The knock on the door stilled my heart for a brief second. Shit. It was already seven o'clock. I knew he was coming, yet time passed much more quickly than I could have wanted.

It's just packing. Calm the fuck down, Dylan, I thought to myself.

The hangover I had been nursing all day was still very much present, meaning my tolerance level of handling any of Hunter's annoying antics would be at an all-time low. At least this way, my short-temper might help scare off any lingering desires.

I opened the door, forcing a fake smile. "Hi."

Hunter's hand was propped against the door frame. "Hi," he responded, flashing one of his charming grins, "Ready to pack?"

I was relieved he had at least shown up in clothing that wasn't his usual attire, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

"Yup, definitely ready to do that," I said, stepping to the side to let him in.

Hunter looked around. "It still looks the exact same."

"You were here last night."

"I meant from before," he said, turning to me, "And last night, I had my hands full trying to get you to go to sleep and not take my-"

"Alright!" I interjected, "I get it!"

Hunter stepped towards me. "Don't be embarrassed, Angel. I know they say drunk words are sober thoughts, but I'm sure yours were just drunk words."

My eyes narrowed. "We need some rules."

"We need rules to pack?"

"Yes." I took a step back to create distance between us. "No nicknames. No sexual innuendos. No mention of last night. Just putting stuff into boxes. Got it?"

"Got it."

"What-" I cut myself off, realizing he had agreed. "Oh, good. Okay, let's get started then."

I motioned for Hunter to follow, leading him into my art room.

"I need all this stuff packed into these boxes. There is bubble wrap and newspaper to wrap everything in," I instructed, pointing to where everything was in the room. "I need all the canvas wrapped, but double-check with me before you do. Some of them aren't going into storage."

"Are you not packing in here?"

"No, I need to finish up in the kitchen," I said, making my way towards the door, "Think you can handle it?"

"Of course, Ang-" he paused, "Of course, Dylan."

"I ordered us a pizza, by the way. Should be here soon."

I headed back into the kitchen and continued packing. It was a tedious task, wrapping plates in newspaper and packing them into a box. And without someone else around, I consistently put it off. Which was why my small apartment was yet to be done. At least with Hunter here, it would force me to pack up the rooms I was avoiding, in an attempt to not be in the same room as him.

Hunter's help was appreciated. His presence, however, not so much.

"So where are you planning on going?" Hunter called from the other room.

"Moving in with Abby for a bit until I figure everything out," I called back, "I need to figure out everything fast though."

"Why's that?"

"Well, for starters I think I'll have permanent back problems if I sleep on her couch for too long," I said, "And second, I can't paint there. There's not enough space."

Hunter walked into view, holding two paintings.

"You can pack that one," I said, "Leave that one out. It's getting picked up tomorrow."

"Picked up?"

I nodded, walking over to take the painting from him. "Yeah, it's for a client."

Hunter grinned. "Wow, look at you. Getting paid for your art."

I smiled, happy he didn't ask any further questions. Or, who it was that was picking up the painting. The last thing I wanted was for another awkward conversation involving Charlie. Mostly because I couldn't remember the conversation fully from last night.

"Are you thinking of moving into your own place?"

"Yeah. I've also been starting to wonder if I should even stay here. Maybe it's time for me to get a fresh start... you know, out of Los Angeles."

"Where would you go? Malibu?"

"I was thinking more like New York City."

Hunter's eyes widened. "Wow, that's a... big move."

"Yeah," I shrugged, "But, we'll see."

Hunter kept his eyes on me for a second longer before saying, "Right, well, I'll get back to it."

I couldn't help but wonder if I had seen a hint of sadness in his eyes. I quickly shook the thought from my head. What would he be sad over?

The buzz of my cellphone was a welcomed distraction.

Charlie:

Hey! Is it okay if I grab the painting before work tomorrow?

Dylan:

Of course!

Charlie:

Great! Should be there just before 8am!

Having Charlie come by wouldn't be an issue, as I knew I would have to be awake early tomorrow morning to continue packing. It would give me a chance to thank him for mentioning the art show, something I hadn't had the time to do yet.

