The Boy on the Bridge

by Sam Mariano

  I know he’s not bluffing.

  If I don’t break up with Anderson, Hunter will make me wish I had.

  I don’t know what to do, what to say. My brain is working quickly, trying to come up with something, but I don’t know how to accomplish everything I want to accomplish.

  I don’t want to hurt Anderson, but I don’t want to sic Hunter on him, either. I hate relenting to a bully, but I’m not so stubborn that I’ll dig in when I know that will do more harm to everyone involved.

  I was even thinking about breaking up with Anderson before, so… maybe I should just do it.

  Hunter’s terms aren’t fair and I doubt I’ll go along with anymore of them, but it probably would be best to push Anderson out of his line of fire. Whatever goes down, it’s between Hunter and me. Nobody else needs to get hurt.

  Seeming to sense my impending surrender, Hunter stands and turns his chair back around, preparing to leave.

  “There’s a party after the game tomorrow night. It’s at Valerie’s house. The whole team will be there with their girlfriends. You can come with Evan—it’ll be a good place to dump him. Nice and public, just in case he doesn’t take it well and you need me to step in,” he says with a wink.

  “I am not breaking up with Anderson with you around watching and enjoying it,” I say pointedly, since now I know he is deliberately getting his name wrong. “If I break up with him, I will do it my own way.”

  “Well, that’s up to you, just make sure you do it tomorrow. You have until the end of the party to dump him. He leaves alone, you leave with me.”

  My heart skips a beat at that last line. I meet his gaze, searching for something—anything—real, but his mask is in place, his expression cool and controlled. I can’t tell what he’s really thinking.

  I swallow, trying not to think too hard about what he’s demanding.

  I’m sure he doesn’t mean it the way it sounded. It’s probably just about embarrassing Anderson, maybe even me. When he says I’ll leave with him, I’m sure he doesn’t mean….

  Either way, hearing him say it makes my stomach rock with a boatful of butterflies.

  “This isn’t the way to get me to leave with you, Hunter.”

  Ignoring my good sense, he says, “Those are my terms. No negotiating.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  He keeps his gaze locked on me as a dark smile passes across his face. “Then I stop playing nice.”

  He doesn’t linger to detail what that means, but he doesn’t need to. I can see the promise of destruction in the depths of his beautiful brown eyes.

  The moment ends as abruptly as it began—and at Hunter’s discretion.

  He drops my gaze and turns to leave, but before he goes, he says, “See you at the party, Catnip. Wear something cute.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Riley

  Early the next morning, I meet Anderson for breakfast before school starts.

  There’s a lot weighing on my mind today.

  Hunter’s words from the library have me twisted up in knots, exactly as he intended. He was hot and cold, mean and friendly, and then after threatening me and promising to wreak havoc on Anderson as long as he remained my boyfriend, after all that ugliness… he called me Catnip.

  There was no sign of the boy I knew until he decided to drop that breadcrumb.

  He’s so fucking clever, I almost respect it, but I also want to smack him.

  I have a lot of feelings, and they’re all twisted up. Every last one of them.

  Now I have to break up with Anderson, and I’m not looking forward to it, though I’ll admit this is the thing I am least conflicted about doing today. I’m not psyched that my main reason for doing this is “because Hunter told me to,” but I know it’s more than that. I was entertaining the idea of breaking up with Anderson before Hunter got involved. If anything, Hunter being a jerk about it poked my defiant streak and made me want to stay with Anderson, even knowing I probably shouldn’t.

  I can’t do that to Anderson, though. It wouldn’t be fair.

  I just think maybe Anderson and I aren’t right for one another. I want a different kind of boyfriend than him, and he would probably have a better relationship with someone…

  Well, with someone who didn’t lie in bed all night wondering what Hunter meant by “you’ll leave with me.”

  But also just someone lighter than me. I don’t think I’m especially dark and heavy, but I am too much for Anderson.

