Hunting Cheaters | ✓

18 | Cheaters

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"Not usually the kind to show my heart to the world. I'm pretty good at keepin' it together I hold my composure, for worse or for better. So I apologize if you don't like what you see. But sometimes my emotions get the best of me and fallin' apart is as human as it gets"

~ Cry Pretty (Cry Pretty)

OLIVIA

More guests arrived as the time went on and I almost forgot about Delilah's accusing words. I hated the fact that she put them in my head, making me like I was wrong to have faith in the man I'd chosen.

My headache got worse by the hour, making hosting that much more difficult. I tried to follow Hunter's cue since this was my first time hosting a huge party, but he was too smooth and good at it. So, instead of trying to be the life of the party, I resorted to talking to the people there in groups of three or so while offering them more food and drinks.

The conversations flowed so easily, I'd forget about Delilah and Hunter just for a moment. I'd be laughing too much or so intrigued in a story someone was telling to think back to wondering if Delilah was being honest.

I caught Hunter watching me while I was playing Jenga with a group of people with a smile on his face. I automatically smiled back at him, but then an image of him and Delilah flashed in my head and I looked away in disgust.

I won the game but felt like I was drowning. As the hours passed, the more and more I needed a drink. I couldn't look at Hunter anymore, as hard as it was. I avoided him at all costs and even when I knew he was looking at me, waiting for me to look up, I still avoided his eyes. When the crowd cheered his name as he beat some guy at chugging a beer, I didn't look.

I knew the moment he looked into my eyes, he would know something was wrong and I didn't want to ruin this for him.

I was even avoiding Peter and Curtis and all of Hunter's close friends because Delilah was attached at the hip and I felt queasy every time I saw her.

After the drinking game was over, I went into the house to search his kitchen for scotch or whiskey or something stronger than beer. In the bottom counter, I found a nice bottle of bourbon and breathed out in relief. I poured myself a nice glass and added an ice cube.

"Hey, there you are. I haven't been able to get you alone all day," his voice was deep, rougher as he spoke due to him shouting all day during the games and with his friends. I don't why, but they got excited about whatever they like to talk about.

I froze.

He came closer to where I stood and faced me, forcing me to finally look at him. I almost groaned at how good he looked, all sweaty and his hair messed up. His shirt hugged all his muscles and that smile of his was going to kill me one day.

I closed my eyes, breathing slower to calm down.

"Is something wrong?" He finally asked, coming closer to where I stood.

I shook my head.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

I took in a deep breath and opened my eyes, looking up to catch his watching me with worry.

At that, his eyes widened. "There's something definitely wrong. What happened?"

I shook my head again. "Nothing," I gulped, "I'm just tired is all."