Chapter 11 Holden
Eleven
Holden
River answered my question by taking hold of the front of my coat and hauling me to him.
Our faces were inches apart, our bodies lined up against each other—hard and tense.
We hovered in the moment, heat and electricity crackling between us as my eyes drank him in with desperate thirst. Jesus, his lips were parted, taunting me.
I waited for his kiss—his first real kiss.
Now that the moment had come, I was desperate for it.
With a sound that was half groan, half grunt, River pulled me tighter to him. Possessively. As if making me his. Then he crushed his mouth to mine.
I thought I was ready.
I’d been kissed a hundred times—wet, mindless mashings of mouths meant to lead to something else.
River’s kiss ignited like a flare of light and heat in some cold place in me.
His mouth was hard on mine, demanding, but infused with a strange softness that I felt everywhere.
I felt him in his kiss, along every cell and sinew in my body that threatened to go limp in his arms.
This is my first kiss too.
River’s tongue was hot and soft but insistent, tasting every corner of my mouth. One of his large hands slipped around my waist and the other over my shoulder, keeping us tight to each other, molding us so there was no separation. No him and me. Just us.
My head fell back under the onslaught of sensation and emotion, my jaw going slack, letting him take my mouth.
River grunted at the surrender and invaded harder.
Deeper. Burning with lust but fueled by something more.
He grasped and gripped and mauled me, yet I was perfectly safe.
Floating in a heated bliss. My broken mind went silent, all thought and memory erased until there was nothing left in the world but him.
Warmth seeped into my bones slowly like syrup—River’s kiss an infusion that brought me back to myself.
My mouth fought back against his invasion, sucking and biting, my tongue sliding against his, tasting every inch of him.
My hands grasped and roamed over his shoulders, then my fingers sank into the thick, silken hair at the back of his head.
His warmth became mine, and my coat was suddenly too heavy.
There was too much clothing between us. We kissed for delirious minutes that felt like hours, and then River slowed down.
His mouth grew soft, soothing the bites and stubble burn.
His tongue tasted gently, his lips sucked softly, and then he pulled away.
We stared at each other, my glazed eyes focusing slowly, my breath returning as if I hadn’t breathed once.
Hadn’t needed to. River stared, slightly shell-shocked at what he’d done.
A small, disbelieving smile touched his lips that were still wet with our kiss.
His eyes held mine intently, and there was no regret.
Only a quiet exhilaration. Some part of him that had been lost was now restored.
While I was breaking apart.
I shoved out of the protective circle of River’s arms and fell back against a bank of storage lockers with a hollow clang. My pulse pounded. I could feel him all over me—in my mouth and lungs and heart—his kiss a resuscitation.
He pulled me out of the lake and breathed life into me.
Uncertainty flashed over his eyes. “Did I…do something wrong?”
I shook my head mutely, the warmth—his warmth—still flowing through my veins. How could I explain it had never been like that? That it wasn’t supposed to be like that?
No one had ever kissed me like it meant something.
Wordlessly, I fumbled for the door and pushed into the too-bright daylight.
The talent show was getting out, and I was swept up in a sea of students leaving the auditorium.
Too many bodies, too much mindless chatter assaulted my brain.
I broke away from the crowd and leaned heavily against a wall, reaching for my flask.
The vodka tasted like gasoline after the perfection of River’s mouth.
I took another sip, killing the taste of his kiss from my lips and tongue.
But the liquor did nothing to smother the sense memory of how safe I felt with him.
As if he’d tried to make good on his promise to never let anyone hurt me again.
“Ridiculous,” I muttered and took a third swig. “It was nothing. A kiss. So fucking what?”
Miller rounded the corner, his guitar slung around his shoulders. He wore jeans, a ratty old jacket, and a beanie that made girls lose their shit.
“Oh, hey, Holden. You okay, man?”
“You played like a damn miracle,” I said to deflect his concern. But Miller was annoyingly humble; compliments bounced right off him.
“Thanks. You sure you’re okay?”
“Of course. Why do you ask? Aside from the fact that I’m drunk in the middle of the school day.”
Miller didn’t crack a smile. Serious guy, that one.
“Actually,” I said as we walked across the campus, “my mental state is partially your fault.”
He smirked. “How do you figure?”
