Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Clark

THIS IS THE MOST clothes I’ve ever seen River wear. And potentially the hottest he’s ever looked.

He holds back some of his blue hair in a stubby ponytail, the rest framing his face and falling free to his shoulders. He wears a simple button down with several of the top buttons undone, and a stone that matches his hair hangs below his neck, drawing my eyes to the bare bit of chest his shirt exposes. He even has jeans on, which is as shocking as it is flattering on his toned legs. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more attracted to someone when they were dressed instead of naked, but this cleaned up, put together version of River leaves me stuttering as I approach him on the sidewalk outside the bar.

“You made it,” he says, flashing a brilliant smile. He sounds genuinely relieved, as though I might have accepted his invitation only to leave him waiting. His eyes flicker up and down me. “You look nice.”

The compliment feels ridiculous considering how he looks tonight. I had time to speed home from work and clean up a little — trimming my beard, brushing my teeth, basics like that — but my slacks and sweater are just what I wore to work. They’re nothing like this dressed up version of River that seems coordinated for maximum sexy.

“Should we go in?” River says when I hesitate, still drinking him in.

I snap back to my senses. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

He motions me inside, his hand going naturally to the small of my back as I step past the threshold. It’s a glancing touch, but it lights me up regardless. No matter the time that’s passed since the retreat, my body still leaps to react to him. I’ve been holding myself away, searching for normalcy, trying to return to my life and let the attraction subside, but even the lightest touch brings me right back to him. I’m as helpless as I was when he grabbed my wrist in the forest and my whole body wanted to go limp for him.

Music thumps dully in the bar over the din of conversation. Bodies pack the place, squeezing toward the bar and jostling for space closer to the stage at the back. The stage stands empty and dark, the bulky shadows of equipment cluttering the gloom. The whole room is a long, narrow rectangle that forces everyone in close together as they vie for space near the stage and bar. Never would I have believed a little bar in a tiny town like Tripp Lake could draw such a crowd, but the place is absolutely bursting at the seams from this crowd.

River takes me by the elbow and steers me toward the bar. He leans close, breath warm against my ear as he bends down to speak to me.

“Do you want something to drink?”

I nod. “Whatever you’re having.”

I’m not that picky about drinks. I mostly want something to do with my hands, something to dull the buzzing edge of anxiety buried in my chest.

River flags down the bartender and orders two surprisingly ordinary beers. He smirks at my reaction.

“What?” he says.

“I guess I expected you to drink something more…”

“Fruity? Weird? I like that too, but I figured this might be more your speed.”

He tips his beer toward me, and I clink the neck of mine against his. I take a drink to hide my reaction to him picking this drink out for me, picking it because he believes it’s what I’d like. He’s right. The beer is light and refreshing. It’s exactly what I would have picked for myself. I’m not sure if that fact freaks me out or comforts me.

With our beers in hand, River steers us into the crowd. He takes my hand and dives into the bustle, navigating us past the bar and toward the stage. Bodies squeeze around us, until we suddenly pop out into a clear space River claims for the two of us. We aren’t up against the stage, but we’re close enough for a great view.

It takes me a moment to realize he hasn’t dropped my hand yet. I glance down, and River catches me, but he just squeezes my hand without letting go. I cling to my beer, taking another sip as nerves flutter in my stomach. The beer, the hand holding, the way River is dressed — it all screams “date,” but I wasn’t sure until I arrived what this was. I’m still not entirely sure. Is this a date? Are we dating? When did we agree to date? I wouldn’t call anything that happened at the retreat a date, and part of me wondered if tonight would be more of the same. If we never actually saw a band play, it wouldn’t shock me.

Yet here we are, standing in the crowd with our beers, soaking up the excitement vibrating through the bar as the band emerges and starts setting up. More people crowd in, packing the space before the stage even more thickly. It presses River and I closer together, and he lets go of my hand to slide his arm around my waist. I let him, falling against his chest, not minding his warmth even with the heat of so many other bodies around us. Nerves shiver through me. Is this okay? Am I okay with it? But before my mind can churn obsessively over the possibilities, the music starts, and the room around me disappears.

The sound is huge, a wave crashing through the establishment. It sweeps away the crowd, the bar, my own thoughts, everything. It’s folksy and catchy. The crowd bops along to it, and soon I’m swaying with everyone else. It’s like we’re all one mass battered about by the music swelling to fill every corner of the bar like air filling a balloon.

