Chapter 28

twenty-eight

River

I get out of the shower and she's laying there with her back towards the wall and legs hanging over the side using the daybed as a couch. Feet dangling just above the floor. She's holding her stomach and I watch it's slow and controlled rise and fall. She's so still, yet her fingers twitch every so often giving away that she's likely awake. Testing this theory, first I grab my duffel and lightly place it next to her and she doesn't seem to notice. Then, I start to dig for my clothes and turn my head to send droplets of water floating over her direction.

She couldn't pretend to sleep much longer, so we moved to sit side by side facing her TV and kitchen island. There's two bar stools that don't match up against it. This place is nothing like the share house in Vermont. It's nothing like the glamorous places she photographs herself either. Has she been hiding more struggles than we realized this whole time?

She pats my thigh right at the knee, but the simple touch sends ripples throughout my body. She opens up her phone and peering down starts to talk about something. It takes a minute to catch up and realize it's the wedding.

"Alright, I have specific instructions from everyone for this week. My texts were going haywire while you were midair."

Trapped and staring like a deer in headlights, I'm unable to blink. I wait for her to go on, unsure where this is headed. I know about the condoms and comments made towards me. Lord only knows what they told her. Swallowing thickly, the best I can offer is a nod of encouragement. She seems to be stalling, too.

"So Stef asked us to run some interference because of the February party being unreasonable?" Her tone ends in a question, despite reading it like a statement.

"Oh yeah, I'm already on it. There's some construction on the property, so this isn't something you'll have to worry about. But, glad you know." I brighten, if this is just about this sort of thing I might survive the close proximity to her lavender chamomile scent and warmth radiating from her skin.

"Check! Next, the couple has decided that they'll be sharing the pre-wedding festivities in Atlantic City. They said after this long, they'd rather have us all together and do some breakouts in smaller groups, more of the gendered stuff. I already reached out to a few places to see how many connecting suites we can pull off. We'll want three: one for the guys, one for the girls from home, and one for the bevy of Santos and Manolo cousins expected to join in. I'll keep you posted. Can you figure out some dinner options and a guys night out?"

She's so focused, her tone serious, but all of her body language gives away discomfort. Shifting her weight, she rocks on her hips causing her to teeter towards me, and then move away. This dance of getting closer and moving away, I can't tell if it's intentional or not.

"That sounds like a good split. When you come out east we can finish up any details too. It'll be nice to be in the same place for longer." I lightly elbow her. Hoping she isn't regretting agreeing to come stay with me once the work out back is done.

"What did Delia demand? I know she had something to say, and it better not be about the new kid she doesn't like training. It's not Kyle's fault he didn't know how to tap a keg." I shake my head, laughing to myself at his awe over the concept of a tap.

"No, Delia said I have to find at least one place per day for you to get ideas for the bar."

I try to stifle it, but a slight sigh of relief slips from me. Unfortunately then she says the least trustworthy name right now .

"Lastly, Nessa," is all she gets out before I realize I've glazed over. I can barely feel it, but my hands are grappling invisible stress balls.

"Oh god, what did Nessa say?" I put my head in hands, any hint of keeping my cool evaporated beyond repair. I might as well have a jaw full of acne and a retainer again. She's just looking at me, contemplating something. The sinking feeling in my stomach is causing me to twist with unease. Nessa, a relationship and sex therapist who is a big fan of troublemaking, this could go in many different directions.

Her face is soft, somehow softer with the low light off the lamp behind her, and she looks practically angelic as she gives me large doe eyes.

"Whatever could you mean? Concerns? About Nessa? Why, George River Hendrix! She only has the most lovely things to say about your trip." She gives an over-emphasized pout and I want to beat her at this little game and just capture it in my teeth. Yank her towards me and tell her how much of a brat she's being. Whoa, I want to what?

I blink a few times for good measure. Is it warmer in here? Anxiously, I start to fix my hair and I swear she watches each motion of my fingers closely. Her tongue slowly licks across her bottom lip and stays tucked between her teeth, poking out the slightest bit.

On a giggle, we bump shoulders before she casually finishes, "Nessa, wants you to fly back with some edibles in gummy vitamin containers. There is a brand she likes that the New Jersey dispensary doesn't carry. She was making jokes about mules, did she do that to you, too, before you came here?"

Oh thank you, sweet lord, this is my out. "Yeah," I scratch at the back of my neck trying to stall a bit. "Yep. Uh huh. That's all. You know, Elizabeth wouldn't care but if George Jonathan Hendrix ever heard that I was less than perfect he'd just give Robert another gold star and lecture me about being more like my brother. Again."

