The Boy on the Bridge

by Sam Mariano

  On Thursday, I’m the last person to leave the newspaper meeting. Only Mr. Lohman is left when I leave, so the hallway is nice and empty as I make my way out of the school.

  When I pass the library, the doors are closed. But there’s a distinct clicking noise, almost like it opened just after I passed.

  Since the school is supposed to be empty, my heart jumps. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I pick up the pace, in a foot race with a strong sense of foreboding that just popped up out of nowhere.

  It’s out of the blue, that’s what I tell myself.

  I’m at school. Nothing bad is going to happen to me at school.

  An arm suddenly locks around my waist from behind. A hand is clamped over my mouth so I can’t scream. I try anyway, dropping my books and crying out for help.

  The books hit the floor, managing to make more noise than I do with that strong hand covering my mouth.

  I try to look back as the man accosting me drags me toward the library entrance.

  The worst part is, Sherlock is the only one who crosses my mind. Who else could it be?

  If he’s really accosting me after I did the groundwork to repair his friendship with Hunter, I’m going to kill him.

  I struggle, trying to grab onto the door frame as we pass through it. He repositions, restrains my arms, and drags me inside.

  The library door clicks shut.

  The library is darker than most classrooms with so many bookshelves blocking windows, but it’s still early in the day, so even with the lights off, there’s still plenty of light.

  I breathe heavily, my heart racing as I’m pushed back against the wall.

  I glare as he steps into view, ready to hand his ass to him as soon as he moves his hand off my mouth, but I’m dumbstruck when I see it’s not Sherlock at all.

  It’s Hunter.

  I try to ask, “What the hell are you doing?” but he hasn’t moved his hand from my mouth yet.

  All the fear and anger melts out of me, though. I’m not worried, just confused.

  There’s still leftover adrenaline in my blood, but I don’t know what to do with it if there’s no real threat.

  Hunter didn’t need to drag me into a room with him. I would have gone willingly.

  He smirks, closing in on me, keeping his hand over my mouth. “Effective, isn’t it?”

  What is he talking about?

  I scowl at him and try to say, “Move your hand,” but it comes out as incomprehensible noise.

  He must be able to guess what I’m trying to say. “I’m not going to move my hand.”

  I frown at him, my confusion deepening. “Why?” I attempt.

  Holding my gaze, he slides the hand that’s not covering my mouth down my body.

  Confusion ebbs, interest sparking as he nimbly unbuttons my jeans.

  As he drags down the zipper, he says, “I know my weekend pass hasn’t officially begun yet, but…” He pushes his hand down inside my pants, holding my gaze, a challenge glinting in his. “You can’t say no if you can’t speak.”

  I don’t know if it’s the spike of adrenaline I felt when I thought I was being accosted by an actual threat, or the way he has pinned me here with my mouth covered. Whatever the prompt, I feel more powerless than I really am, and my body likes it.

  My heart sinks slowly, like it’s moving through molasses. A languidness seeps through my entire body.

  My eyes drift closed as his fingertips lightly graze me through my panties and send a shiver all the way through me.

  Hunter leans in, tilting his head so he can kiss my neck as he teases me.

  God, that feels good.

  This isn’t good, though.

  This is fucked up.

  I open my eyes and steal a peek at the closed library door. There’s only a small rectangular window so it’s unlikely anyone walking down the hall would see in here… but he did make me drop my books, and if someone sees the books abandoned in the hall like that…

  They might investigate and make sure no one’s in here.

  We could get caught.

  This is crazy.

  “Hunter,” I say against his hand, intending to object and tell him we cannot do something this risky.

  His hand clamps over my mouth more tightly. I throb between my legs, and my eyes feel too heavy to keep open.

  “I very much want to eat your pussy right now, Riley,” Hunter murmurs between neck kisses. “I want to pin you against this wall, plant my face between your thighs, and put my tongue in places that would turn you red for days.”

