Unmaking Hunter Kennedy (13 page)

Ugh. Figures.

How could she explain her brother’s earlier comments—and her freeze-up without sounding like a total mental case? She tried the truth. “That wasn’t about you personally. It’s...I don’t hang out much alone. I mean—I don’t often hang out with guys. Alone. They usually make me... uh....”

Panic, turn bright red, feel dizzy, want to vomit, stutter, stop breathing, drop things, die from the inside out, and let’s not forget head-butt the people I truly love until they require hospitalization.

“Nervous,” she finished. “I’m...shy...or whatever. Sometimes I choke, that’s what you saw.”

He nodded as though he’d already made his own pile of assumptions about her. “You seem to be relatively fine hanging with me now. Do I make you more nervous than most guys?”

“No. Less, actually,” she smiled again.

He laughed. “Well,
damn girl
. That’s a first. What the hell? Why?”

“I think it’s because, in my mind, I’ve decided to believe forever that you aren’t a real guy.”

He raised his eyebrows.

She grinned wider, and went on, “Not really real, anyhow. Not to me. If that’s not offensive. I know, of course, you’re a
person
and all that. But to me, I’m determined to think you’re a
fake guy
. Dustin McHugh,” she managed, feeling stupid now. “Does that make any sense at all?”

He laughed again, shifting in his seat. “Yeah. It’s perfect, actually. I don’t feel real. Not even to myself. Would you believe
they
—my mom and my agent—hired a stand-in for me? A guy to wander around and hang with the band while I’m here?”

She blinked. “Wow. That’s weird.”

He grimaced. “You should have seen him up close. My perfect twin. Totally weird.”

“Almost as weird as you having to come here and disguise yourself so you can go to my high school?” she asked softly, her heart wrenching as she watched him work to mask his emotions.

“Ya think?” He shook his head, and let out a long breath of air.

Vere did the same, catching another round of darkness crossing though his clear gaze.

This kid was supposed to be Charlie’s age—only one year older than she was—but he suddenly seemed ancient in comparison. She let her hands drop from the steering wheel. “God. I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be. It’s my fault. Things in my life got out of hand. No matter how much I don’t what to be here, I think I need this rest. I do. For what it’s worth, I’m not hating it as much as I thought I would.”

She frowned, biting her upper lip, not sure what to say.

He went on, “I like your idea of pretending I’m not real. I’ll try to do the same. I think it will make it easier for me to get through all this.”

“You sure I didn’t hurt your feelings?”

“Yes.” He fiddled with his sun visor. “Are you always this entertaining?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

He laughed again.

“Are you laughing at me?”

He laughed more. “No. Not at all. You just—make me laugh. I honestly don’t know why. I find myself wishing I could read your thoughts, though.”

“Well I’m pretty glad you can’t. And back at you, fake guy from the planet Los Angeles. I’m sure I’d love to read your thoughts too.”

He grimaced.

“Ha,” she added. “Scary to think about, huh?” Vere pushed the button on the sun visor that opened the garage door. A telltale tingling moved up her spine as a blush threatened to take  over. If the guy ever read her thoughts, he’d run fast and far away from her when he figured out what a total mess she was.

In the meantime, he was stuck with her.

Fake. Paper. Poster. Guy.

With fake, plastic, blue eyes.

That seemed to work to calm down the blushing until she darted him another glance and her attention riveted on the very real pulse that beat rapidly in the side of his neck.

Her breath caught.

Holy help.

You are sitting alone in a car with a living, breathing guy.

Living breathing HUNTER KENNEDY!

No. Living, breathing, fake guy Dustin McHugh.

Don’t blow it. You were doing well.

She let out a slow breath, and gripped the steering wheel. Closing her eyes to get her head together, she willed herself to find some control. As she pulled in a full breath she realized she there was a strange smell coming off him.

God. You’re smelling a pretend guy.

HOLY COW, you’re smelling Hunter Kennedy!

He’s Dustin McHugh. Not a real guy.

Just a guy who’s going to be your friend.

That’s all. A friend.

“Please don’t tell me you drive with your eyes closed,” he drawled.

