Unmaking Hunter Kennedy (14 page)

Vere rolled her eyes. “Yeah. She’s really proud of my awkward name.”

He added in a teasing tone to his words because he knew that would set her off. Off of him mostly. “
Gwenivere
, my cute, gnome-girl, chauffeur. I love King Arthur, and Shakespeare, by the way. Gwenivere is such a classic name. I’m with your mom. Why don’t they call you Gwen, though?”

Instead of making her blush as he’d thought she would, she rewarded him with one of her snapping glares. “No one teases me about the name. I’m Vere because my mom liked it better. What are you? Some kind of literature expert?"

“Yes. It’s my favorite subject. Poetry especially.”

She raised her brows, surprised. "This is good. Jenna and I need a friend who can help us study Lit. And don’t think I can’t tell you’re trying to change the subject away from deeper topics.”

“I’m not changing subjects, I told you what I could about me,” Hunter stalled, pulling at his sleeves, wondering how much more he should tell her.

“You told me only enough to make me curious. Keep going on your story.”

It was nice to spill some of his secrets, but he’d promised Martin absolute silence. Plus he’d only just met this girl. It made no sense to bring up things he hadn’t told Barry. Even if those things were now on the tip of his tongue and ready to fall off like a waterfall of
too-much-information
.

Besides, he didn’t want Vere to think she had to feel even more sorry for him. Or worse, believing he was crazy. Enough people already held that assumption.

“Ask me questions and I’ll see if I can answer them,” he said finally. Figuring he could skirt the truth where needed.

“Okay. If you did all that extreme vandalism stuff, shouldn’t you be in jail instead of here? I’m not an idiot, you know? I overheard Mom mention some major drinking was involved. Level with me?”

To cover, he pretended offense.

“Wow. Nosy much? I don’t have a DUI, if that’s what you think. I drank some wine after the car thing.
After.
And this.” He motioned to the woods outside his window. “Is my jail, Gwenivere.
You
are my jailer.”

He’d taunted her with her full name to distract her again, and it worked because she'd shot him a bullet-glare before turning back to the road.

He continued, “My time here is actually part of a court agreement. I have to go to your lame high school. Worse, I’m not allowed to work. It’s a suck-ass situation that I’m not happy about and that’s all there is to it. You now know all. No more questions. The bits I’ve left out are between me and my mom. And none of your business. Deal?” He looked out the window again.

“Okay. Charlie busts on me about being nosy all the time. I suppose it isn’t easy for you to lay the truth out for me, so thanks for telling what you did. I’m sorry if I sounded all mean again. I keep doing that to you!”

She looked so completely contrite, Hunter felt guilty that she was the one apologizing. “You weren’t being mean.” He sighed. “It was all me.”

“No. Me. I think I’ve been sort of mean to you since we’ve met.” Her voice softened. “I’m not usually like this. It’s something about rock-star
you
, that sets me off. I have this strange urge to treat you like I treat Charlie.”

“With zero respect?”

She laughed. “Yeah, maybe. I don't know what it is, but I feel way, too comfortable around you.”

“Well...same for me," he admitted. "And remember, there is no ‘rock-star’ me. I’m Dustin. Dustin McHugh. Once you settle on that idea, possibly you won’t need to loathe me so much,” he teased, but immediately regretted it. He could tell he’d flustered her.

“Some friend I’m going to be. If I already have you thinking I hate you, when, like I said, I'm pretty sure it's the opposite...” She’d trailed off with another self-deprecating laugh, the red color of her cheeks reigning high and flooding the rest of her face.

“You think we’re going to be friends?” he asked.

Her expression wavered then as though she expected him to give her a major set down.

“Oh...well...we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. I thought that we would—eventually—become friends. I mean. Yeah.” Her glance was confused. “That’s how it works. Right?”

Hunter didn’t know what to say. This was out of his area of expertise.

Her face flooded double. And not in the cute way he’d grown used to. He felt really bad for causing it, because she looked positively like she might die inside her own skin.

Worse, it had affected her speed. Her driving had spiraled out of control as she zoomed them into the off ramp with zero slow down.

