The Boy on the Bridge

I don’t know if Anderson has heard about that, we haven’t mentioned Hunter again, but I do know avoiding the subject will never foster closeness between us. If this is how he’s going to approach our second chance, it’ll likely end before anyone even finds out we tried again.

I also have a message from a local number that isn’t saved in my phone. I scowl at the prospect of a stranger texting me and check that one first.

“Are you home tonight?” the message reads.

I scowl harder and type back, “Who is this?” Then I navigate back to my main message screen so I can read the ones I missed from Sara.

The first couple of messages are commentary about our English assignment and the painful reading experience Mrs. Dowd is forcing on us. I’m ready to send back a sympathetic, “Ugh, I know,” but since I was away from my phone for so long, I missed my chance. Sara has already finished her homework and moved on to cyber stalking, apparently. She sends me another screenshot from social media. It’s a post by someone neither of us really knows, but she’s apparently in my English class with Hunter.

My eyes widen when I see a picture of me with the Chanel bag on my desk and Hunter standing right beside it. The way the photo was timed, it looks like I’m reaching into the bag and drawing out the purse—I was actually putting the purse back into the bag—and Hunter is watching me open the present he bought me.

Her caption reads:

When the hottest guy in school buys you the classiest handbag

#boyfriendgoals #notjealousatall #HunterMaxwellhasgreattaste #BetHeTastesGreatToo ;) #ImSingleIfShesNotInterested #jk #notreally #callme

“Oh my God, what?” I mutter, swiping the picture off my screen and going back to Sara’s message.

“Did I miss something?” Sara demands. “Are you and Hunter a thing now? And you told me he bought you a replacement purse, you didn’t tell me he bought you a $3,500 freaking Chanel bag. Am I getting the abridged version of your life now? What is going on?”

My eyes widen at the price. I’m not sure where she’s getting that number from. I certainly hope he didn’t spend $3,500 on a purse.

I guess he can, but… I can’t fathom that. I could buy a car with that much money.

“No, we’re not a thing,” I text back. “And I like how that girl is just blatantly offering herself up to Hunter in her hashtags. Classy.”

Sara texts back instantaneously. “Jealous?” she teases with a winking emoji.

“I’m not jealous,” I text back.

“You sound jealous.”

I narrow my eyes at the screen, but before I can type back a response, I get another text from the unknown number.

“It’s Hunter. I bought a prepaid phone to text you from since you blocked my number. It’s slow as fuck. I have newfound respect for drug dealers. I don’t know how anyone could possibly use this as their primary phone.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You bought a second phone just to get around being blocked? If I block this number, do you already have a third?”

“Charged up and ready to go, but don’t be too impressed. These burner phones are straight trash, but they’re also incredibly cheap. I can keep buying new ones if you keep blocking me. And I will. You know I will.”

“You’re exhausting,” I inform him.

“There’s an easy solution,” he texts back. “You could just unblock my number.”

Instead of doing that, I tap a few times and block that number, too.

Sighing, I drop my phone on the mattress and walk over to my bedroom closet. I dig out the black Chanel shopping bag and carry it over to my bed.

Even though I didn’t want to keep Hunter’s gifts, I brought the purses home with me. I didn’t know what else to do with them. I couldn’t leave them under my desk.

I haven’t looked at them again, though. I stashed the shopping bags in my closet and hoped Mom didn’t do laundry when I wasn’t home.

Now that I’m alone in the privacy of my room, I sit on my bed and draw out the pretty Chanel purse Hunter picked out for me. Without an audience, I don’t feel awkward opening the purse and checking out the inside.

I drop the bag in my lap and reach for the wallet he bought to go with it. I run my fingers over the soft calfskin, then open it up.

Hunter said he put some cash inside for me, but I didn’t check to see how much. Now I finger through the bills and see he provided me with $200—which is about $182 more than I had in my old wallet.

I take the money out and set it on my bed. I shouldn’t keep it, but I’m tempted to give it to my mom and tell her to put it towards bills this month. We’re always on such a tight budget, I’m sure it would take some of the stress off her shoulders.