Chapter 22 New Hair, Who This? #2
“I’ve already been through hell, Jace. You think you scare me? Or that your opinion matters?”
He doesn’t answer, just stares at me like he can’t decide whether to hate me more.
I step around him, brushing his shoulder as I pass.
“I’m not here to break your little friend group,” I say over my shoulder. “But if it’s breaking, maybe it was never that strong to begin with.”
The café is warm and dimly lit. Cinnamon, coffee, and the smell of something sweet floats around me. I feel like any moment I’m going to become a cartoon following the scent trail.
River is already here. He looks cute out of uniform, wearing relaxed jeans, a faded gray long-sleeved shirt, and his tousled blond hair. Waiting by the window with two mugs in front of him. He spots me and stands with a genuine smile. “Hey, you made it.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Wasn’t sure this place actually existed or if it was just a rumor.” I undo my black jacket and place it on the back of my seat. My cream color sweater matches the cozy vibes of the café.
“It’s real. I promise the drinks don’t suck.”
I take a seat across from him. The window is slightly fogged from the warmth inside. The table is small enough that our knees touch. River slides one of the mugs towards me.
“I love the hot chocolate here. Thought I’d get one for you. It’s a classic, but, if you hate it, we can get something else.”
I raise the warm mug and let the chocolate smell fill my nose. The whipped cream on top mixes in with the rich flavor and its perfect.
“This is delicious.” I lick my lips.
“I knew you’d like it.” He beams, taking a sip from his own mug.
We talk while music plays. Nothing deep. Just simple things like music, weird Blackmoore rumors, his theory that the head of the history department might secretly be a vampire.
It’s easy being around him. It’s all light and warm. He doesn’t push or pry. He listens, he laughs at the right moments. Makes eye contact without it feeling like he’s trying to pry my brain open and study it under a microscope.
I feel like I could like that.
I watch the way his fingers trace the rim of his mug absently while he talks, the way he occasionally taps his foot against the leg of the table, keeping time with music playing.
At one point, he tilts his head slightly and says, “You’re different than I thought you’d be.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. People talk you know? And trust me I know better than to believe everything I hear but there’s something about you. Like a quiet strength. It’s kind of magnetic.”
I swallow roughly. I don’t know what to say.
“That’s really sweet.” I clear my throat. “Sorry, no one’s ever said anything like that to me before so I’m not sure how to respond.” My cheeks heat.
“No worries.” He shrugs. “You’re not fake or pretending to be someone you’re not like most people around here.”
I glance down at the foam in my cup. There’s a pang in my chest — not quite pain, not quite hope. Just something bittersweet that sits right beneath my ribs. Is this what normal is supposed to feel like?
“I don’t always feel strong,” I admit, voice low.
River doesn’t tease. Doesn’t push. He just says, “That’s okay. You don’t have to be.”
I look up at him, caught off guard by the sincerity. For a moment, it’s almost too much.
Before it can get heavier, he adds with a grin, “Also, I think I owe you a proper distraction. If I’m gonna have a coffee date with Blackmoore’s most intimidating new girl, I better earn it.”
“You think I’m intimidating?” I ask, smirking a little.
He lifts a brow. “You do kind of have resting murder face.”
I laugh. “Wow. That’s one for the yearbook.”
River reaches across the table and his hand finds mine. “I’ve really enjoyed tonight with you Isobel.” His eyes are full of warmth.
“Me too, River.” I return his smile.
“Can I walk you back?”
“Yeah.” I nod.
He stands up and helps me back into my jacket. I flip my hair out and he leads me through the café and into the chilly October air.
His hand is warm and steady in mine as we walk back towards the dorms. I’m not used to this kind of touch. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m allowed to have good things.
We talk as we walk. He tells me about his dog back home, a grumpy bulldog named Clive who apparently hates everyone but him. I tell him about how I’ve never had a pet, and he promises I’ll meet Clive someday.
“He’ll like you,” he says with this quiet certainty that makes something strange flutter behind my ribs.
The campus glows under the lamps, patches of gold light breaking up the night. It smells like dew and pine and fresh-cut grass, my shoes making soft scuffs on the concrete with every step.
I glance at him once, just to study his profile. The slope of his nose. The way he smiles a little whenever I talk, even when I don’t say anything funny. He looks like he means it.
When we reach my dorm building, I stop just outside the doors. My hand is still in his.
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “For the drink. And the walk. And… not being an asshole.”
River laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I try my best.”
“So… wanna do this again sometime? You know. No pressure. Just… talking. Tea. Maybe a bookstore next time?”
I don’t answer right away. A small part of me — the bruised, hidden part — wants to keep everyone out. But another part, the one that sat across from him and breathed for the first time in weeks, whispers why not?
“Yeah,” I say ducking my head. “I think I’d like that.”
We’re standing close now. Not close enough to suffocate. Just enough that I feel the heat from his body, the quiet question in the space between us.
He lifts his hand to brush a bit of hair away from my cheek. “Can I—?”
I nod before I can talk myself out of it.
He leans in slowly, giving me time to change my mind. I don’t. His lips press gently to mine — warm, tentative, sweet. Not greedy. Not demanding. Just… kind.
It lasts only a few seconds, but it’s enough to leave my heart thudding against my ribs like it’s trying to learn how to beat for something good.
When he pulls back, his eyes search mine. “Goodnight, Isobel.”
“Goodnight,” I murmur, a little breathless.
River smiles and kisses my cheek then gestures towards his own dorm, he turns to look at me one last time with his hands in his coat pockets and a cute smile.