Lily, in all her infinite gentle kindness immediately approves. "Not really worth testing the FAA. It's still a federal felony to cross state lines with products, even from one legalized state to another. Despite this brand being way better, she will survive if you don't bring it. In fact, if you are uncomfortable you should absolutely not bring anything with you. It's not a risk you need to take on."

Like when she was my deskmate, Lily meticulously checks off items on the list, adjusts the next steps needed with light movements of her wrist. Next, she looks at the week ahead in front of her.

"I traded some shifts so I'm all yours this week." She points to the crossed out shifts and notes on who she traded with. I wonder if she hears what I hear when she says she's all mine or if it's the weariness of a late night and travel day letting my mind run wild with the sentiment.

"It looks like the weather should be cooperating with us tomorrow," I point out, glancing at my phone for something to do that isn't staring at her.

"Yeah, well, you never know out here, it changes on a dime. But, since you're beat and there's a few small party planning things to cover let's just lay low. We can focus on Atlantic City party planning and order take out. But first, check this spot out for tomorrow." She passes me her laptop with a bar website pulled up.

"That is perfect, it was a whirlwind going from opening the envelope with a plane ticket from them, to arriving here today," I agree, feeling my chest ache a bit. I want so badly to believe this was because Lily wanted to care for my needs, because of me, right now.

The local distillery she has pulled up looks amazing. It's part of the RiNO, or River North Art District, and is right where a graffiti walking tour group ends their route. I take a few minutes to call their business line and get the owner's daughter. The shared excitement about the industry and family legacy is palpable and we chat for nearly twenty minutes about tomorrow. Before hanging up to manage the dinner rush she asks us to come at 9:00 p.m. since she expects a slow night tomorrow.

Glancing at Lily, I can't help but smile. "For a bunch of shit-stirrers, our friends really were on to something."

That causes her to tentatively pull her lips back and let out a full, toothy smile before pursing her lips in concentration again. The light behind her eyes has me fully captivated, and the swell of her lower lip causes me to become deeply aware that I want to press mine to them as much as I did at fifteen, possibly more .

It's easy to get lost in unanswerable questions about the future whether it is my family legacy or if Lily could love me enough to come home.

You have plenty of time to overthink it all when you're back wiping down bar tops, this is the first big vacation you've taken in ages. Relax, even if just for one night. Be someone else this week, instead of the always-worried about optics, sweep it under the rug, easy going River. Hell, maybe Robert has the right idea after all. River is someone who hasn't stopped being serious and over-worked in six years.

"Hey, umm, would it be weird to use my first name?" I'm surprised I said it aloud.

Her head tilts to the side as her mouth squishes into the cutest little pout. She looks me up and down a few times. I wait, taking in the ways she fidgets while thinking. Ugh, that must have been so left field of me… why did I ask that?

She whispers a confused, "Huh?"

"Never mind," I try to dismiss it, "this was just a silly idea. You know, since I'm in a new place, maybe I can be someone new. Give hardworking, responsible, overthinking River a break, see how George Hendrix might just enjoy a vacation."

Her face continues to work through what I just said before a devious little smile curls around her lips, "Absolutely not to George. That name is just not you, darling."

Tapping her chin with one long finger, shiny dark purple polish on her nails, she hums quietly. "No, no, you are certainly more of a River than a George, so that can't possibly work…" she trails off and hums louder.

"Okay." She leans back a bit, using her hands to frame me in view like she's mimicking movie directors. Her smile keeps growing, I worry it might start to hurt her face. Thankfully, the words that follow are, "Let's do it! Let's have completely different names this week and be completely different people." Her body turns sideways facing me head on, our knees touching. Lily is burning the brightest I've seen and I'm like a moth to her flame. Lost in the mirth in her eyes, fully mesmerized by the beauty, I'm shaken back to earth by her adding, "But, I will find a name for you! "

Sweat is pooling under my arms, not enough to show yet but more than I'd want. Twisting the throw pillow next to me, my worst-case-scenario-prone brain tries to convince me that she'll pick something that's a subtle jab. Perhaps she'll take a page from tween River's attendance sheets on substitute teacher days. I remember laughing as she rolled her eyes because I wrote Harry Dick, Eaton Beaver, or Willie B. Hardigan on those pages.

Now, based on the mischievous look brewing behind her eyes, I fear my middle school jokes could be thrown back in my face again. To keep this from going sideways, I try to add a maneuver which will prevent her from using the worst suggestion that comes to her mind.

