Hunter & Lennon Duet

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Lennon

PRESENT DAY

2 years later

The annoying buzzing causes my eyes to pop open, and I reach over to turn off the alarm on my phone. My boyfriend, Brandon, stirs and pulls me close to his warm body. We fit perfectly together like puzzle pieces, and even after all this time, I can’t get enough of him. If I didn’t have a meeting at the school with the principal this morning, I’d stay in bed just a little longer and enjoy his hard body pressed against mine. He hums against my neck, and I smile. Since I moved in eight months ago, me waking up early and him trying to lure me to stay longer has become our morning routine. There’s never enough time.

Brandon holds me tighter, and I’m tempted to stay but still need to shower and dress. I turn around and face him, brushing a soft kiss against his lips as he throws an arm over me. “I have to get up. I can’t be late for work. Principal Maples will have my a*s, and I’m still trying to get on her good side,” I whisper.

“I know, I know. You’re just so warm and comfy,” he teases in a husky tone before I slip from his hold with a smile. Waking up next to him is the best start to my day.

I lean over the bed and place another kiss on Brandon’s lips before I rush into the bathroom and turn on the shower.

A smile fills my face as I think about how far we’ve come as a couple these past two years—well almost two years. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long already, but at the same time, it feels like only yesterday when we first met.

Though it started with a friendly hello and flirty banter, I instantly knew he’d be more than a random hookup. After we danced a few times, he asked for my number, which I willingly gave to him. Brandon knew what he wanted—me—and I couldn’t deny I wanted him too. There was something electric between us, something that pulled me to him and made my heart race. Though I’d shown interest in Hunter earlier, the way Brandon gave me his full attention drew me closer. Random women walked up and tried to steal him away, but he politely told them he wasn’t interested, and he never took his eyes off me. The way he looked at me that night made me feel so damn special.

By the following morning, we’d shared so many personal details about ourselves that I felt like I’d known him a lifetime. He understood me on a deeper level than some of my closest friends. I’d never felt a connection like that with any other man before, and Brandon still holds that record.

Although we didn’t exactly take things slow right away, my feelings for him were almost immediate and have only grown stronger. I wasn’t the type of girl who went home with a random guy, and I’m not one-night-stand material, but with Brandon, it was different. Hell, I’d only ever had one serious relationship before him, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

Since I still had one year of college left and lived three hours away, we dated long distance, staying exclusive and taking turns traveling back and forth as much as possible. During my final semester, I applied at elementary schools in Sacramento and some of the suburbs. I wanted to not only be close to him but close to my older sister who had just moved here as well. As soon as I was offered a contract to be the music teacher at Hillsong Elementary, I moved in with him and his roommate, Hunter. The apartment is small and quaint, but we make do with the space since it’s within all of our budgets. Eventually, Brandon and I will get our own place, but until that happens, I’m forced to tolerate Hunter and all his asshole antics.

I hop in the shower and begin washing my body and hair. As I scrub, I sing the Beatles songs I grew up listening to. Considering the Beatles released over three hundred songs, I have an almost unlimited morning repertoire. Just as I finish up the chorus to “I Want To Hold Your Hand,” I hear hard banging against the door.

“Shut up, Lennon! And hurry your a*s up!” Hunter shouts, beating his fist on the door, which only encourages me to sing louder. I’m practically belting out the words by the time I’m rinsing the conditioner from my hair. I honestly don’t know how Brandon sleeps through this every morning, or maybe he’s just immune to it. At this point, Hunter and I argue worse than a brother and sister.

After I scream out the Broadway-worthy grand finale of my vocal performance, I turn off the water and hold back my laughter. Hunter hates it when I sing, especially early in the morning. He’s always a grump before eight, and getting a rise out of him is fun. It’s payback for all the times he purposely annoys the s**t out of me. I’ve sung in the shower since I was a little girl, so I’m not changing that for anyone, especially not him.

Stepping out of the shower, I grab a towel and dry off. Hunter pounds on the door again, startling me, and demands I hurry for the thousandth time. As I brush my teeth, I think back to when we first met. Most assume we met after Brandon and I started dating, but that’s not the case. Hunter was bartending that same night, and we’d shared a moment at the bar before Brandon and I started talking that night.

