The Boy on the Bridge - Page 117

Anderson appears not to be the least bit interested in my theorizing. His tone verging on annoyed, he says, “I don’t think Valerie’s that bad. I think you want to think she is because she’s dating Hunter.”

I blink at him. “Excuse me? She ostracized Sara for having epilepsy—that’s terrible person material, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with Hunter.”

“And now she’s taking Sara to homecoming,” he points out. “Shit happens. People get over it and move on. Not you, I guess, but most people.”

I do not appreciate his tone. His defense of Valerie Johnson is even more repellant. He knows by now how she treated me over the years, and I never did a thing to her.

Well, I slept with Hunter at the party, but before that I hadn’t—and I didn’t know she was with Hunter that night. Even hating her, I wouldn’t have done that if I would’ve known. That was on Hunter, not me.

Yet again, Anderson isn’t on my side, so I fold my hands on my lap and watch out the window rather than talk to him.

When we get to the school, a lot of people are already there. As we make our way toward the gym, a few people congratulate Anderson on the team’s big win last night.

The gymnasium is all set up for the dance, so it’s dark, but with colorful uplighting like we’re at a wedding.

There’s a well-lit backdrop set up for pictures when we first walk in. HOCO is emblazoned on a sign in the middle.

There’s a short line. I don’t want to talk to Anderson, so I look around while we wait.

The homecoming dance isn’t as big as prom will be, but it’s still a pretty classy set-up. There’s food and drinks, and tables around the dance floor for people to sit at if they need a break.

I spot Valerie in the crowd and my stomach drops. She looks stunning in a formfitting, low-cut, red sparkly gown with a slit up the thigh. Her blonde hair is styled in a fancy up-do, and she has a big grin on her face as she chats up a few people.

Hunter is right by her side. He looks incredible, but bored. You can tell he’s much more at ease here than everyone else. We’re all dressed up and playing pretend tonight, but the casual way Hunter carries himself, I get the impression he probably spent time in more impressive environments than this when he was in Italy and he doesn’t see what all the fuss is about.

The suit he’s wearing fits him like a glove. It’s black with red accents, and it makes me feel stupid for even thinking Anderson looked nice earlier.

Anderson looks like he’s going to church with his grandma. Hunter looks like he’s waiting for the GQ photographer to show up so he can do the shoot and get the fuck out of here.

I also want to get the fuck out of here. I wish I could go with him.

Shaking off that errant thought, I try to shift my focus back on what I’m doing, but there’s no point. I don’t want to get my photo taken with Anderson. I wish Sara were here like we planned.

Sara.

She came with Valerie, so I glance back over there, but I don’t see her with Hunter and Valerie. There are so many people crowded around them, maybe I’m just missing her in the crowd, but the photographer says, “Next,” so I don’t have time to check more thoroughly.

Our pose feels stiff. It’s probably my fault. I’m mad at Anderson and I don’t want his arms around me, so I can’t muster much of a smile.

I’m already miserable and we just got here.

I shouldn’t have come tonight. I knew it would be a bad time. At least then Anderson might have asked someone else and maybe he would’ve had a better time.

The jerk.

“Are you thirsty?” he asks.

Why don’t you go ask Valerie?

Ugh, I’m grumpy.

Needing to get away from him, I turn around and tell him, “I’m gonna go see if I can find Sara.”

“All right. I’ll catch up with my friends, then. Come find me when you’re done.”

I nod and veer off into the crowd.

As soon as I’m a few feet away from him, I feel like I can breathe again. I’m still not excited to be here, but the claustrophobic squeezing has let up.

Unfortunately, since Sara came with Valerie and her crew, finding her means approaching them.

I try to keep my distance and check the perimeter instead of throwing myself right in front of their crosshairs, but Hunter notices me. I can tell by the slight shift in his posture, then he looks at me, his eyes dark, and my stomach does a somersault.

Heat creeps up my neck. I feel cornered even though he’s a good 10 feet away. Several people stand between us, but they seem to disappear when he looks at me. He doesn’t look away, either. Makes it hard to breathe.

Tags: Sam Mariano Romance
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