Unmaking Hunter Kennedy (32 page)

To him, anyhow.

Bun, baggy shorts, and those big brown eyes and all. The girl had started to stun him stupid with a simple smile, or one of her little glares. And every single day.

While she hung out, longing for Curtis to notice her more.

He grimaced at that thought. If only Vere were skipping into drama class her eyes sparkling—the edges of her cheeks all flushed pink—looking around for one glimpse of
him
.

He sure as hell wouldn’t make her wonder. If he could trade places with Curtis, he would do everything in his power to make her his. Forever.

But he wasn’t Curtis. He was the lame
BGF
.

And it was working well for both of their purposes. It wasn’t that Vere didn’t seem happy to have him near at all times. Heck, she seemed to want to hang with him more and more.

But in all the wrong ways.

If only she’d want me in the right way.

But do I want that? Really?

He let out a long, annoyed sigh.

It’s not like she’s going to swap crushes on Curtis and publicly hold hands with me in my canvas pants. Social suicide was never her plan. Curtis Wishford is her plan....

He tried to imagine a scenario in his other life. Walking around LA with Vere, introducing her to the band, his entourage. Showing her his monstrously huge, but empty house and he broke out in a sweat.

Hell no. Plus, that place would suck the life out of her eyes. Once she knew everything about our family, about me...she simply wouldn’t want to fit there.

The stupid BGF status is all I’m ever going to get.

Besides, who would I be to Vere back in California?

The same person I am to her here in Colorado: Not. Curtis. She’s kind of made that clear this past week, along with telling me every second of her life story.

Her cute, hilarious life story...

Listening for Vere’s little snippets of her past and her ultra-normal family, had become part of his daily routine. His secret fun, but increasingly, his private torture the more he found out about her.

Because I’m starting to adore every little insane thing that she does. The girl can make pie from scratch. And she comes over to hang out with Aunt Nan so they can watch TV and knit? KNIT. She’s actually making me a hat! Who does that kind of granny stuff?

The cutest girl in the world, that’s who.

He knew for a fact that Vere’s opinion of drama class had also skyrocketed this year. Vere had told him this again only hours before on the ride home.

Why?

He gave the ceiling fan a cynical little smile.

Because Vere tells her bestie everything.

As much as he loved to watch her smile and be happy, he was starting to get—down to his core—that there was a possibility this
BGF
thing could eventually crush him. Crush his heart anyhow, as Vere’s relationship with Mr. Jerk-ford grows stronger while he’s forced to watch.

And it was happening. Slowly, and surely, right before his very eyes. Curtis was growing more enchanted with Vere every second.

How could he not?

To add insult to injury, Dustin couldn’t even show the kid up. Rage on the guitar, write Vere a song, act his assigned parts how he
wanted
to act them, or even go after a singing lead for the musical. He was actually failing drama because he’d sworn he had stage fright and had refused to perform three skits in a row.

He was stuck. Trying to not draw attention. Not that it mattered! He had less ‘game’ than a toad. Vere treated him as though she couldn’t even remember he’d ever been anything
but
Dustin the dork, her
slave-BGF
.

Worse, to date, Vere had told him every excruciating detail of her MIND interactions with Curtis.

Everything. And then, she’d bombarded him with girly, best-friend-questions like:

*What Curtis had
surely
meant when he blinked that time.

*Or,
if
she should text him.

*What she would text him if she were brave enough.

*Or why hadn’t Curtis asked for her number yet—and so maybe it was inappropriate
to
text him. (Because she’d stolen his number off Charlie’s phone two years ago!)

HELL.

It had started out as comical, and he was happy to try and help her interpret Curtis’s moves. But after a few days of it, the whole thing had spun out of control.

Mostly because Curtis had no moves. Besides being an ass, that is. But Vere never seemed to get that part about the guy!

He was totally wrong for her.

Today had been an epic example. She had been all freaked out at lunch because Curtis appeared to be spacing out right in front of her. Like ‘uninterested’ spacing out.

She’d kept asking:
Do you think it’s a possible BAD SIGN? Do you think it’s over before it started? Are my chances ruined?

He’d had to bite the inside of his cheeks.

