"VERY GOOD WORK, Addison and Peyton. Nicely done," Mr. Reiken praises, giving us a small round of applause as we finish our history presentation.

I pull my flash drive from the computer at the front of the class before making my way back to my seat, sliding into the desk beside Hunter as Mr. Reiken calls for the next group to head to the front to present.

Bimbo Barbie and one of her fellow followers make there way up to the podium at the front of the class and open up a rather boring looking slideshow on the invention of the zipper.

Well, okay, not really. I would have to be paying attention to know what they were actually talking about. But the second their nasally voices fill the air, I completely tune them out.

After our little coming out, the rest of the week had be mostly uneventful. Hunter would drive me to school in the morning, we'd hold hands and look all cutesy in the halls and at lunch, and then he'd drive me home or to work and we'd go back to our most comfortable love-hate relationship until the next morning rolled around.

And by that I mean that he kind of loves me and I absolutely hate him.

To some miracle, my mother hasn't found out about our fake relationship yet. She's been so busy with work and trying her best to make up for her lack of maternal instincts for the majority of our childhoods, that she hasn't noticed the pretty boy in the blue truck that pulls up in front of our house twice a day. I know I have to tell her at some point, before she does find out and blow a gasket, but I've never exactly been the kind of girl to introduce every boy I've kissed to my parents. Because that would be awkward and embarrassing for both parties.

Jayden has also, thankfully, kept his mouth shut and not taken it upon himself to tell her. I guess he had taken my threat seriously.

Smart baby brother.

Another miracle to have occurred this week was the absence of Clarissa from our daily lives. She hasn't said a peep to us since announcing to the entire cafeteria that she was giving Hunter some time to think about the ginormous mistake he was apparently making by associating with me. In fact, I haven't so much as seen her obscenely red hair anywhere since Wednesday afternoon.

I can't help but let out a tiny giggle as I consider that maybe one of her minions had finally had enough of her persistent bitchiness and constant demands, and ended up feeding her to somebody's pigs.

If only.

Apparently, the only one who notices my giggle is Hunter, and he looks over at me with a raised brow. "Something funny, Skirt?" he whispers, too low for Mr. Reiken to notice.

I don't look at him, making a point of staring directly at the blackboard. "Nope," I murmur back, my lips popping quietly on the 'p'.

I notice him shake his head out of the corner of my eye, a little smirk curving at his lips. He doesn't say anything right away, and I feign actually paying attention to the exceedingly boring presentation Barbie and Not-Barbie are droning on through.

"So, are you ready for tonight?" he asks quietly, watching me intently with his blue eyes.

I heave a sigh, my eyes flicking over to meet his gaze. "Do I actually have a choice?"

"No," he grins like the cheeky bastard he is. "I'll swing by around seven to pick you up. It's about an hours drive from here."

One hour. Alone. In a truck. With Hunter Maddox.

God, save me.

"Fine," I grumble. "Just park down by the corner and text me when you're there. I'll come to you."

He raises a questioning brow again, but the minions at the front of the classroom wrap up their presentation just as the bell rings, and I'm saved from any further conversation.

Chairs scrape against the linoleum as everyone in the classroom get to there feet and make a beeline for the door. Ethan, whose happily taken to sitting beside Addison at the desks in front of us, turns to us with an easy grin on his face.

"Come on, Hunt," he laughs, noticing the obvious displeased look on my face. "Quit annoying your girlfriend, and get a move on. We can't be late to fitness again, Dickie will kill us."

Hunter waves him off and moves to follow him, but stops just as he's brushing by me. With a crooked smirk, he wraps one arm around my waist and presses me against him.

"Make sure you wear something nice, babe. Can't have it look like I'm dating a hot mess."

I can't help but laugh. "I'm sorry, have you seen me?" I snort, leaning away from him and waving a hand down at my perfectly pleated skirt and ruffled blouse. "I'm never a mess."

"Nah, but you're definitely hot," he chuckles.

And with that, he presses a quick, annoyingly loud kiss to the corner of my mouth and lopes out of the room with Ethan trailing close behind.

