My Favorite Mistake (13 page)

“Come on, floor picnic.” He patted a spot beside him that was free of clothes. I hadn't had a chance to do laundry in a while, and a few of my clothes hadn't made it to the hamper yet. Hunter didn't seem to care, even though he was an obsessive neat freak, for a guy.

“Are you bipolar?” I asked. He stared at me for a second and threw his head back and laughed. “No, seriously.”

“Says the girl who has been to more than one therapist.” 

“So what? It wasn't my choice.” I didn't want to talk about me. I got down from the bed and moved a sweatshirt out of the way so I could sit far enough away from him.

“Parents make you go?” he said, taking a bite.

 I picked up my piece of pizza and studied it. He'd gotten all my favorite vegetables on it, and he was eating a piece of it, too. 

“Sort of. It's complicated.” I did not want to discuss my dark and twisty past. 

“I had to go, too,” he said, wiping his mouth and balling up the paper towel in his hand. 

“What for?”

“It's a long story. Complicated.” His hand went to his seven tattoo and rubbed it three times before he picked up his pizza again.

“Huh,” I said.

“What?”

“Well, I just never thought we'd have something like that in common. Guess we're both a little fucked up.” I was a lot fucked up, but I didn't say that.

“A girl like you? No way.”

I laughed. 

“Oh, Hunter. You have no idea.” I hadn't showed him even a fraction of the crazy in my head. True, I probably hadn't seen a fraction of his either.

“Well, we can just be fucked up together.”

“No, thanks.” I munched my pizza and scooted away from him. Hunter was always too close for comfort.

“You talk to your sister lately?”

“Why are you so concerned about my personal business?”

“Because I'm a gentleman. And your roommate.”

“Bite me.”

“Deflecting, I see. You seem to do that a lot. I bet it's because your sister likes me. Admit it. I've never been with sisters before, but for you I'd make an exception.”

I reached behind me for the closest thing I could throw. Turned out to be a kitten heel. For the first time in my life, I wished I wore spiked heels. Really sharp ones.

He ducked my shoe assault.

“Shoes don't count under the assault category, do they?” I asked.

“Not sure, I'll have to check my law books.”

“You do not have law books.”

He nodded and picked up his pizza, totally blasé. 

“My uncle does. A whole room full of 'em. I used to read them when I was a kid.”

“Law books. You,” I said, pointing to the smirking dude across from me, “read law books? Did you get punished a lot as a kid?”

“Why, you wanna punish me, Missy?” His eyes sparkled, and he smiled wickedly.

I closed my eyes and shook my head to rid myself of the mental image of doing just that. It wouldn’t be as fun for him as it would for me, in my version.

“Nah, I just liked reading them. I don't know. There's something comforting about the law. Most of it's written down, and there are rules to follow. It's equal for everyone.”

“Yeah, the law is great.” We were veering into uncomfortable territory, but I didn't want Hunter to know that. “Works every time.”

“How would you know?” His playful tone was gone, and his face was serious again. Shit.

“I watch a lot of crime shows,” I said, rolling my eyes and shoving my pizza in my mouth so I wouldn't have to talk.

“Uh huh,” Hunter said, but dropped the subject.

We both looked up when there was a knock at the door. Mase slowly poked his head in, as if he was expecting to surprise us in a compromising position.

“Hey, guys,” he said, taking in our floor picnic. He seemed relieved that neither of us was naked. “I just wanted to see if you were coming to the house this weekend?”

“Yeah, I gotta meet with Joe, so I'll be over for dinner.”

 Mase's eyes flicked from me to Hunter and back.  

“Cool, I'll tell Dad. See you later, man.”

Hunter nodded goodnight, and Mase closed the door softly.

“Who's Joe?”

He got up and tossed his pizza plate and chugged some of his soda. “Family friend.”

“You have to 'meet' with him? Doesn't sound friendly.” Well hello, secret that Hunter didn't want me to know. Nice to meet you.

He drained the rest of the can. “I'm gonna go shower. Care to join me?” The flirty smile was back, but it didn't reach his eyes. Gotcha.

“Hmm, that sounds a lot like deflecting, Hunter.” He slung his towel over his shoulder as I sauntered over to him. I tipped my face up and smiled. 