  All things considered, I just don’t think we’re a good fit. It’s nobody’s fault, we just don’t work. That’s what I’m going to tell him.

  At least, that’s my plan until Anderson shows up at the restaurant already looking like he just lost his best friend.

  He doesn’t even speak to me at first beyond a monotone, “Hey,” as he takes a seat in the booth across from me.

  A waitress comes over before we get a chance to talk. She pours me coffee and takes Anderson’s drink order, then she says she’ll give us a minute.

  Testing the waters, I wrap my hands around my coffee mug and try to catch his gaze. “Is everything okay?”

  “No, not really.”

  My heart thuds guiltily, but I try not to jump to conclusions. “What’s wrong?”

  “My dog got hit by a car.”

  Oh no.

  I inhale sharply. That was the last thing I expected him to say, but my heart swells up with sympathy for him.

  Anderson loves his dog. On our first date, he playfully “forewarned” me about all the dog hair in his room because Peanut slept by the foot of his bed every night.

  “Is… is he going to be okay?” I ask tentatively.

  Anderson shakes his head. “No. He’s gone.”

  I sit back in my seat, feeling a bit like I got the wind knocked out of me. “I’m so sorry, Anderson. That’s terrible. I don’t even know what to say.”

  He nods, looking up at me with a sad glint in his eyes. “Can you sit by me? Sorry, I’m feeling a little clingy today.”

  Shit.

  “Of course,” I murmur, grabbing my purse and scooting out of my side of the booth so I can move over to his.

  So, that sets the tone for my morning.

  I make a point to show up to the class I have with Hunter a little early so I can explain what happened with Anderson.

  I haven’t entirely figured out how to talk to him about it in class with everyone around to potentially overhear. It would be excruciatingly embarrassing if someone heard me explaining to him why I can’t break up with my boyfriend like he told me to. Without proper context, that would sound much worse than it is.

  Hell, even with proper context it sounds pretty damn bad.

  However, when I get to class, he isn’t even there. I wait for him to show up while I brainstorm how best to explain my situation covertly, but he never shows up.

  ___

  “Hey, man, what’s up?”

  Valerie Johnson’s house is the last place I want to be, ever.

  It seems I am the only one who feels that way, though. Hunter told me the athletes and their girlfriends would be at the party tonight after the game, but he failed to mention that a good percentage of our senior class would be as well.

  Anderson and I just got here, so we haven’t made it inside yet. Right now we’re crowded around Chuck Whitehouse’s new car with a few of Anderson’s teammates. Their girlfriends mostly wandered off as soon as Chuck popped the hood and started talking about what was under it. Tasha stuck around like she was curious, but she might just be reluctant to leave her boyfriend’s side—he has been known to have a wandering eye.

  I’m not into cars myself, but Anderson listens with interest. Given he’s had such a rough day, I play the dutiful girlfriend role and stay by his side.

  He has been uncomfortably affectionate today, but I think it’s just because he’s sad about his dog.

  Unfortunately, Anderson’s arm is draped over my shoulder in a casually territorial gestur
e when Hunter walks up. I feel his presence behind me by the shift in the wind as he approaches, but my heart still drops when I look back and see his eyes locked on me.

  I don’t like seeing you with him.

  Hunter’s words from yesterday echo in my mind as his gaze drifts to Anderson’s arm around me and a flash of anger darkens his features. He clears it quickly, then takes center stage among his friends, an easy smile in place.

  “How are you ladies doing tonight?”

  Tasha smiles and opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, Chuck does.

  “Oh, we’re the ladies? And I guess your game was flawless,” he says good-naturedly, and I realize Hunter is just giving them a hard time about how badly they played tonight.

  “My game is always flawless,” Hunter says with a far-too-charming smirk. Shifting his gaze to me, he winks. “Isn’t that right, Bishop?”

  My heart sinks and heat suffuses my cheeks.

  Anderson tenses beside me.

