My Favorite Mistake (7 page)

 The kitchen was spotless, the dishes already in the drainer and all other evidence of the breakfast buffet was gone. Guess cleaning was a hidden talent as well. Darah hadn’t had a chance to make our chore chart yet, but I was sure she was on it.

“Do you mind if I play?”

“No, go ahead,” I said, not looking up from my book.

He went to our room and came back with his guitar. I hadn't really looked at it the day before, but it had definitely been through the ringer. It was black, but dinged and scratched all over. He sat in the chair across from the couch and settled the strap around his neck. I kept reading, but waited for him to start.

“Requests?”

“I thought I had to pay for them,” I said.

“I'm feeling generous. I'll give you a few freebees.”

“How generous.” He strummed a chord. I thought about it for a second. “
Smooth Criminal.
Either version.”

He looked surprised for a second, and then started to play. I couldn't help but groove to the familiar tune. Against my will, my head bopped and my feet twitched. He didn't sing, but played the song and that was enough. He was very talented. When the song ended, he continued to strum a transitional tune.

“Next?”

“
On my Own
.” There was no way he'd know that one. I'd had a brief obsession with musicals in high school and had a minor part in the community theater production of
Les Miserables
. I'd wanted more than anything to play Eponine, but there were too many other girls who tried out and had been in theater since they were born, so I didn't get the part. I’d been mildly crushed for at least a month.

“You think you're going to stump me, but I assure you, I can play pretty much anything,” he said before he launched into a guitar version of the song.

Honestly, I thought even if he knew it, he wouldn't be able to play it on a guitar. I had been proved wrong again. I was still holding my e-reader, but the book wasn't captivating me as much as Hunter.

He got lost in the music, throwing his whole body into the song. It was like he wasn't even aware of what he was doing; he was just getting lost in the music. It was beautiful to watch. Hunter played with everything he had and he was good. No, he wasn't good. He was amazing. Hypnotic. Could this be the same boy who'd said I was fuckable last night?

He abruptly ended the song, placing his hand on the strings so they'd stop vibrating.

“Free request time over. If you want to pay, I'll continue.”

I could only imagine what he'd take in payment, so I just picked up my book again. 

After a few minutes, he started again, just picking out random notes and tunes. He'd play a few lines of a song, enough for me to recognize it, and then it would melt into something else.

“Can I ask you something?” I said a half-hour later.

“You can ask whatever you want, doesn't mean I'm going to answer.” He quickly plucked one string.

“Why are you a business major? I'd rather eat glass than admit it, but you have talent.”

“This?” he said, pointing to the guitar. I nodded. “So I can be a starving artist? There are ten thousand guys with guitars who can play.”

“But if you love doing it, then why wouldn't you?”

“I am doing it. Right now.”

I just wanted a real answer from him. If I was going to be stuck with him for the rest of the week, we might as well get to know each other. He may have been a jerk, but he was an intriguing one. I wanted to know how he'd become the guy he was. You know, before I tossed him out on his ass.

“You know what I mean.” He shrugged and went back to strumming. “Oh, so you shut down when you don't want to talk. I see how it is,” I said.

“You don't want to know about me, Taylor. You really don't. Trust me when I say those things are not worth knowing.”

“I could be the judge of that, I think.”

He gave me a smile, but it was twisted. 

“That's what they all say. Everyone says they want to know you, but they don't. They want to know the nice things, the pretty things. No one wants to know the ugly parts, the parts that keep you up at night. They say they're okay with it, but then they drift away and you never see them again. I've seen it happen way too many times. Girls don't want to know that shit.”

“Maybe this one does.”

His smile appeared again. 

“That's what they all say,” he repeated.

I decided to give up and went back to my book. He went back to strumming, and we stayed like that until Darah got back at 10:30. She seemed shocked to find us in our current positions, but recovered quickly.

Renee got back a little while later when the library closed, her eyes glazed over from all the medical terminology she'd tried to cram into her brain in just a few hours. I was exhausted from the previous night, so I wanted to turn in early. I made sure to take my damn pill so I wouldn't wake everyone up with my night terrors. I was already in bed and had my eyes closed when Hunter came in after his shower.