Then River’s voice cuts through it, low and quiet. I can only hear it because I can feel it where my shoulder presses against his chest. It’s a quiet rumble, a mere murmur, but I cling to it, seeking out the calm of his voice amid all this tumult. It calms me, it steadies me, even with so much crashing and clamoring around us. When the first song fades to silence, there’s a beat of soundless calm, but the only thing ringing in my ears is River’s soft singing.

Then the crowd roars, and for a moment the sound is too big for the room. The band thanks them briefly and launches into the next song, and I find myself leaning closer to River, seeking out his mumbled singing underneath the noise.

The whole show goes that way, with me leaning my shoulder against his chest, feeling his voice vibrating, listening to him more than the band on the stage. They’re the only act tonight, but everyone here seems to know them. They must be local or something.

At the end, the lead singer takes the mic.

“Thank you guys for coming out tonight,” he says. “Special thanks to Cameron, if you’re out there. Cameron got us this gig. Are you here?”

There’s a moment of confused mumbling. Then River speaks up above the crowd.

“He couldn’t make it,” he calls.

The singer searches for River in the crowd. “Oh, you’re the co-worker, right? Cool, man. Hey, thanks for coming out. Give Cameron our thanks.”

River gives the singer a thumbs up.

It’s a strange interaction, the kind that could only happen in a little bar in a little town. River never mentioned his co-workers, but I assume Cameron must be someone from that café where he teaches most of his classes.

The band takes one more bow, exiting the stage to raucous cheers. Chatter replaces the thunder of the music we listened to for the past hour, but soon the bar’s own music pumps through the speakers.

River takes my hand and leans close to my ear. “I could use some air after that. Sound good?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Not only is the bar noisy, but this whole experience has yanked me out of every comfort zone I’ve built around myself in the past decade and plunked me into an ice bath of the unknown. I can’t remember the last time I went to a show, the last time I went on anything approaching a date, the last time I let someone hold my hand or leaned closer to them to feel the vibrations of their voice in their chest. That should make it all feel so strange and awkward, but somehow when it’s River, it ends up seeming like the most natural thing in the world.

I’m still wondering over it as we deposit our empty beer bottles on the bar and he leads me outside. The night air is cool and fresh after the close quarters inside the bar. The quiet of Tripp Lake’s sleepy Main Street leaves me sighing with relief. I didn’t realize how hot and cramped it was getting in there until we escaped.

River still has my hand. “Did you like it?” he says. “Cameron works with me at the cat café. When I told him about the show, he mentioned that he knows the band. He knows most of the local bands around here, since he’s in a band too. We should see them someday before they get too big.”

“Yeah, they were great,” I say, but all I can actually remember from the show is River’s voice below the din.

He smiles. “I’m so glad you agreed to come with me. I was a little surprised, you know, after the retreat and everything. What made you say yes?”

I open and close my mouth, but fail to summon a response. I don’t quite know why I said yes when I got that text. I thought I’d go back to work and everything would be normal again, but when River reached out, the same surge of need I experienced at the retreat swept over me, a long dormant desire reawakened.

It wasn’t only that, however. My sister’s phone call rings in my head as I muse.

You sound like Dad sometimes.

Is that who I’m becoming? That guy who never accepts help, who never stops working, who never lives his life? Hearing about his injury left me shaken, so when River reached out, I was primed to take a leap.

“I don’t know,” I say eventually.

It’s a lie, but I don’t dare face the truth lurking beneath it. I’m not ready for that. Isn’t it enough that I got myself here tonight and took this leap? I don’t need to think about the reasons right now. It won’t change anything.

“Alright,” River says.

He doesn’t push, yet I suspect he doesn’t entirely believe me either. Still, he lets my noncommittal answer stand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles as we stand on the sidewalk outside of the bar.

“So, listen,” he says, “I’m not sure how you’re feeling, but I’m not quite ready for the night to end. I don’t care what that ends up meaning. We can go back in the bar if you like, get another beer, hang out. If you’re hungry, I know some places that will still be open for a while.”

He leaves the matter open, inviting me to make the decision. He presented only safe, ordinary options, but I suspect that’s not all he wants.

I don’t think it’s all I want, either.

I’ve come this far. Once again, I’ve followed him off on some adventure. Now that I’m here, it only makes sense to see it through.

“Is your place close by?” I say.

His eyebrows flicker, but he mostly hides his reaction. “Yeah,” he says. “I walk to work at the café usually.”

“I could drive us, if you give me directions.”

This time, the smile breaks free. I love the way it spills across his mouth, like he can’t hold it back. “Sure,” he says, “I could do that.”

He squeezes my hand, and I lead him away into the dark.