11. Two Broken Birds
Two Broken Birds
The next day Gus was expected to work with his father on a wooden bench order for Gallatin County Regional Park in Bozeman.
However, he was agitated with every task.
Gus couldn’t focus. While transferring lumber from their storage shed, he told himself Bridger could still call him later to make plans for the weekend.
He’ll call. He wouldn’t just… forget about me…
Gus kept telling himself this.
As the saw machines screeched and he cut off measured planks, Gus wondered if maybe he had said something Bridger didn’t like back at the spring.
Or was it just… our kiss? Gus obsessed over the possibilities.
All that didn’t happen, all that could have.
However, Gus’s biggest distraction throughout his whole day was remembering Bridger’s soft, warm lips.
All the tingling sensations Bridger gave him still lingered.
Gus kept replaying every second of how his best friend had touched him, squeezed him, kissed him.
And then… ran off.
Gus ached to know what had gone wrong. But he also wanted to do it all again.
Desperately.
He craved Bridger’s scent, that aroma of body spray and natural musk that was still caught in Gus’s mind. The sweet taste of Bridger’s lips…
Ugh.
Gus put down his sander. He couldn’t shake the feeling of Bridger grabbing his waist, pulling him closer, and then pushing him against the workbench. It was electrifying.
The woodshop’s phone broke through Gus’s brain fog.
He perked up and whipped around. Dan set down his tools to answer the call.
Gus’s breath caught in his throat as his dad chatted with the caller.
Gus, hopeful, listened hard. However, as his father mentioned specific furniture costs, Gus’s chin fell.
He returned to his dull task of sanding the bench before him, crushed.
Why did he even kiss me, then? Why did I kiss him back? I ruined it. I ruined everything.
The full workday passed. Bridger never called.
Saturday morning came without Gus hearing from or seeing Bridger all week.
Unwilling to give up, Gus still drove into town to check the skatepark.
After locking his dad’s Chevy, Gus carried his colorful board toward the sloping bowls.
As he approached the mounds, his shaking nerves all came back like it was his first day on this concrete all over again.
Gus’s eyes scanned the area for any sign of Bridger, but he only saw a few outskirt members of Max’s crew and local rollerblading kids with their parents.
Bridger was nowhere to be found.
Where else could he be?
Undeterred, Gus headed to TJ’s down the road, hoping to catch a glimpse of his friend loading up on snacks. No Bridger.
Gus drove through downtown. No Bridger.
Is he angry at me? He wouldn’t do anything stupid, would he? Something reckless? Gus shook his head as his eyes rolled up. It’s Bridger. Of course he would.
Frustrated and anxious, Gus pushed harder on the gas as he sped through town toward Bridger’s favorite diner.
At Mark’s In & Out, Gus parked in the lot and exited his car. He spotted Tara Shae and her friends sitting outside at a red picnic table for a lunch of burgers, fries, and milkshakes. Gus scoped out the diner in search of Bridger, passing by the girls’ laughter and conversation.
“I don’t know.” Tara folded her arms. “It’s been a week, but it was my third interview with them…”
“You have to get it!” Sophia exclaimed. “I bet they don’t have any other girls coding for them.”
“That’s what I’m sayin’,” Tara joked as her four friends nodded in agreement.
“When you do get it, you better still call me on the weekends,” Kelly chimed in, teasing.
“I already promised, didn’t I? You girls are what I’ll miss most,” Tara admitted.
Gus doubled back from the end of the diner, having failed to find Bridger. He walked toward Tara.
“Okay, we’ll come visit. But you can’t bring your skateboard to the beach if we go to Malibu.” Kelly nudged Tara playfully.
“Fine! You know, interestingly, I—”
“Hey, Tara?” Gus interrupted. “Sorry to bother, but have you seen Bridger?”
Tara and all her friends turned to Gus. Some were intrigued, most were confused.
“Oh. Gus! Uh… no, I haven’t. Is everything alright?” Tara asked, her brow furrowing.
“Yeah. I. Um. Never mind. Have a good day,” Gus replied awkwardly, turning around.
Is he just at home alone? Gus shook his head. Where else could he be? An even deeper sense of confusion and worry washed over him.
“Did Bridger do something wrong?” Tara called out.
Gus stopped and turned back around to face her. Tara tilted her head, giving Gus a soft smile.
“If he did, forget about him,” she said with a shrug. “You owe him nothing. Don’t waste your life sweating over a guy who won’t talk to you.”
All the girls around her voiced their agreement. They’d all been through this before.
Gus paused. He hadn’t thought about it that way.
“Do you want to join us?” Tara offered, gesturing to the table of happy girls.