"Darling," I match the sugary and somewhat condescending tone of the term of endearment back to her and stroke my stubbly beard mirroring her chin tapping, "you name me if I name you back. Do we have a deal?" I fix my gaze firmly on her smirk and damn do I want to kiss it right off her face.

She doesn't let me sweat long though before firmly replying, "Pacey, like that show I made you watch on DVD with me. The one my older cousin left at the beach."

I remember the show. I remember when she made me watch the DVDs on repeat in middle school. Stef and Lily would argue about the love triangle in the show all the time, and I'm busy trying to recall which team she was on so I know how to react. Thankfully I don't have to think too hard because she continues.

"It's because he chases what sounds fun in the moment. Plus, he was wicked smart , smarter than anyone gave him credit for. Let those snarky jokes you've texted me out!"

Shit , now I regret the quid pro quo I insisted on. Do I want her to know how I feel yet?

"Hey, Pace," she cocks an eyebrow, "you aren't allowed to overthink. Name me. Now." She is so adorable with her hands balled into fists and sitting on her hips.

It might be the way she looks at me, the idea of being someone else, or just a force stronger than I can control but something takes over.

I'm moving like a magnet towards her, turning my body so I'm fully facing her while she's sitting perpendicular to me. My voice is quiet, deeper than usual, my lips skim her ear, breath lightly grazing her skin. I can see the pulse in her throat quicken and a line of pinpricks rise on her flesh. She's turning pink, and so I let the words I've been holding back since my shower leave my lips, "Is that whose name you moan when you are using the rainbow of surprises you left for me to shower with?"

She turns ever so slightly and I can see her eyes have gone wide. Lily's pupils are huge, her dark brown eyes are nearly black. There are a million tiny tingles and twitches across her body that I just barely can see, but they're there. I swallow hard, trying to read her but second guessing myself with overlapping questions.

Has she ever thought about this before? Did I cross a line? Did she not leave those out intentionally? Did I just embarrass her? Is she actually seeing someone and I didn't know? She leans forward, is she tempting me to cross the line?

I need her words, I can't do this without them. Time stretches on and it feels like an eternity has gone by. Her lips part slightly letting her pink tongue dart across the bottom one. Lily looks me in the eyes with a spark, this is a version of her I hadn't met before.

This woman has a fire in her eyes and I'd willingly let her consume me. I'm yearning to close the gap, to bring us closer together and capture her lips with mine, but I stay silent. This is something I have wanted for longer than any man should bear, but I'm statue-still.

She surprises me by swinging one leg across my lap and placing herself over me. Legs wide and pushing her hips lightly against the thin material of my gray sweatpants, her arms rest over my shoulders in a hug that sends electricity crackling between us, and I wrap my own arms around her back causing her hips to accidentally grind against me. Her center is brushing against my quickly rising hard on.

Who is this goddess? A beautiful woman that exists outside of Peacock Springs and is right here with me. There's nothing shy or timid about her here.

"Fucking exquisite," I whisper to the crown of her head. As if they have a mind of their own, my hands roam up and down her back before grabbing a handful of hair at the nape of her neck and angle her face towards mine. It's clear: we're playing chicken .

Lightly, I yank her hair again listening as a light gasp leaves her mouth and her hips push down on me further. I'm thirty years old and dry-humping my lifelong friend that I've been secretly in love with, and I can't just kiss her? This is ridiculous.

Inhaling against her neck I catch the scent of lavender, sandalwood, and chamomile tea, and I graze the tip of my nose against her soft skin. Everything she has done and every glance she's given suggests we are on the same page.

" Darling ," I simply land on using the term of endearment for her, "I need you to tell me what you want. I refuse to lose the game of chicken you started, but if I start I don't think I can stop. Do you want to play pretend with me this week?"

She is breathy and nods, she seems to be struggling to find her words but gets out a weak, "Who am I?"

There's no blood left in my brain, erect cock straining against boxer briefs and sweatpants; nestling himself against her parted legs. He's twitching in complaint, there's too many layers covering us, as he continues to lightly graze against her leggings.

There's no doubt she's enjoying our standoff when she swivels her hips again; intentionally. Firmer. Call it: time of death. There's no blood left for my brain, so my words tumble out fully raw and honest.

"You, my darling , are the first girl I noticed gave me tingly feelings. The ones that caused me to wake up one too many times with sticky sheets before I got out of middle school." She's staring at me. There's an earnest intensity in her gaze, and I hope if I keep going quickly enough maybe she'll ignore that. I just mentioned wet dreams from puberty. Keep talking, keep it moving.

"Lily, you are the amazing flower I watched blossom from a shy new student to my personal shusher. Then, you were my secret keeper. Do you know I looked for you in the stands at every hockey game, even once you were with him?"

