Chapter 9
CADENCE
Anticipation thrums within me, setting my nerves afire and my stomach aflutter.
I have never considered myself an object of desire.
Why should I? No man has expressed interest. Well, except Joel, but that hardly counts, does it?
My gut twists at the thought of the male who caused me such inexpressible heartache, disappointment, and confusion.
I endeavor to set that experience aside.
Riley is not Joel. Looking back, there was clear evidence of Joel's true intent at every stage of the process; I was merely blinded to it in my naive excitement to think a boy might like me as a boy likes a girl.
Or, well, as one person feels romantic interest toward another, regardless of gender or sexual orientation, because, as Lin-Manuel Miranda once said, "Love is love is love is love is love is love is love, cannot be killed or swept aside. "
I have, ever since, kept those indicators of his ulterior motives front of mind when dealing with men, and thus far, Riley has shown none of them.
He has stated his physical attraction to me. This in itself is new. Joel did not do that. His interest was not in me, neither my mind, my body, nor least of all my emotions. His interest was in the cruel entertainment I would provide him and his cronies.
I shudder, and Riley feels it. "What was that?" he asks. "I do something? That didn't seem like an 'I like it’ shudder, especially since I haven’t done anything yet."
I shake my head. "No, it was…I was remembering something."
"Care to share?"
I tense. "I…no. Not at this juncture." But then I consider the situation and opt for honesty—which I would want from him. "In truth, I was…" I trail off, struggling to know how to begin discussing that event.
"You don't have to tell me anything."
"I certainly must. It concerns you, at least indirectly.
You see, when I first began at Harvard, I was sixteen.
But, obviously, I had never had a boyfriend.
As is common, I would imagine, I began university somewhat excited at the possibilities that come with attending a large university in a new place.
I hoped, naively, it turns out, that I would meet someone, and …
" I shrug. "Experience romantic interest from a boy. "
He groans. "I don't like how this is starting out."
His comment requires no response, so I continue my story.
"I did meet a boy. Joel. He was in several of my classes.
At first, he seemed merely curious about me—not uncommon, since I am rather…
unique. But as I answered questions and the nature of my uniqueness became apparent, he began showing what I, again naively, interpreted as interest. He accompanied me from one class to another.
Jested with me. Smiled at me. Drew close to me.
I have studied people, and I know the signs of flirtation.
He demonstrated them with me. The smiles, the seemingly innocent touches.
I…I did not react to his touch the way I do yours.
I could not bear it when he touched any part of me, but I…
I wanted to. I wanted his attention to be genuine, and tried to endure his affections, innocent as they seemed. "
Riley growls. "Fuck me, Cadence. This is gonna piss me off, isn't it?"
I shrug. "I do not know how it will make you feel.
I certainly did not appreciate the way events unfolded.
He invited me to a party. I was underage and did not drink.
He…I suppose he intended to use my innocence to get me inebriated and unable to ward off his advances.
When I declined his offers of alcohol, he became incensed. "
"Fucking fuck. I really hope you left."
"I did not. I was at my first university party, Riley.
I thought I was supposed to enjoy it, even though I did not.
I felt I was supposed to enjoy Joel's attentions, even though I did not.
I wanted to leave. I wish I had left." I gather what courage I have for the telling.
"He came to me after perhaps thirty minutes elsewhere and apologized for getting upset.
He led me away from the busiest area of the party to a quieter alcove.
Even though the thought of him touching me at all left me revolted, I could tell he was preparing to kiss me.
At last, I thought to myself. A boy likes me.
A boy wants to kiss me." I'm breathing hard, still angry and embarrassed.
"In the instant before his lips met mine, he pulled away and began laughing at me.
He said…well, I shall not repeat his words.
He called me names. Said I was…the R-word.
He mocked me for thinking he liked me. As he laughed, a crowd appeared.
His friends. They surrounded me and laughed at me and mocked me.
" I shudder again, fighting the burn behind my eyes.
"Darn. I very much dislike speaking of this, but you must know, because I…
I think of Joel often, should a male deign to show interest in me.
