotter. “You didn’t have to look so horrified.”

He finally risks a glance, lips twitching. “Horrified? Princess, I nearly gave myself whiplash looking away.”

I clutch the towel tighter, mortified. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“Funny,” he drawls, grin cocky, “because here I am—rescuing damsels from their own terrible towel skills.”

My brain short-circuits. He’s impossible. Still, I can’t stop replaying the fact that he looked away. Like he actually respected me. What kind of fuckboy does that?

“You’re impossible.”

Finally he risks a glance, quick and cautious, before meeting my eyes with a smirk. “And yet you don’t seem that mad I’m here.”

“Only because you left me painkillers.”

“See?” He spreads his hands. “Useful friend material.”

“Some friend,” I mutter.

He chuckles low, heading for the door. “Relax, Princess. Didn’t see a thing.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe.” His grin curves. “But if we’re starting as friends, I should at least try being a gentleman.”

He leaves, tension breaks, and I’m left with a heartbeat that won’t calm down.

By the time I pull on denim shorts and a green tank, my head’s dulled to a manageable throb. But waking up to cold sheets still stings more than I’d ever admit.

When I pad into the kitchen, Hunter’s already there — leaning against the counter like he owns it.

He smirks the second he sees me. “At least you’re dressed this time.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “You could’ve turned around.”

“Could’ve,” he says, holding up a paper cup. “Didn’t.” His grin sharpens at my glare. “Relax, Princess. You’ve got nothing I haven’t dreamed about already.”

I roll my eyes hard enough to make my headache worse.

“Coffee?” He slides the cup across. “Vanilla latte. And toast so you don’t die before noon.”

The smell hits me before the taste does — sweet vanilla and roasted espresso, curling warm in the air between us. He leans against the counter like he’s done this a hundred times, like he belongs in my kitchen in that easy, infuriating way.

My stomach flips. Friends aren’t supposed to feel this… domestic.

I blink as I take a sip. “You remembered?”

“Course I did. Maple Bean order. You never shut up about vanilla lattes.”

I wrap my hands around the cup, inhale the steam, sip — heaven. A sound slips out before I can stop it.

He leans back, watching me. “Admit it, you’d rather have me here than that hangover.”

I sip again, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Inside, though, it feels dangerously domestic. Like he belongs here. Which terrifies me almost as much as it makes me want more.

“Don’t get used to this,” I say, setting the cup down. “We’re not a thing.”

“Relax.” His grin is maddeningly patient. “Not asking you to embroider our initials. Friends, Princess. That’s it.”

“Friends,” I echo, though the word tastes foreign.

He nicks a piece of toast, bites into it like it’s casual. “And when you want more…” His eyes catch mine, glinting. “You’ll let me know.”

“What makes you so sure I ever will?”

“Because you almost kissed me last night.”

Heat scorches my cheeks. “I was drunk.”

“And I didn’t let you.” He licks a crumb from his thumb, deliberate. “I want you to remember the first time I kiss you. So until then—” he lifts his mug in mock toast— “friends.”

“You’re impossible.”

Hunter chuckles, leaning close enough for his voice to roughen. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.”

Damn him—he’s right.

“So.” He finishes his toast. “What’s on the agenda today? Or planning to spend twelve hours crying into your latte?”

“Not crying. Recovering. Big difference.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Princess.”

Before I can retort, my phone buzzes across the counter. Ruby.

“Hey,” I answer. “You alive?”

A groan rattles through the speaker. “Barely. I need painkillers. And my best friend. Preferably both.”

I bite back a laugh. “Rough morning?”

“You have no idea,” she whines. “I… may have slept with Theo.”

Hunter chokes violently on his coffee. I slap a hand over the speaker, glaring, but Ruby’s already gasping.

“Was that—oh my god. Is that who I think it is?”

“Ruby—”

“It is! You have Hunter Hayes in your kitchen?”

“Can you not?”

“Put me on speaker. Now.”

I groan, hit the button.

“Hunter Hayes,” Ruby moans dramatically. “You’d better be making pancakes. Tell me you’re at least useful.”

“Toast and coffee,” Hunter says smugly. “Vanilla latte.”

Ruby shrieks. “Oh my god, I knew it.”

Heat climbs my neck. “Ruby, seriously—”

“Wait,” she cuts me off, suspicious. “You sound suspiciously chipper for someone who drinks tequila like it’s water. Did something happen last night?”

I nearly choke on my toast. “No!” Too fast. Too defensive.

Hunter bites back a smirk, sipping his coffee slow like he knows damn well I’m lying.

“Both of you—listen up. You’re coming over. Painkillers, greasy food, explanations. No excuses. Flat 3B, 14 Willow Lane. Don’t be late.”

Ruby’s been dragging me into their orbit since I landed here.

Theo with his cocky grin, Hunter with his impossible smirk.

It was always surface-level—banter, teasing, the occasional lift when Ruby guilt-tripped them into it.

Enough to feel familiar, but never enough for me to trust it. Not until last night.

