Hunter's conversation with Ollie yesterday really pissed me off. Either he was putting on a show for my brother's benefit, or he's not the guy I thought he was. Judah is another story. The dance is only a couple of days away, and I kind of feel like we're at a crossroads. We can't continue to go on like this without making a decision. Do I take him back completely or end things once and for all? After sitting on my patio for several hours, I'm no closer to a resolution.

The light in the guest house is off, and I haven't seen Hunter since I got home from practice. I'm not sure why it bothers me that I don't know where he is, but it does. Having him here is comforting and frustrating at the same time. I like him always being available to me, but ever since we started this war, things haven't been the same. I miss my friend. I miss the person I could talk to about anything and never have to worry about being judged by him.

The truth is, I don't really feel close to anyone. Cameron is technically my best friend, but her motives aren't always clear. Sometimes I swear she hopes for me to fail so she can be better than me at something. Ollie has always been my go-to person for basically anything. The only problem is, I can't talk to him about Hunter and it kills me. Sure, he would most likely get over it after freaking out for a minute, but then he would say 'I told you so' because it turned out exactly the way he said it would.

A disaster.

I'm about to give up and go inside when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn my head to see Hunter walking over from the guest house. He must have been home after all. I turn back to the pool, dangling my feet in the water.

He sighs and then sits down beside me. He doesn't say anything for a minute, and my heart starts to beat faster until he does. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him roll his pant legs up and slip his feet in the water next to mine.

"Are you okay?"

His voice is soft, and when I look over at him, his eyes are filled with sincerity. I can't remember the last time I looked in them and saw something other than anger or disappointment.

I shake my head. "No, I'm not." He bites his lip, but doesn't respond, so I keep going. "Are you?"

After a moment, he looks at me again and shakes his head.

I take a shaky breath. "I miss you."

When a tear starts to fall from my eye, he catches it with his thumb. He leans in and kisses me on the cheek, cradling my face with his hand. "I miss you, too."

"Then why are we fighting?" I whisper.

He shakes his head again. "I don't even know anymore, but I hate it." He brings his hand down and rests it on my leg. My stomach clenches at his touch. It never used to be that way. We used to hug and touch each other all the time and it was playful—it didn't mean anything. Now it feels like it does.

Even though I'm afraid to, I reach my hand over and lace my fingers through his. When I look up at him, he's staring down at our hands, and I'm terrified he's going to pull away. But he doesn't. He gently runs his thumb across the back of my hand instead.

"Hunter, I'm not sure what's going on between us, but I can't live with us being nothing." He looks up at me at my words, but I don't stop. "And maybe I understand your reasoning for not wanting to be together." I pause and take a deep breath. "That's why I might give Judah another chance."

The muscle is his jaw ticks, but he doesn't say anything. Slowly, he pulls his hand back and runs it through his hair. "Judah, huh? You think things will be different this time?"

I shrug. "I don't know, but I feel like he deserves a second chance."

He stares off across the pool, avoiding my eyes. "If you think he's changed, then maybe you should."

My eyebrows pull in. "Really? You're not going to tell me what a huge mistake I'm making and how much my life is going to suck if I do?"

Hunter laughs and it eases the heaviness building in my chest. "Elle, I was never trying to make you feel like you can't make your own decisions." He reaches over and tucks my hair behind my ear, speaking close to my face. "All I want is for you to be with someone who treats you the way you deserve."

I find myself staring at his lips. If he leans forward anymore, they would be touching mine. Before I can contemplate that for too long, he pulls back and stands up from the pool deck.

He tugs on the sleeve of my T-shirt. "Come on," he says, nodding back to the guest house. "I need to find out what happened to Chuck and Blair. I don't like it when she's with Nate."

With a laugh of my own, I stand as well. "You know, for someone who claims to hate my favorite show, you sure know a lot of details."

Hunter shrugs, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "I can't help it. They're growing on me I guess."

I bite my lip so I don't say, 'I told you so'—but it doesn't stop me from thinking it.

***

The decision to watch TV on his bed was mine. Even though we made this friend pact pretty clear, I still enjoy testing his willpower. I'm lying on my stomach with my feet crossed behind me. The shorts I have on are smaller than most underwear I own. He can't see my T-shirt at the moment—but there isn't much to it.

I catch a heady glance in my direction from time to time that he tries to play off and fails. When another episode ends, he sighs dramatically.

He sits up from his position on the bed and rakes his hands through his messy blond hair. It's sticking up on one side from laying on the pillow, and I find it absolutely adorable.

"I don't think I can take much more of the back and forth between these two. It's exhausting."