At first glance, he gave me heart palpitations, but he was a total sweetheart and flirt, and made me comfortable ordering from him. I remember his tattoos and how they intricately covered his forearm, and wondered if he had more. I was in a different town on spring break and wanted to let loose and be reckless. We exchanged side glances and smiles, and as he poured different liquors into my glass, I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. But neither could every other woman in the bar. Nervous exhilaration coursed through me when he spoke. Hunter’s charismatic and charming vibe lured me right into his web.

I went back to my friends and kept the electrifying moment to myself as I tried to find the courage to go back to the bar and get his number. When I looked over at Hunter, a handful of women desperately vying for his attention surrounded him. He happily obliged, smiling and flirting with them just the same. They were all gorgeous, leaning over the bar to touch his muscular arms and laughing as if he just told the best joke. Though I didn’t have much experience with men, I still wanted a week of fun and spontaneity. However, my insecurities got the best of me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to satisfy a guy like that, not even for one night.

My fears and self-doubt kept me from going back to the bar alone for the rest of the night. I played it safe, staying within my comfort zone, and kept my friends nearby. After seeing the way he bantered with other women and they clawed at him, I convinced myself what we shared was nothing more than him working hard for his money. Considering the bad attitude and rude comments he continues to throw at me, I know with certainty there wasn’t anything special between us that night.

The first summer after Brandon and I started dating, Hunter had a different woman over every other weekend I was there. He couldn’t even remember their names half the time and had no qualms about openly bragging to his guy friends for being able to “bag and shag” any girl he wanted. If he wasn’t bragging about his conquests, then he’d go on about how hot or how built he was. Hunter’s muscular, there’s no denying that, but his appeal was lost after hearing him talk about it for the tenth time. Since he no longer works at the bar, the number of women he brings home has slightly slowed down, though he still acts like a manwhore and is superficial. “Bartender Hunter” was nothing more than a façade, a made-up gentleman my imagination created. “Real-life Hunter” is a smartass jerk who complains about my singing, lives like a slob, and has a revolving bedroom door.

Once my hair is dry, and I’m happy with my appearance, I go to my bedroom where Brandon is still sleeping.

I look through the closet and slip on a skirt and a comfortable blouse. Before leaving, I carefully lean over the bed to give Brandon a kiss goodbye when he suddenly grabs me and pulls me on top of him.

“Sure you don’t have time for a quickie?” he playfully asks as I straddle him, feeling his thickness beneath me. Brandon sits up, palms my breast, and releases a small groan of desperation. I slightly rock on him as he arches his hips, feeling his arousal but knowing we can’t start something right now.

“Babe, if you make me late—” I start as he moves his hands to my a*s and squeezes, pushing me harder against him.

“Then I’ll get to f**k you for the next hour?” He arches a brow. The morning sunshine barely lights the room, but I see his cocky smirk.

“You’re the ultimate tease. You know I’m gonna be thinking about this all day now,” I admonish as I climb off, squeezing my legs together. He knows damn well I have to get going.

Brandon lets out a light chuckle. “Have a good day, my little s*x kitten.” He flashes me a wink.

“Shut up,” I mock before telling him goodbye for real this time.

As I walk into the hallway, I spot a pair of red lacy panties on the floor that aren’t mine. I look down at them, and my nostrils flare. I try to ignore it until I walk into the kitchen to find cabinets open, half-full beer bottles on the counter, and dirty dishes piled high. A loud groan releases from my throat when I see a bowl in the sink with dried cereal on the bottom.

“What the hell?” I whisper as I turn the water to a scalding temperature to soak the bowl. He knows I hate this because the cereal becomes rock hard and essentially super-glued to the glass, which makes it nearly impossible to clean without scrubbing. Hunter walks past me to place another dirty a*s bowl in the sink that’s full of what looks like old macaroni and cheese. When I see the random noodles stuck to the bottom of the bowl that’s clearly been in his room for days, maybe even weeks, I almost lose my s**t.

I turn around and glare at him. He’s shirtless, wearing pants that hang off his hips, and has his normal no-f***s-given attitude. If he weren’t such an asshole, maybe he’d be able to find a woman to help take care of him because he’s obviously unable to do it himself.

“Are you serious?” I ask, trying to keep my tone level. “Are you incapable of using the dishwasher?”

He shrugs, opens the fridge, and lifts the gallon of milk to his lips, taking a drink directly from it.

My eyes widen, and my mouth falls open as I gag. I make a mental note not to have any milk until we buy more or maybe not ever. “What the actual f**k, Hunter? Have you lost your damn mind?”

