The Boy on the Bridge

by Sam Mariano

My gaze darts back to Anderson, a little less on edge now that I know Hunter’s not pursuing. “We do have a history, but if your source is Chuck Whitehouse, it’s not what you think it is.”

  “Did you sleep with him?” he asks, point blank.

  “No. Yes, but not—we didn’t have sex. He spent the night at my house one time, it wasn’t intentional, we were just hanging out and we fell asleep. But then some stuff happened and he wanted to hurt me, so he told everyone we had sex.”

  “Charming. I can definitely see why he’s someone you sneak off into dark corners with.”

  Embarrassment creeps up on me, heating my cheeks. “I don’t sneak off into dark corners with him,” I mutter.

  Anderson’s gaze is cool and unsympathetic. “You just did. In front of my teammates. The guy already hassles me—I guess now I see why.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. I look down at the ground, feeling a little ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should have told me. Maybe if I knew he was your ex, I would’ve been a little more prepared for him to hate me.”

  “He’s not my ex,” I mutter. “We were never really more than friends.”

  “Yeah, well… looks like he wants to be more than friends now,” he says, jerking his head in the direction of the tree but not looking back at Hunter.

  I’m not sure what exactly Hunter wants from me, but it’s clear he wants something. What’s more, I’m not sure it matters what he wants—he’s not going to stop until he gets it. If he has already caused this much trouble in less than a week, what will the rest of the year be like?

  This is not how I wanted to do this, but it seems unavoidable now.

  “I think we should break up,” I say gently, looking up at him.

  He looks hurt, and it makes me feel wretched. “So you can be with him?”

  I shake my head. “No. It’s not about him. I mean, a little bit—I do think he’d torture you if we stayed together. I don’t want to be the reason you go through hell this year, Anderson, and… I don’t think he’ll let us be together,” I say honestly.

  “That’s not up to him,” he mutters, his voice dripping with resentment.

  “I know, but he’s… he can be kind of a bully. I never saw that side of him myself, but I heard about it, and… I think this is just a taste. I know he wants me to break up with you, and I have a feeling he’ll go to whatever lengths he needs to in order to make that happen.”

  Anderson looks off at nothing, shaking his head irritably. “What a fucking asshole.”

  “Yeah,” I murmur, a bit glumly. “I guess he can be.”

  I don’t tell Anderson that he can also be wonderful and sweet, that he’s so protective of his loved ones he’ll put himself in harm’s way for them. I don’t tell him about the boy I knew, because I know Hunter’s actions speak much louder than any of my words can.

  And Hunter is being an asshole.

  “It isn’t just about him, though. I don’t think you and I can make each other happy. I think we’re really different people, and I think staying together when it seems like we should end things… I think it would lead to more heartache for both of us than splitting up would.”

  Anderson shakes his head, looking off at nothing. “I don’t believe you. Everything was fine between us before he showed up.”

  I look down, feeling a touch guilty. I can’t really argue with that. Things were fine, but… honestly, I want better than fine. I want to feel something when the guy I’m with kisses me, and that spark just isn’t there with Anderson.

  I can’t say that, though.

  My silence seems to feed into Anderson’s idea that all the blame should be shifted onto Hunter’s shoulders. “We can’t let him come between us, Riley. You say he’s a bully, so what? We’re gonna let him win?”

  His words spark discomfort within, but not the kind he probably expects. “I didn’t say he is a bully, I said he can be.”

  Anderson scowls. “What’s the difference?”

  He asks the question, but doesn’t wait to hear my answer.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m not some jerk he can push around. I don’t think you are either. I think you’re smart and strong and unique as hell; you have a kind of independence that nobody has… I think you’re great, Riley, and I’m not gonna let an asshole like Hunter Maxwell take you away from me.”

  I can only stare at Anderson, honestly flabbergasted.

  I wasn’t looking forward to dumping him because who looks forward to that? But I wasn’t expecting him to fight me on it, either. I thought deep down, he’d agree with me. I figured he didn’t want to be the bad guy, but I thought some part of him would be relieved when I initiated the break-up.