  Chuck Whitehouse chortles at the none-too-subtle reminder that Hunter banged me once upon a time.

  I have no idea how to respond. Part of me is tempted to defend myself. I was too stunned the day he started all of this—I couldn’t believe he’d said it, let alone dispute his lie.

  It’s old news now. I could calmly deny his claim if I felt like it, but… do I really want to?

  Hunter is already going to be pissed when I don’t break up with Anderson tonight. Seems unwise to pick another fight with him, especially one I don’t even care about anymore. So people think we had sex in middle school—does it really matter?

  Enough time has passed that the worst of the fallout from that lie has passed. Digging it back up now would be pointless, and there would be people who’d never believe me anyway, so it would only come off like I’m ashamed.

  It’s over, it’s done. People can think what they want to think.

  Besides, I have bigger fish to fry tonight.

  I wish I could pull Hunter aside now and talk to him, but especially right on the heels of what he just said, I can’t do that to Anderson. I don’t want to make him look like a fool, with Hunter the brazen king boldly toying with his girl—even out in the open while everyone watches.

  Since I don’t say anything to defend myself, I guess, Anderson takes it the wrong way.

  Looking at Hunter, he demands, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Just the two of them locking gazes makes my stomach sink. There’s a glint of meanness in Hunter’s eyes. This isn’t going to end well for Anderson.

  I break my silence and interject before Hunter can say anything. “Don’t, please. Not tonight.”

  Ignoring my plea, Hunter slides Anderson a little smile. “You mean she didn’t tell you?” Feigning surprise, he looks over at me. “Huh. I wonder what else she hasn’t told you...”

  Stop is on the tip of my tongue, but instinctively I know that reprimanding Hunter in front of his buddies is a bad move.

  “Do you guys have some kind of history I should know about?” Anderson asks Hunter since he hasn’t gotten anything out of me.

  Desperation compels me to break away from Anderson. Even though I thought this was a bad move before, since he’s clearly in the mood to cause trouble, I grab Hunter by the arm of his letterman jacket and drag him away from the crowd. “I need to talk to you.”

  Looking at my grip on his jacket as he allows me to drag him toward a more private section of the yard, he smirks. “I like where this is heading.”

  “Where the hell are you going?” Anderson calls after us, scowling at me.

  “We’ll be back in one minute,” I assure him.

  “What the…?” He trails off, shaking his head in disbelief.

  That’s fair. He has every right to be mad at me for this. I don’t care if he’s mad at me, I just don’t want Hunter to be mean to him, and the conversation was definitely heading in that direction.

  “Huh. Trying to get him to dump you so you don’t have to be the bad guy? Sound strategy, but more cowardly than I would have expected from you,” Hunter remarks.

  Once we’re alone, I let go of his arm and spin around to glare at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Why does there have to be something wrong with me? I was just asking innocent questions.”

  “Bullshit. You were trying to start a fight.”

  Not even bothering to deny it, he looks at me and shrugs. “So what if I was?”

  “You’re being a jerk and I don’t like it.”

  “No?”

  He takes a couple steps closer, bracing one hand on the small of my back and bringing the other to rest on my waist.

  My heart stalls.

  “Hunter,” I say softly, trying to peel his greedy hands off me. I cast an anxious look back at Anderson and see he’s staring right at us. “Stop it. He’s watching.”

  “Like I give a fuck if he’s watching.” He walks me back up against a tree. “Let him watch.”

  “Hunter, no. Come on, you promised you’d play nice if I did what you wanted.”

  He smiles, his eyes glinting with genuine pleasure. “That sounds nice. Say it again.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Look, I’m not fighting you, all right? I’ll break up with him like you told me to. But I need an extension, and I need you to not make him look like an asshole in the meantime.”

  “Wow, you come to me tonight with a lot of requests.” Hunter closes in, bringing his hard body against mine and making my heart race faster. “Tell me, Catnip. How do you intend to pay me back if I grant them?”