He places the jug back in the fridge and slams the door shut. Turning and glaring at me with deep brown eyes, he finally responds, “I lost my mind when you moved in.”

I growl, unable to keep my frustration buried inside. “Ugh! You’re such a freakin’ slob!”

Hunter walks away, and I hear his door close. My heart gallops in my chest as I look at the mess, and it angers me to no end. Every night before I go to sleep, I clean the kitchen spotless because I can’t stand to wake up to a dirty house. Each morning, I feel as if I’m living in the twilight zone because I find different articles of women’s underwear scattered on the floor and dirty dishes filling the sink. I’m no one’s maid or babysitter, especially not his.

More empty beer bottles and chip bags litter the coffee table in the living room. The cushions are haphazardly thrown around, which I hate. It looks like a f*****g tornado went through here last night. I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath, hoping I find the restraint not to walk into Hunter’s room and strangle him to death because he deserves it right now.

Before I leave for work, though I don’t have time for this s**t, I have to clean up the mess, or it will bother me all day. I quickly throw the random trash away, situate the couch cushions, and pick up until the place looks semi-normal. Hunter enters the kitchen, fully dressed this time, and places two slices of bread in the toaster.

“It’s a new year. Think you can start cleaning up after yourself? New year, new you?” I ask, hopeful, but the sarcasm isn’t lost on him.

“That’s what we keep you around for.” He shoots me a snarky smile, and I’m two seconds away from slapping it right off his smug face.

I huff, seeing red. “Why are you so insistent on being like this? No wonder you’re single. No one can stand you once your clothes are back on.”

Hunter places a hand on his chest over his heart and gives me a fake pouty look. “Oh man. That one really hurt. What will I ever do with myself?” He makes the extra effort to roll his eyes with so much exaggeration, I’m afraid they might get stuck. “Try again, Lennon. Your jabs have become as old and worn out as you.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re gonna be single forever and die alone.”

“Better than being stuck with someone bossy and constantly nagging like you.” His toast pops up, and he sets it on the counter with no plate, scattering the crumbs everywhere as he spreads peanut butter over both pieces.

“You’re absolutely impossible!” I glare at the mess he’s making where I just cleaned. “If you weren’t Brandon’s best friend…”

“Go ahead. Say it,” Hunter says over his shoulder, glaring. “I dare you.”

Ignoring him, I grab a protein shake out of the fridge. “I don’t have to because you already know what I was gonna say.”

“That you’d kick me out?” He releases an evil chuckle. “As if you have some sort of power over him. Hate to break it to you, honey buns, but Brandon does whatever he wants. Just because you two are fuckin’ doesn’t mean s**t. I’ve known him for longer than you and know him better than you ever will. Your magical p***y won’t be able to make him bend to your will forever, sweetheart.”

I let out a sarcastic laugh, refusing to let his words get to me. “You’re so vile and immature. You really need to grow up. Acting like this at twenty-four isn’t cute anymore.”

“Oh, so you thought I was cute at one point?” Hunter taunts and takes a bite of his toast, crumbs falling on his clothes and the floor this time, but he doesn’t seem to care.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I never thought you were cute.”

“Liar,” he says matter-of-factly, smacking his lips. “I know for certain you did.”

My blood pumps at a much faster rate, and I know if I don’t walk away, I’ll say something I’ll regret later. So I choose the high road like any mature adult would. If only he’d act like one every once in a while.

Though it actually pains me, I allow him to have the final word. Turning on my heels, I grab my bag, then leave with the door slamming behind me. As I walk down the stairs, I try to take in deep, calming breaths, refusing to let him ruin my day.

Brisk air brushes against my cheeks, and I can’t get to my car fast enough. Winter in California is bearable and much different from Utah where I grew up. There’s no snow here, but sometimes the cool air chills me to the bone. Once I’m inside, I set my things on the passenger seat and inhale a deep breath as I start the car. Just the thought of toast crumbs on the floor and counter has me twitching, so before I leave, I text Hunter, unable to let him get away with this.

Lennon: Please, if you could, pick up the kitchen before you leave. I’d really appreciate your help with this.

Hunter: New number, who dis?

Lennon: Why do you insist on aggravating me all the time?

Hunter: Not sure what you’re talking about. And the answer is no, honey buns. I’m walking out the door and can’t be late. Have a NICE day.

