“We hung out at his place, or mine. Or at school. Nothing official like this.”
“Well, then I guess I have to make sure this one is memorable.”
When the truck comes to a stop, the sun is beginning to set, casting dusky shadows on the gravel lot. Everett grabs a flashlight from the center console and meets me at the front of the truck. He takes my hand, fingers entwining with my own. We walk in silence until I see it between the trees, silhouetted against the sky—it’s a swinging bridge. At the entrance hangs a wooden sign that readspedestrians only—four at a time.
I can see why. The second Everett steps onto the first wooden plank, the ground seems to sway beneath him.
I hesitate.
“You okay?” he says, glancing over his shoulder. When I don’t say anything, he comes back, linking our fingers again. “I promise you, it’s safe.”
“It’s so shaky,” I say as I follow him onto the bridge. We walk a little farther, wobbling the whole way. “What’s on the other side?”
“You can’t go there. It’s private property.”
“So then where are we going?”
“Right here.” We’re almost in the middle of the bridge. Witha faint smile, Everett gently turns my body so I’m facing in the other direction. “Look.”
From here, I can look out over the river, where the sun is setting, making the water’s surface glow like a line of molten lava. The sky is all shades of pink, orange, and lavender, and truly breathtaking. It’s the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen.
“Oh” is all I can say.
I stare at it, mesmerized, but not too mesmerized to notice when he puts his hand on my hip and leans in close, his cheek against my temple. It feels nice.
We stay like that until the sun melts behind the hills. That’s when I look down and notice the locks. Just a few of them, attached to the chain-link fence on the bridge’s side. “Oh, hey. These are like the ones in…”
“Paris,” he supplies.
“Right. The Pont des Arts,” I say, the name coming to me.
“This is Starling’s own redneck version of that.” He bends down and touches one of the locks. “Got a crowbar?” he jokes.
“What?” I lean in and study the silver lock. I can just make out part of a name painted on it in purple:SOFI
Sofia.
It suddenly clicks. “Wait. Is that yours and Sofia’s?”
His answering grin is cynical. “More like Sofia’s and Sofia’s.”
“You used to take her out here?”
“No. We never came here together. I suggested it—would’ve loved to show her this sunset—but she always said no. Too many bugs, she complained. When it came to us going out, I didn’t have much of a say in anything.” He shoves the lock with his handbefore straightening to his full height. “She put this on here a couple months ago and sent me a picture of it. As if it’d make me change my mind.”
I tilt my head and look at him. “Why’d you break up with her?”
Everett faces out toward the river. He leans against the railing, running his fingers along its splintered edge. “Because I couldn’t deal with it anymore. With her. Everyone always thought we’d be together, but no one more than Sofia. She made all the decisions, and I was supposed to go with them. It was cute at the beginning, how invested she was in us, but I got tired of being ordered around all the time. I broke up with her after junior prom. And she…” He lets out a defeated sigh. “I don’t think she wants to accept it. I think she thinks I’m just going through a phase and will come back to her. But I’m not. It’s over.”
“I can tell she still cares about you.”
“No. Sofia only cares about Sofia. And being part of the perfect couple. She always used to go on about how the queen has to have her king. I guess that’s me. But I don’t want that. I want to abdicate.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Anyway.” He shrugs. “Enough about exes. I didn’t bring you out here to talk about any of that.”
“What do you want to talk about, then?”
