Chapter 6
A week later and Bridger’s leg was completely healed. The pixie’s concoction had worked within a day, but Bridger kept the bandage in place, just in case anyone noticed the miraculous recovery. He hadn’t lived down the whole incident, but at least the rumors had diminished.
As for work, Bridger was about three pages into the book Pavel gave him. It was boring and dry, and Bridger had schoolwork to keep up with, so memorizing had taken a back seat. It’s not as though it mattered. Since the mermaids and the apothecary, Bridger had been relegated to newspapers and books and other boring things. Nia and Bran aside, the closest Bridger had come to a myth was in writing, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Pavel was keeping it that way.
There was a lot Bridger didn’t know, but he was an observer of others by nature, and he could see the exhaustion in Pavel’s expressions and the tension in his shoulders. There was more going on than Pavel let on, but Bridger was new to the team and hadn’t found his footing. He needed to work on that.
Contrary to popular belief, Bridger rarely did anything he cared about halfway. Yes, okay, he sucked at soccer, but that was because he didn’t have an undying love for the sport. He did have an undying love of knowledge, thus the many nights of Jeopardy watching. Facts were his hobby, and, while the myth guide book was mind-numbing, being in the presence of Nia and Bran and Elena was… well, it was surreal. The tingle of magic over his skin when he walked through the ward was like nothing he’d ever felt. There was a whole other world he had no experience with, and he wanted that experience. He wanted that experience so much.
School, too, had become interesting. Leo continued to join Bridger, Astrid, and the field hockey team at lunch, and Bridger managed to not embarrass himself. They talked and flirted, and it was awesome, though Homecoming was not brought up again, which was probably for the best since Leo was destined to be Homecoming king.
But because of Leo, Bridger had an actual social life. He still hung out with Astrid whenever she was available, but he also had invitations to other activities from Leo’s group of friends. He had only attended one so far, an after-school study session, but it had been fun. It was different and cool.
“Hey,” Leo said, jogging to catch up to Bridger between classes.
“Hey.” Bridger opened his locker and exchanged notebooks. “What’s up?”
“A bunch of us are going to the movies tonight,” Leo said, hands in his pockets. “Do you want to come?”
Bridger dropped his books. All of them. Every single one fell into a heap at his feet.
“Uh,” he said, falling to his knees to grab them. He shoved them into his bag; his brain vacillated between terror and joy. His sympathetic nervous system was on full alert, waiting to respond at the slightest hint of whether to freeze or run.
Leo knelt next to him and helped Bridger gather his books. His body was so close; his warmth was tangible; his brown eyes shone with mirth; his scent filled Bridger’s head.
“What—” Bridger cleared his throat. “What movie?”
“I don’t know. Some horror thing. But since Coach let us off practice today, a bunch of us are going. I thought it’d be fun if you came along and shared my popcorn.”
“Oh,” Bridger said. His throat was tight, and he couldn’t keep the loopy smile from his face. He imagined sitting in a dark theater next to Leo and grabbing his hand during a particularly frightening scene. His pulse raced. “That would be great. Awesome even. I’d love to.”
Leo grinned, nervously. “Awesome.”
“Awesome,” Bridger said. He stood and hit his head on his locker door. Of course. He winced. “Ow. Crap.”
“Are you okay?” Leo asked, chuckling softly. He stood and checked the spot where Bridger nailed his head. “You are a disaster.”
“I totally am.” Bridger pressed his palm against the sore spot. At least it wasn’t bleeding, but there would be a bump. “It’s a miracle I made it to seventeen.”
“Clearly.” Leo nodded. “Still okay for tonight, though?”
“Yeah, yeah…” Bridger trailed off when he saw a few of the field hockey girls waltz by wearing their uniforms. It sparked Bridger’s memory, and his stomach sank to his knees. “Oh, oh, no. Wait. It’s the girls’ first home game tonight. I have to go. I always go. It’s my thing with Astrid.”
Leo’s shoulders slumped and he frowned. “Oh,” he said, sounding timid, and Bridger’s heart skipped. “Okay. Another time then.”
“Yes, another time! I’m serious. Leo, if I didn’t already have this planned, I would totally share your popcorn. And even pay the exorbitant price for M&Ms or Twizzlers at the theater and not try to sneak them in.”
