by Adam Kunz
My shoulder suddenly collides with someone, and I turn to apologize. I stop myself short when I’m met by Gunnar’s sneer. Perfect. This is the exact person I wanted to run into right now.
“Watch where you’re going, you little nark,” he says.
“Why don’t you just drop dead, Gunnar,” I respond while walking past him. I hear him make a snide comment behind me, but instead of retaliating with words, I just flip him off as I continue to move away.
The sign for the newspaper’s booth comes into view when I turn the corner and move into the next aisle. I smile when I see Parker sitting underneath it, suavely leaning back in a chair with his feet propped up on the table and a contented look on his face.
“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight,” he comments when I reach the booth.
“Where’s everyone else? And wait, our booth is a dunk tank? When was this discussed?”
“I think at the last meeting. Wow, did my kiss wreck your memory that bad? I always knew it would be a weapon for evil one day,” he laughs.
I appreciate the fact he’s trying to lighten the situation, but seriously? I guess I’m dealing with stereotypical guy Parker tonight.
“So, do you want to be the dunkee or the ball passer-outer?” he asks with a grin, holding up two softballs at waist height in front of him.
“I’ll pass out the balls, thank you very much.”
“Have it your way,” he states as he sets the balls on the table off to the side and begins to unbuckle his belt. I roll my eyes when he starts humming a horrible rendition of a sexy stripper song as he undresses.
“What are you doing?” I ask, finding it hard to keep a straight face.
“You don’t expect me to get dunked fully clothed, do you? Besides can you really blame me for wanting to give you a little show? Consider this like the coming attractions.”
“You’re such a dork.”
“I know, but you love me anyway.”
A blush creeps up my cheeks at the mere mention of that word from his lips. It begins to deepen when Parker drops his pants, revealing his red boxer-briefs with a black waistband. I’m seriously having a hard time holding back my enjoyment of this view. His legs are perfectly toned, not too muscular and not too skinny, just right.
Parker slowly starts to unbutton his shirt, toying with me at each button. I’m just glad we’re in the back corner of the gym so no one else can see what he’s doing right now.
“Will you just get undressed already,” I say, but I secretly wish he’d go slower.
“If that’s what you want,” he replies, and then rips open his shirt, unveiling his sleeveless white undershirt. His arms tense as he balls up the dark blue flannel he just removed and throws it at me. The scent of his cologne flows through the air when I catch the shirt. My mouth begins to water, wanting to devour his. He doesn’t even have to flex his muscles to have them ripple with every one of his movements. I’m not sure if I’m drooling right now, but I wipe the edges of my mouth just in case.
Then a thought hits me as I see Parker heading toward the dunk tank. If someone knocks him in, he’ll be wet from head to toe, not leaving much to the imagination. Of course, from where I’m standing, he might not even need to get wet for that to happen. Tonight could prove to be quite entertaining indeed, and a welcome distraction from all the drama.
I begin to imagine water coursing all over his body, plastering his shirt to his perfectly-molded chest and abs. Then his boxer-briefs hugging his beautiful legs even closer, and—
“Ready to do this?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I feel embarrassed, as if he actually heard me thinking out loud. My reply sounds like English to my ears, but if Parker’s face is any indication, it was most likely gibberish.
“Yeah,” I say clearly this time.
“All right, then. Let’s get moist,” he comments, clapping his hands together.
I roll my eyes at his comment as I take my position next to the dunk tank line and he gets situated in his seat.
Looking off to the right, I see Rory with the rest of the swim team a few booths down from ours. Talk about not leaving anything to the imagination. The whole team is standing there in nothing but swim caps and Speedos. Serious swoon alert. Naturally, the booth is surrounded by girls, but I do notice a couple of guys posted up, talking to Rory. I recognize one of them as a guy Rory’s been crushing on for a while now. He goes to our rival high school and also happens to be a swimmer. The giant smile on Rory’s face tells me everything I need to know about how he’s feeling right now.
“Hey you two.” Phoebe’s voice sounds from in front of me.
“What’s up, sis,” Parker calls out, but he’s muffled by the wall of plastic he’s perched behind.
I clam up for some reason. I’m still not completely comfortable being around both of them at the same time, especially since she’d destroy me if she found out about our recent intimacies. The video of Parker and me begins playing in my head, making the situation even more awkward.
“Hey, Phoebe.”
“So, what have you guys been up to? Making out or something?” she asks with a laugh.
“Phoebe, seriously?” I can’t believe she just went there.
“I was only kidding. Lighten up. Besides, Parker’s girlfriend would kill him if he even as much looked at another girl. She’s a little too possessive for my taste. Wouldn’t you agree, brother?” Phoebe asks.
I turn to see Parker looking at me wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights. I’m having the hardest time trying to keep it together and not erupt in a fit of rage toward him.
Swallowing down the betrayal and boiling anger rushing through me, I reply, “She must be really nice though, right?”
I turn to look back at Parker. He seems mortified, but he stays put—probably since that wall of thick plastic is the only thing separating us right now. He looks like he wants to say something, but with Phoebe there, I know why he hasn’t yet.
