I cleared my throat. Do you want the info on my section of calculus?
Yes, he said quickly. These sections are a crapshoot. If Im not careful, I could transfer out of Eastern Europe, straight into Thailand. He produced the latest-model cell phone, a giant step up from the bare-bones model hed carried back home. As I gave him the name of the class instructor and the time, he entered the info with his thumbs. Several times his thumbs stumbled and the muscles of his strong jaw clenched, which was Hunters way of muttering fuck in frustration. Either hed just gotten this phone and wasnt used to it yet, or he was truly out of sorts.
Why are you taking calculus anyway? I asked. Shouldnt you be in business math, since youre majoring in business?
Same reason youre in calculus when youre majoring in English. He ended his data-entering session with an especially forceful hammering of his thumb, and dropped the phone into his backpack. The university doesnt want honors students taking easy As.
It might be an easy A, but business math would still make sense for a business major, I reasoned.
He rotated his neck until it popped. Why are you taking belly dancing? That makes no sense for an English major.
I felt a flash of suspicion. How did he know I was taking belly dancing? But hed also known where I worked before I told him. He must have seen me around in the past week without my seeing him. Clearly wed been circling each other.
Im taking belly dancing because I can, I said casually. But if youre taking calculus, youre missing out on a business math class you need for your major. I looked at the catalog. I actually considered majoring in business like my grandmother wanted me to.
This time he reacted. There was no other way to describe it. He seemed very surprised. And since Hunter never showed his surprise, I was more convinced than ever that there was something wrong with him. You did? he asked.
Yes, for about five seconds.
Recovering his cool, he took a slow sip of his latte, watching me over the rim of his cup as if waiting for a sign from me that Id slipped in some poison. Not that you would know this, he said, setting his cup back down, but running a horse farm is extremely complicated. It involves more than adding columns of numbers. I need to know the derivative of Horse of Course and the linear transformation of Boo-boo.
I was sipping my own coffee, and I hoped the cup hid my face as I winced. Boo-boo was my horse.
Hunter leaned forward and looked straight at me. This stable boy needs an education.
If Hunter never showed surprise, he never, ever showed anger. And right now he seemed angry with me. Despite my stomach twisting into knots, I nonchalantly took another sip of coffee as if I were calmly considering him. Id put this off long enough.
Hunter, I began, Im truly sorry about the stable-boy business in my story. I hope you didnt take it the wrong way.
He watched me steadily, his brows down in what I could have sworn was barely controlled outrage. I noticed for the first time that the rims of his eyes were red. What way did you want me to take it, Erin?
My fingertips hurt from pressing hard against my hot mug. Maybe I had you on my mind because I assumed you might live in my dorm or register for some of my classes. But I never intended for you to read my story. I wasnt baiting you, if thats what you think.
He continued to stare me down. Between my hot face and the coffee below my chin, I felt like I was sitting in a sauna.
Finally I asked, Why are you angry with me?
He sat back in his chair. Why do you say Im angry?
I can tell. For some reason, youre slipping a little.
He gave me a wry smile. Im angry because what youve done is insulting. There are only two possibilities. First, you knew I was going to be in that class, and you wrote that story deliberately to mess with me. But the story was dated several days ago and I just transferred classes today. I dont see how you could have known.
I didnt know, I assured him. Boy, didnt I.
Which brings us to the other possibility. You wrote the first assignment of your creative-writing degree about me. Which means I was on your mind. Which means you liked me in middle school and high school, just like Rebecca carried a torch for David, through six years of those as**ole kids at school calling me your stable boy, and you never said a thing.
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Not only was he angry, he was also admitting for the first time that he cared how people talked about him in relation to me. This scared me. When Hunter and I had started seventh grade, he was the new kid at my school. I could have made things easier on him and introduced him to my friends. I didnt. I pretended he didnt exist. That probably contributed to the as**ole kids making fun of him when they found out he was living on the grounds at my farm.
