Unmaking Hunter Kennedy (26 page)

Wait till she got Charlie alone to confirm his thoughts on this topic! Wait till she told Jenna!

She threw her arms into the air, trying not to yell, “But— but—having a girlfriend—being a couple, and all that—it’s supposed to not feel like work or like an imposition. It’s supposed to just happen, easily and naturally. Isn’t it? Why do you make it sound like that?”

He frowned. “Like what? I was just being honest.
Damn
, girl, you asked me. I told you what I could.”

“You made it sound empty. Void. Terrible. And so...cold. You’ve lost all the romance.”

Dustin shook his head. “God.
Romance.
You would go there. Romance is every girl’s messed-up fantasy involving flowers, and poetry, and piles of fake crap. I—
guys
—don’t know how to handle all that. Anyone who does is
so
faking it. Any girl who falls for it—I’m sad for them, because they’re victims of marketing!”

“What? What?” Vere sputtered. “If there are flowers and cute stuff, it’s because the couple cares about each other and they want to do sweet things to show their love
to
each other. It isn’t a job. As for the poetry—you’re a songwriter! Are the zillions of love songs on the planet not real? Jeez.”

“
GuardeRobe
doesn’t have any love songs. But you wouldn’t know that, now would you?”

She gasped, and her heart twisted painfully. “Well there you go! Another reason
not
to like your band. I’m sad for you. It’s a total waste of a whole band if they don’t sing love songs, so there!” She shot his words back at him. “I think—if you’ve only had the hook-ups—then you’ve missed all the good, sweet stuff. What about the everyday kisses? And making out on the couch? Or the hand-holding where you don’t even make out but you’re just daydreaming together?”

He sat up too. “Is that what your pillow taught you? Or is this all coming from favorite books and movies?”

Vere glared huge bullets into his stupid, blue eyes. “What about the butterflies in your stomach? Do guys not have the butterflies, at least? Come on. I know those are real for me because I’ve felt them. Please, say they are real to guys.”

His gaze caught hers in a tangled, confused, half-angry way and he turned away. When he didn’t answer, only stared at the lake, she felt her cheeks flush.

She wondered if she’d hurt his feelings.”I—I shouldn’t have yelled.”

His voice sounded rough, sarcastic, and somehow lost when he finally turned back to her. “I can confirm the existence of guy butterflies. But it’s not something that’s advertised. Okay?”

“Well...that’s something,” she said under her breath, all of the fight going out of her.

Vere pulled her sneakers next to her, unable to hold her thoughts in order as a huge, random blush attack set in. She tried to talk her way through it. “Boy. This
BGF
thing is a total eye opener. As if. Well, I don’t know anything about guys, you’re right. And...I guess I’m sorry I asked. I’m glad you gave me a reality check, though. Maybe I am like those groupie girls. Too caught up in the fairy tale versions of love.”

“Vere—I—”

She couldn’t stop herself. “No. It’s good for me to hear this. I need a friend like you. See, butterflies are the only thing I’ve ever had when it comes to romance and guys. And mostly, you’re right. I’ve found them in books and movies—and all over the cast of Teen Wolf.” She shot him a sheepish smile. “Not going to lie. What I’m trying to say is...that I love those butterflies. I search for them endlessly. Real or not, I have to imagine they are going to lead me to something real. And awesome.”

Vere could feel her flush deepening but she couldn’t stop her mouth from motoring on, “Maybe I believe all this junk because I’m a total dork. A real one. Not like you—
pretending
to be a dork. You wouldn’t understand what that feels like. I live your hellish disguise every single day and it’s permanent.”

“Vere, you aren’t a dork. Not even close. You’re just shy.”

“Whatever. I’m not ashamed of it. And being shy puts me smack in the outcast-dork-nerd category. If we are truly going to be friends the next few weeks or months, then you need to
get
this about me.”

He shook his head.

“No. Don’t say anything. You’ve only seen and known me here. But out there—back in the real world? I know my deal—
my assets
—just like you do. I’ve got no magic-hat and glasses trick to pull off where I return to
fabulous
. I can’t stop a whole room of people breathing because of my eye color. I’m the one who’s already fainted on the floor and made a fool out of myself because I saw your eye color. Get me?”

“So why does that make you sound so angry? Are you mad at me for how I look? For trying to be totally honest from my own heart?”

She shrugged. “No. Of course not. I’m only mad because I thought I was waiting for some boy to come along who believes in romance. If I ever find him, well then—it’s going to take him a really long time to get me out of that dead faint before he can even find my lips to plant a first kiss on them.”

“Vere—I didn’t mean to—”

“No. Let me finish. What if I wait—and I think I’ve found that guy—and he turns out to think exactly like
you
deep down inside? What if that guy just wants to sleep with me and
pretends
he’s happy he got me roses. And he did all that romance crap for that singular goal and not for—for love and butterflies?!! Then I’ve been waiting all this time—and for what? Maybe—I—”

“Okay. I’m going to stop you here, before you blow a fuse.”

His low voice grounded her.

She sucked in a deep breath, relieved he’d broken into her endless chatter.

He’d done that yesterday too.

It was as though he understood she couldn’t stop herself when she got like this, and he somehow knew exactly how to help.

She blinked at him and tried to replay what she’d just said in front of him. Hopefully nothing too humiliating had bumbled out. She gave him an apologetic and very grateful smile. She had to admit it was nice to have a friend who didn’t judge her for exploding like that. “Thanks. I lost it.”

“Yes. But it’s partly my fault. I flooded your brain with my mad life, and I egged you on.” He smiled back and kindly didn’t address her still flaming face.

“Did you? Well, then yeah, it’s all your fault, you jaded, romance-bubble-buster.”