“Yeah, she’s nice. A little young, though. She’s a freshman,” Phoebe answers with a wave of her hand.
“Really? Oh that Parker. He definitely has a thing for younger women, huh?” I say, sending another death glare his way.
“I guess so,” she laughs, clearly oblivious to the tension that’s occurring right in front of her face. Phoebe wasn’t always the most observant one in the bunch. I mean, it took her physically seeing Parker and me making out to realize we were together back in the day.
“Hey, Phoebe, will you excuse me for one second? I see someone I desperately need to talk,” I say, pointing down the row of booths in front of us.
Turning, I see Parker making an attempt to move from his seat, probably to come talk to me. I rear back and wind up one of the softballs in my hand, hurling it right at the target. A bell chimes as it crashes into the bullseye. The seat under Parker releases, dropping him into the freezing cold water below. A sly smirk appears on my face as I revel in what I just did. He pops up from the water, completely drenched. The miserable look in his big baby blues, almost makes me feel like complete shit. Almost.
Phoebe erupts into a fit of laughter. “Nice arm, Dani.”
“Yeah, nice throw,” Parker comments, not taking his eyes off me.
Handing the other ball to Phoebe, I walk off, not even taking a moment to look back at Parker. I’m so heated right now, I can’t stand it. All I want to do is scream, “You’re so stupid, Dani,” but I can’t. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself.
Feeling someone grab my hand, I turn to see it’s Kevin. Perfect. Just what I need.
“Hey, where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“Bathroom,” I reply, trying to move away.
“Liar. You’re upset. I can tell,” he argues, clearly seeing through my bullshit. That’s one thing Kevin has always been able to do.
“Fine, you caught me. I just need to get out of here for a sec, okay? There’s a lot going on, and I just need to clear my head,”
I reply, ripping my hand from his grip.
“Dani, I can explain,” I hear Parker say as he comes up behind me. I turn to see him standing there dripping wet. For a split second, I feel sorry for him because he looks cold, but that only lasts for a second. I’m so mad at him right now that not even his amazing body and good looks are enough to suppress my flame.
Kevin steps between Parker and me, blocking Parker’s access. They both just stand there, breathing heavily like two bulls in a standoff with me representing the bright red cape.
“Seriously, both of you just need to chill. I’m not in the mood to talk right now, all right?”
“I can explain, okay?” Parker pleads over Kevin’s shoulder.
“You heard her. She doesn’t want to talk, asshole,” Kevin replies.
Before I have a chance to see the result of that exchange, I move away. They can slug it out if they want, but right now I don’t trust either of them.
“Dani!” I hear Parker call out over the crowd. Stupidly, I turn around to see him rushing over to me with Kevin right on his heels.
“Will you both just leave me the hell alo—”
The guttural yell above my head draws my attention to the rafters of the gym. In the blink of an eye, a shape moves through my field of vision, landing with a sickening thud on the ground in front of me. Then there’s this deafening silence that flows through the room. Something’s splattered across my face, but it takes a few moments for me to realize what I just witnessed. My whole body is in shock from the scene before me. I don’t even hear the screams from the crowd right away.
A body lays there on the ground, motionless, with a pool of blood forming around it. Bringing my hands to my face, I wipe off some of the wet substance and look at it.
It’s blood…it’s this person’s blood…on my face.
Chapter Eighteen
“It’s Gunnar,” someone cries from the gathering crowd.
“Gunnar?” I whisper, still dazed and not quite believing what I’m seeing right in front of me.
Parker grabs me by the shoulders and I glance at his concerned face, but then I pan back down to Gunnar’s body. Everything Parker is trying to tell me sounds like a hum in my ears. All I hear clearly are the sobs moving through the crowd of people near me. It feels like the scene around me is passing by in slow motion.
One of the teachers bends down next to Gunnar in order to check his pulse. “He’s dead,” the teacher says.
“Dani? Dani?” Parker’s voice finally gets through. “You need to clean yourself off.”
I nod and allow him to lead me to the restrooms just outside the gym. He opens the door and ushers me in, telling me that he’ll be right outside.
Looking in the mirror, I see the blood smeared across my face. My clothes have a few spots, as well. I don’t even look like me right now in the reflection. My pupils are completely dilated in the dim bathroom light, and my skin looks pale against the deep red color of the drying blood. I reach up to touch my face to make sure the image is mine and notice my hands shaking.
Parker’s voice comes through the cracked open door. “How are you doing in there?”
“I don’t know,” is all I can say as I continue to stare at my reflection.
“Do you need me to come in?” His voice is oddly comforting.
“No.”
Snapping out of my zombie-like state, I turn on the faucet and grab a few paper towels from the dispenser. I wet them and begin cleaning my face, one stroke at a time. The more blood I clean off, the more I begin to return to normal. Well, at least as normal as I can feel after what happened. My skin starts to look bright red and raw as I continue to wipe faster and harder, trying to clean my face as quickly as I can before I have a chance to freak out.
The last conversation I had with Gunnar begins replaying in my mind. I remember how angry I was with him, but I never would’ve wanted him dead. Not even after being the complete jerk that he was.