  I was so wrong, I don’t know what to say.

  Then he takes my hand, fire in his eyes. “We can get through this, Riley.”

  I shake my head, carefully extracting my hand from his. “I think maybe you’re caught up on the idea of competing with Hunter more than you really want to fight for me. And I get that, but… no. I’m really sorry it went down this way and I’m incredibly sorry about the timing, but… Anderson, I want to break up.”

  I feel like a monster having to reject him again, but he made me do it.

  I can’t stand to look at him any longer, looking so defeated.

  “You should go home,” I tell him gently.

  That gets his attention. His gaze snaps back to me. “I gave you a ride here. Don’t you want a ride home?”

  Hunter’s demand that I leave with him surfaces in my mind, undoubtedly causing me to look guiltier than I should. “No, it’s all right. I can get another ride home.”

  “With who?”

  “Anderson… we’re broken up,” I remind him gently.

  “As of 10 seconds ago,” he snaps. “If you already have a ride home, I’d like to know who it is.”

  I can see he’s upset and looking for a fight. I’m not going to participate. I don’t want this to get any uglier than it already has. “Look, go home or don’t, it’s up to you. I’m not ready to leave yet, so… I’m gonna go inside.”

  “That’s it?” he asks, shaking his head.

  I shrug. “Yeah, I guess that’s it. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “You’re leaving with Hunter, aren’t you?”

  I sigh softly, closing my eyes.

  It’s all the answer he needs. I can see it on his face when I open my eyes and look up at him again. There’s a bitter twist to his mouth. It makes him look much less handsome than I always considered him.

  “Maybe Chuck Whitehouse is right,” he says, slowly backing away. “Maybe you are a whore.”

  My mouth falls open. I’m too stunned to speak. I don’t even know what I’d say if I could. It’s nothing that hasn’t been said about me before, but wow, it really stings coming from him.

  I understand that he’s hurt, though, so although I’m insulted and I think that was a dickish thing to say, I don’t bother responding. I hold my silence until he turns around, and I feel more relieved than anything when I realize he’s heading to his car.

  Chapter Twenty

  Riley

  As much as I don’t want to spend my evening at Valerie’s stupid jock party, I don’t really have much choice. Hunter said he wanted me to leave with him, but he hasn’t come back over since Anderson left.

  No one else at this party has anything to say to me, so I slip into the kitchen and grab a Diet Coke out of the fridge—everyone else is drinking beer, harder liquor, or punch from a bowl I am certain has alcohol in it—then I slip away somewhere quiet where I’ll hopefully be left alone.

  Valerie’s house is bigger and nicer than mine, but nothing compared to Hunter’s. There’s a well-lit back patio with a table and chairs, but a small group of people are already gathered there so I keep walking.

  I find a little egg-shaped chair in a more private corner on the other side of the patio. It’s right beneath a back porch light, so t
here’s plenty of light for reading.

  Satisfied that I’ve found my nook, I get comfy in that seat and draw out my cell phone. It’s weekend now, so I’m not in any hurry to do homework. That means I can read for pleasure, so I open my Kindle app and scroll through looking for a new book to read.

  I click on the orange cover of a book I’ve been meaning to start and check out the first page to see if I’m in the mood for it tonight. By page two, I’m committed, so I settle in and enjoy myself while the party rages on inside.

  Time passes so quickly, it seems like only a few minutes before my phone buzzes. It’s a text message from a number I don’t recognize that reads, “Did you leave?”

  I frown at my phone. “Who is this?”

  “Prince Charming,” he replies sarcastically.

  I smile faintly. “Impossible. I didn’t give him my number.”

  “He has his ways,” he texts back. “Where are you?”

  “I found a cozy reading spot on the back porch.”

  “You’re reading at a party?”

  “If that surprises you, then I guess this isn’t Hunter.”

  “I told you, it’s Prince Charming. I’m sending the royal guard after you.”