She reacted instantly to the sarcasm in his low, rumbling voice and knew right there she was going to be fine. She snapped open her eyes and wrinkled her nose.

“Do you smell like...chemicals?” she asked, looking for a way to tease him somehow—a way to stop her blushing.

He nodded. “Hair dye. A few hours ago I had blond hair.” He pulled at the waves of brown hair near the base of his neck. “I think it looks okay, though. Fits the new me, don’t you think?”

“Oh. Sure. I like it. I do,” she said lightly, pretending that his answer hadn’t caused her heart to twist—hadn’t sucked any and all teasing comments out of her lungs.

Poor guy. She could only imagine the series of events that had led him to sitting in this car, counting on HER to help him. Popping the car into reverse, she rolled it back, and almost fainted.

Curtis Wishford and that stupid Howie Rutheford were both leaning on the hood of Curtis’s red truck wearing their practice uniforms and waiting for Charlie.

“Oh, no!” she muttered before she could stop herself. Like an addict, Vere had to stretch up in her seat to try and catch a better view of Curtis. She couldn’t get enough of him.

And bonus on the new practice uniforms too. Sigh.

Guys wearing shoulder pads, cleats and football pants worked for her. Her entire face flamed unchecked to a bright cherry red. She looked away, realizing that she’d allowed Dustin McHugh front row seats to her personal Curtis-longing-lifestyle.

So what. Sigh. Sigh. And sigh. Curtis is worth it.

“Do you know them?” Dustin asked.

“Charlie’s friends. They’re like interchangeable clones,” Vere evaded. She tied to squelch the butterflies rushing around her stomach as the memories from the afternoon poured in.

Did Curtis really ask about me? Really?

“Face the street, in case they recognize you. Are you worried that they might?”

Dustin watched the guys from under the brim of his cap. “Nope. Are you? Worried about me?” He met her gaze. “Nice of you to care, gnome girl.” He tapped his cheeks, grinning now.

She rolled her eyes, annoyed that he’d brought up the blushing. “I’m sure they won’t make any connection. Who would expect
me
of all people, to be sitting in a car with the lead singer of
GuardeRobe
?”

“Not me, that’s for sure.” He laughed a little.

Vere shot him a lightning fast glance.

She wanted to tell him that he could do a lot worse, but she knew for a fact it wouldn’t be a true statement. The idea of the two of them even sharing the same space on earth was so ridiculous.

But that idea made Vere realize that disguising this guy might actually work! No one would ever believe
Hunter Kennedy
had moved to Monument, Colorado and was hanging with her.

Not ever! Not if there was a decoy, hanging in New York!

“Seriously. Hide yourself a little more, please...somehow,” she whispered, heart racing. “Like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“No need to whisper,” Dustin whispered back with a little mocking grin. “They can’t hear us. And I think I like the part where I’m stuck with you. Just not all the other parts of my situation.”

“Please. No need to lie. The truth won’t hurt my feelings.”

He met her gaze and smiled before looking blatantly back at Curtis and Howie. “The dark-haired one seems to be very interested, though, doesn’t he?”

“Watch your ego,” Vere quipped. “That’s Curtis. He, like every other unthinking, sheep-following, music fan, loves
GuardeRobe.
So please. LOOK AWAY!”

“I work like 90 hours a week on
GuardeRobe
stuff. I won’t lie to you, but if you’re going to constantly insult my life’s work, maybe you
should
lie to me?” Dustin sighed and turned away from her, Curtis and Howie.

Vere’s heart twisted all over again. “I’m sorry. Totally uncalled for statements. Please don’t be mad. I won’t do that anymore. Promise. I’m nervous, and when I’m nervous I say insane, thoughtless things. Forgive me?”

“Forgiven.” Hunter’s shoulders shrugged, and he slouched away from her a little more. “Besides, that dude was not looking at me. He’s trying to catch your eye.”

“Really?!” She accidently hit the brakes and jerked the car to a skid-stop.

Dustin cringed in his seat and shot her an accusatory glance.

