Chapter 3

(Lux)

A moment so inspired it sparks all the rest

Holy shit, River was everything.

Funny, flirty, and absolutely unpretentious, despite his sparkly appearance.

I carried the bag with our food while he regaled me with tales of other disasters that had taken place in my classroom.

“Seriously, if you think a little paint is bad, you should have been there for the lesson on Paper Mache.”

“Oh my gods, who even thought that was a good idea?”

“Mr. Stampley and man did he regret it.” River explained. “Between the bag of flour that got dropped when the backup quarterback told one of the other players in the class to go long, and the tub of paste that got knocked on Maryann Clemson’s head while she was kneeling to tie her shoe, it was an absolute disaster. Do you know how many things teenagers touch without thinking about what they’ve already gotten on their hands first?”

“Believe me, I am aware.”

He laughed at that and looked positively adorable as he led me up the rock lined path into City Park. Every single stone was painted, some with bright images, others with little quotes and sayings. Judging from the way they shimmered, it looked like they’d been sealed, a wise thing to do, even to stone, when it would be bombarded with sunlight and rain for years on end. It didn’t dawn on me until after he’d bypassed the picnic tables to reach the merry-go-round, why he’d asked me about motion sickness.

Now, I was very glad the answer was no .

“So, this is what a small town Saturday night feels like,” I murmured as he placed his phone in the center of the merry-go-round and the first notes of Comfortably Numb surrounded us.

“Meh, it’s what Saturday night anywhere can feel like, if you don’t mind being a little unpredictable,” he explained.

I placed the cartons between us and opened the lids, a savoy scent wafting out. I might have felt embarrassed about the way my stomach rumbled if his hadn’t chosen that moment to growl just as loud, leading to a tiny blush that left his face just a few shades lighter than his hair.

“I know what my excuse is,” I said. “I was getting caught up on laundry and unpacking and completely forgot to take a break for lunch.”

“Haven and I split a meatball sub but I’m pretty sure we could have each eaten a whole one without much effort.”

Curious, I couldn’t help asking, “So why didn’t you?”

“Trust me when I say that we asked ourselves that about two hours after we finished, and our stomachs started rumbling again.”

I shook my head at that, knowing I’d been guilty of the same thing many times before. “You do work at a convenience store, you know.” I pointed out.

“I’m aware. But going in to buy something would have been a silent admission that our sister was right when she suggested we each order ones of our own in the first place.”

Laughing, I reached for a steak tip, our fingers bumping as we tried to snag the same one.

“So better to go hungry than listen to an I told you so , got it.” I replied. “I’m just not sure if that’s classified as stubborn or prideful?”

“Both and all points in between.” River said. “I refuse to give her the satisfaction of being right for the millionth time. Nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine-hundred and ninety-nine is enough, dammit.”

I let him have the piece and snagged another, dunking it in buttery parmesan sauce before popping it into my mouth and moaning the moment the taste hit my tongue. Talk about tender, the steak was perfectly cooked and practically melted when I bit into it. “Oh holy shit that’s good.”

“Right! I’d put the Blue Star’s food up against any diner around,” River declared as he leaned against one of the rails and savored the bite he’d taken.

“Did you have to go to art school to learn how to teach art,” River asked. “How does it even work, anyway? How do you get to be an art teacher?”

“Well, I did go through art school and bummed around England and Wales for a little while sketching and taking pictures,” I explained. “Something about capturing the hard stone of those old castles in watercolor fascinated me and I’d spend my evenings painting and my days wandering around being inspired.”

“Sweet! Holy shit that must have been awesome.”

“It was. I felt like I really started to develop my style as an artist during the six months I was over there. Unfortunately, it also drained my bank account, which meant it was time for me to head home and figure out how to adult properly. ” I said.

He made a face at the word adult and reached for another beef tip.

“I hate that term,” I said as I studied him in the moonlight. He looked so relaxed leaning there, watching me and listening as the song played on. “People shouldn’t be made to feel like there is only one set way of being responsible, which is all being an adult actually is. Being responsible for yourself and your own decisions. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to support myself with my art, at least not in the beginning. I could barely line up a local showing and what sales I did make came from family members and my favorite art teacher. She’s the one who suggested I take classes to become a substitute and support myself that way while I took the rest of the classes I’d need to be able to teach. Fortunately, all the credits from my core classes transferred over, so it was only the teaching portion of things that I needed to focus on. It took two years and a ton of sleep deprivation, but here I am, with a classroom of my own, finally. Along the way I developed my first web comic, during a class on the history of cartooning, actually. I was inspired by the things I didn’t see. The stories I wanted to read but couldn’t find available.

