Chapter 80 JUNIPER

Chapter 80 JUNIPER
Hunter climbed out of the black car first, sunglasses already in place, wearing the kind of grin that suggested he’d personally arranged for the sun to come out. 

Two girls walking past immediately slowed. One of them whispered something to the other, both trying—and failing—not to stare.

Hunter noticed. He leaned casually against the door, flashing them that stupidly charming smile.

“Morning, ladies.”

The girls practically short-circuited. One giggled. Actually giggled.

“Hi, Hunter.”

“Nice to see you.”

He gave them a lazy two-finger salute. “Always nice to be appreciated. I’m free tonight if either of you feels like contin

They agreed so fast it was almost impressive. Numbers were exchanged in under thirty seconds.

Hunter pocketed both without missing a beat, still smiling like this was just another Tuesday,.

Slate stepped out of the red sports car next. He slammed the door with the energy of a man who found most of humanity mildly exhausting. A couple of girls passing nearby immediately noticed him.

One whispered, “Oh my God. That’s Slate.”

Slate glanced over, unimpressed but not above it. “Morning.” His voice was low, almost bored, but the effect was immediate.

The girls lit up like he’d proposed marriage. He didn’t even have to try. A number somehow ended up in his hand before he finished locking the car.

"I stared. "You've got to be kidding me." I watched two more girls actually walk into a pillar trying to look at Knox, Hunter and Slate at the same time.

"Do these girls have any brain cells left, or did they leave them at home along with their dignity today?"

Hunter came up, tapped Slate on the shoulder, and grinned. “You’re losing your touch, man. I got two numbers. Want one?”

Slate took one without looking and shoved it into his pocket. 

I looked at the three ridiculously expensive cars lined up together and felt something snap inside my soul.

“This is so unfair,” I muttered. “I couldn’t even afford the air freshener in one of these, and the three of you just casually park them like they’re bicycles.”

Hunter spotted us. His eyebrows shot up. Then his mouth slowly curled into a wicked grin.

“Oh, this is fucking adorable.”

Knox sighed. “Don’t.”

Hunter ignored him completely, and pointed at Knox’s arm around me. 

“Public affection before class? Reyes, who the hell are you? Seriously—no pit stop at the janitor’s closet first? No quick fuck before the academic portion of the day? Growth. I’m impressed.”

I stared at him. “I really didn’t need to know that.”

Hunter turned his attention to me, still grinning. “I must say, Speckles, you clean up really well.”

“Don’t call me Speckles.”

“Knox calls you Speckles.”

“Knox is an exception I regret daily.”
Hunter laughed. Slate’s gaze swept over me, taking in the dress before settling on Knox’s arm around my waist.

“I can’t fucking believe it. The photo wasn’t edited.” His eyes trailed down my body without shame. “Fuck, you’re actually hot..”

“Eyes up, you moron,” Knox hissed, his hand tightening around my waist. 

"Or I’ll make sure the next thing you look at is the underside of my fist.”

Hunter chuckled. “Why are you being so territorial, Reyes? She’s the fake girlfriend, remember? What are you getting worked up about? Besides, Slate’s right—she is fucking hot.” His gaze turned to me, shameless. 

“And when all this fake relationship is over, maybe we could go on a date and make it real. What do you say, Speckles?”

Knox’s voice dropped into something cold and lethal. “Finish that sentence and I’ll finish you.”

Both of them burst out laughing.
“Jesus, it’s so easy to wind you up,” Hunter said, wiping at his eyes. “Look at him. One compliment and he’s ready to commit murder.”

A tiny, unwilling laugh escaped me.
Knox looked down at me. I raised my eyes to meet his. 

For a second the parking lot noise faded—just the two of us locked in that quiet, charged look—until Hunter, of course, destroyed it.

“Jesus Christ. They’re doing the eye thing now.”

I immediately looked away. “What eye thing?”

“The googly lovey-dovey one.”

Slate nodded solemnly. “The couple eye-thingy.”

I groaned. “Can we please just get to class?”

Hunter grinned. “Sure. But I’m walking behind you two. This is better than Netflix.”

“Fuck off, Hunter.”

“See?” Hunter said to Slate. “He’s already protective.”

Before I could decide whether to shove Knox away or hide behind him, a familiar voice rang across the parking lot.

“There she is! Oh my God, you actually wore it!”

Katy came striding toward us like a woman arriving to inspect the results of a highly successful military operation. 

Piper followed behind her, carrying two coffees and wearing the exhausted expression of someone who had already been subjected to at least forty-seven opinions before breakfast.

Katy’s eyes swept over the dress. Her entire face lit up.

“I told you.” She pointed at me. “I told you the dress would work. Look at this. Look at the visual cohesion. This is what narrative consistency looks like.”

I stared at her. “Please stop talking like a brand strategist.”

Piper handed me a coffee. “She practiced that line in the mirror.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“I absolutely did not.”

Hunter looked between Katy and me, clearly delighted. “So you’re the mastermind behind this transformation?”