Mostly so he wouldn’t shout: “THE RAT BASTARD WAS NOT SPACING OUT. CURTIS CAUGHT A BRA SHOT WHEN YOU BENT OVER. YOU PUT HIM IN A COMA!”

Instead, he’d muttered some lame,
bestie
response like, “I’m sure it was nothing. He likes you, he totally, totally, totally does.”

Hell. She’d put ME in a coma.

Who knew Vere Roth wore a bunch of lace under all those hoodies? Damn...but, I love a girl in some lace too...

To rub salt in the whole thing—Vere gushed constantly that her ‘guy exposure’ and
BGF’s
coaching tips were working. He couldn’t escape the fact that this whole, unfolding nightmare was his damn fault.

His and Charlie’s.

He’d even
agreed
with Charlie that things couldn’t be better. Vere had come out of her shell this week, and Curtis had taken notice. Way, too much notice.

Whatever. Fine. Whatever they wanted. I’m a short timer. I have no right to be annoyed. At least not with Vere, Charlie or even Curtis.

He flipped over so he could pick up his phone. Stared at it until his head spun. Should he log back in and re-read Martin’s email? Should he just call the guy?

He pulled Martin’s cell number up in his contacts. The over-bright screen lit up.

Ready to go. Tap it. Just tap it and call.

Martin had said no direct calls. Just in case.

Just in case what?

He stared at the number on the screen until it went black.

Would one call bring down the commando, phone-sniffing, pop star tracking, press? And if it did, would they be able to locate him in this God-forsaken town? And so what if they did? Maybe could leave a quick message. Beg the guy to give him the end-date to all this madness.

That was all he really needed. So he could handle himself—the too-huge feelings around this crush—if he could wrap his head around when it all would stop, he’d feel calmer.

Instead of motivating him to dial, his heart tightened at that thought. Yes, his crush was painful, but it was also the best feeling he’d ever felt. And he couldn’t imagine how empty he’d be if it ever stopped. If Martin called him home, then it all would go away.

In an odd panic, he quickly dialed Vere.

“Hello?
OHMYGOD
Dustin!” Her chatter immediately made him feel better. “I’m late. Watching this awesome show about how DaVinci might have communicated with—or possibly was—
an alien
. And the signs are hidden in his paintings! SO COOL. I’ll be right over.”

He grinned. “I can’t wait to hear about it. Now hurry up.”

When he hung up, the battery flashed a warning.

His charge signal turned from green to red, just as he had the huge urge to make a second call. To dial his mom. He craved the sound of her voice. Even if she were still angry at him.

And that feeling scared the shit out of him way more than his crush on Vere Roth did.

What if his mom hadn’t forgiven him yet? What if she refused to talk to him still? His heart imploded at the thought. Not knowing felt better than the possibility of the two of them never speaking again.

He tossed his phone into the drawer along with his mom’s letter. He heard the puttering sound of Vere’s VW outside.

Whatever. I’m not the kid with the messed up life.

I’m Dustin McHugh, hanging at home
.

A kid who hikes, and loves drama class, and is now, officially, an orphan who lives with his aunt!

An orphan with no cell phone, because I’m not charging it, or picking that thing up again.

If other people didn’t like that, then they could show up here in Colorado with their ideas about who I am and what I’m doing.

But for now, he was good enough with this, because it was the only thing that felt good and real and right.

He pulled in a huge breath.

Vere honked and turned up her car stereo. To his surprise, she was playing...
GuardeRobe
?

He grinned, popped in his retainer, grabbed his glasses, one of his vests, a trucker cap and shot out into the hall.

GuardeRobe and Vere? Really?

Should be an interesting drive.

26: heart shaped rocks

VERE

“Okay. Start looking. This is the spot where I’ve found the best stuff.”

They’d driven just outside of Monument to the Falcon Canyon Open Space. Vere and Dustin had bush-whacked only a small bit behind the parking area, until reaching a dried creek bed that ran parallel to the main trail.

“You can also find major good petrified wood here. It washes out in the flash floods.”

He frowned at the cloudless sky. “Flash floods? Should we be standing here at all. What if it’s raining up on Pikes Peak?”