I spit "him" with the ire and derision it deserves, and she shivers ever so slightly. Pressing on with an increased fervor I bite out, lips hovering by the edge of her jaw.

"Who are you? You are the beautiful woman I suffered through watching someone so fucking unworthy of your drive, your love for your friends, and your ability to just float on so lightly through this world claim you as his. I sat there, knowing I had to be quiet. Patient. Because I always knew. You are destined for so much more than he offered you. You deserve your life to be filled with the type of color you bring with you. Playfulness. Joy. Someone who remembers your coffee order. Yes, I caught that look on your face in September."

Feral. Enraged. I am nearing lecturing territory or a firm reprimand, "You are the woman who turned every mistreatment you received inward, someone who fled from home blaming yourself for a house made of paper not standing up to the rain."

The lid removed, the all consuming torment I have felt bubbles over as my pulse quickens to match a hummingbird. I sound commanding and harsh, but she doesn't look afraid.

I envelope her in a tighter grasp than anticipated. I swore I knew my own strength. Am I scaring her? Hurting her? Instead, her knees fall farther apart and her ankles cross behind my back. She's gripping my shoulders and torso with all four limbs, climbing me like a tree. Like she's trying to be squeezed into a singular being.

Standing and switching us around, I place her down on the mattress and crawl over her. I graze my palm against her cheek, pushing my weight into her as she did to me. I grind myself against her, feeling each ripple of expectation between us.

"Do you not realize, darling , it's always been you for me? When you went quiet for two years, the girls kept me updated on every move. Not to be kind, it was because I was driving them insane. Pretty sure Nessa blocked my number for a bit there. Where the fuck were you?" Our eyes are locked, we're intimately wrapped around each other and still she hasn't interrupted this overdone speech.

"Then, you were back online. Like you never left. And those photos," I growl and shake my head, "you look fucking delicious. Good enough to eat, which is something I will happily do for you, until it's time to fly back to New Jersey, but first I need to hear you say you want this too, darling."

Her eyelids slowly fall while my fingers twirl in the strand of hair that fell to her face from our frantic movements. I brush my fingers softly across her forehead, skimming her cheeks with the pads of my fingers and track the freckles across her nose. She parts her lips on a soft breath and I'm not sure if she is waiting for me to finish my monologue, trying to find her words, or second guessing what she's doing here. These soft touches unleash something greater than my wildest imagination.

Without a second hesitation she raises her hips chasing the friction and she tries to reach me but I pull back despite missing her being against me already. She places both palms over my cheeks and brings our noses to touch. We are so close that we barely would need to move to kiss, but I remind her, "I need to hear that you want this, I can't guess."

Finally, she nods, lightly grazing my mouth with a nearly there kiss before whispering, "Please."

That is all the permission I need to steal the sound from her mouth.

When her tongue parts my lips, we begin to kiss and roll our bodies together. There is a rhythm that is both brand new and familiar, like when a song's remix is played for the first time. Her fingernails scratch lightly while reaching under the hem of my T-shirt, starting on the lower part of my ribs before swirling patterns up the sides of my body. She reaches behind my shoulders and presses her nails harder into the skin, and I feel their sting and pull her lower lip between my teeth with a soft nip.

"Like to be a little prickly, do you, darling?" I laugh as I kiss where her lip swells from my teeth's sting.

She cocks an eyebrow and quips, "Mhm, you'll figure it out, we have time. Five days, huh? Do we tell…" her breath hitches, "um, everyone? Back at h…in Peacock Springs? Or…" she trails off searching my eyes, nervous to ask the question I see there. She wants to ask me if this is a secret, a temporary vacation hook up, or something more. I'm just not certain what answer she wants from me.

Instead of giving a direct answer to the unasked questions I opt to keep things playful, palming a handful of one asscheek over the leggings. "This is the ass I have had teasing me on Instagram for far too long. Bent over, twisted, legs in the sky. I've wanted to be over, under, or alongside you in each of those shapes. The only one who sees your face in the throes of pleasure and hears your moans. I thought you were never going to come home. I'm this generation's George, I'll never be anywhere but there, so I gave up on the idea. Until you slammed into my chest in September, and all of my fears disappeared. It didn't matter that having you only once wouldn't be enough. You snuggled into me that night and I knew for certain that I am a masochist. Completely crazed. Right now, I don't care if I have you for one night, one week, one lifetime. The idea of going another fifteen years without ever kissing you, never having you in my arms…it is too much. I will take what you'll offer me, for as long as you're offering it."