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“Yeah,” he says.
Everything feels right in the world as we leave the room and sneak back into the wedding. But when we get back into the room, and as we start to interact with people again…I don’t know. Something feels off.
I can’t look at Hunter without wondering if we just made a huge mistake.
I hate that I’m having that thought, though. I really, really wish I didn’t. But it’s there. And I can’t stop it. And later, when Hunter and I are alone at our table again, I feel like I catch the same look in his eye, too.
Which freaks me out even more.
I know the adult thing to do would be to talk to him about it. To say something like, “Hey, I’m having weird feelings about what we just did. How about you?” But I’m also too scared about what might come out of Hunter’s mouth.
And so I don’t say anything at all.
About an hour later, the wedding is over, and we’re back in his car. Hunter has had the foresight to turn on his radio, so there’s no awkward silence…but still. There’s still a weirdness between us. And it lasts all the way to my apartment.
“Thanks again for coming with me,” I say, glancing over at Hunter as I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Sure thing,” he says. He looks like he might lean across the gearshift to kiss me goodnight, but he doesn’t. “Look, Lydia…”
“Don’t,” I say quickly, panicking about whatever he’s about to say. “Let’s not talk about it. Okay? Let’s just…pretend it didn’t happen.”
I think he looks relieved. But I’m not totally sure. I’m not even totally sure how I feel. So when Hunter nods and says goodnight to me, I just say the same thing back to him and get out of the car.
* * *
We don’t talkthe next day. And when Monday comes, I text him to tell him that I’m going to work from home that afternoon instead of at the coffee shop. He texts back thanking me for letting him know. When I get his text, I sigh and run my hands over my face.
Shit.
We really screwed things up, didn’t we? We were meant to be friends. Not anything more. I want to think that we can go back to the way things were before…but I honestly don’t know if we can.
I try to get work done that afternoon, but it’s hard. I just can’t fully concentrate on my writing. Around five o’clock, I finally call it quits. I wander into the kitchen to see what I can make myself for dinner, but my fridge is embarrassingly bare. So I throw on a coat and walk down the street to grab takeout. It’s sprinkling when I head out, so I throw my hood up and pick up the pace.
Of course, though, when I reach the restaurant I was craving food from, it has a sign up on the door about being temporarily closed.
Sighing, I head to the next closest restaurant that I like—which is six blocks away. By the time I get my food and am heading back, that little sprinkle from earlier has turned into a steady rain.
Rushing through the rain, I hold onto my hood to keep it from blowing back and clutch my bag of takeout in the other. I know I’m going to be absolutely drenched by the time I get back to my apartment, but whatever.
I’m only a block away from my place when a truck drives by, splashing through a huge puddle and spraying it all over me.
Seriously? Could things get any worse right now?
“Lydia!”
I look up and squint through the rain. Is that Hunter?
The figure comes closer. It is him. And he’s soaked, too. Not splashed-by-a-huge-puddle soaked, but wet nonetheless.
“Hunter?” I say. “Did you…run all the way here?”
He nods. He catches his breath.
“From the coffee shop?”
“Yeah,” he says. He takes a step closer. “Lydia…I’m so sorry I acted weird after we had sex. I regret it so much. I mean—fuck. Not the sex. I regret acting weird.”
I look up at him. Rain is still falling onto our faces, but I’m frozen still.
