Chapter 16 Cleo
Cleo
Shit, I feel my blush rush across my face. “No…I…”
I what? She’s right, isn’t she? I’ve deluded myself into thinking I was actually giving her a shot, when really I’m just waiting for our experiment to be over and for River to leave.
“Okay, okay,” she says, holding up a hand. I watch her as she studies me for a second. It’s simultaneously unbearable and fantastic to be the target of that look. River smoulders…I’m not sure she realises she does it, but her looks are enough to melt a person to the spot in an instant.
“Let’s do this.” She points her index finger at me and then…what is she doing?
“Boop.” Jabs the aforementioned index finger at…at nothing?
My confusion must be displayed across my face because she gives me a playful eye roll and starts to explain. “That was me hitting the pause button, and I didn’t know what sound to make so I booped it.”
“Oh, right.” I giggle. “Sorry, I’ve never heard a button ‘boop’ before.”
“It was a digital button,” she shoots back, making my shoulders shake with laughter. “Anyway. I’ve hit pause because I think we need to have one more chat before the date proceeds. I don’t want us to keep running around in circles, okay?”
“Okay. What do you think we need to talk about?”
“The obvious,” she laughs. “You’re reticent about this whole thing, I know that.
However,” she punctuates with the same index finger that booped the air, “I told you I’m ready to try this, and I am.
I admit, I shouldn’t oversell what I can offer.
We both know this is a brand new concept for me, but,” she says a little more forcefully when she sees my mouth open and ready to shoot back a reply.
“I give you my word I’m not taking this lightly.
Granted, I came up with the whole dating concept on the fly, and hadn’t thought it through.
You were right to call me out on it, and I want to reiterate that I heard you.
I know your heart is not an adventure or experience for me.
I won’t play games with you, Cleo. If at any point I know it’s not working for me, I promise to talk it through with you. ”
She’s right, we needed to have this conversation again. “I appreciate you saying that, and it has reassured me. I…I told you a little about my past.”
She nods and waits silently.
“Unfortunately, River, I’m coming into this with an already tainted view. I can admit it.”
“Okay, so what can we do to move past it?”
I blow out a breath. “Be patient, I guess. I can’t change my mindset overnight.”
“No, you can’t, and it’s going to be equally difficult for me at times. So I think we just promise each other to check in, yeah? Take things slow, like we said.”
Nodding, I let myself breathe slow and steady. “We can do that.”
“Great. I’m going to press the play button now, and we move on.”
“Does this button ‘boop’ too?” I grin.
“It does. Now, are you ready?”
“Only because my Yorkshire pudding is getting cold,” I joke.
The banter between us is fresh and fun. River is herself, but she’s dropped the overly cocky persona, which I appreciate. Don’t get me wrong, she knows how to wield it, but in this setting I don’t want that. I want to see who River is underneath the charisma.
I could tell when we sat down how nervous she was. Especially when she uncovered the food. My guess is she thinks I’m someone I’m not at the minute. Understandable, considering who my dad is and the money he makes.
“This is delicious, River. Tadpole, or Toadstool, makes a mean Yorkshire pudding.”
“Tadpole, and yes, he does. He’s from the north and I think it was encoded into his DNA how to make Yorkie puds.”
“The sausages are nice too.”
“Richmond sausages are the staple around here.”
The simple conversation is nice. I feel comfortable with her, and I like that she can delve into a topic without overthinking it.
I’m also grateful she’s not flirting. I suppose I had this image in my head before I arrived that she would be overtly flirty, like she was in the bar the night we met.
It seems I really need to stop prejudging shit, because so far I’m getting it all wrong.
I came here expecting cocky River. Dismissive River. The woman from the bar who couldn’t wait to leave. But this River—the one who coordinated an entire date, who listens when I speak, who admits her own fears—this is someone I could actually fall for. And that terrifies me more than anything.
“Will you tell me how you got into journalism?”
It’s the first “serious” question since we pressed play.
I recognise it as River’s way to start getting to know me properly, and I quite like the feeling it elicits inside my chest. There’s been a considerable amount of time between the last person I let in and now.
Hopefully I won’t make things too difficult on myself or River.
“I’ve always loved writing,” I say, pulling myself back to the present and away from my wayward thoughts of time gone by and the hurt which hid within each passing second. “My mum would buy me a stack of writing pads for Christmas and I’d get through them all within a few months.”
“What did you write?” she asks, putting her knife and fork down.
“Everything and nothing.” I laugh. “Sometimes I’d make up fantastical stories about the snails in our garden, or about how the old lady next door was really a kind old witch.”
River’s smile blooms so widely as I speak, it catches me off guard.
“I can just imagine that,” she says.
“Then there were times I’d see myself as one of the Secret Seven.”
“Ah, Enid Blyton. My older cousin used to read all those.”
“My grandparents bought them for me. The books were a little before my time, but I devoured them and then went on my own adventures in my head. I would investigate nonsense and write stories about it.”
“Wow. All I did was make mud pies and stinky rose petal perfume.”
We laugh together, and it’s really lovely. I can’t help but sneak a few lingering stares at River in her uniform. I swear it’s a fetish at this stage.