Leo’s smile seemed tight and disappointed but genuine. “I know, Bridge. Have a good time and tell Astrid I say hi.”
“I will!” That was too enthusiastic. That was over the top and not the correct inflection to throw at someone he’d turned down. Crap. Shit. Crap.
Leo walked away, his bag slung over his shoulder, and joined his group of friends. They enveloped him, throwing their arms over his shoulders. Zeke glared at Bridger on their way down the hall and shook his head as if Bridger had kicked a puppy.
Bridger had kicked a puppy.
“That looked intense,” Astrid said, coming to stand next to him. “What was that about?”
Dazed, Bridger answered, voice flat. “I think Leo asked me on a date.”
Astrid dropped her books. Unlike Bridger, she didn’t dive to pick them up. She left them on the floor. “What do you mean? For when? What did you say? What did you do?”
“It was for tonight.”
Her enthusiasm dimmed. “But tonight is our first home game.” She said it quietly, questioning, as though she was expecting Bridger to have accepted, as if she was preparing for disappointment.
It hurt that she thought so little of him, of his investment in their friendship. “I know, so I turned him down.”
Astrid’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God, Bridge, did you at least invite him to come to the game with you?”
Bridger didn’t know that dejected horror was an actual feeling until it washed over him. His stomach churned. “Was I supposed to?”
Astrid slapped the back of his head. “Yes!”
“Ow! Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re an idiot! Why didn’t you invite him to come with you to the game?”
“I didn’t know!” Bridger flailed his arms. “Would you be okay with that?”
She cast an absolutely affronted expression at him, even going as far as pressing her hand to her chest. “Of course! As long as you’re there, I don’t care who is with you!”
“Well, I know that now!”
“Why are we yelling?”
“It seemed like the thing to do!”
Astrid gripped his shoulders. “Okay, take a breath.”
Bridger inhaled sharply and choked. He coughed and sputtered, bent over, and covered his face with his hands. Astrid slapped him hard on the back.
“Stop hitting me,” he said, voice muffled.
“Stop freaking out.”
Bridger straightened and let out his breath slowly. Astrid’s grip reassured him, and he sucked in another breath and blew it out.
“Okay, okay. I’m good. I’m not yelling.”
“Me neither. Okay. So we can think this through.”
“I should text him.”
“Yes, good plan. After school.”
He nodded. Yes. He should text Leo and ask him to the game. Like a date. No, like a friend thing? Like with friends? Except, Bridger’s friends would be on the field, and Leo’s friends would be at the movies. So it would be a date-like situation.
Was he ready for that? Could he do that?
Bridger couldn’t focus during his last class of the day. He would not be able to recount the lecture if his life depended on it. When the bell rang, Bridger was off like a shot. He jogged down the hall, fled outside, and jumped down the steps to the sidewalk. He pulled his phone from his pocket and started a text, but stopped.
He typed, then erased, and typed again.
And stopped.
This was a huge step. This was too close to admitting things and confirming feelings and being public about it.
No, he was not ready to do this. He wasn’t. Flirting was one thing. Dating was another.
He turned off his phone.
Bridger convinced himself it was a good thing that Leo wasn’t at the field hockey game. For one, the bleachers were absolutely packed, and he had only managed to squeeze in next to Astrid’s parents. Her father and stepmother smiled when Bridger joined them and handed him a handmade sign proudly proclaiming in glitter that #15 was the best ever. For two, Bridger didn’t want to answer any awkward questions about who Leo was. Of course, Bridger could say friend, but would that jeopardize the possibility of Leo being his date at a later juncture? Or if he said date, then would that shock Astrid’s parents? Did Bridger really want to be out to anyone who was within hearing distance when he was only beginning to understand himself?
Yikes! Maybe he’d dodged a bullet.
A darkened theater was one thing, but at a widely-attended field hockey game with his best friend’s parents right there was another. Bridger had been the subject of rumors once this semester and he had firsthand experience about how distorted the facts could become.
Talk about pressure.
Lastly, Bridger would be so worried about the impression he made on Leo, he wouldn’t enjoy the game. And he couldn’t yell at the top of his lungs and cheer Astrid on, which was their tradition.
Glitter falling in his hair, Bridger wildly waved the sign as Astrid and the team took the field. Astrid played sweeper and was one of the district’s best defensive players. She grinned around her mouth guard when she saw Bridger and her parents and winked. He gave her a thumbs-up, and she laughed, shaking her head.
