“Ready to go?” Logan asks softly. He’s trying to keep the tension out of his voice, but he’s failing. He wants desperately to ask me why I look like I’m hanging on by a thread. But Logan has always done everything he can to take care of me and make me happy, so I know he won’t ask.
“Yep. Were Quaid and Carter able to find any locks?” I ask.
Logan smiles. “Evidently, there are a lot of people that have the same bucket list as you, because they sell locks in almost all the gift shops around here.”
I smile then, my first real smile of the day.
Quaid comes in just then, holding the locks with a big goofy grin on his face. “Are we decorating these babies with symbols of our love?”
Carter comes in too and pantomimes throwing up, and I laugh. They all look relieved to hear the sound come out of me.
I’m suddenly aware that we are all together in a small space. Butterflies flit through my stomach as their various intoxicating smells float over me. Surely if I’m turned on, that means that I won’t be dying today, right?
“Ready to go?” I ask, and my voice comes out far breathier than intended. Carter’s eyes darken when he hears it. Logan and Quaid’s breaths heighten, and I can tell that both of them are thinking about when they can get me naked again.
Oy, we need to get out of here or else I have a feeling the bridge won’t be happening, and unfortunately, the bridge activity sounds a lot more feasible for the way I’m feeling than a romp in the sheets.
I push past the guys and walk into the living room, where I rifle through the purchases Quaid and Carter have made. To my delight, they were able to find a pack of markers to decorate the locks with. There are three locks that we will be putting on the bridge. Because although we’re all wrapped in this tragic love story, our relationships are still separate and distinct. And I want to honor that.
After decorating the locks with the guys’ joking input, we set out through the bustling streets to find the bridge. I listen tiredly as they laugh and joke with each other, and I wonder if the true miracle and happy ending for all of this will be the fact that they’re rebuilding their relationship with each other. It’s a relationship that started before I came into the picture, and I’m hoping that it will last long after I’m gone.
We get to the bridge finally. I’m going to have to ask that we get a cab on the way back, even though I love walking through the streets of this ancient city. The last thing I want to do right now is faint though.
The bridge is laden with locks. I read that the city has taken to periodically cutting off some of the locks to make room for more, but I pretend that’s not going to happen. I would like to think that this little symbol, as corny as it is, could stand the test of time.
There’s a cluster of enamored couples doing the same thing, and I smile at the sight of a teenage girl and her equally young boyfriend ecstatically placing their locks on the bridge. I know some people would look at them and think that they have so much to learn, but I’d like to believe that there are others who find their soulmates when they’re young as well.
The guys have quieted next to me, and I look over. They each have a lock in their hand, and they’re staring at it. I guess they finally saw the words I put on them when they weren’t looking. On Carter’s, I wrote ‘soul.’ On Logan’s, I wrote ‘heart.’ And on Quaid’s, I wrote ‘life.’ We had talked about it a long time ago when we were children, and I was trying to put into words what they meant to me. Judging by the looks on their faces, they remember that conversation.
I wonder if all the words we ever said to each other are engraved on their hearts the way they are on mine?
Carter clears his throat and hands me the lock he’s been holding and pulls out his phone. “I’m going to take pictures while we do this,” he explains, and I smile fondly at him. He’s been taking more pictures the last few days since the whole blowup, and I’m glad they will all have something tangible to look back on when this is all over.
I click Carter’s and my lock into place, while Quaid and Logan do the other two. The click of the lock engaging stays with me for a long moment. They are all looking at me now, and I’m afraid of what they can see.
I feel like I’m made of nothing but broken heartbeats sometimes, and I wonder if they can see that. If they can understand that.
I’d like to think they can.
Just like I’d like to think that these locks will stay on this bridge forever.
Just like I’d like to think that our love can last forever.
Chapter 6
Then
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Quaid
“Your girl is looking mighty fine in her cheerleading gear, Quaid,” Brooklyn Evans taunts, making an elaborate show of licking his lips as he stretches his arm over his head.
Instead of responding with a fist to his face as he deserves, I ignore his smug smirk completely and just keep to my warm ups. I know he’s trying to rile me up, but I’m not going to take the bait. Of course in my mind, the pompous asshole is taking one hell of a beating. I just can’t act on my urges right now. Not after what Coach announced to the team this morning.
He’s finally making me captain.
After three years of gunning for the position, working my butt off, on and off the field, to show him the gig should have always been mine to begin with, Coach has finally come to his senses. Being captain is a huge accomplishment for any player, but since it’s my senior year at Crestview and college scouts will be sitting in the bleachers, taking notes for most of our games, I need to do everything in my power to stand out. And that means getting as many touchdowns as I can, while showing I’m a team player.
The only one who is none too pleased with the change is the asshole who can’t keep his eyes off my girl as she practices her backflips with the rest of the cheerleading squad. Just like me, Brooklyn wanted the title for himself, and he could have made for a worthy contender if he wasn’t such a dick. Brooklyn might be one of the best linebackers Crestview has ever seen, but he’s a backstabbing prick who would push his own grandma into oncoming traffic if he thought it would improve his game. He only plays for himself, and that makes for a lousy teammate, let alone team captain.
“Damn!” he groans, biting his knuckles exaggeratedly, gaining a few chuckles from the guys warming up next to him. I try to ignore them as best I can, but when some of them discreetly adjust their junk, salivating at the mouth, my head snaps in Val’s direction to see what the fuck is going on. And when I do, my heart almost leaps out of my mouth, watching Val doing splits like it’s second nature to her. She’s become one hell of a gymnast. I’d be the first to praise her dedication for the sport, if her limber body wasn’t putting on a show for the guys on my team, giving them all blue balls. I know their lingering eyes on her is unintentional, but it’s too much for my jealous ass to take.
“Keep your eyes inside your eye sockets, fellas, or I’ll personally shove them back in. You feel me?” I warn with gritted teeth.
Most of my teammates go back to doing Coach’s warm-ups, afraid I’ll deliver on my threat, except for one.