“Now who has a secret?”

“You know, for a girl who claims to hate me, you're doing a really good job of trying to get into my pants. We could fix that, right here, right now.”

“What about the bet?”

“Missy, if you slept with me, I'd say screw the bet. Whatever you wanted, I'd do.”

“So if I sleep with you and told you to get the fuck out, you'd do it?”

“Scout's honor,” he said, putting up his fingers.

“Bullshit.” I was calling his bluff. Also, I was not sleeping with him. Still, if I had one more chance of getting rid of him, I'd take it. Maybe more opportunities would come my way.

He stuck his hand right in my face.  

“Shake on it?”

“Deal,” I said.

“Why, Missy, if you wanted to get rid of me, you chose the most fun way of doing it.”

“Oh, Hunter, I’m not going to sleep with you. Dream on,” I said, brushing my hand on the front of his jeans, just near a very important area. He made a little groaning noise and tore himself away from me, slamming the door.

Who was in the driver’s seat now?

*****

“So who’s Joe?” I said when Hunter came back after his very long shower. He looked distinctly grumpy. 

“I told you, a family friend. Don’t stick your pretty nose in places it doesn’t belong, Missy. You might find something you don’t want to find.” He had no idea.

“How do you know that I don’t have secrets?”

“Oh, I know you do. I’m just not as overt as you are about finding them out. The best way to get what you want is to pretend you don’t want it.”

“So are you telling me you don’t want me?” Could have fooled me. I was pretty sure you didn’t proposition people you didn’t want to sleep with every five seconds.

He pointed to me. “You’re my exception, Missy. I don’t make exceptions very often. It’s bad luck. I can want you without liking you, so don’t take that as a confirmation that I like you.”

“Am I bad luck?”

He laughed. 

“No, Missy, you’re a jackpot. Best lucky break ever.”

“So you’re saying you do want to sleep with me?”

“Given the fact that I just took my millionth cold shower since I’ve moved in here and I have to constantly recite the Gettysburg Address and The Bill of Rights in my head when I’m around you? Yeah, I’d say so. Why, you want me, too?”

“No. I hate you.” I gave it a shot.

“Not a chance, Missy. But if you wanted to get this over with, I could be out of here in an hour.” He hopped up on his bed and started pulling his shirt over his head. Oh, God.

“No.”

“No?” He stopped, with half of his stomach exposed.

“No.” My voice was firm. It was not going to happen. Joking aside, if he EVER tried to force himself on me, they would have to drag me off his dead body because I would have beaten him to death. He must have seen my anger rising or sensed that I was about ready to do something crazy again, because he pulled his shirt back down and put his hands up in a peacemaking gesture.

“Message received. Shirt is staying on. Well, until we go to bed, but that’s nothing new.” He rubbed his tattoo again. I’d seen him doing that more than once. 

There were other little things I’d noticed about him. Like the fact that he was really into the numbers three, five and seven. Well, the seven was obvious. Five was more subtle. I’d heard him counting under his breath once, like it was a way to calm himself or something. When we walked, sometimes he counted his steps, one, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five. I’d never said anything about it because I knew he wasn’t aware of it, or he didn’t think I was aware of it. I didn’t want him knowing I noticed things like that.

When we’d had our pizza night with our neighbors, he’d freaked out when we had thirteen people.

“It’s uneven. We have to have fourteen.” So he’d stuck his head out the hall and yelled, “free pizza!” and some dude we’d never seen before joined us, and Hunter had seemed relieved. He was always giving my peacock stuff a wide berth.

Hunter was quiet as we both finished our homework and prepared for bed.

“I wrote something for you,” he said, grabbing his guitar for our nightly “music sex,” as he called it. The first time I’d heard his singing voice, I’d been blown away. His talking voice was amazing, but his singing was like honey and smoke had hooked up in the back of a van at a rock concert and had a love child. Smooth and rough at the same time.

“Awesome. I can’t wait to hear it.”

He strummed a chord and grinned.  

“Oh, believe me. This is Billboard material. Top Ten. Platinum record.” He started a little meandering tune.

