“Hey. How was your night?” I ask when Hunter walks into the living room. He was gone when I got home earlier.
I’m sprawled out on the couch, wearing sweatpants and mindlessly scrolling through my phone.
“It was fine.” Hunter shrugs out of his jacket, revealing the sweater and button-down he’s wearing beneath.
I whistle. “Damn. What’s with the fancy clothes?”
“I was out on a date.”
I choke a little. “A date?”
“Yeah, it’s when you take a girl out to dinner and talk to her.”
I roll my eyes, then sit up. “I know what a date is, dick. I just didn’t know you were dating.”
“Yeah, well…” Hunter sighs, tugging at his tie before sprawling in the armchair. “It didn’t go that great.”
I’m still caught up on the fact that he’s dating, but Hunter clearly isn’t in the mood to elaborate. So all I say is “Sorry.”
Hunter nods. “Thanks.”
The curiosity is too much.
“So how long have you been, uh, dating this girl?”
He grunts, tossing the tie on the coffee table piled with the homework I was planning to get done tonight. “Tonight was the second date. I don’t think we’ll make it to a third.”
“Bummer. Isn’t that supposed to be the best one?”
“This isn’t about sex.”
“Then what is it about?”
Hunter slouches back in the armchair, staring at the hockey game I’ve got muted in the background. “You and Hart have both settled down. I thought it might be nice to meet someone. I was never crazy about the party scene, so I thought I’d try dating.”
“I have not settled down. I’m twenty-two—still a wild stallion.”
He snorts—loudly. “Please never say that again. And call yourself whatever you want. It’s a Friday night, and you’re on the couch, sober, waiting for Rylan to text you. You’ve changed, and it’s a good thing. So has Hart. If he and Harlow don’t get married, I’ll be shocked.”
“Did you mention marriage on the second date, Morgan? Because that might have been where you went wrong.”
Hunter flips me off. “You hear about your retake yet?”
“No.” I glance at my phone, resisting the urge to check my email again.
I had my second Stats final yesterday. If I pass, I’ll graduate on time. If I don’t, I won’t.
No pressure.
I think I did well. I actually studied this time, and Rylan reviewed all the assignments with me at the beginning of this week. But until I see the results, I won’t know for sure. And Professor Carrigan said she’d grade it “as soon as she could” but didn’t elaborate any more beyond that. So I’m stuck in a state of limbo, waiting for the final number.
“I had this weird moment earlier,” Hunter tells me.
My attention returns to him. “What do you mean? What kind of weird moment?”
“I was talking to this girl, and it was just…I dunno. Weird.”
“Dude, you’re going to have to come up with another adjective. Weird how? She was staring at your dick the whole time? She was bleeding? She was on a date with you, and you mentioned marriage?”
“No, I…” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”
I open my mouth, right as the front door opens and closes for a second time.
Conor’s eyebrows lift when he enters the living room. “Wow. You’re both home.”
“Phillips is waiting for girls’ night to end.”
“Morgan had a shitty date.”
“Oh-kay.” Hart drops down onto the couch next to me. “I got none of that.”
“Hunter just got back from a bad date that involved a weird moment,” I say.
“Phillips is waiting for his girlfriend to invite him over,” Hunter states.
“How’d you know that?” I ask.
“Because you told me Rylan had a girls’ night on Friday two days ago.”
“Oh.” I glance at Conor. “What are you doing home?”
He left for Harlow’s less than an hour ago.
“He got kicked out.” Hunter answers before Conor can. When we both look his way, he shrugs. “Right?”
“Yeah,” Hart grumbles.
“Shit. What’d you do?”
“Nothing. Eve had some emergency and Harlow went to pick her up.”
“What kind of emergency?” I ask. I’ve only talked to Harlow’s best friend Eve a couple of times, and both were entertaining experiences.
“Something about her boyfriend, I think. I dunno. I only heard Harlow’s end of the conversation.”
Morgan has a strange expression on his face, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure he should.
“Huh,” I say. “Well, since we’re all home, sitting around like losers instead of champions, why don’t we—”
My phone buzzes, and I dive for it.
Conor snickers. Hunter sighs.
RYLAN: Hi.
RYLAN: Boy ban has been lifted.
RYLAN: Please come fuck me.
“See you guys.” I stand, then hustle toward the door.
“You’re a fucking tamed stallion, Phillips!” Hunter calls after me.
