Chapter Six #3
“I figured, since we don’t open for another half an hour.” Dave shook River’s hand, then offered his to Jem. Jem shook on autopilot, hoping he didn’t look as emotional as he felt. “Is this your first time here?”
Jem made himself take a breath so he could speak. “Uh, yeah, for me it is. I don’t know about River?”
“I might have been known to frequent a time or two.” River smiled and then told Jem, “Seriously amazing vinyl collection.”
Jem was dying.
“This is my first tour, though,” River went on.
Dave grinned. “Great! Okay, let me just lock the door behind you guys and we can start.”
Jem and River trailed along in his wake, their shoulders brushing now and again as they wound through the labyrinthine stacks. Jem wondered if he could convince the school that kindergarten should do a field trip here. They could stay out of the haunted room. Probably.
And the rare and expensive book section. Maybe if there was, like, a bouncer?
“Hey.” River’s gentle touch at Jem’s elbow startled him out of his daydream. He kept his voice low, either to avoid interrupting Dave or so as not to draw attention. “You okay?”
Of course he noticed Jem getting emo about a magical bookstore. “I’m great,” Jem assured him. “Just, uh. You barely know me, but I really—like books, so….”
Oh God, River was blushing again, that delicate pink just across his nose and cheeks, there and gone again. Jem’s heart was gonna give out at any second. Cause of death: River Wild being bashful.
“It was a good choice?” he asked.
Their hands brushed. Jem jolted, almost pulled away. But fuck it. If this was going to wreck him anyway, he might as well enjoy the ride. He tangled their fingers together. “It was a good choice.”
Ahead of them, Dave must’ve noticed they’d started lagging, because he turned to look over his shoulder. His gaze darted between their faces and their hands, and he smiled and cleared his throat. “And, ah, in case that’s your thing—we do host weddings.”
Jem put his free hand over his eyes.
River bumped his shoulder again, then reached up and pried his fingers away. He had both of Jem’s hands now. Jem couldn’t escape even if he wanted to.
“Something to think about,” River said lightly, eyes dancing like he was making an inside joke. Which he was, because Jem was just his hired boyfriend and not—
River pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Come on. I think we’re seeing the music section next.”
It was easy to let himself get pulled along. After a few minutes, he even started listening to Dave again, taking in the unique treasures the store had to offer.
Finally the tour ended and the store opened.
Dave left Jem and River in the music section, where River flitted from rack to rack like a butterfly searching for the prettiest flower.
Jem wandered too, mostly browsing records he remembered from his childhood, then gazing longingly at folklore and wondering if he could justify buying a record player.
“Didn’t take you for a Swiftie,” River commented, appearing at his elbow.
Jem refused to feel embarrassed. “I think spying on my browsing habits at the store is cheating, actually.”
“Hmm.” He hooked his chin over Jem’s shoulder. “It’s a great album.”
“Really?”
River quirked an eyebrow. “I’d be a pretty sad excuse for a musician if I only liked music that sounded like my own.”
“So you weren’t joking about the Tibetan throat-singing? Because I was definitely joking.”
“Such a personal question. And on the first date too.” River took the album and tucked it under his arm. “Come on. You’ve indulged me here long enough. Let’s go nerd out over books.”
They spent another half an hour browsing the store, competing over who could find the most ridiculous title in the used section. As he tended to, Jem eventually gravitated to the kids’ books, just to see if he could find something new for his class.
“Nurturing your inner child?” River teased as Jem flipped through a well-loved, familiar title called Can’t You Sleep, Little Bear?
“Something like that,” Jem said lightly. He was probably giving too much away, but what was he supposed to do, not look at the children’s books?
“Or is this just your reading level?”
Jem gasped in mock offense. “Now who’s being rude?”
He was so involved in his overacting that he almost didn’t feel the tug on the knee of his pants. “Mr. A?”
Uh-oh. Busted.
He caught only a glimpse of the wide, delighted surprise in River’s eyes before he turned to look down at the child who’d recognized him. “Abbott! Hey, buddy.”
Abbott was looking at Jem with the disbelieving expression of all children forced to confront the fact that their teachers existed outside the school. “Mr. A, what are you doing here?”
Abbott’s mother suppressed a smile and shot Jem an apologetic look. “It’s a bookstore, sweetie. Mr. A likes books, right?”
“I love books,” Jem confirmed. He glanced over his shoulder at River, trying to decide how to play it. But fuck it. If Abbott’s mother wanted to try to get him fired for being bisexual, let her. Jem had stayed in California so he wouldn’t have to go back in a closet.
Abbott, however, didn’t need to ask awkward questions about Jem’s love life, so Jem doctored his words a little. “My friend River brought me today.”
River gave a little wave.
Abbott waved back uncertainly, while Abbott’s mother looked back and forth between Jem and River and obviously did the math on both what Jem meant by friend and where she recognized River’s face from.
“Hello,” she said pleasantly.
In front of her, Abbott was pursing his lips. “Mr. A?” he said.
God give me strength. “Mm-hmm?”
“You said we’re not allowed to use markers on our skin.”
Abbott’s mother made a noise Jem identified as parent dying of mortification.
They’d recently moved from some kind of wholesome Midwest paradise.
Jem would make that sound too if he lived in California and his kid somehow didn’t know what a tattoo was.
Special bonus—he’d decided the person to accuse of being a miscreant was a famous stranger.
“And you’re not,” Jem said, calling on years of experience coming up with off-the-cuff reasons for shit because kindergarteners always wanted to know why, “because markers aren’t good for skin. River had a professional use special markers to draw those. Right, River?”
“Uh, that’s right,” River said. “And these ones won’t wash off, so I had to make sure the artist did a really good job.”
Abbott squinted at the tattoo that peeked above the collar of River’s shirt. “I like your butterfly,” he said after a moment.
Jem, who had Googled the tattoos after their first meeting and knew this one was a death’s head hawkmoth, and that the full tattoo showed its life cycle, bit down on a squeak of amusement.
“Thank you,” River said seriously.
Abbott’s mother gently took his hand and led him away. “Come on, sweetheart, say goodbye to Mr. A. We’re late for lunch with Grandma.”
“Bye, Mr. A. Bye, River.”
The two of them meandered out of sight. Jem watched them go, resigned, then turned to face the music.
River cleared his throat, hands in his pockets, and gazed up at the ceiling with interest, rocking on his heels. “So. Kindergarten teacher?”
So much for intrigue. “Yep.”
“Fuck, no wonder Eric and Ward were laughing so hard. Amanda literally got me an overqualified babysitter.”
Jem fought the urge to toe the carpet. “Sorry they spoiled the game.”
“Nah.” River looped his arm through Jem’s. “Just gave me a leg up in one category. I still have to guess where you grew up and how you punched your V-card and your favorite drink, remember? Plenty of mystique left to explore.”
“Maybe we should explore it somewhere else,” Jem suggested, “before any more five-year-olds crash our date.”
River steered him toward the checkout. “I know just the place.”