Katy smiled sweetly. “I prefer visionary.”

Hunter laughed. “I owe you a drink. Maybe I can take you out sometime.”

Seriously, I thought. Does this guy ever not flirt?

Slate, who’d been suspiciously quiet, snorted. “No fucking way.”

Katy’s head snapped toward him. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t give her a drink.”

Hunter looked delighted. “Why?”

“She’ll get drunk off one glass and start kissing people against their will.”

My eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Katy’s smile remained perfectly pleasant. “It was one time, Slate. Get over it.”

“You attacked my face with your mouth.”

“I was drugged!”

“You still kissed me.”

“I thought you were a prince!”

Slate stared at her. “You thought I was a prince?”

“I was impaired! I mistook a toad for a prince. Tragic error. Won’t happen again.”

Slate’s expression hardened. “Who the fuck are you calling a toad?”

Katy smiled. “You.”

Hunter’s mouth dropped open. Piper slowly lowered her coffee. I looked between them.

Slate’s jaw tightened. “Careful, Katy.”

“Oh, I’m always careful. Especially around amphibians.”

I glanced between Katy and Slate. They were staring at each other like they were one insult away from either declaring war or needing a priest.

I frowned. “You two sound like you’ve been divorced for ten years.”

Slate rolled his eyes. Katy smiled innocently.
“We simply have different personalities.”

Slate’s gaze dragged over her. “She’s insufferable.”

Katy’s smile brightened. “And he’s an arrogant asshole.”

“See?” Slate said. “She started it.”

“I was responding.”

“You’re always responding.”

“Because you’re always being annoying.”

“Because you’re always—”

“Okay!”

They both stopped. I stared between them.

“What the hell is going on?”

Hunter looked thrilled. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

I pointed at him. “Don’t.”

He immediately raised both hands. “I’m not saying anything.”

“Then someone explain.”

Piper sighed. “You really don’t know?”

I shook my head. “No.”

She looked at Hunter. Hunter looked at Slate. Slate looked like he’d rather chew glass. Katy looked entirely too pleased with herself.

Finally, Piper shrugged. “Let’s just say those two have history.”

I looked at Katy, then Slate. “What kind of history?”

Katy lifted her coffee. “The annoying kind.”

Slate scoffed. “The unforgettable kind.”

Their eyes locked again. Something passed between them—sharp, bitter, and far too personal for two people who supposedly just had “different personalities.”

I stared. Apparently everyone knew something about Katy and Slate. Everyone except me. And somehow I had a feeling I was going to regret finding out.

Knox, meanwhile, looked like he’d paid good money for front-row seats. His arm was still around me, and he made absolutely no attempt to intervene.

I leaned closer. “Are you going to do something?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I’m enjoying this.”

“You’re horrible.”

“Probably.”

Hunter clapped Slate on the shoulder. “Play nice with the ladies.”

“I am playing nice,” Slate said, still looking at Katy. “This is me being nice. She’s just no lady.”

Katy’s eyebrow arched so high it nearly left her face. “No lady? How original. Did you workshop that one in the mirror this morning, or does the insult just come naturally when your personality is ninety percent ego and ten percent poor decisions?”

"Shut the...."

“Okay—truce,” I said, stepping slightly between them with both hands raised. 

“Before this escalates into a full verbal homicide and someone ends up needing a restraining order before lunch. Deep breaths. Separate corners. Everyone pretend to be functional adults for five consecutive minutes. Can we manage that?”

Neither of them looked convinced, but the glaring at least paused.

Knox finally sighed. “As much as I’d love to watch this turn into a televised custody battle, some of us have class.”

“Some of us,” Hunter agreed, “have reputations to maintain by being seen with the new campus power couple.”

"I will end you."

"No you won't..Now Text me the wedding date, Speckles! I want a plus-one!" He slung his bag over one shoulder, grinning like he'd just discovered a new hobby and that hobby was ruining my life.

I turned to Knox, fully prepared to unleash several years of pent-up frustration onto him instead, since Hunter had escaped. "Your friend is insufferable."

"He grows on you." Knox didn't even look apologetic. "Like a fungus."

"Honestly, Knox, she's perfect. Very convincing. I almost believe you two are in love." Slate added from behind.

"We're working on it," Knox said, deadpan, like I was a group project he'd been assigned and hadn't started yet.

"Working on it," I repeated. "Wow. Romantic. I'm swooning. Someone catch me."

Nobody caught me. Knox just slid his hand back into mine, unbothered, and started walking, which meant I either followed or got dragged, and I had some dignity left, technically, so I followed.

"You're doing the thing," I muttered.

"What thing?"

"The hand thing. The casual, I-do-this\-all\-the\-time thing."

"I am doing this all the time. Starting today."

"Lucky me."

I meant it to sound sarcastic. It came out softer than I wanted.
Because the flutter in my stomach every time Knox pulled me closer? That was becoming considerably harder to explain away. Somewhere between pretending to be his girlfriend and being treated like one, my traitorous heart had apparently stopped keeping track of the difference — and forgotten to tell me