“Accusations?” Hunter sounds alarmed. “What’s this fucker done?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Really, he hasn’t done anything. But he creeps me out, and he’s kinda handsy. I told Richmond about it and, like I said, got scolded.”

The waiter returns with our waters and asks if we’re ready to order. Neither of us has even opened the menu yet, so Hunter says we need more time.

We pick up our menus. I try desperately to concentrate on the app list, but my brain is still back in my bedroom with Fitz.

Hunter releases a heavy sigh.

I lift my head. “Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine.” He gives a wry shake of his head. “You, on the other hand? Doesn’t seem like you’re fine.”

I offer a feeble assurance. “I am.”

“Summer, I’ve been living with you for a month now. I’m pretty good at deciphering your moods. You’re extra distracted tonight.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I clasp my hands in my lap. “I…”

He hesitates for a long moment, then asks, “What’s going on between us?”

Misery burns my throat, stings my eyes. I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling, because I don’t know what I’m feeling.

My heart drops as I realize I’m in the exact position Fitz was in twenty minutes ago. The position I put him in. Demanding access to his thoughts. Insisting he tell me how he feels about me.

Maybe he truly doesn’t know. God knows I can’t quite describe what I feel for him. Yet I’m expecting him to, what, fight for me? Declare his undying love for me? And now here Hunter is, asking me what’s going on between us, and I cannot for the life of me answer the question.

“Summer,” he says roughly.

I clamp my teeth over my bottom lip. I don’t like disappointing people, but I’m not sure there’s much of a choice at the moment. “I think I have to go,” I whisper.

Hunter doesn’t respond.

I lift my gaze to his. There isn’t an iota of surprise in his eyes.

“Is it Fitz?” The words are curt, low.

Despite the guilt and shame weakening my body, I force myself to say, “Yes.”

His hard gaze slices into me and then through me. I couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what he’s thinking right now. And I’m not sure what he’s going to do. Drop his napkin on the table and calmly exit the restaurant? Lose his temper and call me a heartless bitch?

He does neither. He scrapes his chair back and walks over to help me out of mine.

“Come on. I’ll take you home.” He tosses a twenty on the table, way more money than necessary for two waters we didn’t even drink.

Trying not to cry, I follow him to the door.

Neither of us says a word on the drive home. It’s awkward as hell, and it only gets worse when Hunter stops in the driveway but doesn’t kill the engine.

“You’re not coming in?” I ask, then curse myself for giving voice to the stupidest question in the world. Of course he’s not coming in. I just rejected him. It’s not like he’s going to sit on the couch with me while we watch 1D music videos on YouTube together.

“Naah.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. He seems wired with energy, or maybe he’s impatient for me to get out of the car. “I can’t be in there right now. I’m gonna go out, find a party.” He shrugs. “Don’t wait up.”

“Text me if you decide to stay out all night so I don’t worry?”

For the first time since I told him I was interested in Fitz, he reveals a flash of anger. With a cynical smile, he says, “I’m pretty sure you’ll be too busy to care what I’m doing tonight, Summer.”

Guilt pierces into me. “Hunter…”

Don’t be like this, I want to say, but how can I blame him? I agreed to go on a date with him, and ten minutes into it I told him I wanted to be with somebody else. That’s a crappy thing to do to someone, and I don’t know how I’ll ever make this up to him.

“Thanks for driving me back,” I whisper.

“Of course.”

I reach over and gently touch his shoulder, and he winces as if I’ve hurt him. And I realize I have, only not physically. I hadn’t known he’d liked me this much. I thought it was more of a flirtation on his part.

I pull the door handle and slide out of the Rover. I’ve barely taken a step before Hunter reverses out of the driveway. He drives off in a cloud of exhaust that burns my nostrils before floating away in the evening air.

I feel awful as I let myself into the house. I guess Hollis went out, because he’s not in the living room, and his bedroom is empty when I pass the open doorway. I ignore my own room and walk to the master. No light spills into the hallway from beneath the door, but I know Fitz is home because his car’s in the driveway. Unless he went somewhere with Hollis, but I guess I’ll find out.

I take a breath, gather my courage, and knock softly.

No response.

Crap. Maybe he did go out.

I hesitate, just for a second, before turning the knob and easing the door forward. The room is bathed in shadows. I squint in the darkness and make out a bulky figure on the bed. He’s not under the covers, but a fleece throw is haphazardly draped over his lower body.

“Fitz?”

The mattress shifts. “Summer?” he says sleepily.

“Yeah. I’m back.”

He makes a drowsy sound, a cross between a moan and a rumble. It’s so frigging cute. “How long was I asleep for?”

“Not long. It’s barely eight.”

“You left thirty minutes ago.” There’s a lot of confusion in that statement.

“Yes.”

“And now you’re back.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I close the door and then approach the foot of the bed. “I’m not sure yet. But…I have three questions for you.” I take a breath. “Could you please, just this once, try to answer them? I don’t expect a speech or anything. A yes or no would suffice.” I seek out his eyes in the shadows. “Please, Fitz?”

The throw rustles as he slides into a sitting position. “What do you want to know?” he asks gruffly.

With a shaky exhalation, I ask, “Do you still think I’m surface level?”

“No. I don’t.” Sheer sincerity.

I nod slowly. “Did you plan on running away after I sucked you off in the locker room?”

“No. I didn’t.” Genuine regret.

I swallow. “Are you as tired of fighting this attraction between us as I am?”

“Yes. I am.” Pure need.

My hands tremble as I grasp the hem of my dress and drag the soft wool up my body and over my head. This is crazy. But crazy is kind of my middle name.

Fitz makes a choked noise. “Summer?”

I ignore him. I keep my stockings on because the hardwood floor is damn cold. Underwear stays on too, but I unclasp my strapless bra and let it drop to the floor.

He gives a sharp intake of breath.

I climb onto the bed and slide under the throw with him.

“You’re not wearing a shirt,” he rasps.