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“Your nickname is Slayer?” She nods like that’s the most common nickname one could have. “Since when?”
She shrugs. “Since I was a little kid.”
That pisses me off like nothing else all of a sudden. Why didn’t I know that about her when we were together seven years ago? Then, I remember. She was not keen on sharing much personal stuff with me back then. She just wanted to share her body. We didn’t get any more personal than that.
We spend the next few minutes in silence, with her taking large sips of her drink, and me just wetting my lips with mine and watching her. The waitress has perfect timing when she shows up with refills, followed by another wink my way.
“You want to slow down a bit, Slayer?” I enunciate her nickname, like it’s bothering me, which it does. It’s like I was in love with her shell before, not the real Hunter Montgomery.
“This is really good,” she is slurring her words a bit, back like before I fucked her. Whatever sobriety she gained during those minutes is completely lost now.
“Maybe you should have a sip of water in between too. You’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow if you’re not careful,” I try to be nice and helpful in spite of myself. Deep down, I hope she gets drunk as fuck and tells me everything I need to hear from her lips.
“Nah, it’ll be fine,” she waves me off like I don’t know what I’m talking about. “Maybe we should do some shots, too,” her eyes brighten up at the idea. “Or maybe we can wait for Chloe and Van to come back. You think they’re okay now?”
“Do you care?” I didn’t think she liked him much from the lashing she gave him when we first ran into each other in the lobby earlier.
“Of course I care,” she claps a hand over her chest very dramatically. Yep, she is drunk. “I told Chloe all day how Van was so in love with her.”
“So why did you get into his face then?”
“Did you not hear how he was talking to her?” she slurs some more and leans into me, almost completely falling off her stool in the process. “Do you think we should’ve gone up to your room?”
The change in topic throws me off. I freeze as I wonder how to answer that. I did plot some low-key revenge on my way to Vegas, but the plan sort of flew out the window when I locked eyes with her in the lobby.
“Did you want to go up to my room?” I am in uncharted territory. Fucking someone, anyone, in a public restroom has never been on my priority list. The fact that it happened with Hunter makes it sort of special. I almost bust out laughing at the thought.
“I don’t want you to send me away now.” Hunter’s mood is shifting again, this time bringing tears to her eyes. I am getting whiplash.
“I never sent you away, Hunter,” I purposely misunderstand what she meant. She is talking about tonight. I am talking about our time seven years ago.
“Do you think you can ever forgive me for leaving you?” The honesty in her voice is unexpected. My personal prediction before we got to tonight was that we’d end up in a fight that would end all fights. Because I wanted to hurt her. I never got over her, and I wanted to make sure I’d be the one walking away from her this time.
Now, as I am looking into her big eyes and seeing the pain they hold, I am not so sure. She may have broken up with me, but she never found happiness after me, I can tell.
“How would it work after tonight, Hunter? I still live in Illinois, and you still live in New York.” I do have a place of my own in New York now, but I don’t tell her that.
“You know what?” she leans into me and becomes a drunken giggly mess. “I quit my job tonight.”
“The job you left me for?” my eyebrows go up in surprise. Over the years, I checked on her once in a while through various connections. I know she’s good at what she does, and also very well respected at the PR company she works for.
“That’s the one,” she giggles again. “So now,” she rests her elbows on the bar top and drops her face in her hands while still laughing her ass off. “I applied for this crazy loan to pay my parents back, right?”
“You did?” The surprises keep on coming tonight, it seems.
“I did. I worked hard to make good money so that I could qualify for this loan.” She is still laughing while telling me all this, the alcohol loosening her up like I never imagined. I was hoping for this, but I didn’t think I’d get her there so fast.
“Why did you need the loan?”
She crooks her finger at me to get closer, like she is about to tell me a secret, then whispers loudly in my ear. “So that I could pay my parents back for school.”
“Your college tuition,” I clarify.
“That’s the one,” she bobs her head up and down and lifts the glass to her lips. She gulps down whatever she has left in there.
“Did they ask you to pay them back?” I didn’t think her parents were hurting for money, or that they would be the type of people who would ask their kids to pay them back for their college tuition, but I’ve been wrong before.
“Nope,” she pops the P when she says that. “I want to pay them back. I don’t want to have anything to do with whatever took me away from you.” She punctuates her sentence by poking me in the chest with her index finger.
