Chapter 10 River #2
Except we wouldn’t. Next semester, our classes would change, and we wouldn’t have calculus anymore. This was the end of whatever we were.
“River.”
I turned.
“I’m glad your mom is better.”
Six words in a soft tone, and my stupid heart sank deeper into his green eyes.
“Careful, Parish,” I said, smiling like a dope. “That sounded pretty fucking nice to me.”
***
That night, we ordered pizza. Dad, Amelia, and I watched Mom eat two slices without letting on that we noticed, smiling into our plates.
Dazia had gone back to Washington, DC, ready to fly back in a moment’s notice if we needed her.
As much as I appreciated everything she did for us, I was glad it was just the four of us again. It almost felt like real life.
“And then Jared asked Michaela to the winter formal, but she said no,” Amelia said animatedly. “He’s been a real jerk lately, so a bunch of us are going to go together as a group instead.”
“That sounds like a solid plan,” Mom said. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time at the dance.” She looked to me. “Are you going to the winter formal?”
“Nah,” I said. “Prom’s my next and last.”
“Too bad,” Amelia said with a snicker. “The girls are already lining up, hoping they too have a chance at being stood up by River Whitmore.”
“Here we go again,” I muttered, though I was too glad to see Amelia back to her old smart-ass self to be mad.
“Good one,” Mom said, high-fiving Amelia. “Is that what you call a sick burn?”
I rolled my eyes with a laugh. “I’ve apologized to Violet, like, a hundred times. She’s forgiven me. You all should try it sometime.”
“Of course we have. It’s just so unlike you.”
“It was months ago, Mom,” I said with a smile. “Everybody’s gotten over it except you.”
Amelia batted her eyelashes at me. “Where were you that night again?”
“Out with a friend,” I said quickly, dumping red pepper flakes on my pepperoni slice.
“Which friend was that?”
“You don’t know him.”
I felt Mom’s eyes on me as if she were scrutinizing that particular pronoun.
“It was just some guy from the team,” I said trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “It was a dumb mistake, and I regret it and I apologized. Let’s move on.”
Except I couldn’t move on, and I didn’t regret it as much as I told myself I did.
“Ladies, stop giving River a hard time,” Dad said with a laugh. Whereas I had forgotten all about the season-ending win, it was still written all over his face. “Boys will be boys, right?”
“Boys will remain boys unless they’re taught to be men,” Mom said, shooting him a pointed look.
He chuckled. “Fair enough. River, you’re grounded.”
Amelia’s eyes widened. “For real?”
“No, I’m teasing your brother.”
I shot my sister a triumphant look. She stuck her tongue out at me.
“But on a serious note, tonight after dinner, River, we have to go over your college applications. You’ve been procrastinating on them long enough.”
“Yeah, okay.” I wiped my mouth on a napkin and balled it between my palms. “Hey, Dad, I was thinking. Remember the ’74 Camaro Mr. Brewster brought into the shop the other day?”
“I do. A classic. Needed a new carburetor, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, and its grille was shot, the upholstery torn up, and it could use a paint job. But that’s all it would take to make it pretty sweet again.”
Dad grinned. “That’s all, eh?”
“I asked him about it, and he said there was no one local to do the work.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Well…the business is doing pretty well. Maybe it’s time for an expansion.”
“To restoration?”
“Yeah. Mr. Brewster was saying there’re a lot of classic cars in town, but they got to go up to San Jose or San Francisco for any body work.”
Dad sipped from his beer glass. “It’s a completely different ball of wax and a huge undertaking. We’d have to build a new garage, buy the proper tools, develop relationships with parts sellers, hire new people…”
“We can afford to do all that. And I’ll help. I’d love to work on it.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” Mom said, smiling softly.
“I don’t know the first thing about car restoration.” Dad pointed a breadstick at me. “And neither do you.”
“No, but I could study up on it. After school and on weekends.” I swallowed hard. “And…this summer.”
Dad frowned. “This summer, you’re heading to college, to training camp for whichever school you choose. You won’t have time for something like that.”
Holden’s face floated across my mind with Mom’s words whispering beneath.
What about your heart?
I inhaled to try again, but it caught in my throat. Was this the moment? Was tonight the night I imploded my life?
“I like the idea, but it’s too much to take on,” Dad said. “Your only job is to concentrate on your college applications.”
“Dad—”
“I’m not touching the business, and that’s final. I don’t want to spend more time away on a new venture.” He reached over and took Mom’s hand. “I’m happy with how things are right now. Let’s not rock the boat.”
The light above our kitchen table was gold and warm. Mom’s smiling face had color to it, and her hair was coming back. Amelia happily scrolled through her phone, her smile easy, like it had been.
“You’re right.” I forced my own smile. “Sorry I brought it up.”
***
“Yo, River.”
Chance, Donte Mikey Grimaldi, Isaiah Martin, and a couple other guys surrounded me at my locker at school the next day, the last day before winter break.
“A bunch of us are skipping out for lunch,” Chance said. “You wanna come?”
“Nah, I was thinking about checking out the talent show.”
