Debra Driza - Mila 2.0 - Renegade

With fingers that were suddenly less steady, I tapped a third time, then entered the bathroom and just stood there in a trance. She’d called me his girlfriend, and Hunter hadn’t argued. That was insane. Ridiculous. And utterly, completely amazing.

My phantom pulse pounded; my almost heart swelled in my chest. For that one, fractured moment, I let myself forget everything, and just feel all the giddy elation of being a real girl. I allowed myself a few moments of fantasy life—me, Hunter, a romantic road trip with nothing more to do than explore foreign places and hold hands while the sun set. Then, I forced my mind to return to reality, and my grin fell away. If Hunter really was my boyfriend, we were about to have the shortest relationship ever.

Because nothing had changed. I had to figure out exactly what Grady knew.

And then I had to tell Hunter good-bye.

We settled in to dinner, but if I was hoping for a silent meal, I was quickly dissuaded of that notion.

Grady surveyed me over his plate as he stabbed a piece of meat. “So, tell me where you’re from again?” he said, in a bland manner.

Too bland? I wondered, a whisper of unease threading through me.

“I’m originally from San Diego, and Mila’s from Philly, but we met in Clearwater, Minnesota,” Hunter said.

“That right?” Grady’s fork paused a beat. Then, he shoved a bit of steak into his mouth and started to chew.

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