Page 11 of Because I Liked A Boy (Because I Liked A Boy Trilogy #1)

Unwanted Attention

Ruby is still muttering curses when we pull up to the garage, wedged between a row of tired brick buildings and a kebab shop that reeks of last night’s regret. Hunter kills the engine, his jaw tight like he is bracing for impact.

Ruby does not wait. The second her boots hit pavement, she is marching across the forecourt like she owns it. I hesitate, nerves chewing at me, until Hunter shoots me a look that says move and pushes his door open.

Inside, the place is alive with noise. The shriek of drills. The hiss of compressors. A radio pounding from somewhere between toolboxes and spare tires. The air is thick with oil and sweat. Men glance up, curiosity flickering before they clock Hunter. Spines straighten. Respect shifts the room.

Theo is at the far end, bent over the hood of a BMW.

His head snaps up when Ruby barrels toward him.

His face freezes. She does not give him a chance to speak, just jabs a finger at his chest, voice low and lethal.

His expression drains, then hardens. With a swipe of his rag, he jerks his head toward the office.

Ruby follows and the door slams behind them.

And just like that, it is me. Alone. In Hunter’s world.

The second the office door shuts, I feel it.

The shift. Every pair of eyes in the place turns and settles on me like I have wandered onto the wrong stage.

The stares are subtle at first, then sharper.

A whistle cuts through the clatter of tools.

Someone mutters something I cannot make out, but the smirk says enough.

Another guy leans back against a workbench, his gaze lazy and arrogant, crawling over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.

Heat creeps up my neck. I hate this. The exposure. The way it strips me down in front of strangers. My throat tightens and I try to pretend it does not matter.

“Hey.” Hunter’s voice slices through the noise. Not raised. Does not need to be. Just sharp enough to cut. “Knock it off.”

Silence is instant. Smirks vanish. The guy who whistled finds the floor very interesting.

Hunter does not look at them again. He steps closer and slides into my space like a shield, the faint smell of oil and cedar grounding me. His arm brushes mine, not quite a touch but enough to remind me he is there.

“Ignore them, Princess,” he murmurs, eyes still fixed on the office door. “Grease monkeys think they are funny.”

My chest twists, because it should not matter. Because it does.

Then his gaze flicks back to me. “You know you never signed the paperwork for that car, right? Technically it is still open in our system.”

I blink, surprised he remembers. “That was seven months ago.”

“Exactly.” His brow arches.

I swallow and tug at the hem of my shorts. “I was not avoiding the car. I was avoiding coming back here.”

His eyes narrow slightly, curious, but I answer before he can ask. “Last time I came, Millie was here. Practically advertising herself across the counter. I figured I would rather risk dodgy paperwork than deal with that again.”

Hunter’s mouth curves, sharp but not amused. “Guess I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“That you were jealous.” His grin spreads slow and wicked, like he is enjoying this too much. “Back then. First day. You did not even know me and you still hated the thought of Millie throwing herself at me.”

I cross my arms, glare sharp. “I was not jealous.”

His grin deepens, smug and unbothered. “You were. Admit it, Princess. You could not stand the idea of me giving Millie five seconds of attention.”

My pulse trips, but I force a scoff. “Do not flatter yourself. I did not even like you back then.”

“Funny, because I liked you. Even when you pretended not to notice me.”

I snort. “You were impossible to miss. Loud. Cocky. Covered in grease.”

“Sexy as hell,” he says, smirk tugging.

I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth betrays me, twitching like it wants to smile.

He notices. Of course he does. His voice drops, low enough to curl through me. “Admit it, Princess. You hated Millie that day because you wanted to be the one standing where she was.”

“You said we are friends,” I snap.

“It is obvious I like you,” he says, infuriatingly sure. “And no, it is not just about fucking you to get it out of my system. We are friends until you decide you want more. Until then, I am good being friends who flirt.”

I step closer and tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “That will never happen.”

His hand lifts, rough fingers catching my chin and tipping it until I cannot look anywhere but him. His voice is low and certain. “We will see.”

He brushes his hand lightly against my elbow, steady but not a claim, and steers me past the rows of cars.

We stop at the back of the garage where the noise dulls.

Stacks of tires and shelves of motor oil line the walls and shield us from the stares.

It is not private, but it is tucked away enough to breathe.

I sink onto an old workbench and pick at a thread on my shorts. “This whole friends thing sucks.”

His mouth twitches. “Yeah. But you will get used to it. Promise.”

I hesitate, staring down at my hands. My chest feels too tight, my throat raw from holding everything in. “Can I have a hug?”

Hunter goes very still. For a heartbeat, I think he is going to make a smart comment and ruin the moment. He does not. His smirk fades and something softer settles in his eyes.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

His arms come around me, warm and careful. Not crushing. Not demanding. Just there.