And I had always felt guilty about that. But right after what happened between our parents, I could hardly look at him, much less maintain the friendship wed started or pal around with him at school. I still couldnt talk about it. My own anger welled up in defense.
I dont understand why you think there are only two possibilities for what is going on in my mind, I seethed, when we are not even friends. Sounds like an oversimplification on your part, to make yourself feel better about what youre doing. Even you would feel bad about stealing the birthright of a girl who had a soul. But as long as Im a shallow girl, starkly drawn in black and white, hell, steal away.
Color crept into his cheeks underneath his tan. I am not stealing anything. Not yet.
Oh, yeah? I challenged him. What time is it?
Reflexively he glanced at his Rolex. Score!
I struck again. Whered you get the money for the outrageously expensive T-shirt youre wearing? Did I drop it in Boo-boos stall before I left home? Because the last I checked, you were shopping across the river in Indiana, at the thrift store next to the mall, just to make sure you didnt wear something to school that one of your friends had thrown out. I had passed by the parking lot and seen the farm truck my grandmother let him drive to school. I knew what was going on.
Id pushed him too far, and I held my breath for his reaction. Id never seen him lose his cool completely. Now I was about to see it at my workplace and get fired from my job again.
His glare zeroed in on me. His jaw hardened
And then he laughed. He threw back his head and let out rich, rumbly, boy chuckles as if I was the funniest girl in the world and I made him happy.
Hunter losing himself in laughterthis I had seen. But he used it strategically, as when the high school chemistry teacher or the president of the bank or the guidance counselor helping him apply to this college was the one making the joke.
I asked him suspiciously, Have you been drinking?
He beamed at me. Drinking?
Did you go out drinking after the writing class?
He shrugged. Manohar and Brian and I had a few beers.
I thought hed had more than a few beers. And when you had a few beers with Manohar and Brian, oh God, I could just picture the guffawing, what did you chat about?
He maintained that same politely jovial expression, like he couldnt quite catch what I was saying.
I gripped the edge of the table with both hands. You didnt chat about stable boys, did you?
He grinned at the ceiling. I might have mentioned it.
Hunter. I gazed down at my mostly full mug of crude oil, stomach sinking. Thats what I wanted to talk to you about.
Really? His handsome face wore an ironic smirk. I thought you wanted to talk to me about calculus.
I felt like such a fool. Id psyched myself up for this conversation, worried over it because it mattered so much, and hed prepared by getting buzzed. I said gravely, I think I have a shot at the publishing internship they award at the end of the semester. It would take a lot of pressure off me. But to get it, I need to do well in this class. I need Gabe to take me seriously. I dont want him to find out theres a real stable boy.
Hunter picked up his mug. He tipped it ever so slightly toward him. I could still see the surface of his latte, and I watched him suck the heart into his mouth.
Youre going into business with my grandmother, I said. I know you want to leave the stable boy behind. Im trying to leave that whole life behind and get out of your way. The internship will help me do that.
His tongue peeked out of his mouth. He licked a bit of the foam heart off his upper lip.
I know youre angry with me, Hunter, and I understand why. But I honestly never meant to offend you. My only real crime is to step aside and give you a stab at millions of dollars and a hundred and forty-two horses.
A hundred and forty-seven, he corrected me. Of course theyd bought and sold and bred them over the summer. Because he was buzzed, he couldnt resist reminding me that the farm went on without me.
He set his mug down. I wont tell Gabe.
I ignored his patronizing tone. I was growing more desperate by the minute. Dont tell anyone else, either. It might get back to Gabe.
The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. I wont.
And ask Manohar and Brian not to spread it around.
Ill ask. I cant promise anything. You may owe them a favor.
I stared dumbly at him. He was blatantly toying with me now. Hunter was very persuasive. He could have convinced Manohar and Brian of anything if hed wanted to. He did not want to.
