Chapter Twenty-Four #2
A moment of delusional hope that he could have been jealous has my lips tugging up on the left side.
“Fine.” I wait a beat, and he literally leans forward in his chair, fingers white-knuckling the edges.
He wants to know more. Truth begins to pile up, burning the tip of my tongue in desperation to get out.
“Rodrick is more the man for me now than he was all those years ago.” Riven’s Adam’s apple bobs.
“Well-traveled, financially stable, done chasing any female who winks at him.” His lips pinch together, and I linger in the warm fantasy that these words are eating him alive before I land the final blow.
“And I couldn’t be less interested in him if I tried.
” Riven exhales and releases his hold on the chaise.
I’m sure he’s just glad I’m not taking that knob back.
He’s heard enough stories about that time of my life to know Rodrick was never good for me.
“How was your time with Angora?” Now it’s me who holds their breath.
Luckily, Riven isn’t feeling cruel. His words are swift and final. “I don’t like her.” Immediate. Clean. “I never did, and now, I don’t even want her, and I’m happy she has someone else.”
“No shit.” Even though I knew this, it’s good to hear him say it. I want to be done, but more words are coming. Please stop. But I can’t. “You never fall in love. You fall in lust.”
He winces and then claps his mouth shut, but his lips purse, like the truth is trying to claw out of him and he’s desperate to stop it.
But a word slips out. “Wrong.” His eyes blow out in shock, casting to the side as he tries to unpack whatever truth is coming to him, seemingly for the first time.
After a quiet moment of contemplation, he sighs and shakes his head, shaggy locks ruffling in the breeze.
His eyes cast up to the heavens, and an exasperated smile graces his lips.
“Fuck it.” His chin drops, and once more his piercing gaze is on me. “I think I have been in love before.”
My mouth is dry. He’s never told me this. Maybe he didn’t know until now. Is this why he plays with love and lust? Because he’s already had a great love and now nothing else will even compare?
“I was afraid and stupid, so of course I messed it up.”
The ocean is loud tonight. Not crashing, just…breathing. Long, slow pulls against the coral beneath the bungalow, the tide sliding in and out like the island itself is trying to listen.
Riven’s words still hang between us. I stare at him across the small space between our two chairs and knees, waiting for him to laugh it off. Waiting for that crooked grin that means he’s joking.
But it doesn’t come.
The lantern on the exterior wall flickers in the salt wind, gold light catching in the darker strands of his hair. His elbows rest on his knees, shoulders curved forward, gaze fixed somewhere past the railing where the ocean melts into the dusk.
Like he regrets saying it already. Admittedly, I’ve never seen Riven serious for this long.
My fingers tighten around the stem of the glass I conjure from inside. I need a drink. Something to do with my hands and something to moisten my lips. The condensation is cool and damp against my skin, and as I take a drink, I can feel my pulse in my wrist. In my throat. Everywhere.
Say something. Tease him. Laugh. Break the tension with an irreverent joke at someone else’s expense. That’s how this works between us.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Because he meant it. I know he did. And I don’t want to invalidate his truth with a snarky remark.
Riven shifts in his chair, the wood creaking softly. One hand drags through his hair, like he’s trying to shove the words back where they came from. “Forget I said that,” he mutters finally.
There it is. His escape attempt. Though it’s not joined by a flirtatious joke like it normally would be.
My chest is doing something unpleasant. I feel compelled to make him feel better.
To me, a joke would invalidate his truth, but to him, I think it might be an escape route.
I lean back in my chair instead, forcing a shrug that feels too deliberate.
“Wow,” I say lightly. “That might be the longest you’ve gone without making a joke. Should I be concerned?”
He huffs a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but it never reaches his eyes. His gaze flicks to me for half a second, then away again. The movement is small, but something about it feels…careful. Like he looked too quickly.
The wind pushes a strand of my hair across my cheek, and I reach up to tuck it behind my ear, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between us. The patio isn’t big. Two chaise loungers, a small table, the wooden railing overlooking the endless shimmering water.