I let my forehead drop to his shoulder. Cedar and motor oil wrap around me. Safe. Warm. Dangerous. Without meaning to, I breathe him in deeper, like if I hold the scent it will not feel so terrifying to need him.

“Princess,” he murmurs into my hair, amusement curling under his voice. “Are you sniffing me?”

Mortification burns my cheeks. I pull back a fraction and glare. “I was not.”

“You were.” His grin is instant and wicked. “Not that I blame you. Most girls have to buy candles to get this experience.”

I groan and shove lightly at his chest, but his arms do not budge. He dips his head and presses the quickest kiss to my forehead. Soft and unfair. It knocks the air out of me. Then his arms loosen and he lets me go like nothing happened.

“Friends, Hunter. That is not friendly.”

“Guess I am bad at following rules.”

I am still reeling, trying to decide if my heart is racing from anger or something worse, when he drops the next bomb.

“Dinner. Saturday night.”

I blink. “What?”

“You. Me. Food. I will pick you up at seven.”

My stomach flips so hard I forget how to breathe. “Hunter, friends do not go on dates.”

“These friends do,” he says, eyes glinting.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out and tucks it back with a grin. “You know we have been doing this dance for months and I still do not have your number.”

“Maybe that is on purpose.”

“Maybe,” he says, opening his contacts. “But if we are friends, you cannot dodge me forever.”

He holds the phone out, patient and certain. Against my better judgment, I take it and type my name and number. I hand it back like it burns.

“See. Progress.”

I open my mouth to retort, but the office door slams.

“Fuck you.” Ruby’s voice is ragged and furious as she barrels past us, tears streaking down her cheeks.

Instinct kicks in. I wrench free of Hunter and reach for her. “Ruby.”

She stumbles into me, clutching my arm like it is the only thing holding her up. Mascara streaks down her face, her chest heaving, eyes wild with betrayal. “I cant Belle, I just want to leave.”

Hunter is already moving, keys in hand, but Ruby’s grip tightens like iron and she pulls me toward the exit. “Not with him,” she snaps, voice cracking. “I do not want to be around fuckboys right now.”

The words hang sharp in the air. Hunter’s jaw flexes, but he does not fight it. He stands there and watches as Ruby drags me out, offering silence where he would usually give fire.

Ruby’s nails bite into my skin as she yanks me toward the door. Her chin is high, unbroken even as she trembles.

“Ruby.” Theo’s voice booms behind us, desperate and cracking. “Ruby, wait.”

She does not. Her pace doubles, boots slamming against concrete like she is trying to stomp the sound of him out of the world.

“Don’t you dare,” she shouts over her shoulder, every word cutting the lot in half. “Do not you dare say a word to me, Theo. You had your chance this morning. You do not get another.”

Theo bursts out of the office with a rag in his hand and grease smeared across his jaw. He looks frantic and pleading, nothing like the composed arrogance he wears at work.

“Ruby, please,” he tries again, voice strangled. “Just let me explain.”

She spins so fast I nearly collide with her. Fury and heartbreak fight in every breath. “Explain what? That I was nothing? That you cannot even send a text? No. I do not need explanations. I need distance.”

Her grip finds my hand again, harder this time, and she drags me toward the daylight.

Behind us I hear Hunter’s boots move, steady and measured. He is not chasing Ruby. He closes around my wrist and pulls me back a fraction so I do not trip on Ruby’s momentum. His eyes flick to Theo, then back to me.

“Let him go after her,” he says, low and certain. “You are not getting dragged into their fire.”

My chest tears in two. Ruby is breaking. Theo is begging. Hunter’s hand is the only solid thing left.

Theo pushes forward, voice raw. Hunter shifts and steps between us and the chaos, positioning himself like a wall.

“Isabella, look at me,” he murmurs, drawing my gaze back to his. “What do you need right now?”

The truth claws out before I can dress it up. “I don’t know.”

Ruby rips her hand from mine and storms down the street, Theo right behind her, shouting and pleading. Their words blur into the traffic. Please, Ruby, listen. Then her reply, fractured and furious. I am not some game to you.

I freeze on the pavement, torn between running after them and standing where Hunter holds me. Hot tears spill before I can stop them.

Hunter tilts my chin up and brushes the wetness away like he has every right to. His touch is steady and it anchors me. “Hey. Do not do that. Do not let their mess tear you up too.”

“But she is my friend. I cannot just—”

“You are here,” he says, firm and soft at once. “That is enough.”

Ruby’s voice splinters again in the distance. Theo curses after her. My body jolts like if I do not move I will shatter.

Hunter does not let me. He curls my hand into his and presses his car keys into my palm. “Get in the car, Princess. I am taking you home.”