He moved a small piece of hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know what’s real when it comes to love and romance. I’ve never had either, okay? But I do know I wouldn’t recognize the sweet stuff you talk about if it were a bus running me over. My exposure is too skewed. I’m permanently broken in that area.”

Dustin pulled his feet out of the water. He pushed himself back and stretched his legs out to dry them in the sun. “Your—untried version of what dating should be seems way better than what I’ve been doing. My
BGF
advice to you is to carry on and believe. I’m sure I’m wrong.”

“For the sake of the whole universe, I hope so,
Mr. Vader.
”

He smiled, and shot her a sidelong glance. “I’m glad you finally believe me. After this, I think we’re well past formalities. Please, call me Darth.”

She couldn’t even laugh because his expression seemed so forlorn.

She felt utterly sorry for the guy sitting next to her. He seemed so lonely. He’d just told her so much about himself, she now felt like she’d known him for a really long time. “Your toes are all wrinkly,” she told him.

“Yours too. They're so tiny compared to mine.” His voice had turned quiet.

Vere darted a glance at his face again. She leaned to the side and bumped his arm with her shoulder. “Look. If I don’t have time to say it before tomorrow, I just want you to know this weekend and all the time you’ve given to—talking to me and helping me through—my issue—has meant a lot.”

He laughed low, as he pulled on his socks and shoes. “Vere. It’s been a pleasure. Truly. You are the one who deserves the thanks, for helping me suit-up and hide-out. You’re really an awesome person—for a dork.”

He stood and when she was finished with her shoes, he helped her to her feet. “You’re awesome too,” she said. “Despite the part where you should probably keep hold of your therapist forever,” she added, tossing him a light smile so he’d know she was joking.

“Oh, I will.” He grinned.

She was so filled up with this strange gratitude toward him that when he turned back to face her she just needed to hug him.

So she did.

“Oof.” Dustin staggered back. “Thanks. I think.”

The feel of the warm sunshine that had heated his shirt, mixed with his fresh-soap smell enveloped her. His chest was so solid. She could feel his heart beating near her ear.

He hugged her back for a second—or—was it a lot of seconds?

She’d heard hundreds of lightning fast heartbeats inside his chest before he set her away from him.

It must have been lots of seconds.

AWKWARD. Hopefully he didn’t notice.

Ugh. What was there to notice? It was just a hug. That’s all.

Mortified, she avoided his gaze completely and walked ahead so he wouldn’t see her flaming cheeks. As she jumped off the dock she chose a flippant, confident voice in case he’d noticed anything was off.

Because nothing is off. Not at all.

“Come along, my Dustin McHugh, let’s head for home.”

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked from behind.

“Sure.”

“Stop calling me ‘
my
’ Dustin McHugh. It’s sort of—distracting.”

“It is? Sure. Sure. Sorry.” She stopped and turned to look at him with a frown, feeling sad about his request. And then she really looked at him. His cap was off and his badly chopped up hair had softened into thick, dark, curling waves.

Somehow, that made him look even more handsome than the first time she’d seen him with his fancy salon haircut. His perfect chin was more pronounced thanks to a slight tan and the fact that his lips were all serious and frowning.

As he strode smoothly along the path, minus his long practiced dork gait, her Dustin McHugh looked slightly like a blue-eyed panther.

If there were blue-eyed panthers...and...whatever.

I can still call him ‘mine’ inside my own head.

Because he kind of is...mine...

“Can you do me a favor back?” Her voice cracked. She had to look way up into his shuttered gaze, as he closed the distance between them.

He stopped in front of her and quickly locked his arms behind his back. Maybe he was afraid she’d hug him again.

“Anything, like I said. Ask me anything.” His voice seemed different, gravelly deep as usual, but it sounded wary and slightly perplexed. His gaze seemed to be travelling all over her entire face. She had the oddest sensation he’d been staring at her lips like she’d been staring at his.

Well, I’m not looking at his perfect lips anymore, that’s for sure.

Her heart thumped oddly against her chest, and she realized she had little goose bumps on her arms. As though her own body and brain betrayed her, she was flooded with butterflies erupting around her stomach.

She clamped her arms across it.

These aren’t real butterflies.

They come with his package-er-his—assets.

This is a totally normal response.

Ugh. Not real butterflies. Say something, Vere.

Vere had the feeling that this time he was not going to bail her out if she lost it. “Could you—put your glasses and hat back on for the ride back? You, minus the disguise, is distracting too. Don’t want to be all dangerous back on the road.”

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

“Fine. Yeah. Of course. I’ll wear them from now on.”

22: test bunnies

Dustin

Dustin leaned into the backseat of Vere and Charlie’s VW. They were on a long stretch of road Charlie had called ‘the 105’. Apparently, the high school was somewhere along this stretch. From what he could see, there was nothing here but trees, hills, and tall grass. Aut no high school, that was certain.

He might as well be in a modern episode of
Little House on the Prairie.

His phone lit up the time. 7:10 AM.

He accessed his email again and reloaded all new messages.

Nothing.

The text message box still showed one message, sent to him Friday afternoon at 5:43 PM, from Martin—about the same time he’d been driving up the hill to the cabin with Vere.

It contained only the new email address information plus his mailbox password, as promised.

If Dustin wanted to get in touch with his agent he was supposed to email or text to [email protected].

Martin said he’d do the same at to [email protected]. They were such lame email addresses.

Martin loved fresh squeezed juice and his Maxi-Juicer. He was obsessed with it. Drank it 24-7. He must have been drinking juice in New York when he’d made them up.

Dustin reloaded the mail again.

Still. Nothing.

He got that his mom wasn’t going to email him. She obviously wanted him to read her suck ass letter and get choked up and call her. But like he’d vowed, he hadn’t even touched the thing. Well, not beyond looking in the drawer next to his bed and noting it was in there, that is.