by Sam Mariano
“She hasn’t done anything to me.”
“Then why?”
He takes a step toward me and my heart sinks. Instinctively, I try to back away from him, but I’m already against a wall, so I can’t go far.
My heart tries to beat its way out of my chest as he cages me in, right here in the hall.
There are fewer people walking by now, but it’s not entirely empty. I could call for help if I needed to, but I don’t. He won’t hurt me, and the kind of help I need right now… I can’t get from any of these passersby.
“I don’t know how it is with Hunter, Riley, but with me… Don’t ask a question you don’t want an answer to.”
I’m not afraid, not really, but I can scarcely breathe. I hold his gaze as he looks down at me, but I can’t seem to find my words.
This has not gone at all how I thought it would.
He stands there for a moment, long enough for me to ask one more time if I really want the answer.
I don’t.
The bell rings.
A jolt runs through me.
I’m officially late.
So is he.
He’s not too worried about it, though.
He takes a step back, an easy smirk falling into place on his handsome face. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
With that, he turns and disappears into the classroom.
Chapter Fifty Three
Riley
My stomach is upset for the rest of the day.
I thought asking Sherlock about what Sara told me was the right thing to do, but now I feel like I’m twisted up in knots.
There’s a knot in my stomach that seems to have been doused in acid first. It gnaws away at me, distracting me and stealing my concentration when I finally show up late to class. There’s a thick knot of emotion in my chest, making it feel tight long after he’s gone.
Knots everywhere. I can’t catch my breath.
I try to tell myself I don’t know why I’m such a wreck, but I’m afraid I do.
I don’t like Sherlock, but he is the only guy other than Hunter to ever make me feel so out of sorts. I don’t like him, but… I am attracted to him.
As I sit through my next class agonizing over that admission and not paying a single bit of attention to the teacher, I try to sort through my feelings. I unravel the guilt wrapped around my throat, cutting off my air supply.
I shouldn’t feel guilty.
I’m not really Hunter’s.
I said that to Sherlock because I needed to remind him that I’m off-limits, but while I would never do anything to deliberately hurt Hunter… I don’t owe him my loyalty. He did things to deliberately hurt me.
Why should I beat myself up for feeling a flutter toward Sherlock when Hunter slept with Valerie Johnson?
Sherlock’s right, frankly. If Hunter wanted to defend me, he should have. He threatened Valerie with banishment when she came over to his house yesterday, but then he bought into her bullshit and let her distract him.
Maybe it’s because even though he doesn’t love her, he does have some kind of complicated feelings for Valerie. She is his ex, after all.
He sold me out for her, and he did it on purpose.
Whatever I’m feeling for Sherlock… I didn’t mean to. I never would have, if Hunter hadn’t broken my heart.
And I’m single. I do love Hunter, but I can’t be with him. I’m not doing anything wrong if I’m attracted to somebody else.
It still feels wrong, though.
All of this makes my stomach hurt.
I want to blow off lunch today, but when Hunter doesn’t show up to English class, I get nervous. I can’t concentrate on anything. Out of sheer desperation, I even glance back at Melina with the intention of asking her if she knows why Hunter isn’t in class. When I look back at her, though, I catch her glaring at me. She tries to clear her expression quickly and paste on a big, fake smile, but…
I don’t bother asking her about Hunter.
Since he hasn’t texted me all morning, I’ve been avoiding it, too. As I walk toward the cafeteria, I shoot him a text to make sure he’s all right.
“You weren’t in English class,” I text, as if he doesn’t already know that. Trying to keep it playful, I add, “Having second thoughts about your ending?”
He responds a minute later. “About killing Sherlock? Nope. Feeling pretty confident in that decision.”
My heart sinks. Whether I think I should or not, I feel guilty. I also feel like I’m lying by omission, so I tell him, “I talked to him today between classes.”
I wait, my heart heavy, while the little gray bubbles move on the screen.
Finally, he sends back, “I know.”
He knows?
I frown at my phone. “How?”
A moment later, a photo pops up on my screen and steals my breath away.
It’s me and Sherlock in the hallway outside his class. It’s him looming over me, staring me down like he’s about to devour me. It’s me looking up at him, wide-eyed and unprepared to be his next meal.
Oh, God.
“Where are you?” I text back quickly, my hands shaking a bit with the adrenaline coursing through me. “Hunter, that’s not what it looks like.”
“It never is, is it?” he texts back.
How does he keep getting incriminating pictures of me? Does Valerie have spies snapping photos of me every chance they get?
“Where are you?” I ask again.
He doesn’t answer.
Shit.
“Where are you?” I ask again, more desperately. “Please answer me. I need to see you.”
Finally, he texts back, “I had to leave. I was gonna get suspended if I didn’t.”
“Where are you?” I ask one more time.
In lieu of an answer, he sends me another picture—of his view, I surmise. It’s the woods behind his house, the water beneath the bridge.
“Are you coming back for lunch?” I ask him.
“Nope.”
Sighing, I look around.