I roll over to my side, exposing my bare midriff. His eyes follow right where I want them to. "There are still two seasons left. Plenty more time for drama."

He laughs. "For someone who claims to avoid drama, you sure like watching it." He motions toward the paused screen. "Why can't they just be together? They obviously want you to believe they have this tragic, can't-live-without-each-other, type of love, and yet every time they get close, something happens, and they just—don't." He lifts his hands up and drops them to the bed with another sigh.

"That's the thrill isn't? Will they, won't they? It keeps everyone entertained." I wiggle my fingers at him, expecting a laugh, but he doesn't give me one.

Instead, his expression turns darker when he looks down at me. I almost cringe. "I won't live my life that way. If I want someone, I'm going to make sure they know it."

I trace the pattern on the comforter we're laying on with my finger, not meeting his eyes. "Is that so?" I look up and lock eyes with him. "For some reason, I don't believe you."

Without so much as a warning, he shoves me onto my back and pins my arms above my head. My heart starts to beat so fast I can barely catch my breath.

His voice is rough when he speaks. "Is this what you want? You want me to fuck you right here in this bed—because I want to."

"What's stopping you?" My voice barely makes it out in a whisper and his chest rises and falls sporadically against me.

He keeps my hands locked behind my head, but removes one to trail a finger down my cheek to my lips.

"This mouth," he breathes. "I think about how perfect your lips are. How soft they would be against mine." He leans forward and nips my bottom lip with his teeth and almost growls his next response. "How much I want them wrapped around my cock."

My insides instantly turn liquid, and I involuntarily thrust my hips up against his erection. He obviously finds me attractive. Maybe he just wants me for his own sexual pleasure? Pushing things further, I pull one of my hands free and slip it down the front of his sweatpants.

He hisses when I touch his skin and I slowly run my hand up and down the length of him.

"Don't do that," he says harshly.

I tilt my head to him. "Why not?"

He leans down and speaks close to my lips. "If you need a release, I'll give you one—but I can't have sex with you."

I stop my movements and pull my hand back. "That doesn't make any sense."

He smiles. "It makes perfect sense. I can please you and walk away, but if I get inside of you, that's it. I won't allow another man to touch you and we both know what's at stake here."

My eyes cast away from him. Every time we get close to intimacy that would actually mean something, he pulls back. Fooling around is one thing, but Hunter is making it very clear I'm not the type of girl he wants around for the long haul.

I feel him watching me and his finger hooks my chin. Slowly, I look up at him and there's no humor on his face. "Talk to me, Elle. Tell me what you want."

That's a loaded question, and I'm not sure what he's really asking. Does he want to know what my heart is feeling or my body?

My body decides quicker, and I grab his hand, pushing it down to the part of me that has the deepest need right now. He leans in and kisses my neck while sliding his hand into the waistband of my shorts. His fingers graze across my panties and I'm already clawing at his back, almost begging him to continue. He kisses a path back to my lips and his mouth hovers above mine.

"I want to taste you." He kisses me once and then swipes his tongue inside my mouth. He pulls back after another slow, lingering kiss. "Is that okay?"

The smile I give is forced. I know that what he's about to do will feel amazing physically, but emotionally—I'm not so sure. I want Hunter to want me for me, not because he thinks I'd be banging in bed. Despite all of that, I nod anyway.

I keep my reservations to myself as he lowers my shorts and positions himself between my legs. My uncertainty starts to melt away when his tongue makes small circles in my most sensitive areas. I try to imagine that he actually loves me. When I run my hands through his hair, I picture him telling me that between kisses as he licks his way up my center.

He looks up at me suddenly, and I meet his gaze. "A little taste is enough for me to know what I can't have, Elle." He licks me once more. "And you're so fucking sweet."

I push my conflicting thoughts away as the pressure between my legs builds. My hands grip the comforter, and he moves on top of me so I scream my release into his mouth. It's been building for so long and happens so fast that I barely have a chance to really enjoy it. It's an empty victory for me. Being this way with him puts us no closer to what I really want, and I know that. He basically admitted to me that he thinks I'm manipulative and never really serious when it comes to relationships.

He works his fingers inside of me for a moment longer until I come down, kissing me softly.

"You feel better, Elle?" he asks, pressing his forehead against the side of my head.

I've never had anyone make me feel like a whore, but right now, I do. I mean nothing to him. I'm just his friend who occasionally spends the night. At the end of the day, all of the flirting, the causal kisses—mean nothing. One day he'll find someone his own age that will pique his interest and he'll be gone.

All I do is nod. That's all I can do. If I tried to speak, I might cry and then he'd be really confused. The simple fact is—I think I'm falling in love with him.