I get a little sparkle in my belly when I hear the ping coming from my phone.
After checking my surroundings I slip my cell from a tiny side pocket in my leggings and I anxiously tap the bubbles on my screen. The message from Ash that has just popped up almost makes my heart burst with joy.
AISLING: Fallon!!! This is so good, I’m swooning!!
My eyes practically spill with happy tears.
Really?! I type back to her, and I get an immediate, Yes my queen.
I clutch at my chest and sniffle back a watery smile. Thank you Ash.
Getting hired-and-fired at Rodeo Bar six days ago has been the catalyst for my nervous-wreck productivity bender, meaning that I managed to finish my first essay of term a whole week early, and I don’t even need to worry about my thesis right now because I already wrote the first draft over the summer. It’s times like now that have me wishing that I could talk to my parents the way that other people do in the hopes of receiving a little familial appreciation, but I know to think better of it so I keep that Messages page as blank as it’s always been.
So instead of doing more coursework that I’m already caught up on or guilt-tripping myself into attending cheer sessions that I’m technically still banned from participating in, I treated myself to a rare moment of one-on-one time with the little document on my laptop titled “Dream Manuscript”. Only this time I took it one step further.
I shared the first chapter with Aisling.
I know the impossibility of ever doing anything with the words that I’ve written but, after three years of trauma bonding, it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that I’ve shared something so close to my heart with the only girl on campus that I genuinely consider to be a real friend. One of the reasons why I want to stay on at Carter U after senior year is because I love the gratification of receiving academic validation, but in reality there’s also the fact that I have no idea what I’ll do when I graduate. Being an author isn’t even on the table because I know how slim the chances of getting a publishing deal are – that’s why I’ve spent years writing for fun, but sharing my dream with Ash today has made me feel kind of amazing.
I take a screenshot of our messages and then stash my phone at the bottom of my gym bag, a warm kindling of hope flickering in my belly.
And then another thought pops into my head and I roll my eyes, almost laughing as I reach back into my bag to turn the sound off on my cell.
Aisling aside, there is one other person who has been single-handedly blowing up my phone.
HUNTER: Fallon? Hey, it’s Hunter.
HUNTER: I’m so so sorry about the other night.
HUNTER: I wanna talk to you. Please can we talk?
I stupidly opened Hunter’s first few messages with my read receipts turned on and, as soon as he realised, he sent me a little smiley face because I’d been caught red-handed.
Now I’m getting daily updates. As in, when I go to turn the sound off on my phone right now, I literally have another update.
HUNTER: Currently at Carter U gym. D’you train on campus?
I stare at the new message before glancing up at the Carter U gym right in front of me.
Darn it.
I ignore the text and shoulder-bump my way through the first set of sleek glass doors, heading towards the locker rooms situated across from the main training area. I probably won’t see him in here anyway. Carter U’s gym is truly gigantic and I would put good money on Hunter being in the WWE section at the back, an area that I have never and will never step foot inside.
When my phone vibrates in my hand again I can’t help but peek down at the screen.
Photo attachment.
I frown, suspicious, before unlocking my phone.
Then I come to a complete stop, choking on a halted inhale.
It’s a picture of Hunter sat back on the weight bench, his solid thighs planted on either side of the long black seat. His hair is a goddamn mess – dark, tousled, and dripping with sweat – and his cheekbones are flushed beneath the deep tan of his skin. Swollen biceps, giant chest. His masculine face is hard and emotionless but when I zoom into the area between his huge thighs–
I whack my forehead against something hot and hard, and big hands grip my waist as I immediately stumble backwards.
“Something caught your eye?” a deep voice asks from above my head.
I squeeze my eyes shut. You have got to be kidding me.
“Oh my God.” I disentangle our bodies and scowl up at Hunter, shoving my bag back up to my shoulder and folding my arms across my chest. It would be easier to be grumpy with him about aiding my speedy firing from Rodeo Bar if he wasn’t looking at me right now with such a dark smouldering expression. When his eyes flash down to the phone screen in my hands I quickly press the top button to hide the incriminating evidence.
