Under the Bridge by R. Cooper Read Free Book Online Page A

that’s what you did,” Nick commented
thoughtfully, as if they were really having this conversation.
Chris couldn’t make out his expression. “You showed up.”
    “Yeah.” Chris surprised himself by agreeing.
He even smiled though it pulled his split lip and half of his face
hurt like hell and there was no one to kiss it and make it better.
“Yeah. They, uh, didn’t like it.”
    “I bet.” Nick snorted again. “They don’t like
people who make them think about things they don’t want to think
about.” He was definitely drunk. He had to be, to be talking to
Chris again. Chris went with it anyway, though he didn’t go any
closer. It was nice to have someone agree with him who wasn’t
family.
    “That’s what my mom says.” Chris glanced back
in the direction of the party, blocks away now. If he wasn’t small
and thin he would have hit back. Someday he was going to in some
way that mattered, so they wouldn’t pick on anyone else. He looked
back at Nick, who was tall and broad-shouldered and anything but
little. “I just think they’re assholes. No,” he immediately
corrected himself with a sigh. “That’s not really true. I know they
are probably just as messed up as I am, but at the moment, I’m
sticking with assholes.”
    “Now there’s the Captain Jupiter I remember.”
Nick slipped into the light enough for Chris to see his
heavy-lidded eyes and the glisten of alcohol at his mouth. He
smiled a little, as if just saying “Captain Jupiter” made him want
to laugh. Chris pictured them in the capes and helmets of cartoon
superheroes in his backyard and felt his face get hot for no reason
he could think of.
    “Hey, you were my sidekick,” he defended
himself without thinking and winced, but Nick stumbled and
straightened up in almost the same motion.
    “You were bossy,” Nick answered after a
second and took another swig before holding the bottle out. “You
want some?”
    God only knew what was in that bottle. It was
brown and almost clear in the light. Chris looked away from the
pink mouth that the girls raved about and the high cheekbones and
Nick’s serious, shadowed eyes and tried to act as if people offered
him booze every day. But his heart was pounding as he slowly
crossed the street.
    Nick’s fingers didn’t brush his as he took
the bottle, but Chris could see him looking over his face and
noting his cut lip, his swollen eye, his messed up hair. Chris had
looked this beat up before but he didn’t think he’d ever noticed
Nick taking an interest. But if Nick was bothered he didn’t say
anything, he just handed over the booze and watched as Chris tried
and failed to keep his eyes from watering up as the JD hit his
tongue.
    “Delicious,” he croaked when he’d had enough
and handed the bottle back. “Thanks.” He wiped his mouth and tried
not to cough.
    “My stepdad’s,” Nick volunteered in a
strained voice, but shrugged when Chris stared at him. “It’s better
than the pills or whippets or whatever stupid shit they’re doing
back there.” He looked back at Chris suddenly, right into his eyes.
Nick’s eyes were the exact shade of the whiskey he was drinking.
“Why did you go? Why do you always—?” Nick stopped and raised the
bottle to his mouth. He drank enough to wet his lips but not enough
to swallow. “You aren’t their punching bag.”
    He spoke slowly. Chris wondered how drunk
Nick really was. He already hurt, but it hurt more to think of
anyone drinking alone under that bridge.
    He reached for the Jack and gave a start when
Nick let him take it. It fucking hurt more to drink it; it hurt
going down, it hurt his bottom lip. He hated it.
    This time he did cough, only to freeze when
Nicky bared his teeth in a grin. Chris felt warm and stupid and
glanced at his feet.
    “I know I’m not their punching bag,” he
mumbled with whiskey on his breath. “But they need….” He prodded
his lip with his tongue and heard Nick inhale. He looked up to find
Nick still