The Boy on the Bridge

by Sam Mariano

  “What?”

  “He’s fucked up enough to do something like this.”

  “Why the hell would he do this?”

  “I think he likes Riley,” she says. “God knows why, but that’s what I’m hearing.”

  “From who?”

  “A few people, but mainly Melina. She has a massive infatuation with him. He was finally starting to give her the time of day, but then Riley caught his eye or something and now he’s being elusive again. She’s pissed. Hell, maybe it was her. Sherlock is the hottest guy in the photo. Makes sense if the girl who made it was hung up on him. A girl isn’t going to Photoshop the face of the guy she likes on an ugly body. She’s just not. And Melina did get a little mad at you when you were mean to her in class that one day. Maybe she’s holding a grudge for that, and simultaneously mad at Riley for stealing Sherlock’s interest.”

  Hunter sighs with annoyance.

  I frown, because he’s not really buying this crap, right?

  “I’m so fucking sick of this shit,” he says. “Why do girls put so much effort into chasing guys that don’t give a fuck about them? What’s the end game here, Valerie?”

  Valerie stammers, but recovers after a second. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Find a guy who likes you. Stop chasing ones that don’t.”

  The tone of her voice cools considerably. “I told you I’m not behind the stupid picture. Believe me or don’t, but you don’t have to be so mean.”

  “I wasn’t even being mean right then, I was giving you genuine fucking advice. I’m sick of being chased. I’m not a prize, I don’t go to whichever person can outwit the other. I’m in love with Riley, only Riley, no one else. I’m never going to be yours. Even if Riley never wanted anything to do with me for the rest of our lives, I still wouldn’t be yours.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do,” he says. “I mean it. That’s another thing, stop convincing yourself I don’t fucking mean what I say. I mean it. I don’t like you that way. At this point, I don’t like you at all. You need to stop being a bitch to Riley. I don’t know if you were behind this picture thing or not, but even if you weren’t, don’t try to pretend you didn’t feed it. You’re the one who created this hatred against her.”

  Her voice is even colder now, cutting to the quick as she tells him, “And you’re the one who made it so damn easy.”

  My stomach sinks. They’re both right.

  At least he doesn’t sound proud of himself when he says, “Yeah. I know.”

  That’s pretty much the end of the conversation. I stand there with an upset stomach as he tells her she needs to leave, that I’m here and if I come downstairs and see her here, I’m going to be pissed.

  Valerie goes, because she always does what Hunter tells her to when she knows he means business.

  I don’t move from my spot on the stairs. I have no plans to hide that I eavesdropped, I just didn’t want to get in the middle of it.

  I guess part of me also wanted to hear what they would say to each other when they didn’t know I was listening.

  Hunter sighs heavily as he closes the door. He walks past the staircase a couple of seconds later and stops when he realizes I’m standing there.

  Our gazes lock.

  My heart beats a little harder.

  Neither of us speaks.

  After a few seconds, he finally breaks the silence. With an upward tilt of his lips that could never be called a smile, he explains, “I’m her Daisy.”

  My stomach sinks.

  I don’t like him referring to himself as Valerie’s anything, but I get what he’s saying.

  He’s the idea that Valerie loves instead of a real person.

  She won’t let go, no matter how much he tries to tell her the truth. She doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want to believe it, so she lies to herself.

  She knows he has a temper. I bet it’s really easy to blame everything on that, to convince herself he doesn’t really mean it.

  And I get it. Even thinking it’s a stupid, insane thing to do to cling to someone who has no interest in you, I get hanging onto Hunter.

  Hell, I can’t let go of him, either. The difference is he likes me.

  Hunter doesn’t say anything else before he walks away, but I guess he doesn’t need to. I heard just about everything.

  I stay where I am with my back pressed against the wall. I hate that some part of me feels bad. I want to go after him and assure him he’s much more than a pretty picture for someone to tack all their hopes and dreams on.

  I’m pretty sure he knows that, but what if some part of him doesn’t?

  Despite my protective instincts toward Hunter, I find myself too conflicted to move.

  Some part of me does want to rush to his defense, but another part compels me to watch my own back.

  Hunter’s choice of homework assignment flits through my mind.

  I know he’s intelligent, but aptitude aside, Hunter Maxwell has never opted to do a harder assignment than was absolutely required of him. Where school is concerned, he skates by. He’s capable of so much more, but he’s far from an overachiever when it comes to academics.

  But for our English assignment this weekend, he chose the one that was more work.

  I’m her Daisy.

  If she’s his Gatsby, does that mean some part of Hunter was thinking of Valerie when he chose that assignment? Is it her happy ending he’s rooting for?

  If she were anyone else, I wouldn’t begrudge her his best wishes. I believe him when he says I’m the only one he’s in love with; I don’t believe he has feelings for her that are in any way a threat to what he feels for me.

  But he knows how mean she has been to me. He shouldn’t need another reason. That should be enough to kill any affection he ever harbored for her.

  I don’t care if they were friends for most of their lives. If he loves me, if he had the loyalty to me that I want, her treatment of me would be enough to sever that connection.

