Page 8 of Because I Liked A Boy (Because I Liked A Boy Trilogy #1)

The Game Begins

My pulse stumbles. Ruby’s still scream-singing the chorus, hair flying as Theo catches her hand and spins her without hesitation, but all I can see is Hunter cutting through the crowd.

“Wow,” he says as he reaches me, voice pitched low enough that it thrums beneath the bass. His eyes sweep from my curls to the hem of the dress clinging tight around my thighs before dragging back up. “Hell of a welcome, Princess.”

Heat spikes low in my stomach, sharp and unwelcome. I tell myself it’s just the tequila, just the bass vibrating through my skin, but the way he says it makes me feel like every eye in Ember has turned sharper, like they’re waiting for me to crack.

Ruby catches my wide-eyed stare and cackles, dragging Theo deeper into the floor. People part instinctively, whispers already climbing, all eyes swinging to our booth-less little circle.

Hunter leans closer, mouth grazing the shell of my ear like he’s telling me a secret. “You’re out here dancing while I’m still at the door? Thought we were friends.”

The word jolts through me. Friends. The way he says it doesn’t sound casual—it sounds deliberate, like a reminder and a warning both.

I force a smirk, lifting my glass as if that steadies me. “Don’t flatter yourself, Hayes. This wasn’t about you.”

His grin curves slow, dangerous. “Doesn’t matter. Still ruins me.”

Before I can fire back, his gaze flicks to the bar, then back to me. “What do you say, Princess—let me steal you for that drink I promised?”

Theo catches the tail end, Ruby’s hand still looped in his. Hunter jerks his chin toward him. “You good here?”

Theo’s grin is instant, smug as hell. “More than good. Grab me a beer while you’re at it.”

Ruby laughs, tugging him back toward the middle of the floor, already forgetting anyone else exists.

Hunter’s hand hovers at the small of my back, not quite touching, but close enough to guide. “Come on. Let’s get out of the spotlight for a minute.”

The press of the crowd parts for him without effort, like even Ember knows better than to get in his way. By the time we reach the bar, my pulse is still a mess.

Hunter leans against the counter, flagging down the bartender with a flick of his hand. Then his gaze cuts back to me, sharp and steady. “So, tell me, Princess—why the invite? You’ve dodged me for months. Then out of nowhere, you call the garage. What changed?”

I grip the edge of the bar, heat crawling up my neck. “Ruby and I ran into Millie and Eleanor at the mall.”

His jaw ticks. “What did they say?”

“Enough.” My throat tightens, but I force myself to keep his eyes. “They went for Ruby. I snapped. Said too much. And when the whole place started staring, I panicked. I just… wanted to shut them up. So I called you.”

His brows lift, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I didn’t mean to use you,” I add quickly, guilt chewing at my stomach. “It wasn’t fair.”

My chest is tight. I don’t let people in, not anymore, and the one time I do, it’s to drag him into a mess that isn’t his. The words taste like guilt and relief both, because at least I’ve said them out loud.

For a beat, the noise of the bar swells around us—glasses clinking, bass thrumming, Ruby’s laugh carrying from somewhere on the dance floor. Then Hunter leans in, voice low and certain.

“Princess, if you think I mind being used to piss them off, you don’t know me at all.” His grin curves, slow and deliberate. “Hell, I’d let you use me every day if it means watching Millie Carson choke on her own ego.”

Dean leans on the bar, towel slung over his shoulder. “What’ll it be?”

“Two beers,” Hunter says, sliding cash across the counter.

I cut in before he can add more. “Golden Hour. Neat.”

Dean smirks as he turns to pour. “Sounds like she doesn’t need anyone ordering for her.”

Hunter leans closer, grin tugging. “Trust me, I figured that out the first time she opened her mouth.”

I shoot him a look, sharp enough to cut. “And yet you keep talking.”

His grin only widens. “That’s because you keep listening.”

Dean sets the drinks down, shaking his head like he’s heard enough.

Hunter gathers the tray, one hand steady, the other brushing lightly at the small of my back as he steers me away from the bar. The touch is casual enough to pass for nothing, but deliberate enough to make heat creep up my neck.

“Careful, Princess,” he says over the thrum of bass. “Crowd’s thick. Wouldn’t want you getting swallowed up.”

“I can handle walking in heels, thanks.”

He grins, sharp in the neon. “Good. Means I don’t have to carry you. Yet.”

I roll my eyes, but don’t pull away as he guides me through the crush of bodies.

Every step, I feel it—eyes on us. Not just him, though Hunter draws stares like it’s a sport.

No, they’re looking at me too. At me with him.

Whispers shift like static, heads turn as though we’ve announced something just by walking together.

Hunter doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even glance around.

He moves like the attention is his to command, dropping the tray onto the nearest booth and sliding in beside me.

His thigh brushes mine as though it’s inevitable.

His arm stretches along the backrest, knuckles dangling just close enough to skim my shoulder if I leaned an inch.

“See?” he says, voice low, like it’s just the two of us in the room. “Told you I’d get you that drink.”

“People are staring,” I mutter.

He takes a pull from his beer, unbothered. “Let them stare. We’re friends, not fucking.”

It should sting. Should make me want to roll my eyes and push him off.

Instead, heat curls traitorous and low, and I hate how much I like the way he says it.

I should be relieved. Friends is safe. Friends is simple.

But the word burns hotter than it should, twisting sharp in my chest, and I hate that part of me wants it to mean something else.