The smell of his clean skin overwhelmed the room, and I tried to pinpoint what it was. It was something similar to wood or cinnamon. Something warm. 

I heard him get into bed and slip his boxers off.

“I don't know if you're awake or not, but good-night, Taylor.”

I decided to pretend I was asleep. He waited for a response, but when I didn't give one he rolled over and sighed.

“Damn you,” I heard him say under his breath.   

Right back atcha.

I was the first to wake up the next morning. Somehow our blackout curtain had gotten pushed aside and a crack of sunlight was poking under my eyelids. I opened them and moaned. Stupid sun. I rolled over and checked the clock. It wasn't even seven yet. Why had I woken up? Then I heard a voice.

Hunter was talking in his sleep, just like he said he would.

“No, I don't think so,” he said. It was hard to make out what he was saying because his back was to me and he was mumbling. Figuring I probably wasn't going to get back to sleep, I turned so I could see him.

“Don't. Stop it. Put it down.” His voice was calm, but his words were not. He seemed to be having a nightmare. Guess I wasn't the only one.

“Please don’t.” His voice had a hint of tears in it. I wondered if I should wake him up. He tossed in his sleep, throwing his covers about. I didn't have time to shut my eyes, but luckily his blanket covered strategic places. It was also still pretty dark. Even still, it showed enough. His back was to me, and I saw yet another tattoo in the middle of his back. 

“Stop!” he said louder.

I got out of bed and stumbled over. Maybe I could poke him and get back into bed quick enough so he wouldn't notice. I shoved his shoulder, but he moved so fast that I stumbled and nearly fell on top of him. A hand lashed out at me, and I had to duck to avoid it.

“Hunter! Wake up!” It was déjà vu. I hoped this wouldn't become a pattern. 

A strong, warm hand grabbed my shoulder, and his eyes flew open. He gasped, as if he didn't know where he was. His grip relaxed.

“Hey, it's okay. You just seemed upset.”

He glanced at his hand on my shoulder as if it didn't belong to him. He let go and pushed away from me.

“Go back to bed,” he said.

“Are you okay?”

“Go. Back. To. Bed.” His teeth were gritted, and he looked like he was angry that I'd woken him. My bad.

“Sorry,” I said before stepping away and crawling back into bed.

He breathed heavily and rolled back over. I didn't go back to sleep and I could tell he didn't either. A half-hour later I heard him get up and put his boxers and a t-shirt on. I pretended I was asleep. 

A little while later I heard low voices in the kitchen. Deciding it was about time, I got up and went to find some breakfast. 

Hunter was hunched over a plate of eggs and toast when I came out of our room. Renee was on the couch with the television on and a bowl of cereal. I heard the noise of the shower and made the deduction that Darah was in there.

“Good morning,” I said to whoever would answer.

Hunter grunted and Renee made a similar noise. It was only the second day of classes, but everyone was still on summer time.

I grabbed a bowl of cereal and went to sit with Renee. I was getting bad vibes from Hunter. That boy and I were going to have to have a chat, sooner or later. I had the feeling he was going to avoid it as long as he possibly could. I'd have to be the one pushing.

One by one, my roommates went to their various morning classes until it was just me and Hunter. Surprise, surprise.

“We need to talk,” I said, “and you can't do that thing where you shut down or don't answer or make some sort of innuendo so I'll get distracted or off topic. If we're going to live together, we've got to be able to talk to one another. Got it?”

He put his plate in the sink and turned around, bracing his back against it. His eyes told me I was in for a battle.

“Don't make me punch you again, because I swear to God, I will.” That elicited a smirk. His face still had a slight shadow where I’d gotten him. “I also have no qualms about going for your man bits again.”

“I don't doubt you for a second, Missy.”

“I've talked with housing about you. I have a meeting on Friday with the head of housing.”

“Still trying to get rid of me?” 

“I just don't see how this can work out. You're... you.” I couldn't come up with a better way of saying it.

“Yes, I am.” He seemed to get it. “But I fail to see that as a reason for kicking me out. If I came home drunk or had sex with strange girls or made you uncomfortable, that would be a reason.”