I reviewed our interactions and saw signs that he was not genuine.
He often would look behind and smile strangely as we walked together—which I later realized was him sharing the inside joke with his cronies—mockery, me laboring under the delusion that he could like me.
It was…it was just so juvenile, Riley. Childish.
The games one would expect in high school, but not at a university.
He was young, too, I suppose. Not even eighteen, I believe, but I was only a few weeks past my sixteenth birthday when this occurred.
It hurt, Riley. It hurt badly, and I have not forgotten it.
So I shuddered because I thought of him. Of his pretend interest."
"Little fucker oughta have his dick kicked up into his throat," Riley mutters, his tone savage. "Teenage boys are fucking cruel little assholes, sometimes."
"I forgave him," I say. "But I have not forgotten."
"Cadence, I know you have no reason to believe me, but—"
I cover his lips with my fingers, which for some reason I cannot fathom seems to cause his brain to short-circuit, not merely silencing him but making him forget what he was saying—or so it seems. "I know, Riley. You are not him. I believe you to be genuine."
"Even in high school, when I was my worst self, I would never have done that shit. I'm an asshole in a lot of ways, but I'd like to believe I've never been cruel." He caresses my jawline with a thumb. "I'm so sorry that jackass did that to you, Cadence."
I smile at him. "I appreciate that, Riley." I cannot maintain the smile, however. “I wish I could say time has dimmed the pain of the memory, but it has not. That was the first time anyone showed interest in me in that manner, and until you, it was also the last."
"I can see how you'd avoid guys after that," he says.
I blink. "You can?"
He nods. "Sure. Absolutely. Pain is a damn effective teacher."
“You are certainly correct there," I say, and then sigh. "I believe I have effectively ended the moment we had. I am sorry."
He shakes his head. "Don't apologize. I'm glad you shared that with me."
"Glad? Why glad?"
"I mean, not glad. I dunno. It's a shitty thing that happened, so I'm not glad it happened. But I am happy you chose to trust me enough to tell me about it. Having your trust means a fuckin' lot to me."
"Oh," I whisper. "Trusting you is important to me, as well."
"And you didn't ruin the moment," he murmurs. His hands slip down my spine…and then his phone dings with an incoming message. "Fuck."
He pulls it out and looks at it.
"My brother is wondering where we are."
I swallow the hot lump of nerves in my throat and speak the bold truth on a shaky, uncertain whisper. "Maybe…perhaps we could…resume this interaction later."
He grins at me, and his hands cradle my backside—very gently and very briefly—over my dress, and then he pats me there, once. "I think that could be arranged. For now, let's go hang out with my brother and Ember."
Riley's brother and sister-in-law live outside town, a few minutes north and a few miles down a dirt road through the forest. Their home is a brand-new build, with lots of windows on all sides, a deep front porch beneath a triplet of dormers, the whole covered by a hunter green metal roof.
There is a garage on the right side, with a winding blacktop driveway snaking away through the surrounding forest. Perhaps two acres have been cleared around the house, with verdant green grass still showing the lines where the rolls of sod are joined.
The structure itself is a log cabin, but of the magazine-worthy variety.
The windows still have stickers on them in places, and there are piles of materials and power tools scattered on the driveway outside the garage, along with a roll-off dumpster piled high with construction debris.
Riley parks his truck behind the dumpster; the garage is open, revealing a gold-colored pickup which is otherwise very similar to Riley's in age and condition, although I know little of such things.
Beside the truck is a classic orange Volkswagen Bus covered in stickers.
Riley exits his truck and is opening my door before I realize he's parked the vehicle; car rides always put me in a contemplative mindset and I tend to tune the world out until forced to return.
In this case, the impetus to shake off my thoughts is Riley leaning into the cab to unbuckle me.
"I know how to do that, Riley," I murmur as he depresses the red button to release the buckle.
He grins at me from very close—kissing close. "I know. I like to. Gets me close to you."
"You…um…you do not need an excuse to draw close to me, you know." I grab his wrist as he steps back down out of the cab.
"No?" He grins at me, and my stomach flips. I wonder, will his smile will always do that?