I’m conflicted. I don’t usually blow off school, but I need to talk to Hunter, and honestly, I’m worried he might feel pretty alone right now. I don’t want him to feel alone.
Making a decision, I head to my locker to get my things, then I slip out the exit doors and make my way toward the bridge.
When I get there, Hunter is sitting on the edge with his legs dangling over the water. It reminds me so much of that day I first stumbled across him.
Without saying a word, I ease my bag off my shoulder and sit down next to him.
Hunter’s still looking out at the water. I don’t expect him to say anything until I pry it out of him, but he surprises me by breaking the silence, his voice a lot calmer than I expect after that picture he sent me.
“I used to come here all the time when my mom and her husbands fought. She always seemed to be drawn to men she fought with a lot. Never made much sense to me. I couldn’t figure out why she’d want to be with someone she fought with all the time.”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.
“I asked her about it once. She told me it was much worse if you didn’t fight. That meant you didn’t feel anything very strongly. She said if you’re going to love someone, it might as well be someone who drives you crazy.” He glances over at me. “I never thought my mother was someone I’d take relationship advice from, but you drive me fucking crazy, Riley. Maybe I’m a hypocrite for telling Valerie to fuck off and find someone who actually likes her. I can’t stop chasing someone who doesn’t want to be caught, either.”
His words knock some of the air from my lungs. They tug on my heartstrings and make me feel bad. Hugging his bicep and leaning my head on his arm, I tell him, “It’s not the same thing.”
“It feels like the same thing today.”
“It’s not.” I let go of his arm after a minute and straighten back up. “I used to come here all the time, too. Whe
n you were gone. I knew you wouldn’t be here, but it made me feel closer to you. I used to fantasize that maybe you’d be back in town for a visit and you’d stumble upon me.” I smile faintly at the memory, but my smile turns bittersweet now that he’s actually here. “Trust me, Hunter. I wanted nothing more than to be caught by you.”
“But then I came back and fucked it up,” he says, his tone even.
I nod. I don’t bother saying anything. We both know what he did.
“Do you like Sherlock?”
My heart sinks hearing him ask me that question.
I’m not sure.
“No,” I say. “I like you,” I add, because at least that’s the whole truth.
“But you won’t be mine,” he says.
I look down at the water, bracing my palms on the edge of the bridge. “I can’t. You know that.”
“You could be his, though. There’s nothing stopping you with him.”
“He’s your friend,” I murmur.
“I’m not so sure he is anymore. Next time I see him, I’m going to punch him in the face. I don’t think we’ll be friends after I do it for the second time.”
Looking over at him, I say, “Don’t do that.”
He meets my gaze, his brown eyes turbulent. “Oh, I’m gonna do that.”
“Then I’m going to be mad at you,” I tell him.
“That doesn’t make me wanna punch him less,” Hunter states.
I shake my head, looking back out at the water. “It won’t accomplish anything.”
“It’ll make me feel better,” he mutters.
“Will it?” I ask, looking over at him.
He looks down at the water beneath his feet. “No, probably not.”
My words are running dry today, so I wait to see if he has anything else to say.
“I’m afraid I’m gonna lose you,” he finally says.
I want to tell him he won’t lose me, but he knew I’d want to tell him that. When he’s open and vulnerable with me, I always want to reassure him and make him feel safe.
But I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep, either.
Instead, I tell him, “If you do, it won’t have a damn thing to do with Sherlock.”
His lips curve up as he looks out at the water, but it’s not a smile. It’s too cynical to be a smile. “Yeah, sure it won’t.”
“It won’t,” I say firmly, looking at him until he looks back.
“I don’t care if it’s tomorrow or a week before graduation, Riley, if I find out you’re with him, we’re going to war. And if I go to war with him, it’s not going to be a showcase of stupid fucking high school pranks. If I go to war with him, one of us is going to get arrested.”
His words ignite a spark of anger in me. “I told you, I’m not going to be with him.” Not wanting to sit here any longer, I push myself up off the bridge. “There are a lot of differences between you and me, Hunter, but here’s one of them. When I came over to your house as soon as you came back, heart in fucking hand, and asked you not to be with Valerie, you did whatever you could to hurt me even though you didn’t even like her. I might actually like Sherlock if I spent time with him. And if I did hang out with him, it wouldn’t be out of spite. It wouldn’t be to hurt you. It would be to see if I genuinely liked him. But I’m not going to open that door because I know doing so would hurt you. And you don’t deserve that consideration from me, you really don’t, but I’m going to give it to you anyway, because that’s who I am. Because I do love you, and when you love someone, you don’t hurt them on purpose.”
Hunter stands, too. “If you love me so fucking much, then let’s make it known to everyone. I know you don’t forgive me yet, I get that, but I’m not going to stop putting in the work if you agree to be mine. I will get you past this, Riley. But I need you to give me a fucking chance. If you have one foot out the door, that’s one thing, but two feet? Two feet out the door is really fucking hard to work with when all of a sudden there’s another guy sniffing around. If it were any other guy, I probably wouldn’t be worried, but…”
He stops.
