Chapter Eight #2
I get up and pull my bag up from where Riven’s discarded it on the floor, hoping to channel my frustration into organizing for a while.
An armoire with intricately etched palm fronds on the handles opens upon my approach, magically welcoming me like everything on the Island has tried to do.
I fist a hanger, tugging it through the straps of a sundress aggressively.
“Couldn’t you use magic to do that?” He asks a question I need not answer. He knows the bounds of magic, especially mine. Of course I could snap my fingers and utter an incantation to have my clothes pressed and hung in the blink of an eye…but I crave the distraction of menial tasks.
His shadows spill from beneath the bed like living smoke, immediately setting to work unpacking his bags with practiced efficiency.
Shirts folded into drawers. Boots lined up neatly by the wall.
Toiletries marched into the bathing chamber.
One shadow emerges last, cradling the small carved wooden fox worn smooth from years of restless thumbs and anxious nights.
It placed the trinket carefully on the bedside table before dissolving back into darkness, and Riven's gaze snags on it for a fleeting moment before he turned away, expression unreadable save for the slight easing of tension in his shoulders.
“There's nothing else to do here. Might as well fuss with my socks.” I unfold and then refold a pair of pixie-knit house socks, obsessively making sure the seams line up before grabbing another pair and doing the same.
“We could go for a swim or play cards or watch a hologram.” He shuffles a deck of cards that his shadows subtly deposited in his hands before skittering away from the light.
I consider him for a moment, the heir of a shadow fae lordship who is sunshine incarnate.
Even now, in undesirable circumstances, he is glowing.
Fate, why is he glowing?
Sure, he’s always been handsome, but something about this suits him even more.
The half-buttoned linens and salt-wind hair.
Hopefully, the island sun is as gracious to me this month as Fate was when it crafted Riven.
I’d love to get an even tan. Then, at least, I wouldn’t be walking out of the Festival with nothing.
“You heard the Moirai. There’s a kraken in these waters—no shot I’m swimming after dark, and you’d be wise to do the same.”
“That kraken is the one who should want to stay away from me.” That classic Riven wit oozes from his pores, smile twice as wicked as he actually is.
“Please, for my sake, do not cause utter chaos this month. I want to fly under the radar and get home in one piece.”
“Relax. I only cause minor chaos. Medium chaos at most.”
“Riven.” My voice is exasperated and utterly drained of all will to fight him.
“I’ll settle for only minor chaos, at your behest.” He acts as if this is a negotiation, but I lost control the moment I was thrown into the arena and then again when I agreed to this whole facade.
“Why can’t you behave for a month? I’m not asking for the moons.” I aggressively throw a pashmina onto a shelf.
“Don’t look at me like that, Pop. You know I can only behave so much in one day.”
“That makes me nervous,” I admit. The last thing we need is the Moirai observing us under a close eye.
It’ll be hard enough to slip faking it past them without Riven making a spectacle of himself.
Don’t get me wrong, I usually love his antics, but not when seven years of bad luck in love are on the line.
“I make you nervous? Good. You make me insane.” I sharply exhale, a laugh lingering behind my exhaustion. He’s sitting there, legs sprawled and face amused, and I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips.
I know I’m letting the stress get to me.
Logically, I know that Riven would never do anything to hurt me. He’s my best friend. I can trust him.
“Tell me what I did to deserve that smile. I’d like to do it again.” Always the shameless flirt. I don’t think he can help it, honestly.
“I suppose I can get behind minor chaos, as long as I’m not at the receiving end of any pranks.”
“Deal!” He snaps and points at me. “You’re never my target, always my partner-in-crime.”
“Tell that to my singed eyebrows from when I first started working at the bar.”
“I told you! I thought Don was going to close the register that night.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Clothes finally away, I kick off my shoes and snap, instantly twisting my hair into protective braids and donning my comfiest pajamas.
Under the light of the risen moons, the room feels less intimidating, and sliding into bed feels like accepting a warm hug after a long day. “We should get massages one day. I heard someone talking about a spa during the welcome speech.”
“I can massage you. I’ve been told my hands are magical,” Riven replies, wiggling his fingers at me.
I shiver, though not from his comment, but from the chilled ocean air blowing through the gaping hole of a patio off our bungalow.
I’m sure it's warded to keep creatures and other living beings out, but it cannot stop the elements.
“Poppy, was that a shiver? Did that do something for you? I can keep going.” I can practically hear his eyebrows twitching.
“No, dumbass, I’m cold.” I tuck my legs under the comforter, unable to get fully under with Riven’s body on top of them on the other side of the bed.
“Oh, you’re cold? Come over here then.” He opens his arms wide, waiting for my body to nestle between them. “Consider body heat sharing part of the fake dating package.”
“I’m fine, Riven. It was just a little shiver. I’m not hypothermic.”
“You’re just really far away.” Is he pouting?
“I’m exactly on my half.” I snap my fingers and the lanterns dim lower than the light of a single firefly.
“If you keep rejecting me, I’m going to start to think that you don’t want to be fake in love with me.” I hear him sharply cross his arms over his chest.
“Well, that’s good, because I don’t.” My words are soft, half drenched in my exhaustion. “We just need to make it through this month, and then things can go back to normal.”
“Right, right…” I feel the words he’s not saying. Not what they are, but just the sense that he definitely wants to keep talking. “What if your half of the bed migrated closer to mine? For warmth and safety and scientific research.”
“Scientific research?” I snort.
“Yeah, I need to study how you sleep. For the fake relationship. What if the Moirai ask how many drops of drool you lose every night—I will look like a faking fool if I can’t answer.”
This time, I do actually laugh, which is likely his goal. “They’re never going to ask that.”
A long pause and then, “Just scoot over here.” His voice is soft. Does he actually want to cuddle? I rack my brain to think how long Riven usually went without someone warming his bed…the answer is: not that long. Is he…lonely? Touch-starved? Being driven mad by the romance in the island air?
I don’t move, or respond, and then he stops pushing.
He exhales like he’s steadying himself and rolls away, settling deeper into the bed. My eyes adjust to the darkness just in time to see his hand flex against the sheets.
Of course, he doesn’t want to cuddle. He just doesn’t know when to let a joke die.
I curl the comforter under my chin. “Good night, Riven.”
His hand finds my shoulder in the dark, giving it a quick but reassuring squeeze. “Night, Pop.”
Hours later…he’s a furnace curled around me. I wait, sweat collecting on my lower back where he’s pulled me tight against him, and I’m suddenly thankful for the sea breeze on my face.
I start to turn, wanting to gently roll him to his side of the bed, but then, I hear him whisper something. “P-p-p—” I swear, if he is muttering in his sleep about pleasure, provocation, or parties, I’m going to thump him in the head.
“P-poppy.” He says my name softly, like he’s savoring it. I roll over, ignoring his muttering and pushing myself to the edge of the bed to try to find sleep again. He’s probably cursing my name in his sleep for getting us into this mess.
He keeps brushing against me, and when he sighs, it's warm enough that I feel it settle between my ribs. I value our friendship more than any other I’ve had before, but I wish I could find this easy comfort with a man who wanted to keep me.
And as I drift to sleep, for the first time in a long time, I let my traitorous mind wonder what might have happened if Riven had wanted to be mine all those years ago.
Would I be alone in the world if he had?