Riven nestles into his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him, feet scraping softly across the wood. Casual. Lazy. The way he always sits. But I think it’s forced ease.
“You know,” I say, forcing my voice into something teasing, “for someone who claims not to care about things like that, you sounded suspiciously dramatic.”
That crooked smile finally reappears, the slightly lighter skin of his scar catching in the lantern light, but it’s slower than usual.
“Dramatic?” he says.
“Terribly so,” I tease, and, as if it’s physical, I can feel the air around us shifting into something more comfortable.
He tilts his head slightly, studying me now. Really studying me. The lanternlight paints one side of his face gold and leaves the other in shadow. His eyes soften for a moment, then sharpen again.
“Well,” he says quietly, “I’ll try to be less honest next time.” The words land somewhere in my ribs.
I scoff, rolling my eyes like that doesn’t bother me at all. “Please do. It’s very unsettling and off-brand for you.” I force my voice into a tone of obvious sarcasm.
Riven’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t laugh.
And when the silence settles again, it’s thicker this time. The ocean breathes, a gull cries somewhere in the dark, and someone in a nearby bungalow shrieks.
I glance at him and catch him already looking at me, lips poised to speak.
He does that sometimes. Looks like he’s about to say something and then decides not to. Like there’s a thought sitting right behind his teeth that he refuses to let out.
Usually, I assume it’s another joke.
Another smug comment.
Tonight, it feels different. The potion has made it different.
I shift in my chair, setting my glass on the side table. My fingers brush the wood, and the light dances across the back of his hand where it rests near the edge.
For a second, I think he might move it.
He doesn’t.
Instead, his fingers flex slightly against the wood, like he almost reached for mine and stopped himself.
I’m definitely imagining it. Just like I’ve imagined every single slight that I interpreted as meaning anything more to him than faking it.
Which is why, regardless of truths spoken or challenges won, I’ll be leaving this island with a tiny fracture in my heart.
Riven notices me staring at his fingers, deep in thought, and arches a brow.
“There it is,” he says softly.
“What?” My hand comes up to my face self-consciously.
He smiles, crooked and annoyingly sure of himself. “That look.”
“What look?” My face is hot again.
“The one where you’re thinking too hard about something and pretending you’re not.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “I am not—”
“You are.” He sits forward a little, elbows resting on his knees again, close enough now that the lanternlight catches the gold in his eyes. That I can feel his attention like warmth against my skin. “You get this crease right here,” he adds, gesturing vaguely at my forehead.
I swat his hand away before he can touch me. “Stop looking at my face.”
“Hard to miss when you’re sitting that close and thinking loud enough for the whole ocean to hear.” I roll my eyes again, but the corner of my mouth betrays me. The tension loosens just enough for me to breathe deeply again.
Riven relaxes back once more, stretching his arms across the back of his chair like the conversation never mattered.
Like the thing he admitted a moment ago isn’t still echoing in my head.
But when the wind shifts and the lantern flickers, I see it.
The way his gaze drifts back to me when he thinks I’m not looking.
The way his fingers tap once against the armrest before going still again.
The way he keeps opening his mouth slightly, then closing it.
Like there’s still something else he wants to say.
Something bigger.
And for once…
Riven doesn’t say what he’s thinking.
I wish he would. I love when he jokes and teases. When he flirts. I love the way his laugh sounds when he amuses himself. I love h-.
I feel the words bubbling behind my teeth. Traitorous words. Words that remind me that this truth serum is formulated to show us truths about ourselves just as much as it’s for making us reveal them.
I snap, grabbing the stack of conversation cards from the basket.
Anything to move away from this feeling bubbling within me.
I pull the first card from the top. Hoping my truth can’t come out if I’m using my mouth for other things.
“What is something that scares you?” Already, I can feel the effects of the potion wearing off, the punch to tell the truth not as strong as it once was. I can do this. Just a few more minutes.
Again, Riven doesn’t hesitate. The serum isn’t allowing much hesitation.