“Is it permanent?”

“I hope so. The principal said they were expecting to vote on whether to offer me a contract for the next three years before we break for the holidays. Initially I just signed on to finish the school year and see how I’d like living in the area.”

“I hope you get it. I could get used to having you around.”

“Even if I don’t, I really don’t want to pick up and move anytime soon. I like the place I’ve rented, and Foggy Basin has a nice vibe to it. My best friend Frida lives here, too. I’ve missed her since she left the city.”

“Frida Calloway?”

“Yeah. That’s her.”

“I should have guessed by what you picked up the other day. Those are her go to purchases when she’s in the middle of a collection.”

“I take it she’s told you about her work.” I asked, dunking one of the potato wedges in the dill dip that accompanied them and taking a big bite.

Fresh dill, oh my god, it was crisp on my tongue but not overpowering. The perfect complement to the potato.

“Oh honey,” River said, tsking a little as he regarded me. “I’ve modeled a few of the pieces and appeared in two of her videos.”

“No shit. How long have you known one another?”

“She found the dispensary on her second day in town and spent the rest of the day chatting me up about her Grateful Dead collection, which turned into an I’ll show you mine if you show me yours situation. That ballooned into showing me the collection she’d been working on. The next thing I knew, she was taking measurements, and I was agreeing to pose for stills and let her shoot some footage of me wearing the outfits around town.

“That’s Frida for you,” I remarked, chuckling fondly. “I learned way back in our college days that you never went over to her dorm room without expecting to get sucked into whatever it was she happened to be working on.”

“Yeah, well word of warning, I have a wonderful talent for luring people into giving the wheel a go, and a couple have gotten addicted, so I’m afraid I’m no better.”

“I’ll consider myself warned,” I said as I held a slider to his lips and watched his eyes roll back as he took his first cheesy bite of burger goodness.

“Oh my God, that’s almost better than a blow job,” he moaned as I passed him the rest of the sandwich.

Laughing I reached for another of the potato wedges, as Birdy started singing Skinny Love. The moment River joined in on the my, my, mys in the chorus, I knew I’d found someone I wanted to share more nights like this with.

“I’m shocked you didn’t have plans to hit one of the clubs in Acacia tonight,” I said. “I hear they bring in the best DJs on Saturday nights.”

“I’ll put my playlist up against their dance music anytime,” River said as he got the merry-go-round spinning in a slow, lazy circle. “There is something to be said for the importance of creating the right ambiance. All we need is some fireflies as this would be as magical as Ariel’s boat ride with Erik in The Little Mermaid .”

“Fortunately without the electric eels.”

“True,” he replied. “And yeah, sure the clubs are fun, and I love the way eyes gravitate to me when I’m on the dance floor, but it’s starting to feel like the only way I can hold anyone’s attention is when I’m shaking my ass or saying something outrageous, and that’s rapidly been getting old.”

“I remember those days and sticking around long after it was fun because I still thought the crowd would magically part to reveal the man of my dreams dancing along in a spotlight. Fanciful bullshit, I know, but I think we all have a tendency to hang on too tight to the things we’re comfortable with, especially when we’re terrified of what the future has in store for us.”

“See, you get it,” he said. “That’s my point exactly. I don’t know if it just snuck up on me gradually until I realized how hollow a night at the club left me by the time I was back at home washing off the glitter, but I realized one night that I was sick of it. I don’t know, maybe it was watching my brother, Haven, fall in love with his partner, that made me see how much I longed for that in my life, or maybe it was because it was half filled with people my age who were convinced that they were already over the hill and washed up when we were barely legal. I guess there is something to be said for partying a little too hard in our teens, but that’s something else about small towns the romance books don’t tell you about. There isn’t fuck all to do when you’re a kid growing up in one, unless you happen to be good at sports. Anyone who’s ever seen me try to throw a softball would know I was shit outta luck in that regard.”