Then the game was on.
The other team was good, and it quickly became apparent the teams were evenly matched. The ball flew down the grass, and Astrid used her powerful hit to propel the ball away from their goal. Hunks of field flew everywhere as cleats dug into the ground. Girls collided. Whistles blew. Astrid was instrumental in a penalty corner but the shot sailed wide. The game was fast and furious, and after the first few minutes both teams were winded.
Bridger’s throat was dry and he handed his sign to Astrid’s mom, then hopping down to go to the snack stand. While standing in line for a bottle of pop, the pocket of his hoodie began to vibrate and glow. His phone was in his jeans pocket. The screech of the mirror rang out.
Crap.
Bridger abandoned his place in line and walked briskly to the parking lot. The day had begun to darken toward twilight—at halftime the field lights would switch on—but until then the fall gloom afforded a modicum of cover. Bridger ducked near Astrid’s car, looked around furtively, then pulled out the compact and flipped it open.
“I swear if this is another butter emergency—”
“It’s not,” Pavel said. “I need your help.” He was more disheveled than usual. His chest heaved, and a thin line of blood oozed from a cut across his cheekbone.
“Oh, right now?” Bridger looked toward the field. A cheer had gone up from the crowd. One of the teams had scored. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“Yes, right now.” His voice was clipped and strained. Pavel was freaked, and alarm bells went off in Bridger’s brain.
This was it. This was his chance. His first myth assignment. His first step toward knowing and experiencing and wearing his own wistful expression at the magic of it all. Yes! He was ready. Bring it on!
He nodded, adrenaline and excitement flooding through him. “Okay, what do you need?”
“Are you a virgin?”
Bridger sputtered. “What the hell, man? What kind of question is that?”
Pavel talked over him. “I don’t have time for fake outrage over a state of being, Bridger. Either you are or you’re not. I need to know. It’s important.”
“Well, uh,” Bridger ran a hand through his hair. He looked around again and lowered his voice. “Yeah. I am. So?”
Pavel was visibly relieved. “Wonderful. Have you read the book?”
“Uh—” Bridger shrugged “—parts of it?” At Pavel’s disapproving expression, Bridger shot back. “I have school work! Reading a technical guide on proper ways to handle batutut fur is not high on my list of priorities right now.”
“You’ve only gotten to B?” Pavel’s voice went high.
“What does any of this have to do with being a virgin?”
“Do you have the book?”
Bridger sighed. “It’s at home.”
“You should always carry it with you.”
“Thanks for telling me now! That would have been great information to give me when you gave me the thing. Also, you said it was fragile, so I didn’t think lugging it around in my backpack was a good idea.”
Pavel rubbed his eyes. “Fine. Fine. There is a rampaging unicorn.”
“A rampaging unicorn… How do you even know that?”
Pavel rubbed his brow. “The toaster started acting up again, and then the images came and—”
“Your magical crisis alarm is a toaster?”
“Yes.” He said it as though it was a common fact. “I tracked the unicorn to the planned community near the bookstore.”
“Lake Commons?”
“Yes, there.”
Oh, great. The Commons was a popular hangout and a huge commercial area.
“I’m at school. I don’t have a way to get there quickly.”
Pavel wiped his sleeve over the cut, smearing blood across his cheek. “I’ll pick you up.”
“No!” Bridger said, remembering Pavel’s mode of transportation. “No, thank you. I will… run down the street and meet you on the corner near Oak Street. I’m leaving now.”
Pavel nodded. “Hurry. I’ll swing by.”
Bridger took off. He ran through the parking lot and around the side of the school. His backpack was locked in Astrid’s car, since she was his ride, but he’d have to worry about that later. He at least had his wallet, phone, keys, and mysterious magic mirror.
He jogged parallel to the school entrance and crossed the street at the next intersection. The streetlights flicked on as the sky darkened. Bridger skidded to a stop at the corner of Oak Street in time to hear the gunshot-sound of Pavel’s car pulling up next to him.
Bridger grabbed the door as the car continued to roll, pulled it open, and jumped in. It was very primetime cop show, and Bridger was mildly proud he didn’t trip and fall.
Once inside, Pavel tossed a mirror at Bridger. “Talk to them,” he said.
Bridger looked, and Bran and Nia stared back at him.