Before I can answer, Ruby and Theo appear—her glowing, him grinning—carrying a tray stacked with shot glasses, salt, and lime.

“Perfect timing,” Ruby says, sliding into place. “Hope you’re ready, Belle. House tradition.”

Theo drops the tray with a thud, eyes sparkling. “No excuses. Everyone drinks.”

Ruby smirks. “Salt, shot, lime. Don’t embarrass yourselves.”

Hunter takes his time, rolling his shot glass between his fingers before sliding one in front of me. His grin is lazy, dangerous. “Think you can keep up, Princess?”

I arch a brow, salt already slick on my hand. “I’m from London. Drinking’s my middle name.”

Ruby shrieks with laughter. Theo coughs into his lime. Hunter just looks at me like I’ve said something filthy instead of funny.

“One,” Ruby counts, already lifting hers. “Two. Three.”

The burn hits hard, sharp, alive. Ruby whoops, Theo winces, and I laugh as I slam mine down, the glass clinking against the table.

Hunter taps his empty against mine, his voice low and smug. “Not bad. But we’re not done.”

Ruby’s practically glowing as she sets up the next four. “Round two. Let’s see who’s still standing.”

Theo groans. “I came here for a beer, not liver failure.”

Ruby arches a brow. “Coward.”

Hunter slides a glass toward me, eyes never leaving mine. “Still game, Princess?”

I lick the salt off my hand, slow, just to spite him. “Told you. Middle name.”

The tequila hits, fire racing down my throat, and I laugh too hard, too free, the sound strange and startling in my own ears. For once it doesn’t feel heavy. For once it feels good.

We slam the second back. The tequila bites, heat racing down my throat. Ruby cheers, Theo mutters a curse, and I can’t stop the laugh that bursts free.

Hunter doesn’t look away. He downs his in one smooth tilt, then sets the glass upside down on the table. “Careful,” he murmurs, grin tugging. “Keep drinking like that and I might actually start believing you’re trouble.”

“Believe what you want,” I shoot back, reaching for another. “I can handle it.”

By the fourth round, I’m buzzing. Loose. Alive in a way I haven’t felt in months. Ruby’s laughing so hard she nearly spills hers, Theo’s gone pink from trying to keep up, and Hunter—Hunter’s still steady. Green eyes locked on me, smirk deep, like watching me unravel is his favourite game.

I point my lime peel at him. “Admit it. Didn’t think I could keep up.”

He chuckles, slow and dark. “Didn’t think you’d make it this fun.”

The night blurs warm and loud. Ruby hauls me back onto the dance floor, shrieking when Dance The Night kicks in, neon lights pulsing pink across the crowd.

“Come on, Belle!” she yells, spinning me until my curls whip my face. “This is ours!”

I let her drag me under the lights, our drinks long gone, laughter spilling out between lyrics.

The bass thrums through my chest, heat rolling over my skin.

For the first time in months, I don’t care who’s watching.

Ruby’s grin is wicked, her arm hooked through mine as we shout the chorus into each other’s faces, bodies moving reckless.

Then it happens.

A hand slides too low against my hip—fingers pressing where they don’t belong. My smile snaps off, stomach plunging. Anger floods fast and sharp. I don’t freeze. I twist, ready to shove him off—my body already braced to fight.

But Hunter’s faster.

His grip closes around the guy’s wrist, iron-strong, calm in a way that makes it worse. “Wrong girl,” he says, voice quiet but lethal. “Touch her again, and you won’t be lifting anything for a long fucking time.”

The guy stammers, pale, then bolts into the crowd.

Hunter doesn’t even watch him go. His palm is already at my waist, steady now, anchoring me.

His chest is a solid line against my back, the bass rattling through us both.

Relief crashes into me, tangled with humiliation that I even needed it.

I could’ve handled him. I should’ve. But the truth is, the second Hunter’s hand replaces his, I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want to breathe.

I should shove him off. Tell him I don’t need saving. That I can handle myself. But my pulse is too fast, my skin too hot, and the tequila in my veins is quick to offer excuses.

It’s just the alcohol, I tell myself. That’s why I don’t care about the weight of his hand or the way his body fits against mine like it belongs there.

His mouth dips close, voice rough against my ear. “Relax, Princess. Let me lead.”

My laugh wobbles, shaky and reckless. “It’s the tequila,” I mutter. “That’s all this is.”

But my hips move with his anyway.

The bass rattles my bones, tequila buzzing in my veins, words slipping slurred past my lips. Hunter steadies me again when I stumble, his hand firm at my waist.

“Alright,” he mutters, voice low but certain. “That’s it. I’m taking you home.”

My head’s spinning, legs heavy, the crowd tilting too sharp every time I blink. The room hums with neon and tequila and Hunter’s body pressed to mine, steady where I’m anything but.

I blink up at him, the neon behind his head blurring. “I came with Ruby,” I protest, though it comes out softer, less sure than I mean.

His gaze flicks across the room, and mine follows. Ruby’s pressed against the wall, Theo’s mouth locked on hers, her hands fisted in his shirt like she’s trying to drag him closer.

Heat curls up my neck that has nothing to do with alcohol. “Well,” I mumble, swaying against Hunter’s side, “guess she’s busy.”

Hunter’s mouth curves, not quite a smile. “Guess she is.” His grip on me tightens, steady and uncompromising. “Come on, Princess. Let’s get you out of here.”