“So you didn’t make a move on the blonde? You didn’t try to fuck her?” Dimas asked.
“No. Should I have?”
“You know the answer to that one.” Dimas stroked Hunter’s strawberry blond hair. “You think the blonde’s going to say anything? About what you tried? On me?”
“No, she was out. But if she woke up, and saw anything you could deny it. I’ll deny it. And the rumor gets buried soon as another story comes out on something else. That’s the way the media works these days.”
Dimas sighed. He was tired of the charade. “I think we should stop pretending,” Dimas said. “Your stepdad knows something’s up. He glares at me like he wants to gut me.”
“My stepdad hates you because you’re better than him, and because—”
“Because what?” Hunter lay quietly, not answering, and the silence was killing Dimas.
“Because you punched him a few years ago. He never forgot it.”