Hunt Me Down - Chapter 39: Chapter 39

Nathaniel’s POV
It was all so very confusing.
Did I want anything with Hunter?
Was it right to start any form of relationship other than friendship with him?
There would be other people involved; I had to consider that too. Val would be ecstatic, no doubt about that; dad may accept it, in time; mom… Mom never would. So that was one reason not to think of Hunt as anything but a friend and neighbor.
And then there would be other people. I was sure Hunter wouldn’t want to hide it so our other neighbors would know, our classmates would know… What if Irene found out I broke up with her because of Hunt? She’d be devastated. I couldn’t just go to her and say “I told you we should end it because my family would be moving out but now I’m with Hunter and that is completely different.”
And that was another problem: we would eventually leave this town. What then?
Were Hunter and I to have a long-distance relationship?
Did he even want a serious relationship?
After all, Hunter Harris had never had one before. He’d said it himself that relationships sucked and were not worth his efforts. Then what did he want from me?
Just a booty call?
Would he go through everything he’d gone through with me – the uncertainty, the waiting, getting to know me and questioning my sister about me – if he only wanted to shag the boy next door?
And even if all those problems somehow magically went away – we would never move again, Hunter would want to date me and everyone would be accepting of it – would I want it?
Was I really into guys or was I into Hunter in particular?
Could it be a phase?
I’ve found other guys attractive, yes, but I’ve never thought about starting anything with them, be it casual or serious. I’d always thought it was normal, more of an admiration than desire; something like ‘That bloke has an amazing body; I wish I could be in shape like him’. That was completely platonic, right?
Then again I’d never thought about having sex with a girl either; I’d never gone further than kissing and had never wished to.
“Are you going to eat that tart or are you just going to keep staring at it? People are beginning to give you odd looks, bro.”
I raised my gaze from my strawberry jam-covered pastry to look at my twin who was sitting opposite me in a cushioned chair identical to mine. Vallery had leaned forward over the small table of the café, one arm casually sprawled over the plastic surface, the other bent at the elbow so her hand could support her chin.
“You haven’t even touched that thing and I’ve already ordered a second one for me,” she went on. “So what’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I muttered, my eyes falling to the sweet in my plate again.
“You still thinking about dieting?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” I lied. It ought to sound believable; I’ve been minding my meals for a while.
“Then why did you order the strawberry tart?”
I sighed. Would her questions ever cease?
“I don’t know; habit, I guess.”
“Okay, what’s wrong, bro? And don’t tell me you’re worried about your diet; I’m not buying it.”
“I…” I began but was cut off by a cheery waitress:
“Here’s your second portion,” I raised my head at the clunk of the plate against the table. “Is there anything wrong with yours?” The last part was aimed at me.
“No, everything’s fine,” I replied and to support my statement, I took my utensil and cut a small piece of the tart before putting it in my mouth.
“Okay then,” the waitress exclaimed and swirled around to leave us.
“Does Hunter Harris have anything to do with your mood?” Val asked once we were alone, eyeing me suspiciously as I slowly chewed the morsel. Instead of answering, I sliced off another piece and stuffed it in my already occupied mouth. “So it is about him,” my twin concluded. “Did you two make out already?”
The food went the wrong way and I choked. As I gasped for air and coughed at the same time, Val got up as patted me – rather strongly – on the back.
“Better?”  She asked, handing me the glass of water I’d ordered.
“We did not make out, okay?” I drank the whole liquid in one gulp. “I was just wondering what to get him for Christmas.”
“You looked like you were making arrangements for your own funeral because you couldn’t think of a present for Hunter Harris?” She got back to her seat. “Sheesh! Things must be getting serious between you.”
“Why? What did he tell you?” I shot out, my heart rate uneven, which had nothing to do with the fact I had yet to catch my breath after choking on a strawberry tart.
“Nothing.” Her blue eyes, circled with a mascara, narrowed. “Is there anything to tell?”
“No.” I denied and reached for my glass. It was empty so I quickly bit into the pastry that almost killed me a minute ago. Not that me being busy stopped her from speaking:
“Are you…”
“What did you get him?” I asked to avoid her inquiries. Besides, she might give me an idea what to buy for Hunter; his was the only present that I had yet to get. I wasn’t sure if he’d be giving me anything for the holidays like he did for my birthday but I wanted him to have something from me, something to remember me by if… when we moved. That in itself was a little bit scary; I wanted him to remember me because I was sure I’d never forget him.
