Chapter 8

eight

Lily

A painfully bright streak of gold light cuts into the room waking me. Groaning, I roll over and smack into a set of firm abs and a smattering of coarse hair. This isn't Pete. Adjusting to the new brightness, I start to doze again, and despite one part of my brain knowing this is not Pete, I find myself lightly stroking whatever is soft and fuzzy alongside me. My head is pounding, but slowly it starts to come back to me: the diner, arriving here, and drinks with River. Right, River. Looking down at my hand, I realize I'm petting his chest and stomach, but he's wearing only a pair of soft gym shorts. Nothing else. Fuck, he's so cute… but he's so… this town.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to fake being asleep but it's futile. My entire body is riddled with wardrobe malfunctions, or maybe my body is what malfunctions. I first notice the elastic of my low-impact sports bra cutting into my ribs then the awful wedgie. I could crawl out of my skin loathing the day ahead. Now a hard day with a hangover on top? Fuck . I go to adjust my flared leggings , yoga pants, whatever they are called today… hoping that will fix the issue. When I rub my legs together to wiggle them loose I'm met with bare skin. What?

I crack one eye open, and realize that I have an audience for this uncomfortable self assessment. Sitting up, I pull the large T-shirt to keep my lower half covered and look down. The navy T-shirt is soft and well worn with academic-style block letters reading Featherweight Boxing Club est. 1866 adorned by a set of boxing gloves in white ink.

"Thank you?" I ask, looking down to my bedmate.

"You're welcome?" he teases, repeating my tone.

"Ummm, so, about last night." I'm anxious and have no desire to know what a fool I made of myself.

"You were drunk, you didn't do anything weird. You didn't get sick. I bring our friends up when they can't walk home all the time. Nothing to stress. Well, you did drop your pants and flare your arms in the sky and sing TA-DA! to prove the shirt is a dress," he teases. Grabbing the pillow, I toss it over his face and grumble a little.

I want to be angry, but the most I can manage is mild irritation. He excuses himself to the bathroom to get cleaned up for the day and I grab the pillow back and cover my head and drift back to a light sleep. I don't think I need more information on how we ended up semi-clothed in his king-size bed together. I tell myself at least it was River . He's previously been my protector—even when the town wanted to lock me in the stocks—maybe it will continue.

"That good, huh? Fortunately for you I have your old favorite heading this way from The Bagel Beagle. I hope you still order a pork roll, egg, one slice of cheddar, with salt-pepper-ketchup on a whole wheat everything bagel."

"Taylor Ham," I firmly correct him.

"It's literally the same, and you know it," he delights in the ridiculous argument.

"It's literally the product of John Taylor and was called Taylor's Prepared Ham before people called it pork roll. But I'm extremely happy to hear there is a Taylor Ham, Egg, and Cheese headed my way!" I'm bouncing as I share this completely useless information. Call it one of my special skills. I salivate on command thinking about New Jersey bagels like one of Pavlov's dogs.

"Oooh! Is Benny still doing deliveries with the humans? I haven't seen him in so long!" I'm loud and excited despite feeling like shit, and this doesn't add up.

Humming, he counters "Well, Benny will be along for the drop I assume. But… the Benny you recall is sadly over the rainbow bridge. Seriously, Lil, he was like a million years old when we were kids. You have to be somewhat unsurprised by this news?"

He's gotten up to stretch now. A familiar mischief twinkles in his eyes as he reaches a long arm overhead. His other hand absentmindedly scratches his abs. Damn, I want to do that again too. I force myself to move as a reminder that there's no reason to ruin a friendship. He'd think this was fun for a bit before getting fed up with my inability to stay put somewhere. With my ability to speak faster than I can consciously think about what I'm saying. He'd see me cry over some random act of kindness, or become so excited by a new song that I have to create a workout for it, only to listen to it non-stop for days on end. No, River would not want the chaos that comes with all of me and he'd move on too. I'm tired of trying to find someone who is willing to stay, so I just accept the temporary offers. I can't have him be temporarily that close when it's better to keep the great friends I see periodically who still love me.

"Oh shut up I'm going to pee. When I get back, can we make coffee?"

As I take a deep breath in, the aroma hits me, and he teases, "Wow, you are really not with it. It's been brewed. It's programmed or else nothing would wake me. I assumed it woke you too. How do you take it?"

He's now sauntering across the room to the kitchen, giving me a view of his hockey butt. Pulling down two mugs and a bowl before flicking on the faucet, filling up water and placing it before Pete. Taking care of not only me, but Pete too? I'm going to melt. When was the last time someone wanted to take care of us?