Focusing back on my task at hand, I turned on the radio and continued wrapping plates in paper and packing them into the box. It was a dull task. One that I was quickly getting bored of. No wonder it was taking me so long to pack up the apartment.

A knock at the door caught me by surprise. I looked at the clock, surprised by how much time had passed without realizing it. It was wild how efficient I could be when I put my mind to something. I opened the door and paid the delivery man. I had to give a smaller tip than usual, considering I was now working under a tighter budget for now. It didn't feel good, but the guy didn't seem to mind. Or even notice.

The smell of the freshly baked pizza caused my mouth to water and a rumble of hunger to erupt in my stomach. I hoped Hunter was hungry too. Otherwise, I wasn't going to wait to start eating. And I wasn't sure I'd leave any behind for him.

I walked towards the art room and opened my mouth to announce the arrival of our dinner. I quickly stopped myself as I saw Hunter, standing with his back towards me, holding a sketchbook. The sketchbook he bought for me. He didn't open it. He just ran his hand over the front cover, with a look I was having trouble connecting to an emotion.

I slowly crept away from the door, doing my best to be as silent as possible.

I took a deep breath. "Hunter?" I called walking back towards the room, forcing a smile.

Hunter quickly put the sketchbook into the box and looked over his shoulder.

"The food is here if you're hungry."

"Great," he said, hurrying out of the room.

"I guess I should have waited to pack up all the plates," I mumbled, looking at the empty cabinets. "Straight out the box it is."

Hunter picked up the pizza box and made his way over to the couch. I grabbed the two glasses I had not yet packed and filled them with water. As much as the half-full bottle of wine I had left in the fridge was tempting, I knew it was best to not drink right now.

I placed the glasses down onto the coffee table and sat down on the opposite end from Hunter. The couch was small, leaving a small amount of distance between us. It made me feel better knowing I had at least tried to sit as far away from him as possible.

Grabbing a slice of pizza, I took a bite before it had a chance to cool. Although it burned the top of my mouth, it was a welcomed pain to excuse my lack of conversation. Going down the list, there were very few topics for us to make casual conversation about. Many of those topics, I assumed, would lead to Abby's trouble area in one way or another.

"How's the-" He cut himself off, "You have some sauce on your lip."

"Oh, thanks," I said, wiping my mouth, "Did I get it?"

He smiled. "No it's more," he pointed his hand to his own lips, "Over here."

I wiped again, "Now?"

"Here, can I?"

I nodded, stupidly assuming he would guide my hand there or use a napkin. Instead, Hunter leaned forward, his hand lightly gripping my chin. I could feel his thumb swipe across my lower lip. He didn't pull back. Instead, kept his hand where it was, his eyes fixated on the spot.

"Hunter?"

"Yes?" his voice hummed.

"I think you got it."

His hand quickly dropped. "Right," he said, leaning back, "Sorry."

Now that was definitely something that would fall under Abby's trouble category.

"What were you about to say?" I asked, wanting to diffuse the building, awkward tension.

Hunter cleared his throat. "I was just going to ask how your work is going. For the art contest."

I raised a brow. "Did I tell you about that last night?"

"Uh... yeah," he sounded hesitant in his answer, "You mentioned it briefly."

There was something in the way he responded that made me think he was lying. But, considering I could barely remember last night, I decided to push that thought away.

"It's going well, I think," I shrugged, "I'm working on some ideas. Not sure if it will lead to anything."

"I'm sure it will."

The dreaded silence fell on us once again. I picked away at my food, wanting to keep myself busy. However, my mind kept thinking about how Hunter looked holding my sketchbook.

He's probably just surprised you still have it, I thought to myself.

"I don't remember it being like this."

The sound of his voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked over to see him smiling, looking down at his food.

"Don't remember what?"

"It being this awkward for us to have a conversation."

I smiled. "Well, there's not a lot on the list of topics for safe conversation."

"Are you a fan of lists?"

The confused look that had washed over my face instantly disappeared once I saw the piece of paper he pulled from his back pocket.

"I asked you to help me pack, not go through my stuff!"

"I just found it!" He said.

