Wrecked (9 page)

“I’m sorry
Hunter. You’re a really sweet guy but . . . I’m going to have to say no. It’s
not a good time for me, I’m really not into dating anyone right now. It’s
nothing personal. Really, it isn’t.”

He studied
me for a moment. I could tell he was debating whether to ask me why I wasn’t
into dating at the moment and I was already preparing a deflection, but his
response surprised me. “If dating doesn’t work for you, then how about being
friends?”

“Um . . .
What’s your definition of ‘friend’?”

“People
who enjoy one another’s company, who generally enjoy hanging out, talking about
random stuff, grabbing food, watching movies, pulling each other out of frozen
lakes, you know.
Friends
. Why? What’s your definition?”

I
scratched my chin, looking for objections but not finding any. “Hmm . . . I’d
say that’s a decent definition. I’d agree with that.”

“Good.” He
nodded eagerly.

“—But,
‘friends’ is not the same thing as ‘friends with benefits’. I just want to make
sure we’re clear on that.”

He gave a
sly smile. “We enjoy one another’s company. Is that not a benefit?”

“You know
what I mean, goofball.” I punched his shoulder lightly but it felt more like
his shoulder was punching my fist.

He smiled.
“Okay, let’s be ‘friends’ friends then.” He held out his hand as if expecting a
handshake.

I looked
at it, wondering the implications of completing the handshake. What would it be
like to be friends with Hunter? There were perks to be had but caution overrode
eagerness. “I’m not sure, Hunter. You’ve already made it clear you’d like to
date me. What if that’s going to be a problem?”

“And
you’ve made it clear you’re attracted to me. So it evens out,” he said
smoothly.

My
eyeballs nearly popped out of their sockets. “Huh? How is it clear I’m
attracted to you?”

“The way
you look at me, the way you try to blow me off . . . us almost kissing.”

“Yes, I
try to avoid you,” I said, correcting his particular phrasing of ‘trying to
blow him off’. “But doesn’t that normally mean I’m
not
attracted to
you?”

“Doesn’t
apply to you. You’re not normal, remember?” He grinned.

I sighed,
concealing a smile tugging at the edges of my lips. I didn’t want him to know
that I was enjoying his company. “Hunter, I don’t want to be friends with a guy
knowing he’s just being friendly to try to get into my pants. That’s not real
friendship. That’s playing a game.”

“Then good
luck finding any male friends.” He laughed but I didn’t find his joke
particularly funny. “No, but seriously. I meant it when I said ‘let’s be
friends
friends.’ I don’t really have any female friends so I hope you realize that I
didn’t make that suggestion flippantly.”

“You have
stalkers and girls fainting to be with you,” I replied, pointing out the
inconsistency between his words and reality. “Maybe I’m just the first girl to
turn you down. Everyone else probably drops their panties at the snap of your
fingers. I’m surprised if you even have to ask at all.”

He shook
his head slightly, calmly registering his disapproval. “You’re not the first
girl to say ‘no’ to me. And you’re right, I don’t usually ask girls to date me.
But so what? I’m not doing this to get into your pants—not if you don’t want
it. I’m asking for friendship.”

Maybe I
was just giving him a hard time. It was clear that Hunter was pretty different
from most of the other guys on campus. And he seemed genuine when he said he
just wanted to be friends. But I couldn’t let him off the hook too easily, I
wanted to make him sweat so I decided to play my trump card. “You got a boner
when I was in your apartment.”

He cocked
one brow, his composure disrupted. “What?”

“When you
were just wearing a towel. I saw the bulge . . .” I teased, smiling at him.

His head
tilted in concern and he paused for a moment to think. I eyed him carefully,
curious how he was going to respond. Would he man up and defend himself? Or
deny it?

“Okay,
okay,” he finally said then sighed. “I did get a boner, I’m not ashamed to
admit it.”

Reacting
to his admission, I folded my arms across my chest and raised an eyebrow.“Don’t
you see how that’s a problem for us being friends? I mean I’m flattered, but
friends don’t make friends get boners.”

