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six

Mark

K arma truly is savage.

I didn’t want to do this before, and now I really, really don’t want to do it. Not to Hunter. What the fuck happened between the two of them? It hits me then. Hunter’s eye, his friend, that fight.

Was Derrick the other guy in the fight?

If so, I can see why Derrick is pissed. If Hunter’s friend got the best of him, he’s probably embarrassed.

Derrick’s ego is bruised, and now I have to do this bullshit—which honestly just seems dumb—all because of a stupid fight.

Unless Derrick transfers schools he won’t be playing hockey again, but why did it lead to Derrick getting kicked off the team anyway?

If he is even who Hunter’s friend fought in that fight.

“Sorry if you’re busy.” His deep voice brings me back.

“Oh no. Sorry. Just a lot on my mind.” Under-fucking-statement.

Today he’s wearing a dark-blue hoodie with this year’s new hockey logo.

The material of the sweater does nothing to hide his muscles underneath, and the color really makes his brown eyes shine.

Hunter has the jock look down, and goddamn, it’s just never done it for me like this before.

Having spent most of my adolescence being the target of many jocks at my high school, I’ve built an aversion.

Hunter doesn’t act anything like the bullies at any of my highschools, though. “What’s up?”

“Oh, if you’re not busy, I just wanted to talk to you for a moment.” Okay, good. This is good, right? This is what I’m supposed to do.

This is my shot. “Yeah, come inside.”

With him sitting on my bed, the gym shorts he’s wearing ride up his knees, and it takes everything in me not to glance down at his thighs. Muscular thighs. Muscular thighs I wouldn’t mind being between. Stop ogling the man’s thighs! Have I always been a thigh person?

Jesus! Focus. I try instead to focus on his handsome face and the dark beard that looks so soft to the touch. What would that feel like —“Sorry for sitting outside. I didn’t know where else to find you.”

That surprises me. “You were trying to find me?”

Crimson dusts his temples as he smiles, looking down at his lap. “I just wanted to say thank you for the other night. It meant a lot to me.”

“Oh, no problem. Sorry I drooled on you and uh, cuddled you.”

“Forgiven.” Hunter laughs and I can’t help smiling wider at the rich sound. I really like his deep voice. I like a lot about this guy. Why does he have me so twisted up? “I didn’t mind. I mean, I could have done without the drool, but I don’t mind.”

“I was making a joke; I don’t drool in my sleep.”

Pinching his fingers together, he smiles. “A little.” Hunter swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and my eyes trace it like a magnet.

“Is your friend alright?”

“Oh yeah, his sister got him out. Minimum damage. No charges. Momma bear doesn’t know.

” I want to ask about Derrick but I’m afraid of the line of questions that may lead to.

“If you’re not busy right now, do you want to go have coffee?

Coffee is lame, maybe, but it’s all I have the money for. I just want to thank you somehow.”

As much as I hate myself for this, things just got both easier and harder. “How about you let me take you to get a burger instead, and I’ll pay.”

“I can’t let you do that. You paid for my food the other night.”

“I can hold those snacks over you another night. Let me do this. I want to. I insist.”

Hunter’s hands fidget in his lap. I don’t like the insecurity. I don’t mind paying. “Mark, that’s—”

“I’m going to be really honest with you. My self-esteem is holding on by a fraying thread and if you reject me, fuck, I don’t think my ego will recover.” That makes him smile. I just don’t want him to feel bad about me paying. “Please.”

“One meal, just this time.”

“Deal.”

We walk up to the little roadside restaurant and it looks like a shithole.

The food here is honestly incredible, though, and the owners never stiff on the fries.

I like to think it looks like the set of all horror movies because the people who own it spend all their money on quality food and not appearance.

I order for us both after Hunter can’t decide, and then we wait in the most awkward silence known to man for our food.

Finally, our orders go up through the window —thank fuck —and I carry them over to one of the picnic benches.

It’s getting colder now, and I wish I’d brought a sweater.

My mind goes to Noah and the hoodie he stole.

I need to get that back, it’s my favorite.

I got it when I toured the Venom Edge building.

There are video games, and then there are video games made by Venom Edge. I bought the hoodie when my tour was over, and I wear it to remind myself that one day I won’t be touring that building, I’ll be working there. I have a feeling if I tell Noah that he’ll want to keep it even more.

“Holy shit.” Hunter takes another big bite like he hasn’t eaten in days. “This is amazing.”