Gus hesitated, his gaze flickering between Tara and her pals. They seemed fun and comforting, and Gus, wanting support like that, was tempted to sit. Yet his mind was elsewhere. On Bridger.
“Um. No. I’ve got some… stuff to finish. See you soon though,” Gus said.
As Gus turned and walked away from the diner, Tara watched him go. Slightly unsettled, Tara forced herself to shake off the questions that arose and returned to chatting with her friends.
Gus continued his search, exploring different parts of town, hoping to find Bridger.
He drove up to Livingston Park High School.
Nope, he doesn’t have summer school on weekends.
Gus passed the lake where, after Bridger pulled him off the dock, they swam together for the very first time. The lake was fully empty.
All that’s left is… his house.
Bridger had mentioned where he lived before. It wasn’t too far from the skatepark. The boys had skated past it many times, but Bridger never asked Gus to come in. Gus never met his family.
Gus turned onto Bridger’s street, only comfortable enough to park a block down the road. He sat nervously behind the wheel. He could see that Bridger’s car was in the driveway. He had to be home. There was nowhere else he could be.
Just do it, Gus told himself in his silent car. Walk up and knock on the door.
Mid-reach for the car handle, his hand paused. He sighed with meek hesitation.
Him running away? It means he doesn’t want to talk to me.
Gus pulled his hand back to his side. He slammed his skull against the headrest behind him, grunting with annoyance. He was stunted by indecision.
If I just tell him that everything’s fine, that nothing’s wrong, maybe it’ll be better. I…
Gus swayed his head back and forth, unsure.
We can forget about the kiss. It doesn’t matter. We can go back to how it was before.
He groaned. Even thinking that, he knew it would be impossible.
Fuck! But if I don’t try something, he’ll forget about me.
Gus’s heart pumped rapidly. His veins filled with adrenaline.
He’ll move on if I don’t do something. He’ll ignore me.
Gritting his teeth, Gus shoved open the car door and rose from the Chevy. Before he knew it, he was already stomping across the pavement and onto the sidewalk, halfway to Bridger’s house.
It’s not my fault! We both did this, we both liked it!
Gus stepped onto the Owens family porch. A big white wooden door stood before him.
This year has been terrible enough. I can’t lose Bridger too.
Gus knocked on the front door before he could back out. The sound echoed in the quiet neighborhood, and Gus instantly regretted his action. He considered dashing away.
No. We need to talk.
Gus straightened his back and took a deep, nervous breath.
He heard chatter inside the house. Gus immediately wished he was back in his car, that he could drive home. Somehow, he kept his feet planted in place. As footsteps approached the entryway, Gus’s stomach soured with nerves. The door pulled back.
“Hello…” A woman with brown hair smiled. Bridger’s mom, he figured. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, um. Hi, Mrs. Owens.” Gus straightened out anxiously. He fixed his hair. He tried, conspicuously, to peer behind the woman to spot if Bridger was there. “Is… Bridger home?”
“Bridger? No, he’s been out all day,” his mom answered.
Gus was confused. He had checked everywhere else in town. “Oh, okay. Uh… do you know where he might be?” Gus asked, truly perplexed. “I was hoping to talk with him.”
“Probably with Max.” The woman shrugged. “Those two are always together.”
“Oh. Right,” Gus replied, faking a smile. “Maybe I just missed him at the park.”
“Yep, he’s always skating there. What was your name, sweetie?” Bridger’s mom asked.
“I’m Gus. Bridger’s friend?”
“Oh? Gus?” Her eyebrows rose with lighthearted confusion. “Bridger’s never mentioned you.”
The words yanked the hope from Gus as if life’s pencil had been ripped away from him. He stepped back slightly, trying not to look as gutted as he felt.
Never… mentioned me?
After exchanging polite but awkward goodbyes, Bridger’s mom closed her front door. Gus stood alone on the porch, his head hanging low in defeat.
I’m so stupid.
In the back room of Damage Boardshop, Max and Bridger were furiously playing Tony Hawk’s Underground on PlayStation 2. Max leaned over and shoved Bridger to mess up his combo. Bridger recoiled, grunted with disbelief, and pushed Max back. The game’s timer ran out. Bridger lost.
“Damn it!”
“Yes! Still the king!” Max bellowed with triumph. “No one can beat me!”
Bridger cursed again as he tossed his controller on the couch and rolled his eyes. “I gotta practice more, I guess.”
“Nah, you just suck now.” Max chuckled, then shook his head. “Too busy hanging with that fairy.”
“Who, Gus?”
“Whatever his name is.”
“He’s not a fairy,” Bridger said as he grabbed a controller and started a round of single-player. He thumbed away at the analog sticks, annoyed.
“Seems pretty faggy to me,” Max muttered under his breath. His words dripped with disdain.
Bridger stayed silent.