Page 10 of The Boy Next Door

While I have no shortage of ideas about what guys do on dates, a persistent crush and formerly debilitating anxiety means there's only ideas. No practical experience.

So, it's not terribly surprising I'm freaking out in my room on Saturday night before... before the event.

"How is this real?" I ask. "How?!?"

"Uh, are you asking us or the universe?" Clay wonders, lounging on my bed and getting long hair on my pillow.

"It's only one date," Maggie says. "You can do it!"

"How the heck did this happen?!?"

Maggie raises her hand. "Dylan just told you about his girlfriend, who he's incredibly happy with and all over every two seconds—"

"Don't need to explain that part," I grumble.

"Plus, if you liked Dylan, you had years to confess when Hunter wasn't in the picture," she continues. "So when he breezes back into town and suddenly a love note appears in the pond, doesn't it make more sense for Hunter to assume the note is for him?"

"Maybe he thinks you crushed on him before," Clay suggests. "And you're taking the chance while he's in the area."

Oh god, oh god.

I sit down on my bed, stunned. Clay pats me on the back.

It's true, isn't it? I didn't address the note to anyone, and Hunter challenged me to be bold. To go after what I want. Chucking a message in a bottle into the pond and running might not scream 'bold.'

For me? It totally counts.

Crap. I can't blame him for getting the wrong idea. This? All my fault.

"I should cancel," I say. Yet I haven’t reached for my phone.

"Why even let it go on this long?" Maggie wonders, showing Clay an outfit of the skinniest pair of jeans I own and a long-sleeved shirt.

"Good question." Clay nods his approval for the clothes.

"It's all very confusing!" I shout accidentally. "He...he…the kiss..."

"Oh, the kiss confused you? Because you liked it? "

The doorbell ringing saves me from answering. Thank god.

Oh no! The doorbell. Hunter's here.

I manage to get dressed with shaking hands, my thoughts fuzzy and far away. The sick feeling in my stomach is... nerves, dread... excitement?

Clay and Maggie are already in the living room when I enter, peeking out the blinds.

"Stop that!"

"I understand now," Clay says. "You're obligated to go on at least one date."

"I am?"

"Look at him, he's smoking hot."

"What, re-really?"

"So hot it should be illegal," Clay asserts, waving because-oh god, Hunter probably sees them peeking.

"He's fine as hell," Maggie agrees. "I know I'm not his type, but damn."

There's only one way to stop this madness: go on the date.

~

Hunter and I are on a lively street, around where he ran into me after Mexican food. This is where most of the nightlife in our Pleasant Hills area is located.

"Alright, what's the plan for tonight?" he asks.

Shouldn't he tell me?

He raises an expectant eyebrow, waiting.

My nerves climb higher as we stare at each other, heart rate determined to exceed triple digits or die trying, but I gotta admit... it's not a terrible view.

A signature black leather jacket is back on his impressive body with a dark Ramones t-shirt underneath. His jeans aren't only skinny, they're sinfully tight in all the right places.

The only problem? More than just out of my element, I'm underprepared.

"This is your show." Hunter shrugs one shoulder. "Figured you'd lead."

Well... crap. He’s the one who asked me out! But I sent him the note, allegedly. And I’m supposed to prove I’m bold or something.

At random, I set off toward the right, eyes desperately scanning all the open doors for some edgy, exciting place I never noticed before. He lived in L.A. Our city doesn't compare. This suddenly feels less like a date and more like a test. One I began failing before I even started.

"Hey, here we go."

Sound blares at us from a nearby bar, vibrations from the thumping bass reverberating even outside. I stop near the entrance.

“Huh.” Hunter’s face is strangely blank as he evaluates the setting. "Why this?"

"If I'm gonna try something new, it can't hurt to have a guide."

"Ah, so you're taking a risk in a safe way?" He sums up. "Wow, why did I expect anything else? It's very you."

When he laughs, a totally unwelcome flood of shame invades me, but he's not laughing at me. He's laughing at himself for thinking better of me.

My eyes shut tightly to keep any watering in check. "Um, maybe…"

"I thought a date with you might surprise me." He sounds vaguely impressed in a patronizing way. "But not by becoming a typical Tuesday night."

Oh god, here it comes. I do the only thing worse than crying.

"I'm sorry I can't live up to your standards."

That's right. I apologize.

"My standards? Not even very high." He tips his head to me. "Hey, an accomplishment is still an accomplishment. Congratulations. You really—"

"Okay, that's it."