I knew he was lying about where he found it. I specifically remember keeping that list in the sketchbook.

"When did you make this?"

"A while ago."

Hunter unfolded the paper, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he looked over the list. "Ride a mechanical bull?"

"There's one at a bar Abby and I used to go to and I always wanted to try it."

"How was it?"

"Really hard, actually," I said with a laugh.

"Have a one-night stand?"

"Okay, give me that back!" I leaned forward, snatching the list out of his hand.

"Now, how was that?"

"It was fine."

"Just fine? Damn, I would not want to be that guy."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, it's not like I'm going into details with you about it."

"Why not? I want to know how the others compare."

"Hunter, I hate to break it to you. But, you weren't my first and you're not my last either."

He leaned forward, his famous smirk curved onto his lips. "Oh, come on. I think we both remember how good it was. Want to refresh your memory?"

I took in a sharp breath, hearing his words. The words I wanted to curse at him for saying such a thing died in my mouth. What was happening to me?

Hunter leaned back with a grin. "I'm just messing with you. Don't worry, Angel. I know my place."

I forced out a laugh. "And where's that?"

"Packing boxes."

I hummed a sigh of relief.

"Do you remember that time we went to the carnival and I got you to go on the Ferris wheel?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I hated you for doing that. I'm terrified of heights and you picked me up and forced me on the ride."

"Do you remember what happened after?"

I shook my head.

"You liked it. Well, you threw up after, but you still liked it."

I felt the corners of my mouth tug into a smile, remembering the night more vividly. "Oh yeah," I said quietly, "And you felt so bad you won me that purple teddy bear."

"I had to spend twenty bucks on that stupid game."

"Well, it's the least you could have done after torturing me. What made you think of that night?"

Hunter shrugged. "I think about it sometimes. It's easy to remember." He glanced around my apartment. "We've changed a lot since then."

I scoffed, "No, we haven't."

"You don't think so?"

I shook my head. "Hunter, you're still playing the same games you did when we met. And I'm still that eighteen-year-old girl who's terrified of her parents. I spent the last year lying to them about school and only told them because I got caught."

Hunter opened his mouth as if to protest what I had just brought up. Instead, he quickly pressed his lips together in a fine line and nodded. "Fair," was the only word he uttered. "And, just because I have a habit of ruining a good mood," he attempted to joke with his tone, "I am sorry for talking to Charlie about you in the way I did. I should have never said that."

Although I appreciated his words, I almost wished we had just continued sitting in the heavy silence. At least then, my heart would not feel like it was being pulled in a dangerous direction.

"It's fine, Hunter," I said quietly.

"No, it's not. You were right. I should never talk about you in that way."

"Well, thank you for apologizing," I said, "And, while we're at it, I'm sorry too."

Hunter reached for his glass of water, raising a curious brow in my direction. "For what?"

"For going out with him in the first place."

"Don't be." Hunter shrugged. "He's the type of guy you're supposed to be with, anyway."

I groaned. "Oh god, I hope not." My eyes widened realizing the words had slipped from my mouth.

Hunter chuckled in amusement, taking a sip from his glass. "Am I wrong about that?"

I chewed my bottom lip. "I mean, sure, Charlie is a nice guy. He was caring and thoughtful... and my parents liked him." I took a deep breath. "But, that was the problem."

"Are you saying you want to date an asshole?"

"No, I mean, the problem was that my parents liked him. That's a red flag." I adjusted my position on the couch, turning to face him. "I don't want what my parents have. I don't want a loveless marriage where the conversation never goes past a boring, mind-numbing level. I don't want my parents to look at a guy I'm dating and within the first thirty seconds like him because he has a promising future and wealthy parents." I paused. "I don't know if that makes any sense."

"I'm following."

"I don't want to pick the next person I date wondering if my parents would like them at a dinner party."

Hunter cleared his throat. "Well, what's going to happen when you do end up bringing him over for dinner?"

"I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon." I took a deep breath. "They've made it pretty clear that since I am no longer a high achieving student they can parade around to their acquaintances, I am not welcomed."

I felt his touch under my chin, lifting my head so our eyes could meet.