“I mean. I mean—I—thought we we’re getting along. And so—I—thought we—” She seemed locked there, staring at the road not noticing she was going to kill both of them by barrelling through the stop sign at the top of the ramp!

No way was he going to die in some odd Colorado crossroads.

He spoke quickly to cover for both of them. “Vere! Of course. Of course we’re getting along. It’s only that I don’t have many friends. Or any friends outside my band—friends that are girls, that’s for sure. It’s why I paused. I have no idea how to proceed, that’s all.”

Hunter shook his head, wondering why he’d told her the truth.

“Oh. Oh! Great!” She took in a deep breath and beamed at him as she rolled the car to a safe stop. “I thought you didn’t want to. You know?
With me.
Which is cool because you’re all famous and I’m just me.”

He sighed. “How about you’re possibly amazing and I’m just an ass? And I’m not famous. Remember? You will have to stop slipping up with comments like that.”

“Right. Me, possibly amazing. You, a nobody-ass. This whole thing is making me feel crazy.” She took a hard left and sped up into traffic.

His heart did a double flip. Mostly because she was unbelievably cute at that moment, and he could swear she was going to ram their car into the pickup truck directly in front of them!

“Jesus. Vere! Could you please watch what you’re doing? Slow down! You’re dangerous on the road.”

She pulled back from the other vehicle, and Hunter could breathe again. He shot her a harried glance.

“You didn’t have to shout.” She pouted. “It’s not my fault I’m driving so badly. It’s yours.”

“What? You have got to be kidding. You swore to me you were good at it.”

She stopped at a red light and turned to face him. “Look. You must know your eyes are truly distracting, and you keep LOOKING at me. I’ve also never talked to anyone who sounds like a movie trailer announcer before. Your voice is so cool. I’m sure you know that. It’s probably part of your
famousness
. But here in this car it’s unsettling, because I have this sensation you might suddenly begin sentences with some dramatic start.” She lowered her voice. “like...
IN A WORLD, FAR, FAR AWAY...
”

He laughed all the way down to his belly. “You’re beyond hilarious. You know that, right?”

The light turned green and they drove on. “I’ve heard it before, but don’t get your hopes up. Your compliments will get you nowhere with me, player. No matter how pretty your face might be to others it’s not real to me. Though it does startle me off and on, know my heart is taken. So beyond the voice thing—you don’t affect me one bit.”

“So you’ve said. That part about you is a huge relief actually. And ditto for me too,” he lied.

“As if! How many times are you going to bring it up that I’m not your type? I
so
don’t care. Jeez. I’ll call you if I ever get implants, dye my hair platinum, start wearing stilettos, red leather zip suits and hire myself out for cash.”

He laughed again. “Come on. Give me some credit. Only half the porn stars I’ve dated looked like that. The other half wore green leather zip suits and they were gingers not blondes. Besides, I never have to pay.” He grimaced.

She gasped as though she totally believed him. “Really? Porn stars?”

“No.
Hell no!
I’ve never once dated anyone remotely similar to your ridiculous descriptions.”

“Well good. You scared me.”

“Scared me that you believed it. It’s refreshing to hang out with you,” he added, contemplating her profile.

She shot him a skeptical glance. “Why?”

“You don’t take me seriously. I like it. If I ever seem defensive, know it’s a reflex. Maybe you’ve been treating me like Charlie, but I’ve been treating you like you’re some prying reporter. As for you not being my type and me not being yours...let’s drop that. It is what it is. But that doesn’t mean we can’t hang out. I do want to be friends.” He raised his brows. “If you’re willing to take me on—baggage, voice and all,” he paused to lower his voice. “I could be an asset to you.
IN A WORLD WHERE BUNNIES RUN WILD
,” he finished in his best movie trailer impersonation.

She laughed. “Seriously. You could be so famous.”

“I am. Remember?”

She flushed. “I finally forget, and now you want me to remember? Pick one.”

They both laughed.

“Final truce?” he added, pretending not to notice her blush.

She kept her face averted. “Truce. Do you mean it about the friend thing? I’ve never been friend with a guy either. I most probably will botch it, so be warned too.”

