The ultimate hangover cure you ask? Usually I'd have a smug answer, a recommendation for milk thistle and that Japanese liver-inhibitor drink ready to go. A healthy meal and an even healthier dose of caffeine, says Captain Help-The-Hungover. But today? Not a chance.
I'm my own worst example. A swamp monster dredged out from the bottom of last night's proverbial party lake, with the water-logged, drained look to prove it. The headache that radiated and bounced off the interior walls of my skull with a dull ring just added to the aesthetic. And the sheer shock that I'd kissed Iggy totally of my own volition was merely the cherry atop.
I was beyond pretending it hadn't happened. How could I? It was the footage playing on loop inside this newly-vacant head of mine. Calloused hands brushing against my skin, eyes beaming with wistful hope and my god, those lips. For all the venom he'd spat my way upon first meeting, the bathroom counter encounter had wiped the slate clean.
And though I dare not admit it if I were to run into him today, the thought of repeating every encounter good, bad, malicious or positively radioactive was overwhelming.
Sitting in the library, my venue of not-so-productive solitude and quiet, I tried endlessly to push the feeling away. I needed to work. To ignore him. To continue on beyond whatever this was for him, likely a drunken nothing. In all the efforts of my rational thought, I couldn't fathom a possible positive outcome beyond fleeting feel-good moments.
As if conducting a memorandum of understanding upon myself, here's what I knew to be certain:
A) Iggy had been spot on about the insecurities brought about by Asher.
B) He'd also been downright awful to me. But arguably (this is my internal monologue after all) that kiss had expunged my memory of this fact.
C) We have to work together for Business Law, and even this initial moment already complicates things enough.
D) Was I looking for anyone to break my jersey-free spell? Did I enjoy the attention from Hunter? Perhaps.
E) Did I want to say fuck it to the rest of the list and do it again? A resounding yes.
"Harper, hi. The work never stops for you, hey?" Breaking me from my mental whirlpool, I glanced up to see soft sandy hair and forgiving eyes taking in my swamp-chic appearance.
Taking a moment to respond causing Hunter to rock on his feet with quarrel bubbling beneath the surface.
"Yes, no rest for the wicked or well-read." I smiled with a tightness that edged from my cheeks and forced politeness.
"Mind if I join you? I was looking for you actually. Specifically, in fact. I don't often frequent the library." Hunter rumbled, tipping his head to the chair across from me.
"Ah, I'm studying and..." I uttered quietly, peering up briefly from my notes to see Hunter's eyes pleading for a seat at the table.
"Alright." Gesturing reluctantly with a soft nod.
"You have to know, that's now how I thought last night would work out."
"Funnily enough, not what I had planned either, Hunter."
"I meant what I said last night. And I only punched him because he was talking about you like that." Hunter said definitively, the emotion coiled within him now visible on his face. Or evident by his white knuckles gripping the table.
"I don't need anyone punching anyone or anything for that matter on my behalf. I'm quite self-sufficient. And don't make this about defending my honour, that's not what any of that was."
YOU ARE READING
Closing Arguments
Romance"He should never have hit you, but winding him up like that..." "Like what? Talking about being your partner, working with you, spending time with you. That's no fabrication, H. We are going to be spending a whole lot of time together this semester...