“Don’t feel bad, I was never any good at sports either, except kickboxing,” I explained. “I have had exactly four black eyes in my life, one from trying to catch a football, one for failing to catch a basketball, one for diving and attempting to slide into a base only to get hit by a dodgeball, and one because I lost track of the baseball I was trying to catch, and it cracked me on the nose. I guess I should call it five black eyes, technically, since both got dark and swollen after the ball broke my nose.”

“Ouch, okay, note to self, no planning anything involving balls for us to do together.”

“Damn, if you follow through on that you’ll be seriously curtailing the fun for both of us,” I said.

I watched as he cocked his head, eyebrows furrowing, head cocked to the side as he frowned and studied me for a moment, so thoroughly confused it was absolutely adorable. I was just about to put him out of his misery and explain when his eyes got wide and he doubled over, laughing and kicking the ground to make us spin faster.

“I can’t believe it took me a minute to get that,” River said, gazing up at me from beneath eyebrows that were as pink as his hair. “Most days my mind lives in the gutter.”

His lashes were tipped in pink too, and yet there was such an edge to the way he carried himself that it was impossible to mistake him for soft. He had this crazy-beautiful energy about him too, especially when he started moving to the beat of a song.

Summertime by Kid Rock might not have been appropriate for the season, but it more than embodied the night. Eyes closed he shimmied his shoulders, while I took over spinning us, our stomachs no longer pushing us to focus on the food instead of each other.

As he sang along, I realized that he had a pleasant voice and a way of getting lost in a song like he was the one up on stage performing. Definitely not someone who believed in doing things by halves, which was something I could appreciate. I tended to throw myself into the things I loved too, and right now, his face was alight with passion and joy.

Something told me that he’d have sang the same way even if he sung terribly. The way I was suddenly so excited to check out this vinyl collection of his and get a taste of the sounds he loved was a bit out of the ordinary for me. It usually took me a while to develop an actual interest in someone beyond a little fun beneath the sheets. Maybe that was because my expectations were at odds with the qualities of the men I tended to bring home.

River fit the physical to a T. Club fuckboys were a particular favorite of mine, it should probably shame me to say, but I could own up to having a type, at least when it came to immediate hookups. What I sought in a boyfriend was a bit more complicated. Was it too much to ask for a freak in the sheets who also had a soulful, contemplative side? Apparently not, if River was any indication. There were layers here I couldn’t wait to peel back and examine.

The song ended and he caught me watching him, grinned, and snagged another slider, taking a dainty bite. He actually sat there, bobbing and bouncing to the new song, rolling his shoulders and nibbling that slider like a little mouse, his body language betraying just how much he enjoyed them.

Beautifully seasoned ground beef topped with smoked Gouda cheese and maple bacon jam.

I leaned in the moment he popped the last bite in his mouth, kissing the smear of maple bacon at the corner of his lips before he could lick it away. His eyes widened, as if I’d shocked him by suddenly invading his space, then his fingers brushed a lock of hair back from my cheek and I was done for.

I never wanted to gaze so deeply into another pair of eyes unless they were his.

“I could spin out here forever with you,” I murmured, knowing it sounded sappy but dammit, there was just something about him, like I’d been waiting for him all my life, searching in the friends I made, the relationships I had, and the hookups I engaged in whenever I’d needed to scratch the sexual itch so I could dial my focus back onto my artwork.

“And wind up like the north and south going Zax, with the world growing up around them while they stayed locked in place,” he once he’d finished chewing

“Only they were locked in a stubborn battle of wills neither was willing to back down from.”

“And what do you think this is?” River murmured, inching closer, his eyes darting from my eyes to my lips and back again.

I pressed my lips to his then, silencing him, save for the muffled sigh and low groan he let out as our knees bumped and our fingers groped to find their way beneath each other’s clothes.

When we broke apart, his cheeks were flushed, and several locks of hair had been displaced from the careful style he’d arranged it into.

“That was proof that I don’t have the will or the patience to be stubborn, at least not when it comes to kissing you,” I declared before kissing him again, and again, and again as we lazily spun, one of us kicking at the ground every time the merry-go-round threatened to stop moving. His playlist provided a beautiful background to the makeout session that raged on long after the food had been forgotten.