Untamed Hearts

I blink, confused. “Maybe I liked it,” I tell him, still defensive. “Maybe you just screwed up the wild night I had planned with the both of them.”

“Hey, what did I ever do to you?” Hunter demands, looking hurt. “I was trying to do a nice thing back there, and you’re trying to rip my head off.”

I stop.

He’s right. He’s done nothing but be good and decent. I’m the one jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst about him. “I’m sorry.” I admit. “You’re right, you didn’t deserve that.” My voice is breaking, so I quickly say, “Thanks,” and then turn and walk away, back the direction I was heading across the empty moonlit beach.

But Hunter doesn’t leave. He falls into step beside me, matching my stride easily with his long legs. “Where are you heading?” he asks. “You shouldn’t be wandering alone after dark like this.”

I can’t help but smile at that. “It’s Beachwood Bay,” I point out. “What’s someone going to do, smother me to death in coastal charm?”

Hunter doesn’t reply for a second, and I wonder if he’s thinking about what happened back at the party. I’d never admit it to anyone, but I’m still a little shaken up. I like to think I’m invincible, that nothing and nobody could ever hurt me, but those guys... They made me wonder for a minute if they were just talk, or if they really would follow through on their disgusting plans.

I shiver in the dark.

“Where are you heading?” Hunter asks. “I’ll walk you.”

“Nowhere, it’s fine.” I fold my arms, on edge. Part of me refuses to believe Hunter is just being a nice guy. He has to want something from me.

They always want something.

I shiver again in the breeze, and before I know what he’s doing, Hunter pulls off his hoodie and drapes it around my shoulders. It’s warm from his body, soft against my skin, and smelling like him: clean and fresh, and some hint of aftershave too. I breathe it in despite myself, suddenly feeling safer.

“What a coincidence,” Hunter drawls, “I’m heading nowhere too.”

The comment is so ridiculous, I laugh. “You?” I ask him. “You’re heading straight to Yale. And then the White House, if what they say is true.”

Hunter falls silent, and even in the dark I can see a flash of disappointment slip across his face.

I pause. He can’t be self-conscious about his background, can he? He’s the perfect one, the Golden Boy, everyone agrees. Kids around town would hold it against him, if he weren’t so damn charming and likable. He’s got everything in the world going for him, but here he is, looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And I just put my foot in it. Crap. I wonder what to say. I’d do anything to take that frown off Hunter’s face, but I have no idea what’s going on with him.

That’s when I realize, maybe I don’t know him at all. I’ve been judging him by the gossip around town, the charm he gives so easily to people on the street, just what’s on the surface. But wasn’t I spitting mad a moment ago, thinking he was doing the same thing with me?

We’re strangers here, connected by nothing but this inexplicable bond between us. Strong enough to make my heart skip, beating restlessly in my chest just at his nearness, but too far apart to know what to say now, or how to bridge this divide.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Hunter turns to me with a wide grin. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he says, sticking out his hand to shake mine. “I’m Bob. Bob Smith.”

I giggle in surprise. “Bob?” I ask, taken aback.

“Sure,” Hunter keeps his hand out. “And you are...?”

I study him cautiously for a moment, not sure where this is coming from--or going. Then I see: he feels it too. The weird distance; the undeniable connection. This is his way of saying we can be anyone we want tonight, just between us.

He’s wiping the slate clean.

“I’m Susie,” I say, smiling shyly, reaching to shake his hand. The touch sends a shiver rolling right through me, and Hunter looks startled for a second, like he didn’t expect me to play along. Then he recovers.

“A pleasure to meet you, Susie.”

There’s a pause. My heart is racing in my chest, and I know it’s my move. My turn to put myself on the line.

This is your last chance. A voice whispers. The last night of summer. What are you going to do about it?

I steel myself and hear myself asking. “You busy, Bob?”

Hunter shakes his head.

“Come on,” I gather every last ounce of courage and hold out my hand to him. “There’s some place I want to show you.”

4. Hunter

I follow beside her, about mile along the shoreline, and with every step, my heartbeat races faster, until I feel like I’m standing on a ledge, about to hurl myself off into the unknown.

Brit doesn’t look at me. She’s wrapped up in my too-big sweater, eyes fixed ahead of us on the moon-lit beach. I can’t stop myself sneaking looks at her, mesmerized by her nearness. God, she looks beautiful, all that tough-girl attitude stripped away so there’s nothing but vulnerability and nerves on her face. Whatever I’m feeling, the panic, the anticipation, I somehow know, she feels it, too.

I taste a rush of fierce possession so strong, it takes me by surprise.

I want to see her in that hoodie tomorrow morning; next week; always. I want to feel her below me in my bed; wake up gazing into those dark, haunted eyes.