Page 23 of The Boy Next Door

The seconds pass in a glacial crawl, extending the agony of being caught undressing in Hunter Cruse's bed. He moves off me, meaning nothing protects me from their stares, so I stare up at the ceiling—really, Hunter? Some posters are up there, Queen and the Sex Pistols.

Instead of leaving as polite party crashers should, Dylan and Clay stay. Clay elbows Dylan. Dylan elbows him back. They both start talking.

"Working on a history project together—"

"My strong suits aren't in writing or public speaking—"

"We're creating a visual —"

"If we use Hunter's drumsticks—"

"Cool," Hunter interrupts. "Now get out?"

Presumably, they leave. I can't quite look, staring up at Freddie Mercury instead. The door shuts.

"So…"

The door opens.

"Um, I'll wait outside, Sam." Clay shuts the door again.

The mood between Hunter and me is effectively ruined, but I'm not exactly thrilled about chatting with Clay. There's nothing else I can do though, besides putting my shirt back on, hopefully getting myself together, and saying goodbye to Hunter.

Clay and I make it to the Cruse kitchen and the closest door to my house. However, he doesn't venture out yet, possibly waiting for me to speak. I'm not sure what to say.

The impressive Cruse kitchen is immaculate as always, though there's a copper pot on the nearest counter. I'm tempted to check if there's anything inside. The kitchen is full of modern, high-tech appliances, but I've never seen anybody use anything , not even the sink.

"You and Hunter," Clay finally says. "When did this happen?"

"You know when."

"No, when did you start liking him?"

The words jolt me. "What?!? I-I don't, are you crazy?"

"Are you? Because whenever I wanna jump in bed with people I barely know, you give me judge-y eyes."

"Clay."

"Granted it doesn't actually happen as often as I'd like, but still, it never happens with you."

"Y-you did this." I point a shaky finger in his direction. "It's your fault!"

He blinks. "Okay, not expecting that."

"I came over here to escape my mom, then I was in his room and couldn't stop thinking about your sexy Hunter fantasies."

" One fantasy, and I could have been way more graphic."

"Well, it was enough." Do not think about Hunter and more graphic. "I got confused and caught in the moment."

He nods, considering but not rejecting my defense immediately. "That's all?"

"Yeah. That's all."

Denying everything seems like the best plan as I'm still reeling from being caught this afternoon. The words come naturally because they were true once but hearing them makes me realize just how much has changed.

When Clay leaves my house after hanging out for a bit, I rest against the door and exhale a breath I've been holding since he caught me with Hunter.

Visions of Cruse brothers swim in my head. Dylan is lovely, sweet, always kind... With Hunter, you never know. It's terrifying and occasionally awful, the lows are seriously low, but when it goes right, nothing in the world matters more.

Dylan is—was?—the boy I’ve desired for so long. I shouldn't compare, but when I do, he seems... safe.

For the first time, safe doesn't seem so appealing.

Maybe I'm starting to understand Rebecca French. Sometimes you're gonna fall flat on your ass, but there's no point aiming for anything else in art and maybe in life too. You shoot for abysmal or amazing, the stars above or the hard ground below. No in between. No playing it safe.

Safe passed me by ages ago. I'm in uncharted territory, lost and totally confused, yet I still want more. I want him.

I like Hunter Cruse.

Duh. This feeling has been building for a while, but I never stopped and said or even thought the words before. I’ve been on a whirlwind ever since Hunter found my note and pulled me on this adventure I never saw coming.

I used to think of him as Dylan’s annoying older brother and never really noticed him. But now that I see him, it’s impossible to look away. When he’s around, he’s all I see. When he’s gone, I think about him.

Maybe I wasn’t ready to admit it to Clay yet but there’s no denying it to myself anymore. There’s no going back.

I like Hunter Cruse.