  My breath catches in my throat. I can feel the heat climbing my neck, suffusing my cheeks—no doubt turning me as red as he predicted I would be.

  “Can’t risk it, though. If I move my hand, your reluctance to break the rules is likely to kick in and ruin all the fun. This weekend, though.” He sucks on my neck and I gasp a little. “This weekend, I’m going to taste every single inch of you.”

  Oh, God.

  I swallow.

  “For now,” he murmurs as he slides his fingers up under the fabric of my panties, “I’ll have to content myself with just playing with it.”

  A thrill shoots through me as he curls his finger, stroking inside while he uses his thumb to part me. The passage is slick, making it easy for him to push deeper into me. My head falls back against the brick wall as he does.

  “Does that feel good, baby?” he asks, nipping my earlobe.

  God, yes. I nod languidly, noticing his grip on my mouth has eased up. I don’t say anything, though. I don’t want to stop him, and he gave me an excuse, so I don’t have to.

  God, I love him.

  I love him more and more as he holds me here and fingers me, using his whole body to make me feel just trapped enough to let him pleasure me.

  I haven’t made it easy for him, but I am impressed by his resourcefulness.

  When I come against his hand, I cry out against his other one. Before my orgasm has even fully subsided, he removes his hand from my mouth and crushes his lips against mine.

  I throw my arms around him, melting into him as I kiss him back. So much pleasure is still flooding over me, if he took his cock out and fucked me right now, I’d let him.

  He doesn’t, though.

  This was just for me, and just a tease.

  An appetizer before he feasts on me this weekend.

  He’s the best.

  Sleepy and satisfied, I rest my body against his, hugging him so I don’t have to stand on my own two feet quite yet.

  He holds me against his strong body, happy to support me when I need it.

  When the strength comes back into my limbs, I let him know by leaving a soft, tender kiss against his neck, then easing back.

  “That was very unexpected. And very nice,” I murmur. “Thank you.”

  He smiles faintly, but there’s a question glimmering in his beautiful brown eyes. “When I hauled you in here, you fought pretty hard. Did you not know it was me?”

  Guilt flickers through me. He must be able to see it on my face.

  Hunter’s eyes dim, along with his smile. “Who’d you think it was?”

  There’s no right answer to this question.

  My heart hammers in my chest. I feel put on the spot, and torn on what to say.

  “Obviously, you’re the only one I wanted it to be. I was just confused. I wasn’t expecting it.” I smile faintly. “When I encouraged creative kidnapping, I didn’t think you’d take me quite so seriously.”

  His lips curve up a tad knowingly. “That’s not what I asked.”

  My heart flutters.

  I hug him. “I love you.”

  “I know. Who did you think it was?” he demands more firmly, not letting me off the hook with evasive maneuvers, no matter how playful or sweet.

  I pull back and look up at him. “Why does it matter?”

  Hunter cocks an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  Okay, that was a stupid question.

  I know w
hy it matters.

  It matters because Hunter only saw 30 seconds of my “date” with Sherlock. That leaves a lot of blank space on the canvas when he thinks about what might have transpired between us before we entered his bedroom that night.

  It was Hunter’s party, but he wasn’t even really there, and Sherlock specifically planned for us to show up late. Hunter doesn’t know how long we spent together before coming upstairs. He doesn’t know when Sherlock picked me up at my house or when we got to his, and he didn’t see any of our interactions.

  In the freeze frame of what he did witness, he saw Sherlock kiss me. He saw him potentially care about leaving me in harm’s way with another man.

  It may have even been a test asking me to sit between him and Sherlock at lunch on Monday—one I didn’t know I was taking until right now, when he already has the results.

  Maybe Hunter wanted to see how we interacted. How I acted around him.

  I replay that lunch, looking at it through this new lens.

  Hunter touched me a lot. I thought he was just being so affectionate to make a subtle statement to his friends so they would accept me, but maybe he wanted to see how Sherlock reacted.