“I can’t believe you haven’t read all of the book!” Nia said, her voice shrill. She pointed a finger at him and glitter puffed from her fingertip. “It’s important information.”
Arms crossed, Bran shook his head, and his blue hair swept across his forehead. “We were rooting for you.”
“Not helping,” Pavel yelled. He took a corner at an ill-advised speed, and Bridger flew into the door hard, and the car rattled around them. He grabbed the seat belt and clicked it into place, not sure it would help him if they did get into an accident, since Pavel’s car was literally a death trap.
“Dude, arrive alive, okay?”
“Read him the passage,” Pavel said, ignoring Bridger.
Nia flew to a huge book propped open on a table, and Bridger recognized the library. She hovered over the pages while Bran tried to support the mirror. If Pavel’s driving didn’t make him sick, then Bran’s inability to hold the mirror steady would.
Nia cleared her throat. “Unicorns are solitary creatures who dwell in forests and woods. They do not emerge often. They do not suffer humans and rarely interact with other magical beings unless of a similar breed. They’re proud and don’t like to be treated like common beasts. Sightings are rare, but the few reports that exist of encounters with them state that they are docile creatures unless disrespected. Legends say unicorns are drawn to purity and maidens were often used as bait to lure unicorns out of hiding to be hunted.”
“Maidens?” Bridger stared at Pavel. “I’m a virgin, but I am definitely not a maiden.”
“You’re the closest we have.”
“What if it gets pissed off that I’m not a maiden? What if I accidentally show disrespect? News flash, I don’t actually want to die a virgin.”
Pavel adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. Eyes squinted, black hair in disarray, he bent forward to stare out the windshield. “There!” he yelled, before jerking hard on the wheel. The car skidded and shook, and Bridger braced his legs and arms to keep from falling out of the door. Pavel slammed on the brakes, and the car slid halfway onto a sidewalk and into a green space on the outskirts of the Commons.
He turned off the engine and jumped out before Bridger could right himself.
Bridger heaved a breath, unbuckled, and opened the door.
“Wait! Wait!” Nia’s voice was tinny. Bridger found the mirror under the seat.
“What?”
“Unicorns don’t like humans. At all. It’s one of the few creatures that an intermediary’s magic cannot effect since it is purely magical.”
“So… what does that mean for me?”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
Bridger nodded. “Stupid? Me? Surely you jest.” At Nia’s unimpressed expression, Bridger shot double finger guns. “Nothing stupid. Got it.” He slid out of the car then started to close the mirror.
“Wait, wait!”
Bridger sighed. “What?”
“Are you guys near that coffee shop? The one with the caramel cookies?”
Bridger snapped the mirror shut.
Once Bridger slammed the door, Pavel threw a handful of glittery dust over the hood. The car shimmered, then slowly blended into the background.
“Handy,” Bridger said. “Do you always keep pixie dust in your pocket?”
“Yes. Of course. Parking tickets,” he added by way of explanation.
“Ah.”
“Come on.” Pavel strode off, and Bridger followed. Pavel pointed at the sidewalk. “Do you see the shimmer?”
Bridger squinted and stared at nothing and… wait, yeah, he did see it. It was a gleam on the concrete, not as overtly sparkly as pixie dust, but like oil on the surface of a puddle. And the more Bridger paid attention, the more he could see the obvious path where the unicorn had run.
“That’s amazing.”
Pavel raised an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Yes, it is. But unicorns don’t belong in the Commons. We need to lead it out and back to the forest.”
“And I’m the bait?”
Pavel winced. “I wouldn’t quite put it that way.”
“Don’t worry.” Bridger smiled. He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s lure a unicorn.”
“We’ll split up. I’ll circle around and try to drive it your way. It will sense my magic and want to steer clear of it. If you see it, summon your most maidenly thoughts, coax it toward you, and call me on the mirror.”
Bridger nodded, not even commenting on maidenly thoughts. They split up; Pavel headed toward the center of the Commons while Bridger looped around the outside.
The Commons was a big planned community. It was acres and acres of parking lot between interconnected buildings of restaurants, stores, hotels, theaters, and apartments. It was surrounded by a large border of trees with walking paths and a manmade river running through it. Patrons could park their cars and spend an entire day just walking around. Bridger liked to drop by with Astrid, hit the comic book store, and catch a movie, before eating dinner from one of the food carts. Maybe they’d splurge for gourmet ice cream.
