River, now knocking impatiently on my door, is making a hell of a lot of noise in the hallway. It sounds like he’s crinkling up paper bags.
I yank the door open, breathless from my overzealous activities, and see River balancing two large and overflowing brown paper bags in his arms. I rush to take one from him but he pushes in past me and finds the kitchen island, thrusting them onto the marble countertop.
“That was really close.” His catchy smile spreads across his face.
How is it possible that he looks even better than all those years ago? Even better than our night we shared last year? He gets better with age, like fine wine and whiskey.
River just looks at me, and I, back at him. I can tell he’s taking me in, and I can only hope his thoughts are similar to my own.
“It’s really nice to see you. I’m glad you finally decided to message me,” I joke, nudging at him, and he sweeps me up into his arms, holding me tightly for a moment before letting me go. I start to ease into him just as he pulls away from me.
“I told you,” he starts, pulling containers out of the bags, “I didn’t have it on my phone for a while.” He brought Chinese food. The aroma, the sight of the orange chicken…it brings back memories of being seventeen again and eating this very thing on his parents’ rooftop as the sun went down, our favorite records playing in the background.
I wish I weren’t so damn curious but I can’t help but ask, “Why?” Seems weird to download it, delete it, and re-download it. Unless…
“My girlfriend wasn’t really a fan of me having a dating app on my phone.” He laughs nervously, and I meet his eyes with my own, brushing my hair from my face.
“Yikes. Yeah,” I say, feeling like a freight train has just crashed into me. “I feel that.” I grab plates from the cabinet—trying my best not to show how much his words affected me—and hand one to River. He lets me make my plate before adding any food to his own.
“So, obviously, if you couldn’t guess, we broke up.” He follows me to the couch and we sit on the black leather, inches apart. “Wasn’t meant to be.” He sips from the drink I poured for him.
“I’m sorry.” I’m not sorry. Not really, anyway. “Are you doing okay?” I really don’t want to hear anything about the women he dates, women that aren’t me. But I feel like I have to ask.
Swallowing a bite of rice, he says, “Oh, yeah, for sure. I liked her, but really, only as a friend. She wanted to try to be more, so I tried. It just didn’t work. I think I was too consumed with you, to be honest. You know, holding out hope.” He keeps his head lowered toward his food but glances up at me.
I shrink back into myself. I knew this would come up, but I still wasn’t ready to deal with the emotions behind it. I can’t hide from the fact that I hurt him, though. “I’m sorry I never called you. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, or didn’t want you, I just…” my voice trails off as I search for the right words to explain my thought process. “I had just gotten out of an engagement six weeks before we saw each other. It wasn’t the right time, Riv.” I hope my words suffice, but the pain in his eyes tells me I hurt him worse than I’d previously thought.
“Is it the right timing now?” he asks, in perfect River fashion, jumping right to the point, no filter.
I catch myself blushing, and immediately look down into my wine glass, swirling it and stalling.
He reaches over and runs his hand up my leg, resting it on my knee and poking one finger between the ripped fabric, stroking my skin. I know how I want to answer this question, and I know how I should answer this question, but the answers don’t match up.
He inches closer to me, closing the gap that separates us on my couch. Our ability to pick right back up where we left off isn’t lost on me. I can’t deny the sparks—never-ending, undying—that fly between us, unraveling me at my core. How is it possible? How does this make sense? After all this time, River still makes me melt into a thousand pieces.
River looks at me with his green eyes and I can’t help but focus on his full lips and the tiny constellation of freckles that clusters along his strong jawline.
When I don’t answer, he takes the opportunity to reach up and cradle my face in his hands, turning me toward him and pulling me in to meet him halfway. Our lips are inches apart and he’s breathing against my skin, eyes now focused on my mouth. I’m intoxicated without even having a taste of him. I feel myself slipping, giving away to the moment, to the past, to all the things I had given up years ago. The things I had convinced myself were no good for me.
I give in to my desire and pull him hard to me by the middle of his shirt, meeting his lips with my own and intertwining my tongue with his. He’s warm, soft, home. I’m launched right back into being seventeen again, soaking in every ounce of him, knowing it will all be over again soon.
But I want this, even if it isn’t forever. Hell, even if it’s only one night again.
One thing is certain: River Jacobs is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. I’m addicted to him, to his love, and to his taste.
Let the pain of my past swallow me whole.
Four hours later, River is walking out my door. We’d spent our entire time together in the same spot on the couch, talking, kissing, laughing, and passing the time intertwined as if nothing had changed since we were together last.
As soon as the door closes, River and I having mutually decided that he wouldn’t stay the night, Hailee pops out of the spare bedroom with a toothy grin on her face.
“I thought you’d be sleeping by now.” I return her smile, sleepy-eyed and buzzing—maybe from the alcohol, maybe from River.
“I couldn’t sleep, silly! I was dying to get a recap. My ear against the door only provided so much.” She laughs. “Kidding.” She grabs my hand, practically bouncing with excitement, and leads me to the couch that River and I sat on just moments ago.
I huff, sitting down, feeling tired and ready for bed, but still on a high. “He’s perfect.” I concede to my internal fight. “I wish he wasn’t, Hails.” I shrug. “He’s the same River I remember, but somehow so different. He’s there, but he’s smarter, wiser, more mature.”
She looks amused. “Well, duh. That’s normally what happens when time passes.” We both laugh, but I still can’t seem to get my feelings out in any way that makes sense. “Is he still playing? Doing the band thing?”
“Yep.” She asks me what else we talked about, and I tell her, “Everything,” before I go into the details. “It was a lot of catching up, you know? It’s been a long time.” My phone buzzes against the wooden coffee table, and River’s name brightens up the dark room.
“Fucking Christ! He’s already fallen back in love with you.” She eyes the phone like it’s a block of gold, waiting for me to read the text.
River: Ava, will you go on a date with me?
My heart twirls in my chest. I was hoping he enjoyed his time with me as much as I enjoyed mine with him. With a smile, I read it out loud to Hailee.
“O-M-G.” Her enthusiasm is overwhelming. “Well, of course, you’re saying yes.” I’m sure glad she always knows what I’m going to do and what I should do.