
Hunter McBannon |

With no class and no practice, Hunter's day is pretty uneventful. He works on a couple of projects that he's been putting off--finally starting on his history paper that he should've started on last week--while he debates whether or not he actually wants to go to this art gallery or not. Maybe he should call Luke and see if he wants to do something else, anything else. Maybe he should ask if he'd rather see a movie. Would that be weird? Probably.
As he puts the finishing touches on his paper, Hunter takes out his phone, but instead of calling Luke he pulls up the photos, scrolling through them until he gets to the ones from a couple of years ago. He had deleted most of the ones he had of Ricky--he'd never been one for taking pictures that often anyways so it wasn't like there were that many to begin with--but he had kept one picture of him. It was of the both of them, Ricky's arm over his shoulder, both of them smiling at the camera. Hunter's finger hovers over the delete button--but he doesn't press it.
With a sigh, he closed the app, texted Luke, and headed to the gallery.