“So you do train on campus,” he says, his voice raspy with post-gym exertion. Then a sexy dimple cuts playfully into his cheek. “I’ve been hoping that I’d bump into you.”
I give him a look. “You bump into me everywhere. That’s the problem.”
He’s too preoccupied with staring at me to register the words that I’m saying to him. His eyes trail down my body and he rubs a hand over his jaw.
“You always wear this sort of stuff when you train?” he asks, chin tipping at my outfit. I’m wearing a matching set, sports leggings and a long-sleeved top, both in a soft and subdued shade of lilac. My hair is scraped up in a ponytail and my curls are bouncing all the way to my lower back.
“Yeah,” I say, my eyebrow rising even higher. Has he never seen a girl in sportswear before?
He grunts low and tight before he asks roughly, “What days do you train? In fact–”
He pulls his phone from his shorts and then nods to himself as he pockets it again.
Before I can ask if he just checked the date and time to co-align our workouts, he runs a hand through his hair and flashes me another devastating smile. “Did you like the pic?”
I take a shaky breath. “Um…”
“I’ve never taken a photo like that before,” he rumbles, “but I’d do it again if you like it.”
The honest confession takes me by surprise and my cheeks heat up like I’ve just done a workout.
He grins knowingly so I huff right past him.
“Wait up,” he says, easily matching my pace. When we reach the girls locker rooms I give him a victorious smile of my own.
You can’t come in here, my expression reads smugly.
He makes a low sound as he wars with himself against the threshold.
“When are you next free?” he asks, his tone deep and demanding.
I give my ponytail a swish. “Not for a billion years.”
He grips the back of his neck and says, “Fallon, I’m so sorry about what happened at the bar.”
I exhale a small weary sigh. “Honestly, you were so drunk that I’m surprised you remember any of it.”
His eyes momentarily drop to my belly as he mumbles, “How could I forget?”
Our gazes catch for a split second and I quickly look away, remembering how Hunter’s body felt pressed up against my stomach. I let out a shaky breath and remind myself never to come to this gym again.
“I want to make it up to you, Fallon. Let me fix this.”
“No,” I say stubbornly.
“Fallon, I promise–”
“I don’t want your help.”
Hunter looks deep into my eyes and hurt flashes through his irises.
Suddenly I feel like the worst person in the world.
This is why I don’t try with people anymore. This is why I don’t let myself develop the bond of comfort and familiarity. I don’t want to secretly cherish their attention only for it to be swiftly ripped away because I can’t be perfect twenty-four seven.
I need to calm down so that I can rationalise my feelings. I’m stressed because this is probably my last year of college and my imminent future is still yet to be decided. All I know is that I can’t speak to my parents and I won’t go home, which means that I need to do something so that I can safely remain at Carter U. I want that funding so freaking much and it’s eating me up not knowing if I’ll get it.
Hunter shuffles his large body on his feet and the move is so self conscious that my heart aches in my chest.
Feeling overwhelmed and guilty, I tuck a loose curl behind my ear with slightly shaking fingers, wishing that I could tell him, Hunter, you’re so beautiful it’s crazy, and I can’t believe that you think that I’m worth talking to, but I’m scared that if I let myself start to like you, you’re going to end up hurting me like my parents did back home.
Instead I opt for, “I’m… sorry, please let me start over. You’re really kind, Hunter. But I can’t ask you for your help because I don’t want to be a burden. It’s, uh, kind of a sore spot for me.” I rub my hands up my arms until I’m anxiously gripping my elbows. “I need to be able to take care of myself. I need to be able to…”
Hunter takes a small step forward, a concerned pinch between his brows. I look up at him with wide eyes, half expecting him to laugh and say yeah, you’re a mess.
Instead he says, “Fallon, you’re not a burden.”
I never knew until this moment how much I wanted to hear someone say those words to me.
A small kindling stirs gently in my belly and I press my hand over it, as if Hunter might see it if I don’t.
He takes another step forward and I don’t back away. He braces one arm against the doorjamb and looks down at me.