“That song. More specifically, you singing that song. It had the same effect as ‘Yellow’ back at the party months ago. You could make a fortune destroying people with nothing but Coldplay covers.”
“I’d be happy just to make enough to kick Chet out.”
“Your mom’s boyfriend still hanging around?”
I hated it when people asked questions they already knew the answers to, but I was desperate to keep River out of my thoughts.
“Yeah,” Miller said. “And it’s like my home isn’t mine anymore. We’d been through so much shit, Mom and I, to have a real place. Now we’ve been invaded. Like he’s taken over and it’s his place, and we’re allowed to live in it if he says so.”
“What can I do?”
Miller shrugged, but his eyes were filled with gratitude. “Not much anyone can do.”
“If you need money, you can ask—”
“No,” he said and kept walking toward the front of the school. The school day wasn’t over, but we were done. “We’ve discussed this before.”
“And my offer still stands, in perpetuity. I’m sitting on a goddamn mountain of gold, and neither you nor Wentz will touch it.”
“I’m not taking your money,” Miller said, his eyes hard like blue topaz. “Whatever I do, I’ll do it on my own.”
I wanted to argue, but Miller’s stubborn pride was immovable. Like a boulder had been lodged in him since his father abandoned him and his mom four years ago, leaving them to homelessness and desperation.
I sighed dramatically. “Having never known a lack of material wealth a day in my life, I can only guess there’s some kind of nobility in needless suffering.”
Miller snorted a laugh. “It builds character. You should try it sometime.”
I gave him a shove, and we settled into a peaceful silence…until the memory of River Whitmore’s hard body pressed to me, his mouth devouring mine, infiltrated me all over again.
Goddammit.
“You walking me home, Parish?” Miller asked as we headed down the tree-lined street.
“It would appear that way.”
“What about James?”
“He’s used to my erratic schedule. He’ll come when I call him.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Welp, we just ditched the rest of our last day of school before winter break.”
Miller shrugged. “I have to work. I’m taking more hours over the vacation. What about you? Going anywhere with your aunt and uncle?”
“They’re going to Seattle to visit my parents.”
“You’re not going with them?”
You’re going to be alone on Christmas?
“I will be staying here,” I answered stiffly. “I was invited but I politely declined, saying I’d rather gargle shattered glass and wash it down with dog piss.”
“Subtle,” Miller said. “Well, Christmas at my place is going to be shit. Probably for Ronan too. We can hang out at the shack.”
“Maybe.”
Miller stopped walking to face me. “Not maybe. We’re meeting at the shack on Christmas Day.”
“We’ve never needed to make it official.”
“I’m making it official.”
His worried gaze pinned me down. I could practically see visions of me holed up in my guesthouse, drinking myself into oblivion playing across his thoughts.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be there.”
“Good.”
“But nothing can stop me from bearing Christmas gifts.”
“No gifts,” Miller said quickly. “I…don’t need anything.”
He meant he couldn’t afford anything. I shifted gears so as not to embarrass him.
“I was talking about food. A feast. That’s allowed, right?”
“That’d be okay, I guess.”
“Thank you.” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Jesus, so many rules and regulations, Stratton.”
He sniffed a laugh, and I made a mental note to pay the heating bill for his and Ronan’s entire apartment complexes through the winter. Anonymously, of course.
No sense in getting those two knuckleheads riled up over nothing.
***
Drunkenly wandering off campus on the last day of school before the holiday break meant I had no reason or opportunity to see River again.
“Good,” I told myself a few days later as I paced my guesthouse. Alone. It was stupid of me to have indulged in him. I was on a strict diet of no emotional complications, and he was an entire damn buffet. Better to cut myself off before things got worse.
Then I called James and told him we were going Christmas shopping.
We wandered down the quaint streets of downtown Santa Cruz.
I bought Beatriz a necklace of colorful glass beads.
They weren’t suitable to wear for housework, but that was the point.
My aunt and uncle had proudly told me that aside from a Christmas bonus, they’d gotten her a brand-new vacuum cleaner.
Awesome. Wow.
The fact that Beatriz was actually a whole human being with a life outside our house apparently didn’t occur to them.
I bought James a humidor packed with Cuban cigars. I was going to leave them in the back seat of his car before he left for his vacation, during which I’d have to Uber myself around town like a schmuck.