In that sense, it was a great place.
It wasn’t so great when hunting a unicorn.
Hands in pockets and head down as he wove in and out of the foot traffic, Bridger followed the slick rainbow trail. No one else noticed the shimmering track, and he realized they wouldn’t unless he pointed it out. As Pavel had said, it was the way human brains were wired, dismissing the impossible unless confronted directly with it.
The path led Bridger to an alley between the bookstore and the back of the theater. The street lights didn’t penetrate the shadows; the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the moon hung as a sliver in the sky. The hair on the back of Bridger’s neck rose.
He stopped and gulped. This was a spot that was only traveled by employees and people trying to sneak into the movie theater, so it might be a good place to rest for a unicorn that, for whatever reason, was running rampant in a heavily populated area.
“Hey,” he whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Yes, great idea. Reassure a creature with a giant sharp horn on its head. It’s sure to be terrified of a scrawny human.
Bridger heard a sound, discordant and strange like a bell struck by a rock. He reached into his pocket and flipped open his mirror. “Pavel,” he whispered. Nothing happened. Frowning, he looked at the mirror. “Call Pavel. Crap. How do you work?” He tapped the mirror with his finger, then shook the compact. “Call the pixies. Um… abracadabra? Hocus pocus. Freaking do what you’re supposed to!”
He heard the strange sound several times in succession. It filled the small space and rang in his ears, and he snapped his head up.
Bridger’s jaw dropped. In front of him was the most beautiful creature he’d seen in his entire short life. A unicorn, an actual unicorn, stood a few feet away. It stamped its hooves. The clang of them striking the pavement was the sound he had heard—the dissonance of magic against asphalt. It tossed its head; its white mane flowed over its sleek white fur. The horn, long and beautiful, gleamed in the moonlight. The unicorn stared at Bridger, and Bridger tentatively held out his hand.
“Hi,” Bridger said, voice trembling, hand shaking. “I heard a rumor that you’re a fan of abstinence. To be clear, it’s not by choice, but hey, you take what you can get, right?”
The unicorn tossed its head. It took a hesitant step forward.
“Oh, wow! You’re so pretty. I can’t believe that I am going to touch a unicorn. Astrid would never believe it. I am scarcely believing it myself.”
The unicorn inched forward and ducked its head. The dangerous point of its horn was almost skewering Bridger’s arm, but Bridger didn’t flinch. The unicorn blew out a breath, and the sensation of it brushing over Bridger’s hand was like the tingle of the ward, magic scraping over his skin. It bumped its velvet nose against the back of Bridger’s hand. Bridger’s knuckles, then his fingertips, brushed against the soft fur.
Bridger smiled, then laughed lightly as the magic pulsed over him. A warm wave of peace and light and joy filled him, crashed over him, wrapped him up in the impossible. It was fresh green grass in the spring and the hush of snow falling in the winter and the warmth of the bright sun and the smell of rain. The world fell away, and Bridger existed in a bubble of exquisite happiness where the worries of his life couldn’t touch him, where noise fuzzed out into nothingness and his senses narrowed to the brilliant white of the unicorn’s mane and the soft magic under his fingertips.
He rubbed his palm over the unicorn’s neck, and it snorted. Bridger’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. His whole body shivered, and the stress he carried in his shoulders and spine bled out of him while he touched the unicorn’s soft white coat. He forgot about the money he needed for tuition, and he forgot about all the nights he spent at home alone, and he forgot about the pressure of coming out at school and to his mom. The worries about being different, and the scars from his father leaving, and the fear of never meeting expectations disappeared in the sweet perfumed mist of the unicorn’s breath.
The mirror rang.
The bubble burst.
The unicorn reared as the sound of a thousand fire alarms roared from Bridger’s pocket; the horn came close to spearing him, and the hooves struck hard against the pavement. Scrambling back, he fumbled for the mirror and flipped it open. Pavel’s face lit up the glass.
“Bridger—”
“I touched it. I touched the unicorn. It’s here.”
“It’s in front of you? It let you touch it? That’s great! Do you think you can lure it to the forest?”
Blowing angrily, the unicorn danced and strutted away; its whole demeanor had changed in an instant. Uh oh. Did he disrespect it by answering the call and not giving it his full attention? Was it because of Pavel’s choice of words? Oh, crap. Who knew magical horses understood human speech?