The line goes dead.

“She’s insane,” I mutter.

Hunter grins. “Field trip.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re stepping into Ruby’s flat. She’s cocooned on the sofa in a hoodie, hair tangled, mascara smudged. But her glare is fire.

“Took you long enough,” she snaps, snatching the pills. Then she points at Hunter. “I want answers.”

“Answers to what?” he frowns.

“To your best friend ghosting me,” she fires back. “One night—fine. But Theo? He didn’t just sneak out. He vanished. No text, no note. Like I was some random hookup he’ll never look at again.” Her chest rises, sharp and unsteady. “Except I’m not some random, Hunter. And he knew that.”

Ruby’s voice cracks. She swipes furiously at her eyes, but it doesn’t hide the way her lip trembles. “He made it feel different. The way he kissed me. The way he…” She trails off, shaking her head. “God, I actually thought it meant something. And then I woke up to nothing. Not even a fucking text.”

Hunter looks like he’s been punched. His hand rakes through his hair, jaw tight. “Ruby, if you think I’m here defending him—you’re wrong. I just… I don’t know what to say. He’s my best friend, but he’s a god damn idiot.”

The silence hangs heavy. Hunter’s jaw flexes, eyes flicking away like he’s trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is lower, rougher.

“Ruby… Theo doesn’t stay the night. With anyone.”

Her laugh is bitter. “Congrats. He kept the streak alive. Guess I should feel honoured.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “He’s been like that for years. But…” his voice softens, “I thought maybe with you it’d be different.”

Ruby swallows hard, straightens her spine. “Yeah, well. You thought wrong.”

Hunter shifts, torn. “Maybe I should give you two some space.”

Panic spikes. “No—stay.” It slips out too sharp. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do here. I don’t do friends.”

His eyes soften. For a second he looks like he’ll cave—then sighs. “I would. But I’ve got work. If I don’t go, I’ll catch shit.”

Ruby groans into her pillow. “Figures. Men always leave.”

Hunter winces. “Look—I can’t stay. But if you want answers, Theo’s at work. That’s where you’ll find him. I’ll drive you both.”

Ruby lifts her head, eyes smudged. “Drive us?”

“Yeah.” Keys already in hand. “Be ready.” He’s gone before either of us can argue.

Silence. Then Ruby groans into her pillow. “Kill me now.”

I sit on the edge of the sofa. “Dramatic much?”

“Excuse me for not being sunshine after being treated like a one-night stand.”

“You really thought he’d stay?”

Her laugh cracks. “I don’t know. I thought with me it’d be different. That maybe I wasn’t just another girl. He said things that didn’t sound like Theo Hayes. Soft things. Made me feel like it wasn’t just another night to him. Like maybe he saw me.”

I smooth her hair back, sighing. “Ruby—”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me I’m fine. I feel fucking pathetic.”

My throat works. The truth slips out. “If you’re pathetic, I’m worse.”

Her brows knit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Heat floods my face. “I got so drunk I puked while Hunter held my hair. Then I tried to kiss him.”

Ruby’s eyes widen. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did. And he moved away.”

She stares, then bursts out laughing.

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m not—I’m laughing at him. Who dodges you? You’re gorgeous. He must be a saint or a masochist.”

I groan. “He said he wanted me to remember it. When he kissed me.”

Ruby smirks. “Means he’s either the sweetest boy alive, or you’re about to lose a game you didn’t know you were playing.”

“Helpful.”

She pokes my arm. “See? You’re just as pathetic as me. Welcome to the club.”

I laugh weakly, but her voice drops, soft. “At least he stayed.”

The words hit hard.

I squeeze her hand tight. “Then maybe that’s our problem. We keep falling for boys who make staying feel optional.”

Ruby laughs softly, bitter at first but then breaking into something sadder. She flops sideways until her head lands on my shoulder. I let it, because I know exactly how it feels to want someone so badly it hurts.

We sit there in the mess of her flat—Ruby with mascara smudged and pride cracked, me with damp hair and a hangover I can’t shake—and it hits me. We’re both disasters. Both wrecked by boys we swore we wouldn’t want.

And somehow, even knowing it’ll hurt, we’ll probably do it again.

Ruby exhales a shaky laugh, the sound muffled against my shoulder. “God, we’re hopeless.”

“Completely,” I say, but the word feels heavy in my chest. Because hopeless is exactly how it feels—wanting someone I swore I wouldn’t, craving a boy who makes me forget every promise I made to myself when I came here.

I close my eyes, and for one dangerous second, I let myself imagine it anyway—Hunter in my kitchen again tomorrow morning, Hunter’s laugh filling this flat instead my silence. Hunter staying.

It’s stupid. Reckless. The kind of thought that ruined Ruby last night. The kind of thought that will ruin me too if I’m not careful.

Ruby nudges me with her head, her voice low. “At least we’ve got each other, right?”

I squeeze her hand tighter, grounding us both. “Yeah. Always.” And for now, that has to be enough.