“Boxing gloves,” she replied, taking a bite from her second tart. “In the gym we go to, he’s always using these old boxing gloves on the punching bag so I thought I’d get him new ones.”
“He’s using gloves? I thought he’d be more the wrap-rags-around-hands-and-hit type,” I mused, remembering an image I’d formed in my head one time after Val had returned from a work out and told me she and Hunt had taken turns on the punching bag. I’d imagined him in slacks, no top, dirtied white cloth enveloping his hands, sweat gluing the bleached strands of his hair to his face over the grey eyes, narrowed on their target…
I shook my head. I’d seen that image one too many times when alone in my room.
Vallery snorted.
“Give the boy some credit; he’s smarter than that,” she huffed. “There’s no point to risk injuring himself just to look cool. Do you have at least a vague idea of what to get him?”
“No,” I admitted with a sigh and leaned back in the chair. “I thought about getting him a music album, but he just pirates those; I thought about clothes but I’ll probably get the wrong size and it seems too personal; I thought about a book, but he doesn’t like to read and that’s what he got me for my birthday,” I kept stabbing the tart as I enlisted some of the options I’d come up with. “A diary is a no, because he doesn’t write… I thought about getting something to help him with Raph but apparently Hunt’s done his research and he doesn’t need more information about it; I thought about buying something for Raph, but Hunter already has made him a little turtle paradise so what can I get him? A yearly supply of lettuce?”
“Well, if you do that, then you’ll know what to buy him for next Christmas: another yearly supply of lettuce,” she joked.
“Vallery, you are not helping!” The now not so cheery waitress raised a black eyebrow as she passed by our table. “Seriously, you are not,” I added, the level of my voice lower and back to normal.
“Okay, okay, chill! No need to get your knickers in a twist, bro.”
I turned away from her, my arm crossed in front of my chest.
“If it is so important to you, you can give him the gloves and I’ll think of something else,” Vallery suggested.
I looked at her again, some semblance of a grateful smile on my lips, as I unfolded my arms and said:
“Thanks, but it is your idea; you should give them to him.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll think of something,” I shrugged.
“Why don’t you come to the gym with me after we are done shopping here in the mall? Hunt will be there; you could ask him…”
“I don’t want him to know I’m getting him anything; I want it to be a surprise… Wait, what do you mean ‘after we are done shopping’?”  I thought we already were finished – except with Hunter’s present, of course – and that was why we were treating ourselves to pastries.
“I want to buy a few more things for Raiden,” she said, getting back to her tart.
“But you already got him those…”
“That’s why I said ‘a few more’,” she interrupted without looking at me. A grin appeared on my face; this was my chance to get back at her.
“You are buying him a lot of presents,” I began, leaning forward. “Is there something I should know?”
“Your attempts of teasing me about Rai because I teased you about Hunt are pathetic,” she noted while she chewed. “Besides, Raiden and I are BFEF-s.” I raised both of my eyebrows. “Best FrEnemies Forever. And he lives too far away for us to become something else.”
“And if he lived closer by?”
“We’d move.” She sighed. “We always move so I guess we’ll never find out.” With that she placed the last bit of the fruit tart in her mouth.
*****
The sirens weren’t on and both of the policemen were out. It looked like they were trying to get into the Harris’ residence; they kept shifting their weight and even took steps towards the door before they returned in their previous spot. Once I neared my home and by association Hunter’s house, I realized what was preventing the officers from entering. Boot Camp Aunt Betty with her height and generous weight was an imposing woman on a good day; now, with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips in a frown, there was a reason for the uniformed men to stay away.
“… have to speak to him,” the older of them, who had grey hair, was just saying. “We can do it here or at the precinct…”
“That’s right: you can do it right here on my porch,” our neighbor cut him off in her raspy voice. It was then that I noticed there was no cigarette in her mouth; what an unusual sight.