“I’m glad
you’re flattered,” he said, amusement in his voice. “But it just happens
sometimes, like sneezing or coughing. And even if I did, it doesn’t mean I’d
act on it.”

I
tightened my arms across my chest. “So you weren’t attracted to me?” I puffed.

“You were
asking me about ‘what I did in my alone time’. I thought you were flirting with
me and given how good you looked in my clothes, biology kicked in. But the
bigger question is: why were you looking at my crotch?”

My cheeks
heated from embarrassment. I didn’t expect him to throw that curveball at me.
“I wasn’t looking! I just glanced out of the corner of my eye. Besides, you
were practically shoving it in my face the way you were sitting in front of me
with your legs spread eagle. You could’ve poked my eye out.”

“Psh, I
was just sitting normally.” He waved his hand dismissively. “It wasn’t in any
way as ridiculous as you implied. Plus you just said you glanced at it outta
the corner of your eye like it was barely noticeable and then you said I
could’ve poked your eye out. Those two statements together make no sense.”

“Makes
perfect sense to me.”

His brows
narrowed. “Is this really about your own self-control? After running across
campus in just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I thought you were a strong girl.
Are you saying you can’t handle yourself when you’re around me? Are you
that
attracted to me? Maybe we should go on that date after all.” A mischievous
grin spread across his full, shapely lips.

I shifted
on my feet, knowing there was a kernel of truth in his ridiculous statements.
“I
am
a strong girl,” I retorted. “I’m also smart enough to know this is
a bad idea.”

“You don’t
know that. Neither of us knows that. Hell, if anything, I should be the one
saying this is a bad idea. You stole my clothes. You even stole my trash.
You’re one weird girl, Lorrie. But I can’t help myself. I like your company.”

“Hey, I
was taking out your trash to repay you!”

He
laughed. “Wow, what kind of person does that to repay someone? Here I was
thinking you wanted to sift through my trash or something like some kind of
stalker.”

“I was in
a hurry,” I said, flustered. “It’s not like I had time to write a nice
thank-you card.”

“Let’s
face it,” he said taking a smooth step toward me and placing his hands warmly
on my shoulders. Liking the thrill I got from his close proximity and his hands
on me, I didn’t possess the will to resist. “We both don’t know each other well
but I know you’re different from other people here. It takes a weirdo to know a
weirdo. We need a proper chance to hang out instead of just meeting up by
chance all the time.”

I looked
into those gorgeous dark irises, still only half-believing I was with him in
this odd place, alone together. “How are you a weirdo? You seem pretty
well-adjusted to me.”

“Do I? I
suppose that’s a pretty big compliment. Thank you.”

“Whatever.”

“C’mon,
Lorrie. You’re running out of excuses.” He extended his hand to me as he had
before.

He was
right, I was running out of excuses. Was I really going to become friends with
Hunter Jensen? What did I know about the guy? He was a fighter, had tats, was a
senior, was incredibly gorgeous. And on top of that, he had saved my life. Come
to think of it, what did he know about me? I’d tried avoiding him; I’d given
him a lot of sass; I’d even stolen his clothes. What did I have to offer as a
friend? He’d said he liked my company. But why? I thought about asking him why
he wanted to be friends with me, but decided it was a dumb question to ask. What
if I asked that to every person that wanted to be friends with me? “Hey, umm .
. . so what are the reasons you want to be friends with me? Please present a
list of bullet points on a 5x8 notecard.” It was a stupid question and for some
reason had only occurred to me because of Hunter.

He made me
uncomfortable and comfortable, restless and calm, annoyed and entertained—all
at the same time. I was wary about his bad boy allure and how he could fuck me
up worse than I already was. But as long as we were just friends, there wasn’t
any harm right? It’s not like I was going to lose my head and fall for him. Dad
said I was strong and I’d even told Hunter as much. Maintaining a friendship
between us would only help prove that. Besides, didn’t I want to make new friends
this semester?