Her reply had been so quiet that Hunter wondered if she’d said it at all. Maybe she was giving him an out, a way to take back the offer. He could sense this was really important. Now that he’d spent a little more time with her, Hunter didn’t think he was capable of hurting this girl’s feelings—not on purpose. “If we mess it up, it won’t matter.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t truly exist,” he said with more confidence than he felt.

“Yeah. I’ve been dwelling on that fact. Fake guys seem to be much easier to communicate with than real ones.”

“Really?” he laughed. “Good.”

“If you’re serious, I accept. You,
Dustin McHugh,
newly born fake person, can be my
BGF
.
Best Guy Friend
, here and at school. For as long as you exist in Colorado!”

He shook his head, bewildered. “Sounds like a truly awful job title.”

“Come on...
BGF
status is awesome. We’ll share secrets, advice, gossip about girls—and guys—and stuff.” Her eyes were sparkling sunshine again.

“Fashion tips allowed?” He eyed her shorts.

“Maybe.” She glared. “After I’m done
unmaking
you into social oblivion!”

He grinned. “I’m in. Aren’t we supposed to prick our fingers and seal it?” He was rewarded with another one of her funny half eye rolls as he explained, “I was in a made-for-TV-movie where they did that. Is that not what
real-best-friends
do?”

“If we were ten. You have one mixed-up view of the world, don’t you?” She smiled, and he could tell she was truly pleased with their tentative pact.

“Yes. Get used to it. It’s the root of my problems. I’m not even close to normal.”

“You’re normal enough.”

He smiled, turning back to the scenery. As they drove along, Hunter realized this was the first comfortable silence he’d had with another person in a long time.

**

They pulled up to a three story, brick office building. Vere parked the car in the half filled lot, cut the engine and turned to face him. “Before we get out, I have a bunch of questions. Working—
unmaking
—kinds of questions.”

He met her gaze dead on. “Fine. Shoot.”

“Well.” She flushed slightly. “Um. These are really awkward questions...”

He bit back a grin. “Ask me anything. Go. I swear I’m not easily embarrassed.”

She swallowed and rushed on in a flurry as she’d done before: “Okay. Fine.
First.
The eyes. I’m figuring you are wearing colored contacts. Only dolls, the Caribbean sea and glow-sticks are that insane, pure color blue.
Second.
Your
lashes
...are they false? I read in a magazine that lots of stars have fake lashes stuck on somehow—with glue that can blind you—glue your eyes shut forever if it’s done wrong! If that’s the case, and those feathery things need to come off. And your tan. Is that sprayed on? All the fake stuff has got to go. Please confess what on your person is plastic, washable and hopefully removable.”

He shook his head and swallowed down his urge to bust out laughing.

She had to be kidding.

“The lashes are real. The color is genuine. The tan was carefully acquired on a deck, using real sun. You sure like noticing my assets, though.”

When she looked over at him he winked so she would know he was kidding.

“God—you’re—so—stuck up,” she stuttered. “That ego thing is going to have to stop. As is the disconcerting, show-off winking thing! Honestly!”

He raised his brows because she actually sounded somewhat pissed-off. “I swear. I’m not stuck up. Why do you think that?”

“Only stuck up people talk about their
assets
.”

He blinked. “Ah, I see. I’m sorry if it came across that way. If you could take that comment from my point of view, maybe you’d understand.”

“I’m listening.” She crossed her arms.

“You already caught on to the eyes and the voice, but that’s not all of it. See, I have entire websites devoted to my hair alone. And well, there’s my height, my melodious singing voice, my wild musical talent and don’t forget my perfectly sculpted biceps, wide shoulders, six-pack and ass.”

Her mouth dropped open.

He shrugged, working to make her understand. “There’s whole YouTube montages playing still shots of my butt to music. I don’t take credit for it. My mom’s been paying a trainer for years. Oh, and my six-pack won a Fan’s Choice Award called the
SixPackAttack
. Three years running.”

She clamped her mouth shut as though she were seriously holding back, raised up one of her arched brows and rolled her eyes.

“What? You seriously don’t believe me? ” He pulled halfheartedly at his shirt so she could catch a glimpse of a perfectly flat, washboard stomach. “Want to give it a fist tap? It’s solid.”