I turn around and speed away, desperate to be anywhere else.

"Hey, wait up!"

His footsteps echo behind me, but I don't slow down. When his fingers graze my arm, I twist away and head the other direction.

"You can't even get home that way," he comments.

My destination had been less 'home' and more 'away from him.' But it's clearly not happening since he’s chasing after me. Which leaves one option: confrontation.

"Who the hell do you think you are? No, don't answer. You're Hunter freaking Cruse , the arrogant asshole who is so much better than me."

"Hey!"

Normally, I'd care about being on a public street. I continue anyway.

" I'm so beneath you that you shouldn't have agreed to a date, but you did, so that's on you. This isn't exactly my idea of a great night or first date either."

"Wha—first? Like our first date or first ever?"

I laugh at the shock on his face. “What, are you surprised?”

“Kinda, you’re eighteen.”

“I just turned eighteen and I’m a late frickin’ bloomer!” I snap, aware I’m being kind of ridiculous but unable to stop. “Stop judging me. I've come so far from who I used to be. And maybe that's not good enough for everybody. Actually, it doesn't seem to be good enough for anybody. Except me."

"Sam, let's—" He raises his hands, probably humiliated, but at least he isn't as infuriatingly calm anymore.

"Maybe I've gotta listen to all the crap from my teachers and parents, but I sure as hell don't need it from you." I stare him down. "This date? It's over."

~

Telling Hunter Cruse off? Amazing. It's almost satisfying enough to make the agony of this disaster bearable.

Ducking into an alley between two restaurants? Less fun.

Especially because Hunter knows I'm in here. There's only one exit, and he's standing right at the edge of the alley, not coming inside either to respect a boundary between us or because he fears the stench from the overflowing garbage bins at the other end.

"Um, look," he says. "Criticizing you wasn't right. I'm sorry if your parents do. That sucks."

I consider venturing deeper into the alley until I can't hear him. However, between him and the smell, he's the lesser of two evils.

"When I encouraged you to be bold? I really meant no harm. But tonight?" His deep breath is audible. "Tonight, I was a dick. I'm sorry."

What? Did he... did he apologize? Clearly, the smell from the garbage has made me woozy and I'm imagining things.

Cautiously, I venture out of my hiding place.

"Really, I'm sorry. When you suggested the bar, you startled me." His mouth twists down the same way Dylan's does sometimes. "I didn’t know we’d end up there, the last place I wanted to be, and I decided covering by insulting you was a brilliant idea."

"Isn't the bar more your scene?"

"I'm not even twenty-one yet... I guess it's my scene in that I spend too much time in similar places, doing menial jobs for minimum wage or listening to people more successful than me live the dream.” Hunter sighs.

"When I ran into you the other night, I was heading to a bookstore not a bar, the one on the next street over that stays open late.

I haven't been to a bar or seen a live show since.

.. since I left L.A. I'm kinda taking a break from being a musician. "

"Oh." I'm at a loss. "Wow."

"Surprising, huh?" he laughs darkly. "Considering the amazing fame and fortune it brought me. Yeah, there's no more band, no more punk look." He runs a hand through his hair. "Hell, I don't even have drums anymore."

"Seriously?"

Even as a kid, he carried around drumsticks before owning the instrument. He used them on every darn surface imaginable until his parents decided the controlled racket of a drum set was better than him turning the whole world into a drum set.

"So, I'm kinda not ready to go into that bar.

" He groans. "Which I should have just said in the first place.

I see that now. Admitting all my failures and humiliating myself seemed like a really terrible way to start a date, not to mention about as fun as a kick in the balls, but then I went and embarrassed you instead, which was even worse. "

"Oh. Uh, okay.” My face floods with heat. I look away, tempted to duck back into the alley. “The thing is, I-I thought, I thought I…”

"What? You worried you're boring or something?" He laughs, but not at me. At the idea I'm boring? "If you haven't noticed, I do like you the way you are."

Yeah, he likes me enough to go on and then ruin this date. But he looks away, perhaps the barest hint of a blush on his face? Maybe he does care a little. Why have such a big reaction when I accidentally struck a nerve otherwise?

It's messed up how he acted.

But that might be the sincerest apology anyone has ever given me and getting an unexpected glimpse of how Hunter thinks and what’s going on with him… it’s strangely intriguing.

Maybe he actually does want to be here. And if he's here willingly and I'm here because, well, I'm here, then maybe it's not too late to salvage this date.

"Um, what now?" I wonder.

"Let's find out together."