“Told you. Looks can be deceiving.” I watch him eat, picking at my food as he pauses mid-bite. “What?”

He puts the burger down, lifting the bun and removing two pickles. “I don’t like pickles.”

“How do you not like pickles?”

“It’s easy, I just don’t.”

Shaking my head, I grab them from his plate and add them to my burger. “They are sour and sweet and delicious. I’m having doubts about bringing you here.”

“Because of the pickles?”

“It starts with the pickles, Hunter. Then the next thing I know you tell me you don’t like chocolate.” His brows rise, and a shy smile spreads on his gorgeous lips. “You don’t like chocolate?”

“I don’t like sweet food in general, really.”

“Well, nice to know I’m on a date with a monster.” My eyes widen when I realize what I just said. Shit. “Not that this, this um . . .”

“Is this a date?” he asks.

Looking down, I am suddenly extremely not hungry. I am, however, mortally and utterly embarrassed. “That depends.” I grab my soda. “If you want it to be a date, then yes. If not, and you find me repulsive, then this is a pity lunch because I was trying to humor you and didn’t want coffee.”

“Ouch.” He licks his bottom lip, and something so mundane and basic should not be that hot. Why is everything he does so damn attractive? “Well, good thing for me this is a date.” He grins, picking his burger back up and finishing it in three bites.

Hunter’s tan skin glistens against the September sun at his back, while I’m left a little in the shade on my side of the table. He’s peeled off the hoodie he was wearing on the way over here, revealing a black tank top displaying those arms I want pinning me to a bed.

Fuck. Okay, wow. Don’t think about that shit. Stop it.

Hunter grabs a napkin, wiping his hands before annihilating his fries.

It’s like he feels my eyes on him and pauses with a fry half in his mouth.

“Sorry,” he laughs, putting down his fry.

“I haven’t eaten all day.” It’s not the first time he’s said something like that.

Is it a money issue? I’d pay for this man to eat every day and all day.

“How do you maintain all that, eating so little.” I wave a hand over his muscles. Fuck. So, so many muscles. Jocks never did it for me before, but I’m starting to see the appeal.

“I usually grab a protein shake and then eat around lunchtime. I had a meeting with my coach today and I was really nervous about it. I forgot my shit at home. I was too distracted and didn’t want to eat.

” A meeting, about kicking Derrick off the team?

I’m not sure what happened, but ruining someone’s career over a fight seems extreme.

Derrick’s a fucking dick, but so are a lot of people.

“What happened? Did you get in trouble?”

“Oh, no. Something happened, and we had to kick a guy off our team. He deserved it.” Hunter pops a fry into his mouth, and his eyes swirl into stormy darkness.

“Fucking prick shows up near that rink or any of us and I don’t know how I’ll react.

” He rolls his shoulders, shaking his head.

“I’m not a violent person . . . Well, off the ice. ” He smiles.

My burger becomes mud in my stomach. What did Derrick do . . . “I’m sorry you had to go through that. You seemed really stressed that morning.”

Looking away, Hunter nods, lowering his voice.

“All taken care of now.” He takes a long sip of his drink.

“We threw a party—we do it every year before the season starts—and I brought my friend with me. He loves the team, and he helps us out a lot. I thought it was safe for him to come . . . the guy wasn’t supposed to be there.

He showed up, though, and taunted my friend, so he punched him. ”

“And you caught an elbow?”

“That was an accident. I was trying to hold him back. My friend isn’t an athlete, but he works out, and paired with pure hatred I was afraid he would really hurt him.”

I feel cold all over. What have I gotten myself into? This is insane. Still, as insane as it is, I fucking believe every word, and I know Hunter did it for a reason. I just need to figure out what led to Derrick getting kicked off the team. “He sounds fucking awful. What did he do?”

“Uh, it’s um, not really my business to share.

I’m sorry.” He finishes up his food. “He’s not allowed near the rink.

It’s small, but it’s something.” Hunter finishes up but I can’t bring myself to eat.

I notice his eyes glancing between my face and my food, and I push my basket toward him, but he shakes his head.

It’s cute how he tries to pretend he doesn’t want it.

“Go ahead, I’m not that hungry. You have to eat it with the pickles, though.” A tiny smile slips onto my face, seeing the war in his mind. I lift the bun, taking the pickles out and eating them myself. “Uncultured.”

After a few seconds he concedes, finishing up my burger in a couple of bites. Those fries stand no chance. I sip my drink and my options play out before me.

I hate them all.