The Boy on the Bridge

Hunter is blasé about the grand gesture he’s making, telling me, “If anyone follows, I’ll tell them to leave. It’s not a big deal, Riley.”

But it is a big deal. The confusion I predicted spreads around the popular tables. People keep looking over at us uncertainly, like they’re not sure how to react. Should they grab their trays and come sit over here with us? Do we want our privacy? What can they do that won’t make Hunter mad? His expectations of them aren’t as clear right now as they usually are, and they’re definitely uncomfortable with that.

I shake my head. “If you’re not careful, someone else might take advantage of your empty throne and try to take it from you.”

“Let ’em,” he says, as if genuinely untroubled by the prospect.

I frown. “You sound like you mean that.”

“I do. I’ve been thinking about what you said, how my popularity is more of an annoyance to you than a perk. It’s all I’ve ever known so I didn’t realize it, but lately it feels that way to me, too.” He looks at me across the table. “I can’t promise my life won’t always be a little like this, I tend to fall into certain roles no matter where I go, but it won’t always be this place, these people. Maybe we’ve outgrown high school.”

My relief at hearing him say that is so immense, I’m bowled over by it. “Really? I’ve been feeling that way, too. Not about the popularity stuff—obviously, I’m never going to be popular—but I’m so over high school at this point.”

Hunter nods. “That’s probably my fault. No part of the high school experience has been good for you. I’m sorry about that.”

I shrug. “College will be better.”

“Yes,” he agrees vehemently. “College and beyond will be infinitely better than high school.”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Daydreaming is probably more accurate terminology,” I admit, smiling faintly as I peel back the foil lid on my applesauce.

Hunter smiles at me. “Yeah?”

I nod. “I’m excited. I love to learn, and I feel like when I get to college, there will be more focus on that, less on the cliquey bullshit.”

“I’m sure there will still be cliquey bullshit, but you can stay out of it. We’ll be living on our own, embracing adulthood. Things will be different.”

“Yes.” I grin. “The only thing that could ruin next year would be if Valerie went to an in-state school and we still had to cross her path on occasion.”

Hunter shakes his head. “She wants to go to the west coast.”

I sigh happily. “Music to my ears.”

“And Sherlock has his sights set on Columbia,” he says, glancing up at me.

“Everything you’re saying right now is good.”

He smiles. “Boston’s all ours.”

I smile back, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to ask something I’ve been thinking about since all of this came up. “Do you really want to go to school in Boston, or are you just looking there because it’s where I want to go?”

“I don’t care where I go to school, Riley. You know stuff like that doesn’t matter to me.”

“I do. I also know your life is charmed,” I say, dunking the spoon into my applesauce. “You’ll probably casually make a friend at the gym and it will be some big deal at Harvard who rolls out the red carpet and literally begs you to attend their school.”

Hunter smirks. “You never know.”

I roll my eyes. “If I didn’t love you so much, it would be so easy to hate you.”

His smirk grows more devilish. “I’d just tell you ‘no’ and you’d have to stop.”

I take a bite of my applesauce, then narrow my eyes as I deliberately entice him with my lips and tongue as I pull the spoon out of my mouth—just to remind him what I’m capable of. “Don’t mock me, Hunter,” I say sweetly.

His heated gaze meets mine. “Don’t tempt me, Riley.” Patting his thigh threateningly beneath the table, he says, “I’ll tell your pretty little ass to come sit on my lap while you finish your lunch.”

I open my mouth to tell him I’d never do it, but then I remember I’m not allowed to tell him no.

He looks so smug as the realization hits me, but I have no choice but to simmer down and shoot him a look. “You don’t play fair, Maxwell.”

Looking not one bit ashamed, he says, “Correct. I play to win.”

___

Around midweek, Mom and I start shopping for cars.

It ends up being pretty easy. The blue Lexus Hunter sent me the link for is still available, and the price dropped by a few hundred dollars. It’s still way outside of my budget, but since Hunter said it was within his, we go to look at it.

The inside is so pretty and it drives so smoothly. I’m still hesitant to let him buy me such an expensive gift, but since I’m technically not allowed to refuse it, I say yes.