Ladies Man

HUNTER

I started after him, dumbfounded.

Did he seriously just walk away from me?

"Hey...uh...Hunter, right?" A quiet voice said from behind me and I whirled around to see the nerdy guy I chose as my first partner for the project, hovering near my elbow.

"Yeah..." I said, arching a brow.

"Guys like Tristan don't really pay attention to class projects like this," he said, adjusting his glasses. "It's okay if you won't have the time either. I can do the project for us three. You just have to give me some details that I can add on your side of it."

"No. Fuck that." I shook my head, scrambling my phone number on that piece of paper Reeves' name was on. "I'm not leaving you to do everything. I'll pull my own weight."

The guy looked stunned as he took the paper from me. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." I might be a jock, but I refused to be the stereotype. I actually enjoyed school work and I did my own work without it ever affecting my performance on the ice. "Text me later so we can discuss how best to split it."

"Cool," Kevin muttered, offering a small, shy smile before slipping out the door.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of classes and introductions most of which involved me discovering the hockey guys were just as immature outside the rink as they were inside it.

Seriously, did they ever grow up?

At least the universe had decided to compensate me for my shitty first day.

By lunchtime, my ego had received a much-needed resuscitation.

No less than seven girls had managed to slip their phone numbers onto my desk or into my palm in the hallways.

Not their I*******m or snap. Their fucking numbers and I didn't even have to ask.

I guess walking around with a killer face and a bad-boy black eye had its perks.

Okay, maybe I was smirking a little more than necessary whenever one of them approached me, but get your fucking lawyers and sue me.

For the first time since my life has gone to hell, I almsot felt like Hunter Beaumont again.

It almost made me feel like I was back at Fonteign Academy where all the girls wanted my attention and all the guys wanted to be on my team.

I hadn't realized how much I'd missed that feeling until now.

And maybe that was exactly what I needed.

Fuck moping around.

Fuck feeling sorry for myself because my family had lost everything.

And most of all, fuck Tristan Reeves and his bi-polar, hot-and-cold bullshit. I wasn't going to spend the rest of the semester acting like a beaten dog while the crybabies on the team decided to ice me out.

This was my school now.

And if Raven Hill wanted to make me the new kid, fine.

I'd make myself the new king.

I was going to own this shitty place, and Tristan Reeves better get fucking ready to be dethroned.

With that thought firmly planted in my head, I sauntered into the cafeteria.

I'd never been the outsider looking into a room ever in my life, but honestly it wasn't all that bad.

This vantage angle provided me a perspective I never really noticed before.

The social heirachies of highschool that divided everyone in their assigned cliques.

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my food and headed toward the emptier tables at the back.

Since this was technically my first day, id rather eat alone than awkwardly hover around a table of strange kids.

On my way, I had to pass the 'Jocks' table.

It was packed with guys from the team along with several girls gathered around them.

My eyes drifted over the group despite myself before falling on Reeves.

A pretty brunette was sitting beside him, practically breathing down his neck as she talked animatedly, but Tristan looked completely checked out.

His icy profile seemed distant while the guys around him laughed about something.

Whatever.

I kept walking, taking a seat at a secluded table with my back to the wall.

I hadn't even unwrapped my sandwich when a shadow fell across my tray.

I tilted my head back to see a girl leaning against the edge of my table, a hand hitched on her hip.

Most of the girls at my old school had done at least three nose jobs before their 18th birthday, giving them the same look.

But this girl seemed to have a natural beauty.

She flipped a strand of blonde hair over her shoulder, judging me with a amused smirk. "Sitting at the loser table on your first day is complete social suicide, Hunter."

And she knew my name too.

I arched a slow, mocking eyebrow, leaning back in my chair. "And you are?"

"Emma," she stated smoothly, without a single trace of hesitation. "The girl who's probably gonna be dating you soon."

A snort broke from my throat. I couldn't help it. "Bold assumption, Emma. What if I have a girlfriend?"

"I don't care," Emma replied, her lips curving into a cat-like grin. "And don't get ahead of yourself, Beaumont. I don't just date any guy coz he's got a pretty face."

"Well, that's disappointing," I said dryly, fighting back another snort. "My looks are honestly the only thing I've got going for me."

"I hear you're great at hockey," she smirked. "Prove that to me when the season starts and maybe you get the dating a cheerleader experience."

With a wink, she turned on her heel and sauntered off, swaying her hips deliberately.

As I watched her leave, I found i was smiling.

She was shameless, I'd give her that.

Turning back to my tray, I picked up my apple and started to eat.

But a few seconds later, that sensation I got back in English class returned.

All the hairs at the back of my neck tingled.

Gulping, I darted my eyes across the cafeteria to the direction I felt it from... Which was at Reeves table. But he wasn't looking at me.

In fact when I looked at him, he kicked his head back, throwing out a rare, loud laugh at something one of the guys had just said, totally immersed in his crowd.

My brows furrowed, as I chewed on the apple.

Why does it feel like someone was staring at me?