I see realization dawning on him.
He sighs to himself, then looks up at me. “Not him,” he says, echoing the request I made of him that fateful day in his back yard.
That’s so fucking unfair. Asking more of me than he was willing to do himself.
I don’t want to hurt Hunter, but I am tired of the emotional tug-of-war. I know he won’t relent, but I know I won’t, either, and I don’t know where that leaves us. Torturing each other for the rest of the school year?
Maybe I shouldn’t be the bigger person.
Maybe I should end this before we end up hurting each other even more. Force him to let me go, once and for all.
I know how now.
Just like he knew how.
Last time, he broke my heart on purpose.
If I had any sense, maybe now I’d break his.
A knot of emotion gets lodged in my throat. It feels like pain and regret. It tastes like loss.
I knew loving him would be hard, but I didn’t know it would be this hard.
“I don’t want you to go to war with him,” I say.
“Then don’t make me.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. After the day I’ve had, I am mentally and emotionally exhausted. “If I just asked you to let me go… would you?”
Hurt flashes through his eyes that I would even ask, and my vision blurs as tears well up.
“No,” he says, almost regretfully, like he knows what that might mean.
It’s the answer I expected. If I’m being honest, any other answer would have disappointed me.
We’re completely fucked, both of us.
“I’ve gotta go,” I say softly, dashing a stray tear off my face and bending to retrieve my book bag.
“Riley.” His hand closes around my wrist, stopping me from fleeing like I so desperately want to. “Don’t go.”
“I’m tired, Hunter.”
“Come to my house,” he says, his warm brown eyes traveling the length of my body before returning to my face. Despite the heaviness of this day, his eyes gleam with a touch of playfulness since he’s trying to coax me. “We can take a nap.”
I’m tempted to go with him. To let him bury our problems, chase away my sadness. To get tangled up in the sheets with him and pretend that’s a world we can live in.
But it’s not.
Hunter and I don’t work in the real world, we only work when we’re alone.
“I can’t spend any more time in your world, Hunter,” I tell him, my voice so small and sad, I’m not even sure he can hear me. “I don’t belong there.”
Hunter takes a step toward me. His eyes flash with something harsh and fierce. He grabs me and pulls me into his chest like he can protect me.
He’s the one I need protecting from, though. He’s the natural disaster that wrecks me every time he gets too close.
Pushing his fingers into my hair, he cradles my scalp to keep my face pressed against him. Then he kisses the top of my head and says fiercely, “You belong wherever I am, Riley.”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t.”
His grip on my hair eases ever so slightly. He reconsiders, then says, “Then maybe I belong wherever you are.”
I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I don’t care, either. I’m tapped. All I want to do is go home and crawl into bed for a few hours before I have to go to work.
Pulling out of his embrace, I sniffle and tell him, “I have to go.”
“Riley,” he calls out as I turn to head toward my house.
I stop, but I don’t look back.
“Just… stay away from Sherlock, all right? I’ve known the guy for a long time, it’s easy to get caught up with him. Don’t do something you’ll regret just because you’re mad at me.”
If only he had taken his own advice, we wouldn’t be here right now.
I’m not going to make him any more promises, though.
Without a word to acknowledge he said anything, I slide my bag on my shoulder and take off down the path toward my house.
Chapter Fifty Three
Hunter
After a long, miserable fucking morning, I leave the footbridge and head home.
The wheels in my head are turning the whole way there. They don’t stop once I get there, either. I know what I have to do, I just need to make sure Sherlock stays away from Riley while I figure out how to do it.
He’s not fucking right for her, but he is a hell of a distraction.
I don’t want our relationship to take any more damage than it already has, but that picture of them today just about killed me. If Sherlock touches her, I’ll lose my fucking mind.
I won’t love her any less. I certainly won’t want her any fucking less. But I will lose my goddamn mind.
I’ll tear him apart, and with Riley between us, I know she’ll get hit with the shrapnel. She already did that night at the party, and that wasn’t an all-out war, it was just a jolt to my fucking system.
I don’t want to hurt Riley any more. I’ve hurt her enough for a couple of lifetimes. I’ve done more damage than I even intended.
I know I have my work cut out for me, but I’m not afraid of the work.
I think the problem is I’ve been trying so hard to bring Riley into my world, it didn’t occur to me that I could just invade hers. She’s comfortable there. It’s where she likes to be. I haven’t spent much time in her world, but I know she doesn’t like mine, so maybe I’m the one that needs to relocate.
Every time I’ve made progress with Riley, it’s because I marched on her world.
Every time I’ve lost her a little, it’s because I tried dragging her into mine.
It’s all so clear now, I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.
Since I’m not going back to school today, I head upstairs to do some research that actually matters.
I have practice tonight, but since I skipped school, I might blow it off. Actually, I might blow it off permanently. Fuck it. I don’t care about football, and the less I see Sherlock, the better right now.