“You do make me uncomfortable.”

“But not in that way. I make you uncomfortable because I shake up what you thought about people. I make you nervous. You want me, but you don't know why and you can't stop fighting it.”

I sputtered for a second, shocked.  

“You are so...” My hands shook with anger. I really, really wanted to punch him again.

“I've hit a nerve, I see. Means I'm right.”

“You are the cockiest, douchebaggy asshat I've ever met, and I can't wait to get rid of you.”

He laughed for the first time. On anyone else, it would have been sexy as hell. On him, it just made me more enraged.

“Fuck you, Hunter. Fuck. You.”

“You want to, that's part of your problem.”

Before I could react, he crossed the room and stood right in front of me.

“Tell me you don't want me. Look me in the eye and tell me if I kissed you right now, you wouldn't kiss me back. Tell me.”

“I don't want you,” I said, grinding my teeth around every word. Breathing became difficult. He was so close. I couldn't see anything beyond him. My eye level was at his chest, where the ink from his tattoos showed through the thin cotton. His smell surrounded me, and I caught a tiny whiff of sweat. My mouth went dry, and I kept my eyes on his chest because I knew I couldn't look up. 

Two days ago, I hadn't known Hunter Zaccadelli existed. Today, I couldn't look him in the eyes for fear I'd lose myself. No, I had to shut this down. 

I closed my eyes and stepped away.

“I don't want you,” I said, looking at his eyes and not blinking. “Now get away from me.” He didn't move, so I walked away. 

One thing was sure: I had to get Hunter out of my life. 

I wanted him. I wanted him to kiss me and touch my face and put his fingers in my hair. I wanted him to pick me up and hold me and be with me. 

I was losing it. Absolutely losing it. I had to get out of this space. He took up too much of it. He made my brain do funny things and not think clearly.

I had to get away.

I got dressed as quickly as I could and threw my books for the day into my bag. I dashed to the bathroom, hoping I wouldn't run into Hunter. I could hear his guitar in the living room. I didn't look at him as I rushed out the door. As soon as I was in the hallway, I was able to breathe.

What was it about him? Was it the tattoos? The way he called me Missy? The way he was so open about his sexuality? Maybe it was a combination.

It was a combination I couldn't say no to, but I would have to. 

I was never going to fall in love. I was never going to be with someone like that. People only hurt you when you loved them that way. They took what they wanted and used you up. My mother still missed my dad, even though it had been so many years. She still looked at their wedding pictures and smiled, thinking about times when they were happy. But it hadn't lasted. Nothing like that lasted.

Boys like Hunter burned everything they touched. Boys like that were dangerous. I knew that without a doubt. If I let him, Hunter would drag me down. I would not let it happen.

I spent the rest of the day looking for Hunter around every corner. I turned my phone off so I wouldn't see his texts, if he sent any. I made sure to keep a lookout in the Union. I kept thinking I saw him, but it turned out to just be a look-a-like. There were a lot of guys who sort of looked like him, but no one quite close enough.

I did everything I could to avoid going back to the apartment and ended up finishing all my homework before the end of the day. I had my last class of the day with Megan and offered to have dinner with her so she could avoid eating with the “cannibals,” as she called her boyfriend's buddies. It wasn't completely to avoid Hunter, because I really did want to spend time with Megan.

“Have you figured out your roommate issue?”

“I wish,” I said, biting into my chocolate croissant. Hunter was the kind of person who made me need chocolate therapy. “It's really complicated.”

“Things with the opposite sex usually are.”

“How's everything working out for you?”

 She lifted one shoulder. 

“Jake's my soul mate. I know that. Sounds cheesy, but I know that we're not complete without each other. So I put up with his disgusting friends and their endless Family Guy marathons because I love him. Someday we'll move in with just the two of us, and I'll be able to have a clean bathroom. Someday...” 

We finished eating, and I walked Megan to her car. 

“Girls night this weekend? I think the guys are going to a party, so the house will be free. I'll make margaritas,” she said in a singsong voice. “Come on, please? I'm inviting Haley and Robin, too.” They were two other girls from our major that we’d formed a little group with. They’d be the perfect antidote to too much Hunter.