"What exactly does one wear to a party in Huntsville?"

It's later, after school, and Eliza and I have taken up residence on a couple of vinyl stools at the counter at Pauli's. Addison is busily bustling about the diner, helping her mom serve drinks and baked goods to all of the teenagers who are happily celebrating the end of another school week and the beginning of another weekend.

"Who do you know over in Huntsville, City Girl?" Eliza asks, snorting a laugh as she dips one of her French fries into her milkshake like it's not one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen.

"I don't. Hunter's dragging me to some party," I grumble, breaking apart the piece of banana loaf on the plate in front of me.

"Ah," she sighs, as if it all makes sense now or something. "You're going to one of Cameron Wilson's parties."

"I mean, that or Hunter's tired of trying to get in my pants and has decided to leave me in a ditch somewhere," I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly. "I mean, that's exactly what I would do to him."

"You're such a psycho," Eliza says, throwing her yellow-blonde head back and laughing loudly. "I love it."

I notice a few sets of eyes turn our way as Eliza laughs, most of them completely judgemental. I'm almost tempted to flip them off, but they resume their own chatter before I can.

Shaking my head, I turn back to the girl beside me. "So, you know this Cameron guy I take it?"

Eliza sips at her milkshake, but shakes her head. "Nah, Morgan actually goes to school with him. She lives over in Huntsville."

My ears perk up at that. "Really? Does that mean—"

She holds up a hand to stop me. "Don't even suggest such a thing, Peyton. Wilson's parties are your type of scene, not mine. You couldn't pay me enough, even if you weren't flat broke."

I heave a defeated sigh, wadding up my napkin. "Well, that's extremely unfortunate."

"If you don't want to go, why are you going?"

I open my mouth to answer her, but I'm interrupted by Addison, who appears on the other side of the counter, sipping away at a soda. "Because she was desperate for a ride home during that storm on Tuesday and he wouldn't drive her unless she agreed to go with him," she chimes quickly, the words flying from her mouth in an excited rush.

I hook my thumb towards the blonde over the counter. "What she said."

Eliza rolls her eyes dramatically. "Wow. That's pathetic, Pey."

"I have no regrets."

"Then stop complaining about going out with Hunter. Sounds like you signed up for it willingly. And, besides, maybe you two will just end up sucking face again like you did in the cafe the other day," she shrugs, innocently sipping away at her milkshake like she's said nothing wrong.

Oh, no she didn't.

Addison bursts into a fit of giggles across from us, double over on the countertop and gripping at the edge for dear life. Meanwhile, I glare daggers in my so-called friend's direction.

"How many times must I tell you both, that kiss meant nothing. You know it was just for show," I reply slowly, but quietly, so that no one else in the diner overhears.

The second after Hunter's truck had pulled away from her house on Tuesday afternoon, Addison had assaulted me with questions about the minor PDA session I'd had with Hunter in the cafeteria. But no matter how many times I'd explained it to her and Eliza both, they could not get it through their heads that it was all just an act.

"Well, maybe you should pursue a career in acting then. Because you were pretty damn convincing with your tongue down his throat," Eliza states, and I glare, incredibly irritatedly, in her direction.

"I hate you both," I mutter, fishing a five dollar bill out of my wallet and tossing it at a still giggling Addison. The only beauty of having only a couple of fives in your purse was that you could throw one at your friend and storm out without having to wait for her to give you back your credit card.

"I'm going to my grandmother's. And I'm not bringing either of you food."

With that, I all but stomp out of the diner, only pausing briefly to smile and wave goodbye to a rather amused looking Natalie behind the cash register. She seems completely unfazed by her daughter laughing about with her friends while she's supposed to be waiting tables. But that was one thing I had learned quickly about Natalie— as long as the work got done, she didn't care if you had fun doing it.

The bell chimes above the front door as I leave in a huff. Thankfully, my grandmother's apartment building is only a few doors down from the diner, which makes the walk to her front door painlessly short.