  I smile, shaking my head and going back to my Kindle app. I know I’ll have to stop reading now, but I need to find a better stopping point.

  The book is so interesting, I’m still trying to find a good stopping point when my light is suddenly disrupted. I look up to find one hulking football player hovering beside my chair, blocking my light. Another one stands in front of me, looking down at me expectantly.

  “Hunter wants you,” Wally states.

  “Wow, he really did send the royal guard,” I murmur. I had thought it was a joke and he just wanted me to come find him.

  Wally scowls. “Huh?”

  I close the app, sliding my phone into the pocket of my jeans and grabbing my purse as I stand. “Were you a rat in your former life? You probably were.”

  Wally mean mugs me like I’ve just insulted him, but he didn’t entirely understand the insult.

  I bet that happens to him a lot.

  I try to ignore the brutes he sent for me and walk ahead of them, but I don’t know where I’m going. I fall back once we make it inside the house and let Wally take the lead since he obviously knows where Hunter is.

  Most of the partygoers are rowdier now than when I left—the ones that aren’t passed out, anyway. A brunette girl I vaguely recognize as one of Valerie’s friends is crying loudly about why someone called Fitz won’t call her back. A couple of Valerie’s lackeys are crowded around her, offering comfort and words of support, but I don’t see the queen bee anywhere.

  Wally and Brian escort me through the dining room and down the hall. At the end of it, Wally opens the door on the right and steps back to let me pass.

  Hunter is sprawled in a pink satellite chair by the window, watching outside. He turns his attention on me once I’m in the bedroom with him, a smile claiming his perfect lips.

  “It’s midnight, Cinderella.” His eyes are almost warm as he regards me. “Did you do what I asked you to do?”

  I nod, though I hate talking about this with his stupid friends still in the room. “We broke up. Anderson left.”

  “Good.” Hunter leans forward and pushes off the pink chair, then he glances behind me at his friends. “Give us some privacy, would you? Watch the door. If anyone tries to come in, don’t let them.”

  “Even Valerie?” Wally asks.

  “Especially Valerie,” Hunter says. I wrinkle up my nose with displeasure, so he goes on to explain, “This is her room.”

  I wrinkle up my nose even more as I bend down and set my purse on the floor by Valerie’s dresser. “Ew.”

  “Yeah?” His voice is low, private. When I straighten back up, he’s much closer, crowding me and making my heart race faster.

  “You know how I feel about her.”

  “I do. I know how she feels about you, too.” He grabs my waist with one hand, tugging me against him and cradling my neck in his other hand. “This is your reward for being so accommodating. I wanted to get a little revenge for you, too.”

  My heart is pounding too hard already to focus properly on what he’s saying. He’s walking me back toward the bed, touching me so tenderly. Given his meanness in the library, I wasn’t expecting this, and I don’t know how to respond to any of it.

  “What do you mean, revenge for me?”

  He dips his head, kissing my neck and lighting up every single nerve ending in my body. The surge of excitement is nearly unbearable.

  Then he speaks and fries all the synapses in my brain. “I’m going to take your virginity in her bed.” He barely pauses to let me absorb that. “It’s pretty mean, even for me, but from what I’ve gathered, she deserves it.”

  A nervous chuckle slips out of me. “Um, maybe we should back up a bit. I thought you said you didn’t want to date me.”

  “I’m not going to date you.” He kisses along my neck, making his way toward my jawline. “I’m going to fuck you.”

  “Do I get a say in this?” I ask uneasily.

  “If your answer is yes.” He pulls back and gives me a little smile. Seeing I really am nervous, he cocks his head and caresses the side of my face. “It was always supposed to be me, Riley. If I wouldn’t have been shipped out of the country, it would have happened already.”

  My stomach is twisted up with nerves, but there’s a twinge of excitement, too. The side of me that always carefully thinks through my decisions is horrified at the prospect of impulsively losing my virginity to Hunter tonight. I don’t really disagree with him that he was always supposed to be my first, but this definitely isn’t how I saw it happening.