Snatching my pants off the floor on my way towards the bathroom I call, "Enough sugar that it is practically chocolate-sweet. One ice cube…"

Before I can get the words out of my mouth, he adds on, "Still without milk?"

Wow. I don't think anyone has ever remembered that. Then again, I have not really stuck around long enough for them to notice much about me. I push that thought down because I like it better this way. The New Jersey air must be responsible for stirring these weird feelings in me.

Just my luck. Of course. By doing a double take I manage to stumble over my own feet and land with a thud across the threshold to the bathroom. Flat on my face. I feel a cool breeze across my lower body, my stomach pressed against cold tile signaling my ass is most definitely exposed. I scramble as quickly as I can to right River's oversized T-shirt and slam the door shut.

This is just too much this morning. Too much being seen in a place that reminds me to shrink into the background. By tonight, all of Peacock Springs will have heard about my arrival. Everywhere I go could land me face-to-face with Grant, Landan, Belinda, or any of the gossip loving biddies who judge me incessantly. I don't want to, but I already feel like my nineteen year old self. A jilted wife. A young divorcee. This entire town only remembers the insecure version of me. An angry and explosive young woman left here and the worst thing is, somehow, I woke up and she's back. Could I forget the entire decade I've spent working, traveling, meeting people, having sex with no strings attached, falling in and out of lust with other wandering souls in one night?

Assuming that I'll need to sneak across the square, I start to strategize my best approximation of a morning routine to go out and get my things when I notice my duffle bag sitting on a bench near the sink. I riffle through my possessions until I produce the toothbrush, soap, and hairbrush I'll need.

I shout through the door, "You are one of the good ones. Thanks for grabbing my stuff so I don't have to walk of shame through town. Now I can shower and change like a proper person. Towels?"

"All clean on the rack," he confirms.

"Amazing, be out soon," I promise before turning on the shower to heat up. Sitting down to pee, my head goes back into my hands.

"Quick pep talk, Lily, you are twenty-eight. You have a decade of experiences behind you. The Jeep. Air in your lungs. Food and caffeine headed your way. It is not your job to live for someone else's desires or expectations. You can be a badass anywhere, so flush and get up," I whisper-demand to myself. Sometimes getting things started, even things I love to do, feels harder than it should .

I finally pull myself up and into the shower where the heat causes my muscles to jolt and flinch before they can adjust and relax. I lather up with the lavender soap, and brush my skin softly with the pads of my fingers. Before I can think too much about what I'm doing, my mind drifts to the way my friend grew into a gorgeous man. He still has the charm and smirk, and now he has the muscles too. His scruffy face covered with a light beard and scattered body hair really adds to the whole masculine look. He's clearly not a boy at all anymore. I'm confused by the ways this gives me goosebumps and how an ache sets in between my thighs. How long has it been since I got laid? Anxiety and excitement feel the same in the body, I'm just taking my anxiety out on today's events sexually. When a bunch of deep breathing exercises don't calm me, I move the water first to cool, then a shot of ice cold. No way this is actually about River Hendrix. Right?

Mid-toweling off to get dressed, the doorbell rings. I'm almost ready to toss on the cute outfit I pulled together, but River isn't familiar with Pete's dashing off. So I toss on the first things I see, which turns out to be a hot pink tie dye shirt with cut-off shorts and rush to try and stop the dog from leaving.

I'm too late and Pete has already run behind River, barking and running down the steps. I shout, "Pete, stay! River, don't open the?—"

Shit. Pete is ignoring me and River doesn't hear me until it's too late. We watch in fear as Pete barrels towards the beagle—laying on an old rusted Radio Flyer wagon—and bagel delivery boy. The kid can't be much older than fifteen, and he's so shaken up by the flash of red fur he drops the bag and backs away. This causes Benny the Beagle to hop out and tussle with Pete over the bagels. It ends quickly and without any blood, just a lot of noise and I worry if it will draw folks out from the nearby storefronts. Thankfully, I don't see anyone.

Victorious, Pete makes off with the bag screeching his high pitched whine that tips me off to his plans. Pete wants to hide treasure. I stand there in shock as Pete digs trying desperately to loosen the porch lattice work enough to… yep… he just succeeded in slipping under the porch.

It takes thirty minutes, treats, bribes, begging, and dragging his collar to get him out from under the porch but finally Pete is securely in River's apartment again and this time we crate him .

"We need a new breakfast plan," I think out loud while feeling sweat drip everywhere. I could also go for another shower. Ew.

"No worries. Coffee Crumbs instead?" River offers and I swallow my anxiety and shrug.