Page 46 of Dark Little Game

“What’s that bottle, Ollie?” Noah says as he flicks Weston back.

Oliver lifts his hand, waving around a big bottle of pale green liquor.

“Absinthe. A guy in my English class hooked me up,” he tells us.

“Oh fuck, he got us the good shit,” Noah says. “We’re going to crack into this later. Go take your nap, Colson.”

I take the stairs up slowly.

The moment I’m alone and away from the other guys, I’m lost in thought about what Hunter told me.

I was gutted when I heard the truth.

He told me everything.

And by the time he finished, I was holding back tears and he just got up and left the library.

Now I walk into my room.

Ourroom.

His knives always reflect the light from the window. He’s out somewhere now, but his presence is all over this room.

I wish it were gone.

I wish everything was different, for him and for me.

No matter how fucked up Hunter is, he didn’t deserve to see what he saw.

But I feel like a crazy person the moment I start to feel sympathetic toward him, too.

Right now I just want to shut the whole fucking world out.

I lie down in bed.

And I drift off into a nap easily.

The moment I slip into dreams, I’m lost inhim.

Dreaming that I’m back in the locker room, but instead of ignoring him, I pull back the curtain. In the steam, I reach out, pulling Hunter in under the water with me.

I know it must be a dream because in reality, Hunter would never be crying. But there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that I’d never seen before.

And I need to help him.

I wrap my arms around him and rest my forehead against his.

“You’re not broken,” I tell him, and when I pull back to look in his eyes, I feel a tug.

That same stupid, sympathetic tug that I always get for broken things.

New guys in the corner who are too shy to talk.

Wounded birds on the sidewalk who I always have to help.

And now, apparently, Hunter Knox, too.

Why can’t I just let him be?