  After what he’s done, the way he’s played us against each other… I can’t bear for him to have any feelings for her at all.

  I’m her Daisy, he said.

  That, I could live with.

  Hunter can’t help what he is to her, but...

  I can’t bear for her to be his anything.

  ___

  Hunter takes me home after dinner. We still have an enjoyable evening, but it’s undeniably marred by what happened in the afternoon.

  Since my mom didn’t text me freaking out about it while I was at Hunter’s, I assume none of the PTO moms have seen the picture and shared it with her.

  I’m torn on what to do about it.

  On one hand, I should give her a heads up that there’s an awful picture going around in case it does get back to her.

  On the other, it’s too horrifying to describe or explain, and I don’t want to mention it.

  Maybe she’ll never find out. Even if one of the moms catches wind of it, they might be too embarrassed to share something so explicit with her.

  If I tell my mom about it, she’ll overreact. She’ll flip her shit, storm the principal’s office, demand accountability and someone’s head on a platter.

  I do like accountability, and I would like to see Valerie’s head on a platter, but I’m sure she was smart enough to make sure it couldn’t be tracked back to her. I’m sure she had one of her lackeys make it on their computer, send it from their phone the first time.

  She knows she can’t afford for Hunter to have irrefutable proof she was behind it, let alone the principal.

  And since apparently she’s trying to implicate Sherlock now, he might get dragged into it if the school launches an investigation. I don’t for one second think he had anything to do with it—he has no motive—but I don’t want to risk getting him in trouble.

  Hunter didn’t think to question Valerie or poke holes in her bullshit claims when she came over to his house and tried to plant that idea i
n his head, but only because she played on his weakness.

  She knows Hunter has already been jealous over Sherlock, jealous enough to take a swing at him during football practice. Knowing that, she probably knew her argument didn’t entirely need to make sense. All she needed to do was plant doubt, feed into the idea that Sherlock likes me, and that would distract Hunter because it was an existing concern of his.

  I’m not so easily distracted.

  I know it was her.

  Unfortunately, I also know she won’t hesitate to take people down with her.

  I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I don’t want to be at war with Valerie, I just want her to get out of my life and leave me alone.

  Even though I’ve spent much of the weekend lazing around, I’m still exhausted when I climb into bed and set my alarm for school in the morning.

  I curl up in bed alone, looking at the empty side of my bed. After falling asleep with Hunter for the last couple of nights, I feel his absence now. I miss him.

  Reckless.

  This weekend was so reckless.

  Before I fall asleep, I hear my phone vibrate on my bedside table. I open my eyes and see the room glowing from more than just the moonlight, so I roll over to check my phone.

  It’s a text from Hunter. He must not be able to sleep either.

  It reads simply, “I miss you already.”

  A faint, bittersweet smile touches my lips as I type back, “I miss you, too.”

  Chapter Fifty Two

  Riley

  The air fairly crackles when I get to school Monday morning.

  It’s been a while since I showed up and felt dozens upon dozens of people stealing glances and whispering about me. It hasn’t been like that since homecoming, when Hunter made a public stand with me.

  This is too juicy for them to pass up, though.

  I mean, it’s not often straight porn gets passed around—especially porn linked to a scandalous classmate.

  The way some of the people look at me as I walk into the school building, you’d think they really believe it was me in the picture.

  I return to my practiced routine of dodging stares and pretending not to notice as I make my way to my locker. Only, when I get there, I’m jarred out of my bubble by someone grabbing onto my arm.

  My heart stalls when I turn and see Sara standing there.

  “Oh my God, what’s going on with you and Sherlock?”

  “What?” I ask blankly.

  “I only have a minute, I’m late to class. I was going to text you, but I know things have been weird, and I know I was kind of a bitch at the party.” She looks down, but only for a second. The gossip-hound in her can’t resist getting a scoop, even if things have been weird between us. “But I’m dying. I have to know. Everyone’s talking about it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Didn’t you see the picture?”

  I roll my eyes, turning back to my locker to shove in the books I don’t need. “Of course I saw the picture. The Photoshopping was terrible. I want to believe no one is stupid enough not to realize it was Photoshopped. I need to believe that. There are different colored orbs around all of our heads, for God’s sake. There wasn’t even an attempt to make the blend seamless. Even the asshole who made the picture didn’t expect anyone to believe it was real.”

  She rolls her eyes. “No, I know obviously the picture wasn’t real, I was talking about what he did to Valerie’s car.”

  I stop rearranging my books and turn to look at her. “What?”

  She stares back in disbelief. “You haven’t heard?”

  My stomach starts twisting itself into knots. “Heard what?”

  “I mean, no one knows for sure it was him, but everyone is saying it was. No one else is crazy enough to even steal a car, let alone blow one up, but he’s a little unhinged. In the best way. It’s kind of hot. I can’t believe a guy blew up a car for you and I can barely get a text back.”

  I gape at her, not comprehending. “Sherlock blew up a car for me?”

  Sara bobs her head. “He stole Valerie’s car last night. Drove it out to a field and blew it up.”

  I can only stare, completely dumfounded. “He… blew up… Valerie’s car?”

