Page 18 of The Boy Next Door

Homework is especially calming. Questions with answers. I almost feel in control. Check the textbook, find the answer, write it down. It's much better than other questions, especially after a long day at school.

Questions like: what the hell are you doing, why did you kiss Hunter again yesterday, what happens now?

When I hear the doorbell, I think Maggie and Clay finished blowing up my phone and decided to pester me in person. Opening the door to tell them off, I'm at a loss.

"Hey," Hunter says. So unfair how good he looks with messy blond hair, beat up jeans, and a loose white tee for some band I’ve never heard of with the sleeves cut off. "What's up?" He's cool and casual as ever.

Me? I'm not. "Uh, wha-why- huh?"

"Saw your car, figured I'd say hi."

Nope, still doesn't compute. "Why?"

"Seriously?" He smirks. "Not to insult you, but if you don't know the answer by now…"

I hold up a hand. "Because you like me and wanna see me?"

"I think 'hi' covers it." He rocks on his feet, a tad bashful. "Technically, I guess your version is more or less—"

"Wait."

"You aren't inviting me in?" he hints, dark blue eyes strangely hypnotic.

Hanging onto the door for dear life, I struggle to put the pieces together.

I half expect him to disappear any second.

We didn’t really clear anything up yesterday since we didn’t get much talking done, and it seems like Hunter would rather skip the conversation entirely and just go back to… whatever we were doing before.

It's more tempting than I expect, the urge to let him in and forget about the rest, but I can’t.

Since he came back, it's like I've been chasing after him.

God, I even laughed at the idea of me pining for him, but he's always a move or two ahead of me, and I keep trailing behind without thinking about why I'm even following along after him. I just keep running after him.

Now he's seeking me out instead? It's strange.

When he’s done with our staring contest on my front porch, he begins moving forward.

"Hold it right there, mister." I put a finger on his chest.

"Uh oh, am I in trouble?"

"You and I have to talk first."

"What about?"

“I’m still catching up here,” I say. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Now you know better.”

It’s surprising how nice that is to hear but it doesn’t clear up much. “What are we doing now?”

He shrugs. “Should I pretend to borrow a cup of sugar? Is that a thing people really do?”

“Are we done with the whiplash and distance and avoidance?”

“Actually, you were doing the last one.”

I glare at him, not budging. “You gave me reason to.”

“Touché.” He holds his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “Look, I thought we cleared this up yesterday.”

“No, all we did was kiss. How does that clear anything up?”

“First of all, that wasn’t kissing.”

“What? I don’t have amnesia. I remember what happened yesterday.”

“That was full-on making out, verging on what people over seventy-five might call heavy petting.” The flirtatious look he sends me threatens to make my knees weak. “If you don’t know, then maybe I wasn’t doing it right. Let me try again.”

I hold onto the door for support. “No, no you can’t distract me that easily. I let you off too easily last time."

"Really?" He grimaces. "Admitting I'm jealous of my younger brother to the guy I like isn't what I'd call easy."

"You know what else isn't easy?" I can't focus on the 'guy I like' part.

"This whole hot and cold routine. You're great one minute and a jerk the next.

The whole you showing up thing and not even pretending you need to borrow a cup of sugar?

That I can handle… I think I even like it.

But I can't handle the bad part again. I can't think things are going well, then you totally shut down. "

I feel like a stupid teenager, overemotional, and I'm worried he'll make fun of me, but—he doesn’t.

“Okay, that’s fair.” Hunter looks down, shuffling his feet on the porch. “Look, I’m not the best at communicating or whatever. I tend to shut down when things get tough.”

No surprise there. “I’ve noticed.”

“But I’ll try to keep the worst of it at bay, we’ll give this a try, and then…”

“Then what?”

“Don’t know.” He looks up hopefully. “I'm kinda hoping you get attached. I’ve been thinking about sticking around for a while. Do you think you can put up with me for a little longer?”

“Yeah,” I whisper instantly, then cough. “Uh, it’s not easy, but I think I can manage.”

I move aside to let him in. He's right next to me as he steps through the door. “What about the making out part? Did you like that?”

“I don’t know.”

Hunter freezes. “You don’t?”

I smile. “I think I did, but you better try again to be sure.”

Pulling him farther inside and shutting the door, it feels like a beginning.

There's no logic, no explanation for why I even invited him in. It would have been so easy to let him go. Why are we giving this a try? Why did I make sure we were on the same page? And why am I so happy about it?

I should say goodbye and focus on the right boy. The nice boy. Yet I can't bring myself to end this chapter yet.

If things get better, if Hunter's the fun, oddly charming guy I'm learning he can be and we keep hitting it off...

Honestly, I have no idea what happens then. Maybe I'll find out.

~

The best delivery to my doorstep? It's a tie. After Hunter, there's an acceptance letter. From college! Steadfast College. It's likely the first of many, my grades are great, and I applied to several schools in-state and from this region, but seeing the words, 'Congratulations, Mr. Bell...'

"Here's to our son." Mom raises a glass of chardonnay as though it's champagne.

"Mom, stop," I plead.

"You stop." She raises her glass higher. "Your intelligence deserves recognition."

"Cheers!" Dad agrees. They clink glasses.

Since we're eating out in public at a nice restaurant, they're kinda embarrassing. But I can't say I totally hate how proud they are.

The restaurant's lit low for dinner, a slow jazz song plays softly, and the dark stones in the necklace Mom wears appear somewhat ominous.

Yet I'm ecstatic. There's a warm feeling inside and nothing can dim it tonight.

My first acceptance is sweeter because everything else is going right too. Because I get to tell Hunter.

"Do you think Stillman U. will give him more?" Dad asks his wife.

"It's only an opening offer." She dabs at her mouth with a napkin. "There's always room to negotiate."

"Just think," Dad tells me, "You could attend our alma mater."

"Uh, it's still pretty early," I remind, pushing down foreboding.

"Right, right," he agrees. "We won't be offended if you wanna be a Stillman Tortoise instead."

"Speak for yourself," Mom grumbles before smiling. "But I'll get over it."

The two schools they're mentioning... not only are they among the closest, those two are the best. At least of the traditional schools. Now that I'm accepted at one, I wonder if my parents will take any of the other options seriously.

"Such a big decision," I say. "Don't wanna rush into anything. And art school—"

"Yes, you applied to art school," Mom interrupts with annoyance. "You proved your point, you can say you did it, and you can move on. "

"But I didn't apply to prove a point."

She continues as if she hasn't heard me. "What matters is that you received a serious offer from a serious school. It's time to focus."

"But…"

"Should we get dessert?" Dad asks, nipping the impending argument in the bud. "The crème br?lée looks good, or oh, they also have tiramisu."

I'm not in the mood for anything sweet. I'm afraid it will turn sour, just like tonight did.