  “Please stop.” I push harder, trying to get his hands off me. My stomach is doing somersaults at his closeness, but I’m too cognizant of our audience, too guilty to even enjoy it. “Anderson is right over there.”

  “Don’t care. Next problem.” Instead of giving me space, he pushes even closer.

  I instinctively step back to get away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. I feel the rough bark at my back, the heat of Hunter’s muscled torso pressed against my front.

  My blood heats and my heart pounds wildly. I feel an insuppressible stirring of interest between my legs. I start to shuffle my feet awkwardly, and Hunter casually wedges his thigh between my legs. The pressure of his thigh against my most intimate place ramps up my arousal instantaneously.

  “Anderson’s dog died,” I say abruptly.

  Hunter pauses and looks at me. “What?”

  I release a breath, knowing that’s probably the strangest thing anyone has ever said to him when he was about to maul them, but… well, that’s the next problem.

  “His dog died today. I met him for breakfast to break up with him, but… how could I dump the guy when his dog just died?”

  Hunter stares at me blankly, like for once, he doesn’t have a single clue what to say. “His dog died,” he repeats blankly.

  I nod, pleading with him for some empathy. “So, you see, I can’t dump him tonight. It would be too mean.”

  I watch his face as he considers my problem. I know Hunter is reasonable, so even though he’s being a big jerkface right now, I’m fairly confident he will summon enough sympathy to allow me a deadline extension.

  Given my faith in his basic decency, I’m completely unprepared when he shares his decision. “Doesn’t matter. Dogs die, that’s sad. You still have to break up with him tonight.”

  “Hunter,” I say, staring at him.

  He shakes his head. “It’s gotta be tonight. I’ve made enough compromises. I’m not making any more—not where he’s concerned, at least.”

  I’m too stunned to react at first.

  Hunter doesn’t have the same problem. With his thigh still pressed between my legs, he leans close again. As if he didn’t just heartlessly reject my request for an extension to break up with my boyfriend, he brushes my hair behind my ear and gives me a tender little smile. “You look pretty tonight.”

  My poor heart. It’s like a puppet, dancing every tim
e he pulls the strings.

  It took a few years, but I think I’m starting to see why my mom had such a problem with Hunter in middle school. He wasn’t as aggressive back then so I didn’t really need to, but right now I’m realizing he’s pretty hard to resist. My boyfriend is standing maybe 50 feet away and he’s already sad today, but if Hunter would have just pressed his lips to the curve of my neck, I would have been tempted to tilt it and let him keep going.

  I need to get away from him before he makes things even worse.

  Darting a glance back toward Chuck Whitehouse’s car, I spot Anderson—and this time he’s not just looking, he’s heading toward us.

  My heart falls. I push against Hunter again with more force. “Hunter, please.”

  Responding to the alarm dripping from my tone, Hunter pulls back this time. Only a few inches at first, just enough to lessen the pressure of his body against mine, but when I push him away again, he finally takes a couple steps back.

  “All right, all right. I suppose I can wait a couple more hours.”

  The husky timbre of his voice almost makes me regret having to pull away, but then I spot Anderson storming toward us and alarm grips me.

  Without a word, I brush past Hunter and race toward Anderson.

  I need to get to him before he gets to Hunter.

  His expression is thunderous when I get close enough to see it.

  “Let’s go inside,” I say quickly, grabbing his shoulder and trying to corral him toward the door. I don’t really want to go inside Valerie’s house, but I do want to get Anderson as far away from Hunter as I possibly can.

  Hunter let me drag him away, but Anderson doesn’t. He’s pissed and he doesn’t want to go inside, so he rips his arm from my grasp. “Were you ever planning to tell me about your history with Hunter Maxwell?”

  I stop, but not before casting a nervous glance back in Hunter’s direction to see if he’s following.

  He’s not. He’s leaning on the tree trunk he had me pinned against, watching us.