Donte made a face. “The talent show? Is he for real?”
I shrugged. “A guy from my calculus class is going to play the violin. Last week, I told him I’d watch.”
Chance gaped. “You told some math geek that you’d watch him play the violin?” He snorted a laugh. “That’s the gayest thing I ever heard.”
The back of my neck reddened. I slammed the locker. “I said I’d go, so I’m going.”
I gave Chance my best don’t-fuck-with-me glare. He and Donte exchanged looks and then shrugged.
“Whatever floats your boat, dude.”
Donte chucked me on the arm. “Catch you later?”
“Yep.”
I watched them go, wondering how they couldn’t see right through my alpha male bullshit.
Because you’ve been wearing that camouflage for years.
Except Holden had seen through it instantly.
I went to the darkened auditorium where the winter talent show was already in progress. Every chair was taken, standing room only. I got stuck in the back, but at six two, I had a clear view of the stage.
I’d just made it. Harris Reed was playing a classical piece on his violin and slaying it. The music was insanely complicated, and I watched in awe as his bow skidded up and down the strings.
When it was over, I clapped hard and whistled…then tasted smoky cloves and cedar cologne in the air. My pulse pounded as an icy-hot shiver danced down my left side as Holden moved to stand beside me.
“I didn’t realize you were a fan of the arts,” he said, his eyes on the stage. “Another layer to the enigmatic River Whitmore.”
“I came to see Harris, from our class. Is that why you’re here?”
“No, I’m stalking you.” My eyes widened, and Holden smirked. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here for my friend.”
He jerked his chin toward the stage. Miller Stratton walked out carrying a stool, a guitar looped around his neck. He sat down and adjusted the mic stand while a lone spotlight fell on him, deepening the auditorium’s darkness.
“He was pretty amazing at Chance’s party,” I said.
“He’s fucking brilliant,” Holden said, and the back of his hand brushed the back of mine.
A spark shot straight up my arm and made the hairs stand on end. I shifted casually and tucked both hands in the front pockets of my jeans.
On the stage, Miller spoke into the mic in a low, almost shy voice. “Hey, my name is Miller Stratton. I’m going to play a song by Coldplay. It’s called ‘Fix You.’”
I let my gaze slide to Holden, studying the contours of his profile—his chiseled jaw and cheekbones, strong nose, full lips. He swallowed, and I watched the movement of his Adam’s apple. Thoroughly masculine. Nothing feminine about it.
“Can I help you?” he whispered, eyes forward.
“It sucks not talking to you,” I said as Miller strummed the first chords of the song. “I don’t know why. You’re arrogant as fuck.”
“Fair. You’re a grilled cheese sandwich.”
I snorted. “A what?”
“Shh,” Holden said. “Listen. This is our song.”
Our song. Nothing was ours. There was no us. But Miller sang that if you never try, you’ll never know, and the words pierced me like arrows.
I took my hand out of my pocket and let it hang by my side again. Again, my skin brushed Holden’s, sending shards of heat dancing up my arm while Miller sang about lights that ignite your bones.
I looked at Holden, and he looked at me.
Without letting myself think, I slipped my fingers around the side of his hand and slid my palm against his. He gasped slightly—a small intake of breath only I heard in the darkened auditorium. Then he let his hand settle into mine. Another heartbeat, and our fingers laced together.
“And I will try,” Miller sang, his rich voice hovering in the air in that silent auditorium. “To fix you.”
A short silence fell before the crowd erupted in thunderous cheers unlike anything I’d ever heard. Miller’s version of the song was unlike anything I’d ever heard either, as if he were singing directly to me. To us.
Because it’s our song.
Under the cover of applause, I let go of Holden’s hand and tugged the cuff of his coat. “Let’s go.”
I left without looking back but heard Holden’s footfalls following. Warning bells clanged in my head but were drowned in the thrashing beat of my heart that felt as if it were trying to break free of its prison like it had at the pool. Only this time, I was stone-cold sober. No excuses.
I pushed open the door next to the auditorium—a back area of the band room that was for instrument storage. Huge basses loomed in the dimness, and drums of all sizes and styles lined the walls.
Holden followed me in and shut the door behind him. “Hello, friend.”
“My college plans are locked in,” I said as he approached me in the darkness. “I’m going away to Texas or maybe Alabama this summer.”
“Establishing the rules, are you?” he drawled, though his voice was thick and tinged with nerves.
I swallowed hard. “Nothing’s changed. Nothing can change.”
“I told you,” Holden said, in front of me now. “I’ll never ask you for anything. I don’t have anything to give. Except this.”
I wanted to tell him that wasn’t true, that I was the one who had nothing to offer. I shouldn’t have led us here. I should have walked out, but his goddamn voice, the scent of him, his presence was overwhelming. My hands itched to touch him, to grab him and…
Kiss him?
My first kiss with a guy. It seemed as if I’d been waiting a lifetime for it, yet the moment was rushing at me like a speeding train.
“Stop thinking, River,” Holden whispered. “We’re here. Right now.” He leaned in. “What are you going to do?”