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Because here we are, driving to a cabin in the mountains for our family vacation, and Hunter is here with us like always. If I’d asked to take a friend, my father would have told me no. That it’s different with Hunter because Hunter is family. In other words, Hunter loves footballandis good at it, so that’s all that matters.

I’m in the third row, he and Ellis in front of me. They’re laughing and talking about something. I can’t hear the words because my earbuds are in, but Ellis says something that makes Hunter smile—big and wide, showing his white teeth, the bottom row slightly crooked. My stomach does this weird fluttery thing, like there are wings flapping there and tickling my insides.

I look away quickly, as though they’ll be able to tell. Like if they take one look at me, they’ll know that despite pretending to hate my brother’s best friend—and maybe I even do—that my heart beats faster around him. That he makes my pulse race and my palms sweat. I don’t care that I feel this way about boys, but I care that I feel this way abouthim.That I always have.

Hunter glances my way, and I immediately turn my head, not wanting to get caught staring at him.

We’re almost there, so I look out the window and listen tomusic, refusing to let myself glance at Hunter again. I’ve noticed things have seemed a little different between him and Ellis lately—sitting closer, more touching, looks between them that say they’re sharing a secret. And I think I know what that secret is because of course Ellis would get Hunter that way. That somehow they’ll be together, and my father won’t care because Hunter can play football, and it won’t matter there either because Hunter is that good.

I try to push those thoughts from my head, eager to get to the cabin and go take photos.

We arrive a few minutes later, everyone climbing out of the SUV. The cabin is big, made of dark wood, with a huge wraparound porch and miles and miles of trees and nature around us. Everyone heads inside, and we immediately scatter to pick our rooms. Once I’m in mine, I start going through my camera bag, getting everything ready to go out and take photos.

When I get back into the living room, the front door is open, Dad standing there with Hunter and Ellis, packs on their backs.

“We’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Dad says, as I stand there watching them, wondering why it never even occurred to him that I might want to go.

Mom is the one who sees me first. She hates hiking, so it doesn’t surprise me that she’s staying behind.

“Grab your things, Lucas. You can go with them,” she says.

“Yeah, come on,” Hunter adds.

But they hadn’t thought about me. Hunter is only saying that because Mom did, and he tries to always be nice, perfect. He’s so fucking good at everything.

“No, it’s fine,” I say.

“Come with us,” Hunter insists, again trying to be nice. He’s like that sometimes, and it only upsets me more. When he’s nice to me, it makes that stupid fluttering worse, and I don’t want to feel that for him.

And I want him to have wanted me to go from the start, andthat’s scary.

I want Ellis and my father to have wanted me to go for different reasons.

“Hurry, Lucas,” Ellis says.

“Make up your mind,” Dad says, his tone telling me he thinks I’ll ruin their good time. I’ll want to stop and take photos and do all the things he considers a waste of time. I’ll get lost in my head and nature the way boys shouldn’t do—at least not his idea of a boy.

“I’m good.”

Mom squeezes my shoulder. “You should go, honey.”

“I don’t want to.”

Dad, Ellis, and Hunter leave, Hunter throwing a look over his shoulder, and Mom offers, “How about you and I go out and take photos?”

“I’m good. I’ll just chill for a while.”

I’d rather go alone anyway.

*

What kind ofperson does it make me that I hope Hunter texts me again?

I shouldn’t want to talk to him, shouldn’t enjoy it as much as I do, but I hadn’t been lying when I told him I’m an asshole, something I’m proving with my desire to talk to him. It’s been two days since the game, since I sent him the photo of the sunset. I’d hoped he would respond to that, and since he didn’t, I’m taking that as a sign to leave him alone.

Unless Hunter messages me, I’ll keep my distance. I’d planned on it after our night on the roof, but after that shitty game in Dallas, I thought maybe he’d need a distraction, something or someone that had nothing to do with football.Who knows if it helped or if I was way off base. That’s not something I would have felt about young Hunter. I never would have thought he’d need to forget football, but this Hunter is different.

“I’ve never seen you look at your phone as much as you have been the last couple of days.” Isla sits beside me on the couch, dropping her head to my shoulder.