And what kind of favor could I possibly do for them? Unlike last spring when I could have gotten them admitted to the Churchill Downs clubhouse, I had no clout, no money, nothing left to offer.
Maybe that was Hunters point.
Id done all I could do to save my internship, though. My boss was standing at the counter, reminding me that my break time was almost over. I raked back my chair. Thank you, Hunter. And again, Im really sorry about this. I know we both wish we could go back to enjoying New York and pretending each other didnt exist. I reached for my mug to take it back to the counter with me.
Before my fingers touched the ceramic, Hunter grabbed my hand and gazed up at me.
I hated how my body responded as if he were my boyfriend, not my classmate or even my sworn enemy. Maybe heat would have shot across my chest regardless because he was handsome, confident, a force of nature. But I was afraid I had done most of this damage to myself. In real life we hadnt engaged in a friendly conversation since the summer before the seventh grade, save one sparkling night last May. But in my mind Id already written Almost a Lady, the entire novel. In my mind, wed slept together.
His hand still squeezed my hand. His thumb swept across my palm, and as I watched, the pupils dilated in his bright blue eyes. I wondered whether in his mind wed slept together, too.
He released my hand and nodded toward my chair. Sit down another sec. Your grandmother wanted me to bring you something you left at home. He reached around for his backpack.
Obediently I collapsed into my chair because my legs felt weak, and because I really did need him on my side. But I said quickly, I dont want it.
He broke into a playboy grin, as if we were flirting instead of dancing around a sensitive topic. How do you know you dont want it? You havent even seen what it is.
Whatever it is, I left it on purpose.
He pulled it from his backpack and placed it on the table between us. My music player and earbuds.
The last time hed handed me my music player, at my grandmothers Derby party last May, hed saved me from a convo with Whitfield Farrell, a twenty-one-year-old college dropout who would inherit the famous farm next door. Whitfield was widely known for his drunken exploits at the horse parties, and widely rumored to want in my pants. My grandmother had ordered me to be nice to him because she did business with his dad.
So Whitfield put his hand on my ass. I was not far from slapping him and then taking whatever punishment my grandmother dished out, when Hunter tapped on the window and held up my music player, which Id left in the barn. When he saw I couldnt get away from Whitfield, he came inside the mansion. Made a big commotion of it, too, stomping in his stable boots across the antique Persian rug. Whitfield wandered away to find another bourbon. Hunter watched him go, then turned to me. And he flirted with me like he would flirt with any girl at school until my grandmother stalked up and asked him in an angry whisper what the hell he thought he was doing inside her house.
Thing was, this had seemed completely in character for Hunter. He was the charmer, the savior, the leader, every girls hero. When the neighborhood boor targeted a girl for the evening, of course Hunter would deftly intervene, even against the boss ladys wishes.
For anyone else. Not for me. For years, Hunter and I had kept our distance. When he stepped in, I started thinking about him differently. Thinking hard about him. Casting him not as everybody elses hero but as my own. The prom had passed already, but graduation was coming up. We were headed for the same college. Because of our past together, we would have a lot to work through, but maybe college was our time to do it.
And then he stole my life.
I managed a tiny smile for the several-months-older, quite-a-bit-drunker Hunter, as if the music player represented a long-ago period of my childhood rather than last May. I definitely left that in Kentucky on purpose, I said. Itll do me no good here. I cant afford new songs.
His golden jaw dropped. He rolled his eyes. He must be plastered. Songs arent that expensive, he said.
Every little bit helps, I said, when Im trying to pay the rent and experience New York.
He talked right over New York as if he hadnt heard me. You love your music.
I did when I was trying to shut everything out. Now Im trying to let everything in. I want to hear New York rather than some song I downloaded. I want to smell New York. WellNew York smells like garbage. Vietnamese garbage, Mexican garbage, Lithuanian garbage, Nigerian garbage, all within a three-block walk. Even the stench is part of the experience. I want to pay attention.