Ugh! He knows how much I hate that nickname, yet he continues to say it. Ever since the first time I made Brandon cinnamon rolls, Hunter has called me that, but I know he’s being condescending by the way he treats me.

I type out a rude message but then decide to delete it. Reminding myself I’m the bigger person, I tuck my phone into my bag and try to push the thoughts of him away. Hunter’s been dead set on treating me like an inconvenience since the first night I came home with Brandon. After eight months of living together, I don’t know why I’d expect him to change.

Sighing, I reverse and pull onto the road and drive toward the school. I really hate being this worked up in the morning and can’t wait until Brandon and I get our own place. When we’re more financially stable, we will. I’ve only been working for the school since the fall and haven’t completed my first year yet. Brandon has been at his job since he graduated, but he has some student loans to pay off because his football scholarship didn’t cover everything. Even though Hunter acts like an a*s most of the time, I can put up with him as long as it means I get to live with my love and not struggle to pay the bills each month. Small sacrifices, I suppose.

Hardly any traffic is on the road on the way to work, which is a miracle. Depending on what time I leave in the mornings, it can be a smooth sailing or bumper to bumper, another reason I like being early. Soon I’m parking and grabbing my bag, then crossing the parking lot. I walk to the office to meet Principal Maples. She’s strict and scary, how most kids imagine principals, and has worked in education for over twenty-five years. I respect the hell out of her, but it doesn’t make me any less nervous when we’re having a one on one. She’s the type of woman who will chew a person up and spit them out with only a few words.

“Sit,” she instructs, barely glancing up from the papers in her hand when I enter her office. I take a seat, dropping my heavy bag on the floor.

“I see you submitted a budget proposal for the spring concert,” she says, her dark eyes finally meeting mine.

I swallow hard. “Yes, ma’am. I’d like to be able to buy a few new microphones and instruments for the kids to play at the concert. We have a large supply of recorders but are missing several percussion instruments like hand drums, claves, and even a bass drum,” I linger nervously. “The tambourines aren’t in the greatest condition either as you can imagine with the kids smacking them around,” I add with a small smile.

“Lennon, this should’ve been submitted before the school year started.” The sternness in her voice isn’t lost on me. She sets down the paper, and I notice it’s a printout of the written budget I made to show where the money would be spent. It took weeks of research for this request over winter break, and I made sure all the numbers were accurate.

“I understand and apologize. I applied for several grants to purchase the extra equipment, but we weren’t accepted as I had hoped. I thought the kids could do the spring program with what we had, and while we can, I think they’ll learn more if we could purchase new rhythm instruments,” I explain.

Principal Maples looks at me and doesn’t say anything. I’m growing more anxious as each second passes, and it’s so quiet I can hear the ticking of the second hand on the wall clock. “I’ve decided to approve five hundred dollars, which is within my limits of authority. I know this is your first year, and you probably didn’t realize what you would need, but next year, proposals are due before the first day of school. Understand?”

I nod, my heart pounding at the prospect of having my contract renewed next year, which is overly exciting, but I don’t allow it to show. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much. I really appreciate this.” Flashing her a grateful smile, I add, “I won’t let you down, promise. It’s going to be the best spring concert the kids have ever done.”

“I like you, Lennon, and I like your drive. Keep up the good work. Remember this first year of teaching and how passionate you are. I hope you never lose that. After years of teaching, too many educators lose that spark and only clock in to earn a paycheck,” she tells me just as her phone rings.

“I will. Absolutely! Thank you again.” I stand, see my way out, and walk toward the music room with a little hop in my step. She didn’t outright say I’d have my contract renewed, but Principal Maples always chooses her words carefully.

Unlocking my classroom door, I step inside feeling elated I’ll be able to teach the kids new things. I stop for a moment and look around the room. Taking it all in, I really focus on the fire to teach music inside me right now. The child-size chairs surrounding the piano in the center of the room will soon have eager children who want to sing and learn sitting in them. I’m really living my dream.

I glance at the clock on the wall to see how much time I have until the bell rings. Twenty minutes. I decide to text Brandon about the little sexy stunt he pulled this morning.

Before I click on his name, I see an unread text from Hunter. I open it and find a picture of our sink stacked full of dirty dishes that have been in his room for only God knows how long.

My nostrils flare, and just like that, I’m worked up and raging all over again.

Bastard.