She's already waiting for me on the bench out front when I arrive, a giant paper bag of groceries in her arms. When she notices me, she smiles brightly, getting to her feet and setting the groceries down on the bench.

"Peyton, kopelia, you look lovely!" She coos as she reaches up to kiss my cheek. "I hope you didn't spoil your dinner in there. I know Natalie's cooking is wonderful, but you've never been able to say no to your Yaya's souvlaki," she grins, an arm securely wrapped around my waist.

"No, Yaya," I laugh, shaking my head. "I promise you I'm plenty hungry. I was just hanging out with some friends of mine."

Her face lights up, and she reaches up to pat my cheek with her hand. "I'm so happy to hear you've made friends. Oh, I can't wait to meet them."

"You've known them longer than I have, Grandma," I tease, untangling myself from her firm grip and taking the grocery bag in my arms. "Addison Turner and Eliza Newman."

My grandmother beams at me. "They're sweet girls, those two. Although, I seem to recall Eliza's mother wasn't very happy when she came home with that little metal bar in her face."

"Which one?" I ask with a laugh, recalling more than one piercing I had noticed in Eliza's face. While they weren't necessarily tasteless, I would never be caught dead with more than a nose stud, let alone a bar in my eyebrow.

I start heading down the sidewalk in the direction of the apartment building's small parking lot. My grandmother doesn't drive often— there's no reason for her to when the grocery store is just a half a block from her front door— but, she still owns an old Ford Taurus that's seen far better days, long before I was born.

"Where do you think you're going?" My grandmother chuckles, not moving an inch from where she stands in front of the bench.

I raise a confused eyebrow in her direction. I know very well that my eighty-year-old grandmother still has every one of her marbles fully intact. "Your car?"

"Óchi agapité, no, dear. I'm not driving," she tuts, sitting down and getting comfortable again on the bench.

"I don't have a license, Yaya. And I'm fairly certain even this tiny hick town frowns on unlicensed minors driving cars." 

My grandmother shakes her head with a chuckle. "I'm happy to hear you're following rules, kopelia. But, what I meant was that my car isn't working. Nobody's driving it anywhere."

"Grandma," I squeak, nearly dropping the groceries on the sidewalk at this new revelation. "We can't walk to our place. That's on the other side of town, and it's going to be dark soon."

"It's barely five o'clock Peyton," she sighs, rolling her eyes in a way nobody expects from their little old grandmother. "Now, if you're quite finished worrying, I'll be happy to tell you that one of your young friends so kindly offered to drive us when I ran into him at the market."

She can't possibly mean who I think she means...

My eyes widen as I consider what she's saying. "Grandma, please don't tell me—"

As if that terrible blue-eyed devil knows when I'm talking about him, a familiar faded truck pulls up in front of the building. The roaring engine dies quickly as the driver hops out of the truck and comes around to greet the two of us on the sidewalk.

"Gamiméni kólasi," I mutter under my breath, both a habit and a phase that I picked up from my mother over the years.

Unfortunately, unlike everyone else I say it around, my grandmother actually understands what I'm saying.

"Peyton!" She tuts, clicking her tongue at me in affectionate disappointment. "Language!"

"Hey again, Philippa," Hunter grins, pulling open the passenger side door of his truck. "Your chariot awaits."

My lips pull apart in a sour expression of pure displeasure. "You know what, I think I'm going to walk after all. Or hitchhike. Or fly. Any of those will do," I announce, more to myself than anyone else.

"Good grief, kopelia," my grandmother sighs, tired of my crap. "Just give the nice boy the groceries, and get in the truck."

Hunter snickers quietly, looking over to stand in front of me. As he turns his back to my grandmother, his friendly smile morphs into a confident smirk I've become far more aquatinted with.

"Hey, Skirt. Fancy seeing you here," he smirks, reaching out to pluck the paper bag I'm cradling from my arms.

I can't help but roll me eyes hard. "She's my grandmother, asshole. You did this on purpose," I hiss, too low to be overheard by the eighty year old woman with the sense of hearing of a bat.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Skirt," he insists deviously. "I'm just helping out a nice lady I ran into at the grocery store."