  He knows both of us separately, but he hasn’t really seen us together—outside of the time we tumbled into a bedroom together, his bite mark on my bottom lip.

  Hunter thinks I’d like Sherlock, that much is clear.

  If I think Sherlock would take it so far as to abduct me out of a hallway at school… well, that must mean I think he’d like me, too.

  My heart races. It feels suspiciously like guilt.

  I remind myself I haven’t done anything wrong.

  Looking up at him, I ask the only question I can think of. “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course I do,” he answers without hesitation.

  “Good.” I lock my arms around his neck, leaning in and hugging him. “Then it doesn’t matter.”

  I can tell it’s not what he wants to hear, but it is the truth.

  Because it doesn’t matter if I could have liked Sherlock.

  It doesn’t matter if he could’ve liked me.

  I may not want to call Hunter my boyfriend, but I do belong to him. I always have, since the day I stumbled across him on a footbridge in the woods behind his house.

  Surely he knows that.

  It seemed like he believed me when I finally explained about everything that led up to me and Sherlock tumbling into his bedroom.

  It seemed like he meant it just a second ago when he swore he trusted me.

  But when I look up into his tempestuous brown eyes… I’m not so sure.

  Chapter Forty Five

  Riley

  Mom hovers in the hall outside my bedroom as I pack my weekend bag. She makes so many trips back-and-forth that she runs out of excuses and finally comes back with a feather duster.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as I fold a top and put it in my weekend bag.

  I didn’t even have a weekend bag, but I bought one for myself when Hunter sent me and my mom shopping.

  I bought something else I think he will enjoy this weekend while I was on that shopping spree, but I don’t want Mom to see it, so it’s buried in the bottom.

  “What?” Mom says innocently. “What do you mean? I’m dusting picture frames.”

  “You have never dusted the picture frames.”

  “That’s not true,” she says, leaning over to peek through my doorway.

  “I’m not doing anything interesting in here,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at her.

  “Um, you are packing for a weekend away with your boyfriend. I find that pretty interesting.”

  “He’s not really my boyfriend, and that is definitely not interesting. I’m just putting clothes in a bag.”

  “Well, I created you. Maybe I am compelled to find everything you do interesting.”

  I walk over to my dresser and open the top drawer to grab some socks. “Would you like to come in?”

  “Do you want me to come in?”

  “Well, I don’t have anything for you to dust,” I say wryly.

  Mom shoots me a look and gives up the pretense of dusting as she steps inside. “Did you bring a bathing suit?”

  “No.” I stop and look back at her, frowning slightly. “Do you think I should?”

  “The weather is still nice and Hunter does have a pool, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah, I guess he does. I didn’t think about that.”

  Mom tries to stifle a cringey face, but doesn’t altogether succeed. “I guess I should just be happy you’re taking any clothes at all.”

  I make a face. “Ew. I rescind my invitation, I’m kicking you out now.”

  “I’m just saying, I checked out his Instagram. The boy grew up very well.”

  I open the bottom drawer and dig out my swimsuit. “Ew, ew, ew. Mom, stop saying words.”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault he doesn’t like wearing shirts.”

  “I mean it, not another syllable.”

  “Closed shirts, at least. He likes the open shirt look, doesn’t he? I suppose if I had abs like his, I wouldn’t want to wear a shirt, either.”

  I cover my ears and sigh dramatically.

  “And your insane mother, high on spa treatments and shopping, somehow agreed to let you spend a whole weekend alone with this kid. Someone get that woman a straight jacket.”

  I point at the door. “Out.”

  Mom stomps her foot. “Nooo, don’t kick me out. I’ll be good, I promise. No more cheeky comments about the attractiveness of the boy you are spending the weekend with.”

  “You do not have to freak out about this,” I tell her as I take the socks and my bathing suit over to my weekend bag. “I get that it’s weird for you, I understand why you’re not entirely comfortable with it, but it’s no different than if I spent the weekend with any other friend.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s a little different.”