I’m gonna tell you a story bout a girl I know,

Her name is Missy, and wants to do me so,

I wanna tell you about my Missy girl,

Her hair is brown and her lips are pink,

Her eyes are greenish or bluish I think,

She fights and flirts with me all day long,

Which is why I decided to write this song,

She may think that I’ve crossed the line,

But she tells me she hates me all the time,

So I don’t really believe anything she says,

I like the way she glares when she’s mad at me,

I like the way she smiles when she thinks no one sees,

She may think this song means I like her,

But she’d be very wrong,

I was bored in macro, so I decided to write a song,

There are two more things about Missy I like,

Could someone please hand me a mic?

The way she flips her retainer when she reads vampire smut,

And I really, really like her…
He winked at me. 

…ass 

I threw a pillow at him, but that didn’t stop the song. It was all about me. 

My silly, cute and sexy Missy girl… Missy girl… Missy girl…

He strummed the last chord and then quieted the guitar.

“So?”

I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh. What a ridiculous song. 

“Is it possible to be both impressed and insulted?”

“Sure, why not? What do you think of my song writing?”

“Not much.” I couldn’t hide my smile. No one had ever written a song about me, let alone all the weird things about me that I thought other people would hate or find unattractive. The weird part was, I had no idea about the retainer thing. That was news. 

“So you like the retainer, huh?” I said.

“Nothing like a girl who has good oral health.” I rolled my eyes at that, and he plucked a string. “And a cute ass.”

“I never knew it was song-worthy,” I said, getting up and craning my neck to look at it.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“Why?” 

“Because you shouldn’t focus my attention there, right now.”

“Oh, I’m soooo sorry. Does this bother you?” I shimmied my hips a little and struck a pose. 

“You’re an evil, evil girl, Missy.”

“Don’t you forget it.” I hopped back in bed and popped my retainer in, giving it a little flip and putting my arms up like a gymnast completing a vault.

“Ten!” Hunter said, holding up ten fingers.

It was times like this when I thought that Hunter and I could be something. That we could be something. That maybe… he could be the person I would break all my rules for. I hadn’t had a lot of luck. Maybe I was getting it all at once in the form of Hunter Zaccadelli.

“So, can I get some payment for that song? It took me a whole hour to write it,” he said, moving his guitar and raising one eyebrow up and down. I’d never been able to do that. “Why don’t you bring that fine ass over here and take care of it? Or do you want me to put it on your tab?” And just like that, the lucky feeling was gone.

“I have a tab? Please, tell me what’s on it.”

“How much time do you have?”

“Whatever.” I grabbed my pajamas and prepared to head to the bathroom to change. It was a pain to have to do that, but there was no way I was getting naked in the same room with Hunter Zaccadelli. I was sure he would tell me he was completely turned around, but I wouldn’t believe that for a second. He’d been trying to catch me sans clothes since day one. I’d somehow managed to evade him thus far.

I had my fingers crossed.

When I got back Hunter was naked, under his covers, and the light was off.

“Why Hunter, are you tired?”

“Yes. Being with you is exhausting, Missy.”

I crawled into my bed and grabbed my e-reader and clicked on the book light.

“Who’s she with now?”

“The vampire.”

“Which one?”

“The one you don’t like.”

“What is she doing with him? She knows he’s going to break her heart. He can never love her because his heart belongs to another.” For a second I thought he was making fun, but then I realized he was actually serious. 

“And don’t get me started on that werewolf,” he says, propping his head on his arm. “He’s just trouble.”

“Aren’t all werewolves?” I said.

“Hairy trouble.” He shook his head.

 I started giggling again. Seemed I’d had a bad case of them today.

“You may laugh, but when the full moon hits, you’ll wish you had some silver bullets.”

“Goodnight, Hunter.”

“Love me?”

“Nope.”

“Hate me?”

“More than the DMV.”

“Oohh, burn.”

I went back to my book, and Hunter went back to his sleeping. Well, he wasn’t exactly sleeping. I could tell he was awake. Hunter was only very still when he was pretending to sleep. The actual thing was pretty restless.

I read until my eyes begged me to shut them. I spent most of the night thinking about Hunter and how the hell I was going to get rid of him. The hate thing wasn’t working. Unless he did something to seriously piss me off, which was pretty likely, or I had sex with him, or I made him believe that I loved him.