With my face cleaned off, I gaze down at the blood on my clothes. I want to rip them off and throw them away. I feel so dirty and unclean, but I just stand there staring, frozen.
The familiar chime of my message notification rings throughout the still bathroom, sounding loud in my ears. Bringing up the message, I see it’s from Unknown:
Looks like someone knocked Pretty Boy off his pedestal. You’re welcome.
I stiffen again while looking at the text. Dropping the phone onto the counter, I crumple down to rest on the floor. A tear slides down my face when I realize I was the cause of Gunnar’s death. This was all a part of this sick bastard’s game, and I’m the pawn being moved around the board. What am I going to do? I feel so helpless.
“Parker,” I struggle to call out. When he doesn’t respond, I dig deep and try again. “Parker!”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he answers.
“Unknown killed him,” I murmur.
“What?” he asks, but when I don’t respond, he says, “I’m coming in, okay?”
The next thing I know Parker’s kneeling in front of me, trying to get me to look at him.
“Unknown killed him,” I repeat. “That unknown fucker killed him.”
“How do you know that?” he asks, his words laced with anxiety. “They were saying that it was an accident. A teacher asked him to fix the festival banner because it was crooked—at least, that’s what they’re saying.”
I reach up and grab my phone before proceeding to press it into his chest. “Check the last message.”
I watch as he unlocks the screen, but the look he sends me right after isn’t very reassuring. “The last message was from me.”
“Shit. Unknown erased it already?” I ask in frustration, snatching the phone from Parker’s hands, wanting to make sure the text really wasn’t there. “I’m so tired of this! What did I do to deserve this?”
“Nothing. You did nothing to deserve this, Dani.”
I want to be angry with him about the whole girlfriend thing, but when he does stuff like this, it makes me want to forgive him. How can someone be so caring and yet be such a scumbag liar at the same time?
“We should talk to your dad. No matter the consequences. This is getting completely out of hand, and I don’t want to see anything happen to you,” he says, gently pulling me to be closer to him.
I want to push him away, but I can’t bring myself to do it. He’s the only one who knows what I’m going through, and if I don’t have him, I have no one.
The flashing lights from the sheriff’s cars and ambulance fill our vision as we emerge from the girls’ bathroom. A large group of students and teachers are gathered around the area just outside the gym’s doors. A few deputies are making everyone step back while they cordon off the area.
“It looks like we might be talking to your dad sooner than I thought,” Parker comments.
I see my father rushing over to us with a look of concern on his face. For once, he doesn’t look pissed or upset to see me. He seems genuinely worried.
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Why haven’t you answered your phone?” he asks, grabbing me in a hug and holding on to me for dear life. “I was so worried when I heard what happened, and that you were right there when the boy fell.”
“I’m okay, Dad. My phone must have just been acting up,” I reply, returning his hug.
Pulling away from me, he scans my face and then looks down at my clothes. “Is that blood?”
“Yeah,” I reply quietly.
“Oh my God, Dani. Are you sure you’re okay? You know sometimes when people see things like this, they go into shock,” he says, peering into my eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little shaken up,” I lie. I can’t pull myself to tell him the truth. I glance over at Parker and he gives me a look. I know he wants me to tell my dad what happened.
“Parker, what are you doing here?” my father asks.
“I’m assisting with the school’s newspaper, and I was asked to help with their booth tonight
,” he replies.
“He’s Mr. Whitman’s assistant for the semester, Dad,” I state when I see the confusion on his face.
“Oh, I see. Well, thank you for taking care of my daughter, but I think I’ve got it from here.”
“But Dad—”
He cuts me off. “Don’t but Dad me. I’m taking you home, now.” Shaking Parker’s hand, “Thanks again. You should probably go report what you witnessed to Deputy Samson before you head home, all right?”
“Sure thing,” Parker says, and flashes me another quick look.
I know exactly what he’s trying to tell me through that look, but this isn’t the time to just blurt out that my psycho stalker just killed Gunnar—like he’d believe me or Parker, anyway.
“Later, Dani,” Parker calls out to me as my father and I begin to walk away. All I do is glance back and then continue moving forward as my dad drapes his sheriff’s jacket around my shoulders.
“I’ll drive you home. You can pick up your car tomorrow. I don’t trust your nerves with driving right now,” he explains as we stroll toward his cruiser.
“I’ll be fine driving home. You don’t have to baby me.”
“Will you just stop arguing and get in the car,” he states with a sense of exhaustion as he pulls open the passenger door to his vehicle.
“Fine,” I murmur, plopping down into the seat.
“Thank you.”
As we pull away from the school, I fidget with the hem of my blouse while staring down at the splotches of dried blood. I want to talk to my dad about what really happened, but I’m scared he’ll just say I’m being silly or something. He’s already had that reaction before, so what would make this time any different?
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah,” he replies, concentrating on the road ahead.
I pause for a moment to really consider if I want to continue with my question. I want him to believe me so much and realize that I’m actually in danger here. I only wish I had concrete evidence, since that seems to be the only way he’ll believe me.
Mustering the courage, I begin again. “If I were to tell you something that might sound completely crazy, would you believe me?”