“You didn’t need to apologise, I’m the one who’s been messing up. But I’m gonna push my luck anyway seeing as I’ve finally got you standing in front of me.” He rolls his right shoulder and then braces that arm on the doorframe too. It’s heavenly here in the cage between his biceps. “I want to go out with you, and I want you to say yes.”
I can imagine saying yes to a lot of things that Hunter asks of me.
“I’m still job hunting,” I say, “so I’ll need to find a good job before I let myself have any downtime.” Now is not the time to explain about getting benched from the cheer comp team and the arts grant that I now need if I want to stay on and do my Master’s.
There’s something burning in Hunter’s expression, like he’s fighting with himself to offer me something. He’s straining with the effort to keep himself from saying it.
Let me fix this.
For the briefest of moments I wonder what he meant by that.
He swipes his tongue over his lower lip before finally nodding and saying, “You’ll get one soon. A real good job, Fallon, I promise.”
He’s so unyieldingly confident that I can’t help but think, no wonder he’s the team captain – you can’t disobey a man who is this sure of himself.
“Okay,” I breathe out, feeling a little dizzy.
His mouth lifts up at the corner, pleased with the resolution that we have managed to come to, and he moves in so close that we’re almost touching.
“Go out with me, Fallon,” he repeats, his eyes burning into mine.
I’m about to say yes when the glass doors behind him swing open.
“How’s it going?” Connell calls over to me with a grin, eyeing me up and down like he’s never seen a girl before. Hunter glances at him over his shoulder and his tongue pokes roughly in the side of his cheek.
I feel like I’m having a fever dream.
Connell catches Hunter’s gaze and says cheerfully, “Hey, man. Didn’t know that you knew Fallon.”
Hunter stares at him for a long beat before replying with, “Uh, I didn’t know that you knew Fallon?”
Connell holds a palm out for Hunter to clasp and Hunter reluctantly drops an arm from the doorframe, drowning me in a quick wave of his post-workout heat, before smacking his palm roughly against Connell’s. I can tell that it was rough because when they finally let go of each other Connell shakes out his hand and his fingers crack.
“Fallon and I go way back,” Connell says, leaning against the wall beside the jamb and flashing me a quick smile. “We’re practically roommates.”
“Is that so,” Hunter says dryly, his knuckles turning white.
They’re talking like they actually know each other which I find greatly disturbing.
Connell jabs his thumb at the gym entrance and says to me, “Wanna stay for an hour and then dip?” He gives Hunter a look and adds on, “I’m her ride.”
I remain strategically silent. Hunter gives me a long heated look.
Connell must finally register Hunter’s hulking stance and the muscle rolling angrily in his jaw because, after retying his trainers, he finally asks, “Were you two in the middle of something?”
I think that Hunter and I have been in the middle of something since the first moment that we met. He’s looking down at me with such blatant interest that I don’t even feel embarrassed when I reciprocate the stare.
Hunter’s chest swells as he watches me watch him and then he says hoarsely to Connell, “Yeah, we are. But, actually, I kinda need to talk to you about something too. Meet you in the locker room in a minute, okay?”
Wait, what?
They clap hands again and I look between them in alarm.
As soon as Connell opens the door to the guys’ changing room I flash my eyes back up to Hunter and ask, “How do you two know each other? What do you need to talk to him about?”
“We’re in the same classes,” he says on a shrug, disregarding my second question entirely. “I have a game coming up and I want you to be there. Can I text you the details?”
My eyes stray briefly to the bulging vein in his large bicep.
“Yes,” I say, a little raspy.
He smiles at my tone and gives me a savouring once-over.
“I love this outfit,” he murmurs gruffly. “When you come to watch the game please do not wear it.”
I blink in surprise and a small laugh bubbles out of me. “Why not?” I ask, smiling even though I’m confused.
“Because I have to keep my eyes on the puck if I want to win, Fallon.”
My lips part open and Hunter shoves his body backwards off the wall, tucking one hand in the front pocket of his shorts and jostling it slightly as he gives me a final once-over.
I take my bag off my shoulder and clutch it against my chest.
“Bye Hunter,” I say.
He tips his chin at me before heading down the hallway after Connell.
“Bye Fallon.”
