Chapter Text
She was wicked--that much was clear to Hunter.
He fiddled with the spinner rings on his fingers, his eyes darting to and fro--the audacity of this. The absolute clownshit he was being forced to reckon with on a Tuesday afternoon. That stupid, stupid note taped to the front of his locker:
Snooze ya lose, Caleb. --Park
He thought about climbing inside the metal box, locking himself in as if he were six feet underground entombed, and screaming until he felt normal enough to rise from the dead again. But then he felt someone’s chin land on his shoulder, followed by a familiar snort.
“Told you not to challenge her,” Luz said with a shit-eating grin. “But no. Always something to prove.”
“Wasn’t trying to prove anything,” Hunter said glumly.
“It’s alright to say I’m right.”
“Not a chance,” he shrugged his shoulders to push Luz away, finally snapping the note off the door. “Captain may have won this battle, but I’ll win the war.”
Luz raised an incredulous eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest as she scrutinized her friend. Hunter gritted his teeth, waiting for her to say something that was, while worded in absolutely confounding and insane ways, was oftentimes full of profound truths and hard looks in the mirror that Hunter found exhausting to deal with. And right now, he wasn’t in the mood for it. After all, he was playing four dimensional chess against Willow Park, and he was losing.
“Maybe you should relax,” Luz finally said. “Like, do I find your little bets against each other extremely funny and one of the highlights of my day? Yeah. But Willow’s got about three points on the board over you right now, and I hate to say it, but you’re not gonna catch up.”
“I’ll catch up. And win,” Hunter said. This was a minor setback. What did it matter to him if Willow Park, his most charming and terrible friend, had figured out his locker combination first before he could figure out hers? It’s not like this was the most awful bet the two had made in the last three days.
“Gifted kids,” Luz muttered with a roll of her eyes. “Alright. Your funeral.”
“I can tell you’re trying to trip me up,” Hunter said, finally setting to turn the lock on the door, shaking his head. “It’s not gonna work, Luz.”
“Mmm, I was actually aiming for reverse psychology. So it’s working!”
“You’re such a--”
He tugged his locker door open, much to his impending doom and dismay as the trap inlaid came alive. A pop of something pressurized hit his ears first before the glitter bomb did.
Luz doubled over in laughter.
Hunter slammed the locker door shut.
--
“Caleb,” Willow said in her cheerful, breezy voice that afternoon, a smile already working its way onto her face. “Great new look.”
Hunter slowed his pace down to a stop, brows furrowing as he looked down at his mortal enemy (and yet, his most endearing friend), whose hands were folded neatly in front of her, toes of her shoes pointed forward, her posture straight and sturdy and her smile growing steadily wider with each passing second.
She touched his every nerve, both irritating and affectionate, but he’d let that remain his own personal secret.
Hunter outstretched a hand, still dabbled with bits of bright green glitter, letting it rest on her shoulder for a moment before pulling back, satisfied with the print of sparkle left behind on her blazer. “Someone picked it out for me.”
“Oh? She’s got great taste. Green looks good on everyone.”
She was teasing him, and yet despite knowing her tells he couldn’t stop the heat on his cheeks. So instead Hunter pressed onward and past her, and of course Willow followed, matching her stride to his as the pair wandered around the academy courtyard to their usual lunch spot with their friends.
“Nearly got me in trouble in my last class,” Hunter mumbled. Willow let out a laugh.
“Sorry about that. Bring me your clothes after school, okay? I know how to get glitter out. Every piece.”
“If I do that, it’s almost like I’m giving you the win, Captain. No chance.”
“I haven’t won yet?”
Hunter pressed his lips together, avoiding her gaze. She was definitely staring at him. If he looked now, if he even got a glimpse into those large, green eyes, he’d surely surrender to her. Forfeit on the spot to see if she’d smile.
But Hunter knew his captain, and he knew if he budged even a little bit, she’d never forgive him.
“Alright, new game.”
Willow let out a satisfied hum. “I knew you hated losing.”
“I don’t hate losing,” Hunter protested. “I hate being surprised.”
“So you’re surprised that you’re losing, and thus…”
“No. Nope. Not having this conversation. New game. Your turn.”
She clasped her hands together. “Great! It might take us a little longer than it took me to figure out your locker combination, but it’d be fun.”
“Your idea of fun ranges wildly,” Hunter pointed out.