"I was supposed to have a few hours of peace tonight, you dickhead. Why did you have to take that luxury away from me?"

Hunter only shrugs, spinning on his heel and placing the groceries carefully in the bed of his truck. "Can I help you step up there, Philippa?" He asks nicely, coming to stand beside her and offering her his hand.

I'd be lying if I said this wasn't a side of Hunter I'd never seen before. He almost seemed generally kind and caring as he helped my grandmother up into the cab of his truck, making sure she was comfortable before closing the door and turning his signature smirk on me and shattering the whole image I had just witnessed.

"Well, Skirt, guess you're gonna have to sit beside me."

And there's the Hunter Maddox I know and passionately dislike.

With an annoyed huff, I shove past him, walking around to the driver's side door. "Try not to enjoy this too much, Maddox," I grumble as he pulls the door open for me with a grin.

"Kopelia, dear, if you keep you keep scowling like that, you're going to get wrinkles," my yaya comments, patting me on the knee as I slide onto the bench seat beside her.

"I could've just called Mom. She would've come to pick us up," I grumble to myself, fastening my belt over my lap as Hunter climbs in and squishes me against his side.

"You do not need to bother your mitéra. I'm perfectly capable of finding myself a drive. Besides, if it weren't for those groceries, I'd have simply walked," she insists stubbornly.

The cab of the truck falls silent then, save for the rumbling of the engine as Hunter pulls back onto the street. For someone who has spent her life riding in town cars, limousines and imported cars, I actually find the dull rumble oddly comforting. In fact, I've grown to prefer it when Hunter drives me to school over the whiny country songs he plays on the old radio.

"So, Peyton, dear. Hunter mentioned the two of you have a couple of classes together at school. Why didn't you tell me?"

I resist the urge to cringe at my grandmother's tone. It's obvious she fully believes that Hunter Maddox is the epitome of good, old fashioned young men— the kind who hold doors open for women and ask a father's permission before defiling their daughters.

If only she knew.

I sigh tiredly, leaning my head back against the window behind me. "It's not like we're best friends or anything, Grandma."

"I'm wounded, Peyton," Hunter chuckles smoothly, calling me by my name for once rather than that stupid nickname he always uses. "I thought our friendship meant more to you than that."

"You're delusional," I snort, earning me a stern tongue-clucking and a smack on the knee from my sweet grandmother.

"I'm so sorry, Hunter. I raised her mother with more manners than that, but it seems the big city just sucked it right out of her," she apologizes, leaning around me to smile kindly at Hunter.

"No worries, Philippa. I'm well acquainted with Peyton's unique sense of humor," he grins, nudging me quickly with his shoulder. 

A scowl creases my face, both at the actions of my grandmother, who's supposed to love me, and the weird act that Hunter is putting on for her.

Suddenly, my grandmother clasps her hands together in front of her, letting me know that she's just had a brilliant idea pop into her mind. "I know. Hunter, how would you like to stay and have dinner with us? I'm cooking."

His foot stomps down on the brake pedal— not because of my grandmother's offer, but because of the fresh red light shining above our sight line— and he looks over at her. "Really?"

"No," I interrupt, shaking my head furiously. "I'm sure Hunter has far better things to do tonight. I mean, it's Friday. He has plans," I say pointedly, looking at Hunter out of the corner of my eye and hoping he has no intentions of actually agreeing to this preposterous offer.

"Actually, Peyton's right," Hunter admits, and I heave a sigh of relief. But of course, its premature relief as no sooner does he open his mouth to continue. "I do have a date later tonight, but I would love to join you lovely ladies for dinner."

I'm going to kill Hunter Maddox.

I know, I know. It's been foreeeeever since I updated. I'm so sorry, but between classes and updating for "Loving Scarlett", I just haven't had time for our wonderful little cliché. But I promise, it's far from over. More updates will come!

Until next time, let me remind y'all that this adorable face is coming back to Arrow next season AS A SERIES REGULAR...
I'm just a wee bit excited.

Lots of love...