“Yeah,” Bridger nodded. “It did, but uh… it might have changed its mind.”
Angry snorts and the ringing clop of hooves echoed through the small space as the unicorn paced, tossing its head. The unicorn stood on its hind legs and neighed loud and long before falling forward. Eyes large and round, it lowered its horn and pawed at the ground. Bridger’s pulse shot through the roof when he realized he blocked the only way out.
“I thought unicorns were docile.”
“Bridger,” Pavel said, hearing the commotion. “Run.”
“Run?”
“Yes, now. Run now!”
The unicorn charged.
Bridger yelped and took off. He cut a quick right before tearing toward the trees on the outskirts of the development. Clutching the mirror in his hand, with his hoodie flapping madly behind him, he tried not to focus on the loud hooves and neighs following him. As luck would have it, the way to the hiking path was empty, so at least he wasn’t endangering anyone else.
“Pavel! What now?”
“Don’t get trampled!”
“Are you serious?”
Bridger glanced over his shoulder. The unicorn was gaining. Its horn gleamed in the scant moonlight and its mane flowed as it lowered its head to gore him.
Great, he would piss off a unicorn with a chip on its shoulder.
Bridger thanked his soccer coach for all the sprints they’d run last season and tried to kick his speed up a notch. His legs pumped; his jeans restricted his movement slightly as his shoes slapped the sidewalk. He ran because his life depended on it, eating up ground with his strides, coming up fast on the entrance to the wooded walking paths, but it was no use. He was only human.
The unicorn gained on him.
There was no way he was going to outrun a magic horse, even on a good day.
He was going to die.
The trees loomed in front of him. Bridger hoped he could at least get to the perimeter before he was killed, because it would inevitably be messy and he wanted a little dignity. Of course, he stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk. He fell to his knees and pitched to the side, rolled off the sidewalk, and tumbled head over heels down an embankment into the brush. A second later the unicorn sprinted past, rainbow sparks from its hooves flaring where Bridger had been a mere moment before. Bridger watched from his position on his back in a pile of twigs and leaves.
He scrambled up the hill on his hands and knees. Fingers sinking into the loamy soil, chest heaving, he peered out, looking for the unicorn. He caught a quick flash of brilliant white between nearby trees, then it was gone.
Holy hell, it had worked. It had actually worked!
“Bridger! Bridger! Where are you? Are you okay?”
Pavel’s voice was tinny coming from the mirror. Bridger had dropped it during his fall and brushed through leaves and twigs until he found it.
He picked it up and saw Pavel, out of breath, frantically looking around.
“I’m here,” Bridger said in a gust. He waved weakly. “I fell.”
Pavel’s gaze snapped to the mirror, and then he sighed, obviously relieved. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think?” Bridger took stock. He patted down his body and, other than a few bruises and scrapes and a lot of dirt and mud, he was okay. “I’m good. Out of breath and shaking, but good.”
“Where’s the unicorn?”
“It ran off. Into the woods.”
“It did?”
Bridger nodded. Twigs fell from his hair. “Yeah, it did. After it tried to gore me, but, you know. Yay? Mission accomplished.”
Pavel’s mouth inched into a smile. “I owe you. How about a coffee? Cookies?”
“Ice cream,” Bridger said definitively. “You owe me so much gourmet ice cream.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
Smiling, Bridger agreed. He snapped the mirror shut and climbed to his feet. He pushed through the undergrowth, brushed down his hoodie and jeans, and emerged to the sidewalk—right into Leo.
“Bridger?” Leo asked, steadying Bridger with a hand on his elbow.
Bridger laughed, nearly hysterical, because—of course. Of freaking course. Certain it was sticking up in places, he swiped his hand through his sweaty hair, and more leaves fell on his shoulders.
“Hey, Leo,” Bridger said, flashing a charming smile. “Fancy meeting you and your entire group of football players here.”
Bridger glanced at the ten teenagers standing behind Leo’s shoulder. Zeke crossed his arms, biceps bulging underneath his school jacket. Lacey hung on his arm and glared daggers. Either they had a real problem with Bridger popping up randomly or… No, that was probably it.
Leo smiled. “I thought you were at Astrid’s game?”