  “It’s not about sex. I just want to spend the weekend with him. I enjoy spending time with him outside of school, and even though he has been back for a while, we haven’t really had a chance to spend much quality time together. Now that he isn’t angry at me for getting him shipped off to Italy, I want to hear about it. He’s mentioned his dad and stepmom and a half-sister in passing, but I want to hear about all the years I missed. I want to know what that part of his family is like, what their relationships are like. I want to hear about Italy. I’d like to see pictures.”

  Mom sighs. “I get that. I’m just worried.”

  “You’re always worried,” I tell her.

  “You are my daughter, it is my job to worry about you.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about me this weekend. I will be completely safe. I don’t even know if we’ll go anywhere. Hunter hasn’t told me, but I’m figuring we’ll stay in all weekend.”

  Mom cringes. “See, when you say things like that, it just makes me think...”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “Just make sure you’re safe. I know you’re on birth control now, but you can’t really rely on that for a few more days.”

  “I already told Hunter he had to be more careful this time. He bought condoms. I will not come home any more pregnant at the end of the weekend than I am right now.”

  “Which—God willing—is not pregnant at all.”

  I hold up my crossed fingers to show her. “Doing all I can here.”

  Mom cracks a smile. “In all seriousness, though, you have never spent a whole weekend away from me before. I’m going to miss you.”

  I look up at her. “I’ll miss you, too. But, like I said, I won’t be far. And I promise to text you pictures and updates if you want me to.”

  “Are you kidding me? Of course I want you to.”

  “Then I will,” I assure her.

  A moment passes more comfortably with that out of the way.

  “I know you said he hasn’t given you all the details yet, but
do you know anything you guys will be doing this weekend?” Mom asks.

  “I know that tonight he’s making me dinner.”

  “Ooh, nice.”

  I smile. “I don’t know what he’s making, but I’m eager to see.”

  “What time are you going over? Not until later, right?”

  “He said to be there at six.”

  Mom’s brow furrows a bit. “Isn’t there a game tonight? I thought he was on the football team.”

  Oh, shoot.

  I hesitate before answering, unsure what to say.

  There is a game, but Hunter and Sherlock were both suspended for a game after they got into that fight at practice.

  I don’t want to lie to her, but if I tell the truth about that, it could undo all the progress I have made revising her opinion about him. I can’t very well convince her that Hunter is some nice, harmless, great guy if I tell her that he got in trouble for fighting with a friend at football practice.

  Unless...

  I could, if I threw Sherlock under the bus.

  Even though he’s a jerk, I’m hesitant to do that.

  Hunter is the one I need my mom to like, though.

  Her opinion about Sherlock doesn’t matter. She’ll never even meet him.

  “Okay, I’m going to tell you something, but don’t freak out.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “Promise,” I demand. “No freaking out, no storming the PTO, no trying to find out who his mother is so you can get him in trouble. This is not a big deal and I don’t want you to make it one.”

  Mom frowns. “I already know Hunter’s mom.”

  I sigh. “It’s not about Hunter. Remember that guy I went to the party with?”

  Mom’s face goes completely still. “Yes.”

  “Well, he was a little pushy.”

  Her eyes widen, glinting with rising horror, but she keeps her tone even. “Pushy how?”

  “Nothing happened,” I assure her. “Not really. But he kind of cornered me at the party and kissed me, and I didn’t want him to.”

  She loses a shade of color.

  “That’s it, it was just a kiss. It wasn’t a big deal at all, but Hunter saw him do it, and... I told him not to make a big deal about it, Sherlock left right after, but Hunter... he didn’t want to let it go. So, when they were at football practice together after that, Hunter confronted him about it, and... they got in a little bit of a fight. Coach was pissed, so he suspended them both for a game. Hunter is not violent, I don’t want you to think that, he was...” I roll my eyes. “It sounds stupid, but he thought he was defending my honor.”