  She nods eagerly, her eyes alight with excitement. “I can’t believe you didn’t know. Everyone is talking about it. Valerie was so angry, she started crying. I thought you’d enjoy that.” She glances back over her shoulder. “I have to get to class, but you should sit with us at lunch today. I’m dying to know more about what’s happening.”

  I stand there with my jaw hanging open as Sara turns and rushes off to class.

  I need to get to class, too, but before I head that way, I pull out my phone and open up my old text chain with Sara. I hate to ask, but I shoot off a quick text saying, “I need to know what class Sherlock has after homeroom.”

  I expect it will take her some time to get that information for me, so I slip my phone back in my purse, close my locker, and head off to homeroom with the books I need for my first couple of classes.

  ___

  When homeroom ends and we all file out into the hall, I check my phone to see if Sara messaged me back.

  “AP macroeconomics with Mr. Daly,” she said.

  I type, “Thank you!” and send it to her before heading off in search of Mr. Daly’s room.

  It’s in the opposite direction of my next class, so I’ll be late if I go after Sherlock, but I don’t know how else I’ll get to talk to him.

  I can’t talk to him about this at lunch in front of Hunter. I don’t even know if he’ll be sitting with Hunter at lunch today. Hunter has been eerily silent this morning considering I’m sure he has heard about all this by now.

  I get to Mr. Daly’s class in record time. I take a peek inside, but Sherlock’s not in there yet. I don’t know which direction he’ll be coming from, so while I hate to wait for him in such a public spot, I have no other choice but to stand against the wall and watch for him.

  Somehow, he still manages to sneak up on me.

  “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise.”

  I jump, turning my head to look at him as he approaches. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he says with a little nod of acknowledgment, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

  I push off the wall, feeling a little awkward now that he’s actually standing here.

  I made up my mind to try to find him, but somehow, I didn’t get past that. Somehow, I forgot I would actually have to speak to him, and with only a minute to spare, I should have come up with something before he was standing right in front of me.

  My stomach rocks like a ship sailing on a choppy sea.

  “Um… hi,” I say again.

  His amusement deepens. “You said that already.”

  “Right.”

  “You seem nervous,” he remarks, perfectly at ease with my nervousness.

  Dammit, I forgot how he affected me when he got me alone.

  We’re not even really alone, there are still people in the hall, but it feels like we’re alone.

  This was a mistake.

  I yearn to run away, but I should do what I came to do.

  “I heard a rumor about you,” I say quickly, unable to come up with anything else.

  “Yeah?” He shifts the canvas bag thrown over his shoulder to his hip, drawing up the flap without looking and pulling out his macroeconomics textbook. “I’ve heard a few about you, too. Rumor is, you have lovely tits. I don’t think the girl whose face I’m fucking in that tacky porn screenshot really did you justice, but I suppose that was the point, huh?”

  My heart plummets hearing him speak so crassly about my body and what “he” was doing to it in the infamous picture.

  I can feel a flush creeping up my neck, but since I’m already here, I try to keep it together. All I really want to do is turn on my heel and flee without another word, but that would be stupid. I came here for a reason. I just need to stay on track and get my a
nswers.

  “Did you do it?” I ask.

  “Fuck your face? No, not yet,” he says, his mouth tugging up with amusement.

  “Not ever,” I say, since at least this I know how to respond to. “I’m Hunter’s, remember?”

  “Are you?” he asks with a sudden frown, cocking his head. “’Cause, see, if you are, how come he’s not the one defending your honor? If I’ve gotta do it, I think maybe you’re not his. I think maybe you’re up for grabs.”

  Defend my honor?

  That sounds like an admission of guilt to me. “You actually did it, didn’t you? You stole her car and blew it up.”

  “Technically, no one blew the car up. It was doused in gasoline and set on fire. There was no explosion, but people like a dramatic retelling.”

  “Sherlock, this is serious. That’s a felony. You could get arrested.”

  He shakes his head, apparently unconcerned. “I’m not an idiot, Riley. I know how to cover my tracks. I have an alibi.” He smirks. “It’s sweet of you to worry about me, though.”

  Just when it seems like the flush can’t go any higher, heat reaches the tops of my ears. My chest feels tight, like I can’t even breathe properly. I look down for a moment to gather my bearings, then raise my gaze back to his. “Why would you do that?”

  He shrugs, not saying a word, just looking at me with those hypnotic eyes of his.

  As they bore into me, I realize they look different again today. At first glance they were blue. The night of the party with that predatory light in them, they were the color of hard steel. But now, looking into them, I see even more detail I didn’t notice before.

  His eyes look greener today. There’s a burnt brown ring around the pupil with a lighter golden hue encircling it like fanned flames. Beyond that, his eyes are an oceanic color that goes from light to dark, but I think it’s that golden ring that gives them such depth, that makes him so hard to look away from. His eyes are like an inferno bursting outward, warning the poor soul drifting into his depths, “if you play with fire, you’re going to get burned.”

  Since he hasn’t answered my question, I prod him a bit. “I mean, I know you said you don’t like her, but enough to do this? What has she ever done to you?”