“I was, but I was called into work. My boss needed help with one of his clients, and I’m supposed to meet him here. At the fancy ice-cream parlor.”
Leo pointed to the woods. “What were you doing down there, then?”
Attacking a stubborn clump of dirt on his knee, Bridger quirked his lips. “Would you believe that I tripped and fell?”
Leo gaped, then laughed, and it was gorgeous. “Actually, yeah, I do believe it.” He released Bridger’s arm, but the scorch of his touch remained.
“And thanks for laughing at my pain,” Bridger said.
Leo shrugged, smiling wide. He didn’t apologize, and Bridger had the sudden realization that Leo had indeed become used to his brand of joking. Oh. His middle fluttered, and, for a quick second, it was like petting the unicorn.
“So,” Bridger said, hands in his pockets, “how was the movie?”
“Decidedly horrible,” Leo said, grinning. “You would’ve liked it. Astrid would’ve loved it.”
“I’ll add it to my watch list.”
“If you two are done.” Lacey cut in. She pouted. “I’d like to make it to the ice-cream parlor myself. Zeke promised me chocolate.”
“Oh, oh yeah. I’ll walk with you guys. If that’s okay?”
Zeke brushed past, knocking his shoulder into Bridger’s. Bridger rubbed the sore spot because, wow, was that guy huge. “The sidewalk is public property. Do what you want.”
Leo sighed and shook his head. “Excuse him. He’s upset because we didn’t have practice today, and he wasn’t allowed a chance to release his pent-up aggression.”
“Shove it, Leo!” Zeke called.
The group walked past, and Leo hung back, waiting until they were a few feet ahead, before gesturing for Bridger to walk with him. Bridger fell in step, and they knocked shoulders a few times as they crossed the Commons toward the ice-cream parlor.
Bridger needed to say something. Anything. Only a few minutes ago, he had touched a unicorn and then had been chased by it, but he couldn’t tell Leo, despite how magical it was. But this, walking with Leo, their arms brushing, the night sky lit with stars, and the air crisp with a fall chill, was equally as awesome.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come tonight.”
Leo tipped his head back. “It’s okay, Bridge. There’ll be other times.”
“Yeah?” Bridger asked, hopeful.
Leo met his gaze. “Yeah.”
Bridger smiled, giddy, and, if he hadn’t been almost gored by a unicorn less than an hour ago, that moment would’ve been the most remarkable of his day. As it was, it ranked a very close second.
They approached the gourmet ice-cream parlor and Bridger spotted Pavel pacing. He looked ragged and worried and had a smear of blood across his face. Patrons gave him a wide berth, and, as Bridger walked closer, he could hear Pavel muttering under his breath. Oh, yeah, not conspicuous at all.
“Hey, is that your—”
“Yep,” Bridger said. “Pavel,” he called.
Pavel snapped his head up, and the relief on his was stark. Pavel crossed the few feet between them and grabbed Bridger’s shoulders.
“There you are,” he said. He looked Bridger up and down. “Well, you don’t look worse for wear.”
“I only fell, Pavel. No need to get all protective.”
“Fell? Did you hit your head? You were almost—”
“You remember Leo, right?”
Pavel blinked and released Bridger. His posture straightened when he noticed Leo. He looked at Leo and then at Bridger, and Bridger made a face. He inwardly pleaded with Pavel to act normal.
“Yes,” Pavel said, holding out his hand. “From the beach. You assisted with pulling Bridger from the lake. Of course.”
Leo took Pavel’s hand and shook hard. Pavel spread his fingers, frowned, and shoved his hand in his overcoat pocket.
“You’re Bridger’s boss.” Leo said it as a statement.
“Yes, I am. He’s a great assistant. Couldn’t ask for better.”
Bridger laughed. “I don’t need a reference, Pavel. Leo’s my… friend. We ran into each other on my walk over here.”
“Literally,” Leo offered. He smiled.
Pavel cocked his head and made a small noise.
That was weird. Why did he have to make this weird?
“Anyway,” Leo said, lightly punching Bridger on the arm, “I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m glad we ran into each other.” Bridger blushed. “Literally.”
“Me, too.”
Pavel said, “Actually, the emergency I had has changed. I found a solution, temporary as it may be.” Pavel gave Bridger a significant glance. “But I am so sorry I called you away from your event for nothing. Here,” Pavel said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and thumbed through the bills. “Take this for your trouble. Buy ice cream for yourself and your friend.”