“So how did that lead to journalism?”
“As I grew up, I continued to write, but I leaned more towards the investigative side. I think the defining moment was when…”
“When?”
Crap, I’m heading into family baggage territory. “It’s not the happiest of stories.”
River shrugs. “If you want to tell it, I want to hear it.”
“I caught my dad cheating on my mum.”
“Shit, that’s rough.”
Yeah, she’s not wrong. It was rough. It still is sometimes when I think about how our lives were turned upside down.
“I blamed myself for not catching him sooner,” I say, lost in memories.
“Cleo.”
Bringing myself back to the room, I give River a small smile. “I know it’s crazy. No kid should ever find out their dad is a cheater, let alone blame themselves for not finding out sooner.”
“But you weren’t any old kid, huh?” she replies fondly.
“I guess not. I felt like I’d let Mum down, and then myself, you know? I was the person who investigated the world, but I’d not caught on to something so glaringly obvious.”
“Was it obvious?” she asks.
“Now I think about it, yeah. It changed the way I viewed my parents.”
“Your mum too?”
“Oh yeah. I…I got angry at her for being a doormat.”
River winces.
“I know. I sound awful.”
She blows out a breath, making her lips ripple. “I think parents have a way of fucking up their kids, yeah?” She sighs, leaning closer. “I can’t judge you, Cleo, because I don’t know what you went through.”
“You sound like you have a story to tell with that comment.”
She gives me that panty-dropping grin. “Of course I do. We’re all a walking sack of bones and trauma, love.” Using her hands on the table to lean back, she laughs. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll tell you my tale of woe on date two.”
We laugh. “So you think you’re getting a second date, huh?” I tease.
The microsecond it takes River to go from playful to…smouldering vixen is astonishing. Her eyes shine and her lip curls into her trademark curl.
“I think so, don’t you?”
Ah, there’s the flirt I know. She licks her bottom lip, and I stifle a groan because I’m not a robot and River Dawson is hot as hell.
“Maybe. It depends how dessert goes.”
I didn’t mean it to sound the way it did, and neither did River if her arched eyebrows are anything to go by. I can feel the heat of embarrassment invading my face.
“Well,” she begins. Her voice is like velvet, and I can’t help but hold my breath. “It’s steamed treacle pudding with custard, so I’d say I’m safe.”
Snorting into my napkin, I shake my head. River is far too pleased with herself, but I’ll let it go. She deserves to feel good, because once again, she managed to dispel the tension with ease.
There’s a quick knock on the door, and Cheddar walks in with two bowls. “Here y’are. It’s bloody delicious. I’ve just finished a bowl. The custard could be better, but then again, I don’t think anyone can beat my grandma’s, so I’m a bit biased.”
I want to laugh all over again, because River is glaring at her friend so hard and Cheddar is completely oblivious as she rambles on about custard.
“I’d say you have about fifteen minutes before people start getting suspicious, Riv. Kit and Boot will want to chill on the couch soon, and I don’t want to lie to them.”
“They don’t know?” I ask. Even though River promised me she wouldn’t tell anyone, I wasn’t na?ve enough to think that realistically extended to her bunk mates.
“No,” River replies with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry I told Cheddar, I know I said I wouldn’t.”
“Hey, it’s fine. I told Honor, so…”
“I think her head would’ve exploded if she hadn’t told me, Cleo,” Cheddar chimes in.
Laughing at River poking Cheddar in the ribs, I take a small mouthful of dessert. It really is good. “How on earth did you do all this without anyone knowing?”
“Called in some favours and told them not to ask questions.” She chuckles. “Kit and Boot are on shift, so I didn’t need to say anything to them, but Ched is right. They’ll be back soon.”
“I’ll clear this lot away,” Cheddar says, piling up the plates. We sit in silence until she leaves and I watch River deflate.
“I hope it’s not been too much of a disappointment,” she says. Her eyes flick up from the tablecloth she’s so very interested in before dropping back down again.
“River, will you look at me?”
She does, thankfully, but it isn’t without a heap full of anxiety swimming in her eyes.
“This has been a lot of fun. I’m a little bit in shock you managed to pull it off, to be honest.”
“I know a lot of good people.”
“You do. I really have had a wonderful time…and I hope we can carry on talking, and sharing stories.”
“I’d like that,” she says in a small voice that is a little heartbreaking.
“Then, I think you get a second date, if you’d still like—”
“Yes!” she declares immediately.
I laugh and she grins. “Okay then. But I think we need to talk about that tomorrow. I don’t want to complicate things with your friends barging in, so I think I’ll head back to my cabin now.”
“Can I walk you? I…I can’t drop you off at your doorstep, so this is the next best thing, right? That’s what happens after a date isn’t it?”
Fuck, she’s too cute. I’m secretly thrilled we are on a ship surrounded by hundreds of other people because if this was a date in the civilian world, I would one hundred percent invite her into my bed, even though I said I wouldn’t!
But I think I’ve established I have no fucking willpower when it comes to women in uniform—and even less, if that’s possible, where River Dawson is concerned.