“And your idea of fun is organizing textbooks.”
“Hey. It’s about bringing order to chaos.”
She rolled her eyes, pulling Hunter back by the wrist, forcing him to stop and look at her.
There it was--that determined glow in her eye that she gets before a derby match, the way her brows furrowed and her lips curled into a smile that equated itself to a wolf, ready to tear down its prey. She was frightening. And horrifically attractive.
Hunter’s breath hitched, and he held himself still, hoping she couldn’t read him like the open book he thought he was, that she didn’t catch onto him staring at her from across the room, because that’d be weird, right? This delicate toe-to-toe dance they had, this routine of bets and wagers and his salt to her soil, there was a balance there. A balance that could only be interrupted if Hunter fucked up once and she found out everything he thought of her.
Not that they were bad thoughts. No, the others made it very clear to him that he was so normal, and so out of his element. Hunter didn’t have feelings. Not for anyone. Especially not for a beautiful girl with big eyes and big glasses and was so deeply kind to him and yet, never let him get away with any of his usual tirades and piles upon piles of bullshittery.
No, he did not feel anything for Willow Park beyond being vexed by her.
“Are you listening, Caleb?”
He wasn’t. He was too busy wondering what Willow Park would wear to a movie date.
“Repeat it.”
She snorted. “What’s got you distracted?”
“Thinking about how many textbook piles I could be rearranging right now if you weren’t keeping me captive in your musings of the mind jail, Park.”
He got her to laugh. That should’ve been earning him points on the board.
“The bet. The wager. The game,” she paused for dramatic effect, closing her eyes, desperate to keep her expression neutral but he could see the trembles at the corners of her mouth.
“Treasure hunt,” she finally said, her eyes fluttering open and her grin widening. He quirked a brow up. “Like, you know, we each bury a treasure chest and have a week to find each other’s buried treasure. Whoever unearths the other’s first, wins.”
“Oh,” Hunter said, finally. He’s never done a treasure hunt before. Nor did he have any ideas of what to put in a box or where to bury it. “Okay.”
“You don’t wanna?”
“No.” Hunter stopped, eyes widening at the realization of what he said, the heat on his cheeks returning. “I-I mean, yes! I want to. Sounds fun. But I’m blanking on treasure ideas.”
She tugged him along back to walking. “That’s fine! It doesn’t have to be elaborate. We’ll buy little chests after school, and then have a day to hide them, and a week to find them. We can leave each other hints--”
“I don’t need hints.”
Willow laughed, hearty and warm and so, so dangerous to his heart rate. “Okay, sure thing. It can even be an empty box. The game itself… that’s the greatest treasure.”
“Actually, I think I can think of a few things better.”
“Be quiet about your textbooks,” Willow elbowed him. “But yeah. You in?”
Hunter let out a sigh. Of course he was in. He’d follow Willow Park to the ends of the earth, he’d go high if he told her to jump, he’d concede the bets right now and let her win if she wasn’t going to lecture him forever about it. He’d do anything she wanted if she asked him to. After all, he--
--cared about her. She was his friend. Wonderful and interesting and terribly irritating and hauntingly charming and dastardly witty. Of course.
“I’m in,” Hunter said, extending his hand for a shake, to seal the contract of betted fates. He wouldn’t lose to her again, Hunter thought. He was losing in every other way against Willow Park, and he had the confidence in him now that maybe this time, this time, he’d be winning this gambit against the most annoyingly wonderful girl he knew.
She took his hand, warm and soft and he wanted so much to twine their fingers together and not let her go. But then he saw it again, the wolfish look she wore as easily as she could wear the color green.
(It looked good on her.)
“Then the bet’s on.”
“Oh, not again,” chimed a voice--Hunter didn’t realize they had come to a stop in front of their friends. Luz was looking up with that shit-eating grin she wore, Amity curled up next to her, eyes rising slowly from her book to make a face at them, and Gus was sprawled in the grass, groaning. “Someone didn’t accept his loss.”
He felt his heartbeats pick up, his eyes darting between Luz and Willow, who was still holding his hand. She grinned. He felt himself break, his ears growing hot as he pulled away, sitting down hard in the grass.
“It’s going to be fine,” Hunter said. “I don’t plan on losing.”
He heard Willow laugh next to him, so breezy, so light, and yet he could hear the danger in every breath.
“Neither do I.”