"That's their loss."

It was moments we shared, just like this one, that made my heartbreak. They were much rarer these days, where he took down his façade, the one that got under my skin and was just the Hunter I knew. The caring, thoughtful, loving Hunter.

"Why did you leave?" My voice was a mere whisper; I was surprised he had heard it at all.

His touch vanished. "Come on, Angel. Let's not talk about that now."

"I deserve to know."

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. I could tell he didn't want to talk about it. That was clearly obvious by his reaction. I didn't care. I deserved to know.

"I was terrified."

"Of what?"

"Us." He kept his eyes down. "I never thought I'd be able to fall in love with someone like I did with you. Let alone that fast. I looked at you and thought about how you are the woman I'm going to marry and start a family with." A sad smile played on his lips as he turned to face me. "I've never had that thought before in my fucking life."

"Is that so terrifying? Wanting to be with me?"

Hunter shook his head, taking my hands in his. "No, Angel. I was ready to give up everything for you. But, then I saw how your parents looked at us together. They clearly didn't like it, and-"

"They hated you," I whispered.

"I know. And that was the problem. I didn't care." His eyes fell back down. "How you say you feel towards them now, wasn't your attitude back then. You still wanted to impress them. You wanted their approval." His thumb gently stroked the back of my hand. "I just couldn't stop thinking, what if I created an issue between you and your parents, and you stopped speaking to them... what if you started resenting me?"

I was torn by his answer. I could see where he was coming from. My parents did hate him. They really hated him. I had never seen my father so angry the first time I had brought Hunter over for dinner. Yet it felt like he was only telling me part of the reason; it didn't feel like all of the truth.

"So, you just left?" I questioned, removing my hands from his touch, "The person you say you loved so much that you wanted to marry. You left me in the middle of the night!"

"I was terrified I was going to fuck things up in your life!" His fingers ran nervously through his hair. "I know it was stupid. I know that. But, I knew I could never say those words to you. Angel, I had to move back home just so I wouldn't go find you."

"Why did you come back then? Why did you come up to me that night at the bar?"

"I don't know," he whispered, "There was just something that made me want to talk to you. I couldn't help myself. Every other time I had seen you out, it was so hard to stay away. I guess I couldn't restrain myself anymore."

Every other time.

"You were so angry when you saw me," he continued, "I didn't want you to stop talking. And, I knew, the only way to keep you talking was to push your buttons. Dick move, I know." He briefly held his hands up in self-defence. "I thought you were going to tell me you were with someone and happy. Then I could finally move on and after all that time finally get you - or us - out of my head. Then Charlie showed up and... It made me so fucking angry to see you with him. Because I knew he was that guy. If you had met him that first night instead of me, there's no doubt in my mind you would still be together."

He paused. "I knew I couldn't do anything about it. I had no right to tell you two to not be together after the way I fucked up. It was so fucking hard hearing him talk about you. Every day all I heard about was how beautiful and funny and smart you were. I just couldn't help but think-"

"That should be you." The words slipped far too easily from my lips.

"Yeah. That should be me." He repeated, the corners of his lips tugged upwards.

We sat in a taunting silence so quiet, it was as if you could hear my heart fluttering with anticipation. His hand reached forward, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. As he pulled his hand back, I could feel his fingertips gently graze the skin of my cheek. I didn't realize how much closer we were to one another until his eyes darted from mine to my lips.

"It truly is crazy."

"What is?"

"Being here, after all this time. And still being as in love with you as I was before."

"You can't say that," my voice trembled. "It's not fair."

"I know."

The only thing in my head right at this moment was remembering the good. The good in Hunter. Everything he did for me and because of me. I knew that good side of him. Even with his explanation of why he left, I could see the good in it. He didn't want to step in between me and my parents. He left to protect me. It still hurt. But, it hurt a lot less knowing why he did what he did.

I was unable to hold myself back any longer. Everything that I had done to erase any feelings I had towards him was now useless. I leaned forward to close the remaining, minuscule gap between us, brushing my lips against his.

This kiss felt as magical as our first.

\\

2/3...

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