The Last Bridge by Teri Coyne Page B

with the honey glow of the setting sun. In a few minutes it would be dark. I would have to get up and hit the switch by the doorway—by Addison.
    The space between us filled with shadow.
    “I saw you last night… at the truck.”
    “Were you spying on me?”
    I laughed. “Yeah, Addison, I’m obsessed with you. Can you go now? I’ve got work to do.”
    He crossed his arms. “I’m sorry if what you saw upset you. I didn’t think anyone was around. I wouldn’t have done it if I had known you were—”
    “If I was what? Alive?”
    “Alex, you’re young, you don’t—”
    “I understand what was going on. What I don’t understand is why you need to be here now.”
    “I thought we were friends,” he said.
    “Please go.”
    “Besides, that girl doesn’t mean anything.”
    I was done listening. If he wasn’t going to leave, I would. I started for the door with the intent to blow past him before he knew I was coming. But he sensed my movement before I could react and threw his body in the doorway to block my exit. I jumped back and looked up, giving him a full view of my black eye.
    “Who did this to you?” His hands were on my shoulders holding me in place. He had the sweet iron smell of my mother’s flower beds mixed with that orange shampoo. I could feel his breath on my neck and the pressure from each of his fingers pushing into my shoulders.
    My mind raced with snappy retorts. I wanted to say something that would prove I didn’t care about him or who he slept with or who hit me. His lips were inches from mine, smooth and pink and glistening. The same mouth that whispered in that woman’s ear and made her giggle. What were the words? Would they make me laugh?
    “My face collided with a piece of pie,” I said.
    He reached into my room and switched on the light. I tried to squirm away but he held me steady. “Stand still,” he whispered gently.
    “God, you act like you’ve never had a black eye,” I said as he inspected me.
    “And you act like it’s normal.” He touched the swollen crescent lightly with his cool fingers.
    “Stop,” I said, but he didn’t.
    “Did someone hurt you?” He traced the outline of the bruise and brushed the hair off my face. I reached for the wall to steady myself.
    “You are,” I said, pushing away.
    “I didn’t mean to,” he said. He fixed his gaze on me, and although he appeared to be listening, he studied me as if I were an object he wanted to possess.
    “You do this to everyone, don’t you?” I said as I struggled to regain my footing. Before I could stop him, his hands enveloped my face and his thumbs held the corners of my mouth as his fingers reached toward my neck and lifted me toward him. Before I felt his lips, I felt his warm breath on my eyebrow and his chest brush against mine, and then, when I thought my legs would give out, he kissed me lightly on the lid of my black eye.
    We went to the Omega diner out past the airport for dinner. I didn’t have to look at the menu to know what I wanted. The Omega had the best chocolate milkshakes and onion rings in the world—well, at least in my world. After I ordered, Addison didn’t say anything grown-up, like, “Is that all you’re having?” or, “Maybe you should have a salad;” he smiled and said, “Good choice; I’ll have the same.”
    “Stop trying to get me to like you. It’s not going to work.” We didn’t say much after the doorway. He asked me to go with him to eat and I found myself following.
    “Come on, are you really immune to my charm?”
    “Is having sex on my driveway part of your charm?”
    “I guess that depends on who you ask.”
    “Does your girlfriend think so?”
    “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s a woman I met at Walt’s—no biggie.”
    The waitress brought our food. I lifted the long metal tumbler to my mouth and began to drink. I closed my eyes and felt the chocolaty smoothness coat my throat as I bent my head back and smiled in milkshake ecstasy.
    “You