Bridger blushed to the roots of his hair, but accepted the money Pavel all but shoved at him. “Pavel, are you sure? Do you need my help with research or anything?”
“No, not right now. Tomorrow, after school.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m positive. Thank you for your assistance tonight.” He looked at Leo; his gaze lingered. “It was a pleasure to meet you again.”
“Thanks?” Leo said.
Bridger waved goodbye when Pavel turned on his heel and all but ran away. Bridger took it all in stride, even the over-generous wad of bills in his hand, and smiled at Leo.
“Ice cream? I’m buying.”
“I can’t in good conscience turn down free ice cream.”
“Good.” Bridger gestured for Leo to enter the store first.
“Hey, Bridge? Your boss is weird, right? I just want to confirm.”
“Leo, my friend, you don’t know the half of it. But he’s a good guy. A little out of touch and really busy, but a nice guy.”
“Good to know.”
They bought ice cream. Leo ordered a shake and Bridger ordered a monstrosity of a sundae that he ended up sharing with half of the football team. They laughed and joked and, despite his outsider status, the group accepted Bridger without comment. Leo stayed snug against Bridger’s side, and Zeke didn’t look as if he wanted to kill Bridger, which was a bonus in Bridger’s book.
Zeke gave them both a ride home. Squished into the back of his tiny car, Bridger was pretty much in Leo’s lap. They sang along to bad music; Leo made up lyrics in Spanish when they didn’t know the real ones, and Lacey rolled her eyes from the front seat.
Zeke pulled up in front of Leo’s house, and Bridger and Leo spilled from the two-door. Leo caught Bridger around the waist when his foot snagged on the seatbelt. They laughed again, drunk on sugar and proximity, and Zeke sped away, flicking them off from his window as went.
“For an impromptu outing, this was so much fun,” Bridger said, clutching Leo’s shoulders.
Leo laughed. “It’s so late. My parents are going to murder me.”
“God, I hope not.”
“Me, too.” Leo smiled. “I had fun.”
Leo hadn’t let go, and neither had Bridger. They leaned close, standing in the darkened street of their neighborhood, under the twinkling stars and street lights.
“I really like you, Bridger,” Leo confessed.
Bridger blushed. Oh, he was giddy, and happy, and confused. He patted Leo’s arm. “I really like you, too.” Saying it out loud made it real, and Bridger was both nauseated and elated. He couldn’t tell which, but it didn’t matter, because this was a moment.
Leo moved closer, and Bridger tensed, certain he was about to be kissed. His eyes fluttered closed, and he held his breath.
“Hey, asshole!”
They sprang apart.
Astrid stood on the porch of Bridger’s house, still decked out in her field hockey uniform, with his backpack in her hand. She tossed it into the street.
“Forget something?” she yelled.
The front light of Leo’s house switched on.
Astrid strode to her car, which was in Bridger’s driveway. Her head was down, but Bridger could hear the sniffles.
Oh, shit.
“Astrid,” Bridger called, leaving Leo behind.
He heard Leo’s dad open the door. “Leo? What is going on?”
Bridger felt bad about leaving Leo to his fate, but he had bigger problems. Astrid slammed her car door and turned on the engine as Bridger reached the driver’s side.
“Astrid? I can explain. I swear, it’s not what it looks like.”
She made a noise in her throat but didn’t respond otherwise. She threw the car in reverse and peeled out of the driveway. Bridger tried to follow, but just as he was not fast enough to outrun a unicorn, he could not keep up with a speeding car.
He frowned and walked back to the street. He scooped up his bag.
Leo and his dad had already disappeared into their house, but Bridger could hear the arguing in Spanish from the street.
He winced, but there was nothing he could do now.
His mom was at work, of course, and he let himself into the house. He locked the door behind him.
Bridger briefly considered texting Astrid, but as mad as she was, he didn’t want to give her another distraction. The last thing he wanted was for her to be in an accident. He dragged his body upstairs.
He texted his mom to let her know he was home and received a response with a warning about the late hour. He took a shower and counted the bruises from his fall and noted the missing skin from his knees. Foregoing homework, he collapsed into bed and closed his eyes.
What a weird, awesome, exhausting night!
But as rough as it had been, he guessed that the next day would be even worse.