“Sure you will,” he says, his tone so certain, my whole body stiffens. “How you hurt him? That’s the only part that’s up to you. Cutting him loose now is the merciful option. If you don’t… Mark my words, Riley. I will drag him through Hell.”
His words give me pause. I think of lunch, Hunter sending Wally over to retrieve Anderson, then not even letting him sit at their table. It was a small thing, but it was only a sample. A warning shot to let me know if he wants to push Anderson around, he can without even lifting a finger.
I recall Hunter’s mom telling me how he bullied his former best friend so badly, the kid switched schools. What if he does that to Anderson? He could. I’ve seen the social power Hunter and Valerie have, how they can exile people over nothing, and the whole school will turn a blind eye to how horrible they’re being and go right along with it.
School has been shitty for me ever since Hunter left, and I don’t even care much about all of this. Being banished to social Siberia didn’t hurt me the way it might somebody else.
Somebody like Anderson. He’s an affable, sociable guy. He’s accustomed to having friends, and I’m not sure how he would respond to being shunned, let alone outright bullied.
Would he be able to cope with it as well as Sara and I have?
Irritation etched across my features, I look over at him. “Your grudge is against me, Hunter. I’m the one who told your secret. I’m the one who got you shipped out of the country. Anderson hasn’t done a damn thing to you. Why would you do this to him?”
“He’s in my way,” he says simply.
I search his hard-eyed countenance for some flicker of the wounded, lovable boy I knew in middle school, but I don’t find him. The Hunter looking back at me is immovable and unforgiving, completely unapologetic as he holds my gaze.
I know he’s not bluffing.
If I don’t break up with Anderson, Hunter will make me wish I had.
I don’t know what to do, what to say. My brain is working quickly, trying to come up with something, but I don’t know how to accomplish everything I want to accomplish.
I don’t want to hurt Anderson, but I don’t want to sic Hunter on him, either. I hate relenting to a bully, but I’m not so stubborn that I’ll dig in when I know that will do more harm to everyone involved.
I was even thinking about breaking up with Anderson before, so… maybe I should just do it.
Hunter’s terms aren’t fair and I doubt I’ll go along with anymore of them, but it probably would be best to push Anderson out of his line of fire. Whatever goes down, it’s between Hunter and me. Nobody else needs to get hurt.
Seeming to sense my impending surrender, Hunter stands and turns his chair back around, preparing to leave.
“There’s a party after the game tomorrow night. It’s at Valerie’s house. The whole team will be there with their girlfriends. You can come with Evan—it’ll be a good place to dump him. Nice and public, just in case he doesn’t take it well and you need me to step in,” he says with a wink.
“I am not breaking up with Anderson with you around watching and enjoying it,” I say pointedly, since now I know he is deliberately getting his name wrong. “If I break up with him, I will do it my own way.”
“Well, that’s up to you, just make sure you do it tomorrow. You have until the end of the party to dump him. He leaves alone, you leave with me.”
My heart skips a beat at that last line. I meet his gaze, searching for something—anything—real, but his mask is in place, his expression cool and controlled. I can’t tell what he’s really thinking.
I swallow, trying not to think too hard about what he’s demanding.
I’m sure he doesn’t mean it the way it sounded. It’s probably just about embarrassing Anderson, maybe even me. When he says I’ll leave with him, I’m sure he doesn’t mean….
Either way, hearing him say it makes my stomach rock with a boatful of butterflies.
“This isn’t the way to get me to leave with you, Hunter.”
Ignoring my good sense, he says, “Those are my terms. No negotiating.”
“And if I refuse?”
He keeps his gaze locked on me as a dark smile passes across his face. “Then I stop playing nice.”
He doesn’t linger to detail what that means, but he doesn’t need to. I can see the promise of destruction in the depths of his beautiful brown eyes.
The moment ends as abruptly as it began—and at Hunter’s discretion.
He drops my gaze and turns to leave, but before he goes, he says, “See you at the party, Catnip. Wear something cute.”
Chapter Nineteen
Riley
Early the next morning, I meet Anderson for breakfast before school starts.
There’s a lot weighing on my mind today.
Hunter’s words from the library have me twisted up in knots, exactly as he intended. He was hot and cold, mean and friendly, and then after threatening me and promising to wreak havoc on Anderson as long as he remained my boyfriend, after all that ugliness… he called me Catnip.
There was no sign of the boy I knew until he decided to drop that breadcrumb.
He’s so fucking clever, I almost respect it, but I also want to smack him.
I have a lot of feelings, and they’re all twisted up. Every last one of them.
Now I have to break up with Anderson, and I’m not looking forward to it, though I’ll admit this is the thing I am least conflicted about doing today. I’m not psyched that my main reason for doing this is “because Hunter told me to,” but I know it’s more than that. I was entertaining the idea of breaking up with Anderson before Hunter got involved. If anything, Hunter being a jerk about it poked my defiant streak and made me want to stay with Anderson, even knowing I probably shouldn’t.
I can’t do that to Anderson, though. It wouldn’t be fair.
I just think maybe Anderson and I aren’t right for one another. I want a different kind of boyfriend than him, and he would probably have a better relationship with someone…
Well, with someone who didn’t lie in bed all night wondering what Hunter meant by “you’ll leave with me.”
But also just someone lighter than me. I don’t think I’m especially dark and heavy, but I am too much for Anderson.
All things considered, I just don’t think we’re a good fit. It’s nobody’s fault, we just don’t work. That’s what I’m going to tell him.
At least, that’s my plan until Anderson shows up at the restaurant already looking like he just lost his best friend.
He doesn’t even speak to me at first beyond a monotone, “Hey,” as he takes a seat in the booth across from me.
A waitress comes over before we get a chance to talk. She pours me coffee and takes Anderson’s drink order, then she says she’ll give us a minute.
Testing the waters, I wrap my hands around my coffee mug and try to catch his gaze. “Is everything okay?”
“No, not really.”
My heart thuds guiltily, but I try not to jump to conclusions. “What’s wrong?”
“My dog got hit by a car.”
Oh no.
I inhale sharply. That was the last thing I expected him to say, but my heart swells up with sympathy for him.