Vere caught a glimpse of Curtis and Howie laughing at her in the side mirror. “Sorry again.” She threw another forgive-me grin at a now very pale Dustin. “Backing up is my only bad steering skill. I
swear
I can drive forward with no problems.”

“Oh. My. God. Let’s hope so.”

She eased up on the brakes, letting the car continue to roll backwards down the slanted driveway, watching Curtis. He
did
have his gaze trained on her
!

Yay!

Pulse escalating to six-billion beats per minute, Vere managed to back up enough to turn her head, smile, and wave at Curtis as though she didn’t make a complete fool out of herself in front of him only hours before.

She swerved a little when Curtis smiled and waved back.

Bonus and success! Sort of...

Vere steadied the steering wheel, grinned once at the side of Dustin’s head, and drove off, wondering if Curtis had taken note of the fact that she had an actual
guy
in the car with her?

How cool would it be to make Curtis a little jealous?

Ha. Imagine...

12: dangerous driving

HUNTER

Hunter tried to make sense of the scenery around him.

They seemed to be finally approaching an interstate that led out of the endless, winding seventies neighborhood where Vere and Nan lived.

They’d been driving (or Vere had been swerving) for twenty minutes. Every other turn in the road showed houses boasting it’s own meadow. Little red-dirt pathways were everywhere. He could swear he’d spotted at least ten rabbits too. Real, wild, rabbits, munching on front lawns. Even a couple of deer.

The place was like Teletubbie-Land meets the suburbs plus mountains. “Uh...I think you can stop hiding your face now.” Vere seemed to be struggling to make conversation again.

“Sorry. Zoned out. I wasn’t hiding, just checking out the scenery. My zombie state is one of my many paparazzi-taught life skills. If I get too quiet you have to bring me back.” He turned forward in his seat and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“I understand. Sometimes, I need to be brought back too,” she mumbled, chewing her upper lip again.

What is she worried about now?

“It’s not a bad thing, spacing out. Is it?” Hunter kept his tone warm and his expression placid, but when she didn’t answer he got a little nervous. The car careened through the curves in the road as her tension seemed to increase too. If she gripped the steering wheel any tighter it was going to explode and turn to dust.

He figured if he could keep her talking, she might relax.

Might not kill them.

He tried again to start a conversation. “Your mom told me you and Charlie will drive me back and forth to school and to school functions? What exactly is a school function?” he asked, working to keep his tone calm.

“She actually called them that?” Vere grimaced. “She makes it sound so clinical. Dances, club meetings and football games—all that kind of stuff. You’ll love school functions! They’re the best part of school because they don’t involve school!”

Hunter smiled when her glitter-bright enthusiasm returned full force. No matter how endearing she might be with that, he didn’t want her to think he was going to join her
golly-Pollyanna-pep
squad any time soon. He answered carefully, “I’ll pass on that stuff. Being driven around like a little kid is already humiliating enough.”

She nodded. “I hear you. I’m so glad Charlie and I have this car.” She glanced over, then back at the road. “You never learned how to drive, huh? Is it because you’re so fancy-famous and have a limo? You should be used to being driven around. Don’t be embarrassed,” she added. “Maybe you can get your license while you’re here. Or, do you need me to teach you how to ride a bike first?”

He bit back a laugh, enjoying that she did not hide her disdain for his Los Angeles lifestyle. He told her some of the truth: “I don’t have a license because it’s been revoked. And yes, I have a driver and a limo. But I can drive. I’m here in Colorado because of a—car accident—thing.”

“Oh. Oh.” She frowned.

“Yeah. Big 'oh'.In addition to needing a rest, my mom’s holding me hostage here in Colorado because she’s pissed about some damage I did to my car and also our house. She’s punishing me for a bunch of other prank stuff I pulled too.”

“Like what?”

His heart clenched while he decided what to tell her. “I participated in what some would call a one night binge of teen stupidity. The legal terms my mom’s attorney slapped on me were
reckless endangerment
and
vandalism
, among other things.” He’d kept his voice deliberately flippant as he continued, “Enough about me. Let’s hear more about you. Your mom told me you’re really named Gwenivere.”