I took a
deep breath, looked him confidently in the eye, and shook his hand. “Alright,
let’s be friends.”

He beamed.

“—But
promise you won’t get boners around me. It’s awkward.”

He
scoffed. “Are you cock-blocking me against yourself? You can’t say that. What
if I asked you to not get hard tits when you’re around me?”

My eyes
widened. “W-What? Where did that come from?”

“You think
I didn’t notice? You weren’t wearing a bra after you showered at my place and I
could see your nipples poking through your shirt after you touched my leg. And
you were talking about getting
your
eye poked out . . . I could say the
same thing.”

“Oh my
god!” I shouted, completely embarrassed that he’d noticed that. That damn baggy
t-shirt was supposed to hide my chest. “It was the temperature, not because I
was aroused!” I lied. “It’s not like I can really control it.”

“Well, I
can’t really control whether I get an erection or not.” He crossed his arms in
mock distress. “Besides it’s my body, I can do whatever I want with it. And
there’s no way you’d know anyway.”

I knew he
was right even before he finished. “Fine, fine, fine. You have a fair point,
but at least you know where I stand.”

“Great,
now that we have that settled, as a first sign of our friendship, Ms. Lorrie, I
suggest we exchange digits.”

I pulled
out my phone, brought up the Contacts screen, and handed the phone to him.
“Okay, here type yours in.”

He quickly
tapped in his name and number then handed my phone back to me. I looked at his
handiwork. It said
Gunther Handsome.
I laughed.

“What’s so
funny?” he said.

“Nothing,
Gunther Handsome.” I showed him my phone.

He
grimaced. “Stupid auto-correct. My thumbs are too big to type on your tiny
phone properly. Lemme fix it.”

He reached
for my phone but I snatched it away. “I think I’m going to keep it this way.
It’s much more amusing.” And adorable.

“Alright,”
he grumbled, apparently displeased with the name Gunther. “Gimme a call so I
can get your number.”

I called
and his pocket vibrated. He pulled his phone out and began pecking at the
screen.

“Lorrie,
what’s your last name?”

I
hesitated. “I don’t usually give out my last name to people I don’t know very
well,” I lied, deciding that it was better Hunter didn’t know exactly who I
was—my past included. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for him to look it up or
catch word of it, but I got the sense he wasn’t the prying type. I could at
least delay the inevitable.

His brows
furrowed. “But we’re friends now aren’t we?”

“Friends,
but not
good
friends. I gotta trust you before I give you more personal
information.”

He looked
at me funny.

“I know
it’s weird,” I said. “But that’s just how I roll. Can you dig it?”

“So to
most people you’re like Madonna? Only a single name?”

“That’s
right.”

“Alright,
I’ll make up a last name for you then,” he said, a glint in his eye. He tilted
his head up and tapped his finger against his chin. “I’m thinking Lorrie Hide.”

I stuck
out my bottom lip. “Are you saying I’m the wife of ‘Mr. Hyde’? That I’m
two-faced like him?”

He laughed
then shook his head. “Hide as in H-I-D-E. ‘Cause you like to hide yourself from
me, whether that’s trying to give me the slip or avoiding telling me things
about yourself. I’m handsome and you hide. I’m okay with that. Are you?”

I thought
about suggesting “Pretty” or “Beautiful” as a more flattering last name but
caught myself when I noticed a hint of a smirk on his lips. He was probably
baiting me into flirting with him. Too bad I wasn’t going to bite.

“‘Hide’ it
is then,” I replied, feeling smug about outsmarting him.

We both
laughed. It was a good feeling. It felt normal—laughing, exchanging numbers
with a hot guy. It’d been so long, that I’d forgotten how good it felt. It sure
beat sitting in a courtroom across from your mother’s murderer.

Hunter
never prodded me on my past the rest of the night. He probably figured I didn’t
want to talk about it. I didn’t probe him about his past either. We just
continued walking around and joking with one another. By the time I got into
the cab to go back home, I found myself thinking that maybe this semester
wouldn’t be so bad after all.