  Maybe it would have happened impulsively, but not at a party, not with his stupid friends guarding the door, definitely not in Valerie Johnson’s bedroom.

  He’s moving too fast.

  He always moved too fast, but he always slowed down when I told him I needed him to.

  “Wait,” I say, gently pushing against his chest.

  He doesn’t budge, leaning in to kiss the side of my face. “What are you afraid of?”

  “A lot. There are a lot of uncertainties that go along with this offer,” I point out. “Why should I give you my virginity when you’re not even my boyfriend?”

  “Because you want to,” he says, simply.

  I roll my eyes. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  He smiles, and it fills my stupid stomach with butterflies. “And you owe me.”

  My jaw drops open, but to my absolute horror, I find I’m more amused than insulted. “I owe you my virginity?” I demand, almost laughing at the absurdity of his claim.

  He nods as if solemn, grabbing one of my hands and bringing it to his lips so he can kiss it.

  I try to bite back a smile as he kisses my knuckles. “That’s a preposterous claim, Hunter Maxwell. I’d like to know how I owe you my virginity.”

  “You kissed someone else in front of me. Twice. And then there’s all that stuff that happened in middle school. Frankly, I think I’m being a lenient debt collector.”

  Despite myself, my tummy flutters at the prospect of it bothering him to see Anderson kiss me. “So, I give it up to you tonight and the slate’s wiped clean?”

  “Not quite, but it is the first step.”

  “Does it have to be here? Don’t get me wrong, I can appreciate the gesture that you want to simultaneously collect your debt,” I say, rolling my eyes indulgently, “and defile Valerie’s bedroom, but me? I’m not that vengeful. I’d prefer we do this in my bedroom or even yours. Somewhere that’s… ours.”

  Inexplicably, my request seems to steal a little of the light from his eyes.

  Even worse, that makes me feel guilty.

  I don’t want to have sex for the first time in Valerie Johnson’s bedroom, but in an exceptionally twisted way, I can see how it’s kind of sweet of h
im to come up with that idea to give me a little bit of revenge. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t condone him being mean to someone, but Valerie? I can let that slide. In a really messed up way, it’s almost gallant. Not the kind of behavior I would expect of Prince Charming, certainly, but… well, Hunter isn’t Prince Charming.

  I don’t want him to think I don’t see the villainous gallantry in his gesture. I just… don’t want Valerie to have any part in what happens between us, whether it’s a revenge thing or not. I don’t want her to have any relevance to our story, whatever our story turns out to be.

  Seeking to metaphorically kiss any wound I may have unintentionally inflicted, I soften, leaning into him and sliding my hand up to caress his jawline. “It’s a little romantic, though. In a… bad romance kind of way,” I assure him. “It’s just not how I want to remember our first time. It shouldn’t have anything to do with her.”

  He looks down, but doesn’t say anything.

  There’s a weight on his shoulders that wasn’t there before I said that, though.

  I find it a little distressing how much his response distresses me. He hasn’t even confirmed I’ve hurt his feelings or made him feel in any way rejected—and for that matter, I can’t imagine Hunter being someone who can’t handle a little rejection, even if he’s probably not used to it—but it’s like I’m 14 again. Hunter might be feeling some kind of hurt, and my protective instincts are rearing up, suggesting it’s my fault.

  My chest feels tight, my heart a little heavier.

  It’s terrifying how much my own feelings are wrapped up with his.

  I’m an empathetic person, sure, but not to this degree. Not with anyone else. It’s only Hunter who impacts me like this. I actually considered myself a bit chilly with Anderson, I would have never felt anything like guilt in a situation like this… hell, I would never be in a situation like this. No other man could ever even jokingly convince me that I owe him anything, let alone my innocence.

  Hunter isn’t any other man.

  The realization melts away some of my hesitance.

  I’m still not sure this is the right time or place or even way to do this, but maybe those aren’t the details that really matter. I never fantasized about a darkened hotel room decked out with rose petals and candles, I just wanted my first time to be with someone I loved, someone who reached me like no one else could.