“Miss Harris,” the other man – probably just a few years younger than dad – began with a tone much less annoyed than that of his colleague, “it might be more comfortable for the boy if we ask him these questions in his home…”
He was interrupted by the older guy’s snort.
“It won’t be the first time that boy would get a ride on the back seat of a police car,” he sneered.
“Wait, you are arresting him?” I shouted, entering the Harris’ yard. Their eyes enlarged as none of them had noticed me eavesdropping just like I had not noticed Hunter until now. He was leaning on the doorframe in a way that he was hidden by his Aunt’s body from my previous position. He looked slightly irritated at what was happening, but I couldn’t be sure if that feeling was aimed at the policemen or was it caused by his relative interfering; Hunter was proud so I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter even though I was sure he appreciated her support.
“Who are you?” The grey-haired man asked, briefly looking me up and down.
“He lives next door,” Hunter finally spoke, bored as if I didn’t matter. “This is none of your business; go home, kid.”
Kid?
To say I was discouraged by his tone would be an understatement; I was hurt he could disregard me so. Nevertheless – or perhaps because of it – I staid.
“What’s going on?” I turned to the only person who I thought would give me a reply – Aunt Betty.
“They think Hunter robbed a store,” she answered and I gaped at her. “I’ve been tellin’ them the boy was home last night around midnight, but…”
“Last night?” I repeated.
I was with him last night.
My gaze fell on Hunter who almost insensibly shook his head. Was he telling me to keep quiet?
But why?
I could provide him with an alibi and clear this misunderstanding. I didn’t even have to say anything about our twenty questions game; I simply had to tell them we were watching a movie… Throughout the entire night?
Of course they wouldn’t buy it! Was that why he was signaling me to keep my mouth shut?
Because a fishy alibi would be worse than no alibi?
I couldn’t not say anything though; I had to do something to help Hunter.
“He was with me last night,” I uttered, hoping they wouldn’t ask for details, but realizing that was not an option.
“Really? And what were you two young boys doing?” The older man eyed me again, this time with disgust. He probably knew about Hunter being gay; I could tell by the way his demeanor changed when I told them about us being together.
“Fucking.” My face was burning. I couldn’t look the policemen in the eyes; I couldn’t look anyone in the eyes.
“Filthy fags.” I didn’t need to raise my head to know it was the older one who spoke.
“That’s it. Out! Out of my yard,” Betty’s voice was getting louder with each word. “You see my boy’s got an alibi so…”
“Alright, but first…” A pair of shoes entered my line of vision and I raised my head. “If that boy,” the younger officer pointed at Hunter, “was to be taken to court, would you repeat what you just said under oath?”
“Yes.” My voice sounded firm in despite of my red face. The man nodded and with a ‘Sorry to disturb you, mam’ headed for the car, waving for his colleague to follow. The older one did so, spitting at my feet as he passed me by.
So this was what Hunter had to endure for his orientation?
This was what all gay people had to endure?
“You are becoming a better liar,” Betty noted once the men drove away. “I almost believed you.” And with that she turned around and entered her house but not before she gave me a look filled with… pride?
She was proud that I was becoming a good liar?
No, it couldn’t be that; she was probably happy I stood up for her nephew.
“Why did you tell them that?” The boy I was thinking about asked quietly.
“Because if I’d said that we were just watching a movie and talking, they wouldn't have believed me. The older one, anyway.”
“So you lied for me?”
“Guess I did.”
Silence fell between us. Perhaps it was time to finally go home and let go of the shopping bags that I was clutching. But I didn’t move and neither did Hunter. He had barely moved at all during the entire ordeal, except when he gave me that subtle gesture not to speak.
“Your mom’s peeking through the curtains.” He gave a little wave and I turned in time to see the quiver of the fabric that shielded our home from the gazes of those outside.
I groaned. She would no doubt want to know what the commotion was about and what was I supposed to say then?
I certainly couldn’t tell her the truth; not when it came to my feelings – confused as they were – for Hunter Harris. I took a deep breath and slowly walked towards the house where my interrogation would take place.
“You know,” his voice made me halt, but it wasn’t enough to make me turn around. “Lying to the police is a criminal offence, Natty? Naughty, naughty, Natty… I might have to spank you.”
And I might just let you do it, I silently replied, gasping.