Lana: Lose. The. Shirt.
Hunter: What if I say no?
Lana: You leave here in handcuffs and even your daddy won’t be able to explain what you were doing breaking into a locked drawer. Especially seeing as you’ve already had a brush with the police this year. Rape charges, right?
Hunter: They were dropped. And if I say yes?
Lana: Sailor drops out of the race, and I leave you to pick up the pieces. Although I must say, I’m the better option.
Hunter: Let’s agree to disagree. Just so you know, I’m not going to fuck you, kiss you, or touch you. So let’s get that out of the way.
Lana: (laughs) I’m all set in that department. Save your charity fucks for someone who needs them, like Sailor. Playing pretend is enough. She’ll be coming here soon. Lose the shirt, stud.
I stopped the recording again, raising an eyebrow. If that wasn’t sufficient proof I hadn’t been porking her archenemy, I didn’t know what was. Problem was, I couldn’t exactly relay all this shit to her on the phone or via text messages. Because, illegal.
She chewed on the skin around her thumbnail, then shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.
“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Another month together wouldn’t have done us any good. Not me, anyway. I am already in l—” She stopped herself, breathing hard, realizing what she was about to say.
“You’re what?” I pressed. “What did you want to say?”
“Never mind. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We had a month left, and I don’t want it. You’re free of the contract. I’m sure your father has already told you your inheritance won’t be affected.”
My father didn’t tell me shit, actually, since I’d been dodging his and my mother’s calls since this blew up, but whatever. I didn’t have time to correct her. I wanted to tell her so many things. But when she hopped down from the hood and made her way to her car, I couldn’t stop her.
Couldn’t stop her because she was right. A few more weeks wouldn’t matter.
Right because sure, I didn’t sleep with anyone else, but that hadn’t meant I wasn’t a dick to her a million other times.
Right because she had bigger fish to fry. Namely Junsu and Lana.
She got into her car. I had this idea to do what I’d threatened to do all those months ago, when I first came here to corner her—stand behind her car and stop her from leaving. I no longer believed she would run me over, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to be a self-serving piece of shit.
If she didn’t want to be with me, I couldn’t force her.
And that realization hit me like a ten-ton brick.
As soon as her car raced out of the parking lot, I took my phone out and texted her. Figured she’d be quick to lift my block once she knew I had information that could be useful to her regarding Lana and Junsu. Turned out, I was right.
Hunter: A few more weeks. Come on. For old times’ sake.
Sailor: Sorry. You don’t fit into my world anymore.
Hunter: I’m not a fucking loveseat, Sailor.
Hunter: Although…
Sailor: I know, I know, I can sit on your face anytime.
Hunter: Dick, too. <3
Sailor: Stop texting me.
Seven years ago
I raced through the thick of the woods, the moss and winter mud soft beneath my feet. My boots sank deeper into the muck with each step I took, and I fought against the weight of gravity, desperate to flee. Footsteps splashed fast and swift behind me. My heart smashed against my ribcage, like a prisoner shaking the bars. Let me out, it screamed.
It was a mistake—an awful, unfortunate mistake.
The dog wasn’t supposed to be there. The range had been completely empty before I drew the arrow, blindfolded and laughing.
And laughing.
And laughing.
And laughing.
The moment played in my head, over and over again. Fellow students asked if I could do it. I said I could. I knew I could. Someone wrapped their bandana over my eyes tightly. Then they put him there when I couldn’t see. Tied him to the target using ropes they stole from a nearby ranch. The helpless yelp was my first clue. The last breath he drew, crying as the arrow pinned him to the target. The blood across the bullseye. The chunks of his flesh. I ripped the bandana from my face, letting out a scream. All the others were laughing.
They called Lana. “Your dog,” they said. “She killed him.”
I ran faster when I thought about her face, her tears. I heard the sound of additional footsteps ricocheting through the tall trees. Boots. Splashes. Calls.
More people were coming.
My mother’s voice, shrill and panicked, echoed my name. “Sailor!”
I focused on the horizon, the tall pine trees and dark green wilderness. I had this idea in my head that my parents would stop loving me if they knew what I’d done.