I sighed. “Hunter, this—” I referenced to the space between us. “—is drama I don’t need right now. I have enough problems already. This is what I was concerned about in terms of us becoming ‘friends’ and now it’s come true.”

“Lorrie,” he sighed. “My dick’s not coming out. My lips are keeping to themselves. My hands aren’t roaming. You wanted that, and I’ve been following through. You want me to keep you accountable now? You want me to kick you outta my place when you fall asleep on my couch? You want me to be an ass**le?”

“No . . . yes. I mean, no. I can handle myself just fine, Hunter. I just want you to know that us sleeping together last night wasn’t a signal for you to move forward.”

He put his hands up briefly in defense as if I was going for a takedown attempt on him. “Consider it known.”

“It was a mistake on my part,” I added. “And it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

“It wasn’t a mistake. Nothing happened beyond sleeping. I haven’t forgotten our ‘friend’—” He put his fingers up and wiggled them to indicate quotes. “—friend agreement. But honestly, I’m a little pissed off you didn’t talk to me about this upfront. Avoiding me is such a drama-queen thing to do. I thought you were different from other girls. Maybe I was wrong.”

“Ugh, I hate to disappoint you, Hunter, but even if I’m cool with watching hockey with you and talking about threesomes, I’m still a girl. I have emotions you know.” I was beginning to see cracks in our friendship and as much as it sucked to consider, I wasn’t sure if we were going to work out. Maybe we didn’t understand each other as well as we’d thought. “If you still want to be friends, you’re just going to have to deal with that fact. Besides, didn’t you say yourself that I was both selfless and selfish?”

He grumbled. “And just because I’m a guy, doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. Just because you see me getting punched in the face doesn’t mean I don’t get upset when you do shit like avoid me. Man, when I woke up and found out you weren’t there, I got worried.”

“Why would you get worried? I told you I had to go to class.”

“That was after I texted you first asking where you went. Even when I made that joke about you forgetting to take my trash with you and you responded with a smiley, I knew you were faking it. You usually respond to my jokes with L-O-L and then some snarky comeback that makes me laugh. I knew you were hiding your true feelings. They don’t call you Lorrie Hide for nothing.”

Hunter knew some of my habits better than even I did. “Only you call me that, Gunther.” I stuck my tongue out at him and he did the same to me.

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“I know you have some personal issues you’re dealing with, Lorrie. I don’t know what they are and I haven’t asked you about them because I know you don’t wanna talk about it. I’m fine with that. I got my own issues and I’m more than happy to leave our skeletons in their closets. Just don’t leave me hanging especially since I care about you.”

After a few moments, I realized how poorly I handled the situation and decided to take responsibility. “Alright, fine. I’m sorry for being a bitch to you, Hunter. I care about you as well. I just sort of freaked out and didn’t give you enough credit. I’m actually surprised you’re being so level headed about this.”

His shoulders relaxed and he smiled. “I humbly accept your apology. And I’m sorry for being such a comfortable pillow for your face that I made you fall asleep on me.”

“Apology accepted,” I puffed.

He grinned. “That wasn’t so hard was it? I’m glad that we talked this out and got it resolved. Aren’t you?”

“I suppose so.”

“So are we still friends?”

My lips betrayed a small smile. “Yeah.”

He returned the smile and gently put his palm over my hand. “Am I allowed to put my hand on top of yours?”

“I suppose,” I said, relishing the warmth from his skin more than the warmth from the coffee in my other hand.

“Are you going to stop blowing me off?” His dark gray eyes were wide and fiercely tender.

How could he attack me with such adorable puppy-dog eyes?

I felt myself becoming immediately disarmed. “I can’t promise anything,” I grumbled, taking a sip of my drink to hide the smile on my face. “But I’ll try.”

“Good enough.”

He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“A flyer. It’s for an art portfolio competition. I saw it hanging up on the student board in the Barnyard and thought about you.”

I took the paper from him, dimly musing about how silly it was for the school to name the main cafeteria as “The Barnyard”. I unfolded the flyer and scanned the details. The winner would get featured in a major art gallery in Chicago and a good chunk of cash.

“Thanks, Hunter. It sounds exciting but I don’t think my stuff is exactly a fit for this kind of competition.”

“What are you talking about? You’re a great artist! Don’t sell yourself short.”

I pointed at one of the example pieces in the flyer. “This is ‘high art’.” I pulled out one of my previous sketches from my backpack and showed it to him. “This is not.”

He looked at the sketch and jolted backward nearly falling out of his chair. “Whoa.”

“See? I told you.”

His eyes narrowed. “No, this is good! Like really good. It’s so realistic. Man the shading and everything. Scared the hell outta me when I saw it.”

I looked at the drawing again. It was a giant fly head with a human body like the one in the movie Hunter and I rented.

“It was just a quick sketch,” I said a little bashfully. I’d never really shown people my sketches before because I didn’t think they were that good. Hunter’s positive reaction surprised me.

“How quick?”

“Like ten minutes.”

“No way you did that in ten minutes. Lorrie, is your real last name Picasso? Is that why you haven’t told me it? Because that’s some serious talent you’ve got there. ”

“If you like it so much, you can keep it. Here.” I handed him the drawing, feeling it to be an appropriate gesture since he’d thought of me when taking the flyer.




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