“Good question, ‘nature-safe-Dustin’.”

Vere took his shoulders and turned him to face the mountain in question. Not one cloud floated anywhere near the peak.

He took off his glasses and shot her an embarrassed grin. “Fine. But what about the possibility of huge packs of mountain lions attacking us from all these bushes. I don’t think we should be off trail.”

“Stop looking at the bushes. Eyes on the sand. It’s perfectly safe here. Look for bumps of the brown sandstone stuff. It erodes into these awesome iron concretions. Train your eyes to search out anything that has the appearance of marbles or super balls covered in sand. They are easy to step right over, and they’re so—”

“Amazing?” Dustin laughed, slowing his pace to fall into step beside her. “I’m looking. They all seem to look like regular rocks to me.”

“No...you’ll see. Keep walking, and staring down—and—there! OMG. It’s a heart shaped one!”

She jumped forward and picked up a white piece of quartz. “Look. Bottom shaped like a lumpy triangle. Top—two distinct bumps connected by slight ‘v’ to make a heart!” She beamed, handing it over. “Now that you’ve seen one, you’ll search for these forever. So addictive.”

Hunter turned the rock over in his hands. “No shit. It
is
in the shape of a heart.”

“Did you doubt me about this place? I have hundreds of these in a bowl in my room.”

“I’ve never seen your room. Is it allowed?” he asked, turning away before she could see if he was joking or sincere.

“If you want. It’s kind of basic. Posters. Junk. But if you plan to come up, I need ten minutes warning to straighten up.”

“Why? Do you have to take down all your secret
GuardeRobe
posters, and framed photos of me?”

She punched his arm. “No.”

“Ah. Too bad.” He smiled, but for some reason his voice didn’t seem as light as it usually was.

“I’m proud of the
GuardeRobe
poster I have in there,” she added.

“What?”

“Yep. Stole it off the back of Charlie’s closet door. The kid has no clue it’s mine now. I had to have it. It’s a friend-loyalty thing.” She left off the part about how she liked having Dustin’s blue-blue-eyes smiling out at her. “But, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve become a bit of new
fangirl
. I know I said it on the ride over here, but I am sorry I made fun of the music. It’s really good. Awesome, actually!”

He shook his head, his gaze totally unreadable now. “And fangirl to you, means exactly...what? Are you tweeting them, stalking them, Facebook friends with each individual member?”

Her turn to frown. “Oh...uh. I stole a poster? I’ve heard the latest album six times and I
think
I once met the lead singer.” She shot him a look. “Is that enough?”

“Not. Even. Close. Call me when you’re up for mailing photos of yourself. I’ll help you chose which one. Some girls try to send ones minus their clothes. I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“Yeah. Not going to happen.” She punched him again. Harder. “My Dustin McHugh has a nudity phobia,” she joked. “Won’t swim. Showers in his plaid shirts all buttoned up tight.”

He laughed. “That’s right I do. Showering in the shirts saves laundry soap.”

He handed back the rock but she shook her head, already scanning the ground for another. “Pocket it. It’s your first. If we keep doing this hike, you’ll have tons before you go home.”

“Done with me already?”

Vere looked up, startled at his tense tone. “What? No. Of course not. It’s what you want, isn’t it? To go home?”

“What I want is—”

Her phone buzzed against her leg to the sound of trumpets shooting out of her pocket.

She felt her cheeks flame to purple.

“
OHMYGOD.
It’s CURTIS. He’s texted me. I set a special ringtone. And—”

The trumpets sounded again. Vere’s heart soared.

“FINALLY!”

Hunter put his glasses back on. “What did he say?”

They both glanced at the screen together, and read:
HEY

She looked at Dustin. “This is serious. What should I say back? Get the advice rolling. Hurry.”

Dustin smiled. “You could try, ‘hey’ back?” He shrugged.

Vere shot him a look. “Hey’, all alone? Or should I text ‘hey’ and add a smiley?”

“Oh my GOD. Girl, give me the phone. We are not doing this. It’s time to lock some of this deal down.”

He quickly typed: ‘
Hey. You coming over
?’

“Holy cow. You didn’t just do that.” Vere grabbed her phone back.