33. Rue
rue
. . .
fast forward
Maya flops onto my bed with a dramatic groan, sending my empty water bottle rolling toward the edge. I grab it before it falls, then continue frowning at the oversized camping backpack I’ve been trying—and failing—to shove an extra sweatshirt into.
The only reason I’m going on this camping trip is because of a deal I made with Maya. If I finished my book, I had to go. I didn’t think it was realistic at the time, but I surprised myself. Yesterday, I typed The End and sent the manuscript to my editor.
“Tell me you’ve kissed, at least?”
“We haven’t.” Avoiding her eyes, I quickly change the subject. “Do you think I’ll be okay with just one sweatshirt and a long-sleeved thermal? Kirk said it gets pretty cold at night.”
Flipping onto her stomach, she stares me down.
“Very scary.” I hold up my sweatshirt. “Do you have room for this?”
She huffs and shakes her head. Tossing the sweatshirt aside, I grab an extra pair of socks I probably don’t need and shove them into the top of the bag. Then I pull them back out.
“Maybe I should pack another sports bra.” I spin on my heel and head for the dresser.
“You’re killing me,” Maya whines. “I’ve been waiting for the next chapter for over a week, only to find out nothing has happened between you since the Afternoon of Oral Delights?”
I’m glad I’m not facing her so she can’t see me flinch.
“I wouldn’t say nothing,” I murmur as I pick through my underwear drawer.
From the outside looking in, sure, nothing terribly significant happened between River and me over the last ten days.
Physically, at least. But we spent the bulk of every day together, and there were thousands of moments.
Tiny drops of closeness that grew a different, no less dangerous kind of intimacy.
Every morning, we ran a circuit around the property, then ate breakfast together.
After showering, I set up for work on the porch.
He sketched for an hour or two, showered himself, then forced me to eat a healthy snack before disappearing to his studio.
For lunch, he either coaxed me to the Lodge or, if I was deep in the zone, brought me something back.
I worked until three or four, then resurfaced to find him waiting with another snack and a plan for the hours until dinner.
We’ve gone swimming, explored more of the property, and visited Dan, Maya, and Jae in their studios. Yesterday, we hiked the narrow trail down to the coast and sat on the small beach until the rising tide forced us away.
I think of our bedtime ritual of tea on the porch. Of whispers through the wall and falling asleep to the sound of him singing.
“We’ve talked a lot,” I add belatedly.
“Boring!”
A memory from three nights ago ambushes me—River’s low voice on the other side of the wall.
“Two fingers, Rue. Sink them nice and deep. Tell me what you feel like.”
“Warm. Soft. Wet.”
“Mmm. Now add another finger. Two, if you can. Pump them. Slowly. Move those beautiful hips and fuck your hand like it’s my cock.”
Blinking fast, I return to the present.
“A few times late at night, we’ve, um…” I cough, then mumble, “dirty-talked through the wall.”
“Ohh. Masturbation wars. That’s more like it.”
My lips twitch in spite of myself. Turning around, I lean a hip on the dresser. Then I remember what happened against this dresser and hurry back to the bed. I attempt to cinch the top of the backpack closed, but it doesn’t cooperate.
“You don’t need half of what’s in there,” Maya says dryly. “It’s only two nights.”
“I recognize your logic, but I have a thing with being unprepared—namely, I don’t like it.”
“You’ll like carrying that for three hours even less.”
I sigh. “Good point.”
“Dump it out, and I’ll help you repack. We still have an hour before we have to be at the trailhead.”
Grabbing the nylon straps, I heave the bag upside down and shake its contents all over the bed. Maya sits up and begins separating items. She holds up two bottles of sunscreen, a small saucepan from my kitchen, and my bag of yarn.
“Really?”
Grimacing, I rub the back of my neck. “I thought there might be time to crochet. I’ve been trying to learn for a year.”
She laughs and tosses the bag across the bed. The saucepan thumps on the floor, followed by three cans of soup, a baggie with forks and spoons, six granola bars, and four apples. Maya then turns to me with the driest of dry looks.
“Kirk and Gavin are bringing food and cookware.”
“But what if we get separated? Or they don’t pack enough for everyone?”
“Rue.”
I groan and drop onto the bed. “I know, I know. Thank you for helping me. I might have ventured a little too far down the paranoia pipeline.”
“You don’t say.”
I throw a pair of socks at her, and she throws them over her shoulder.
“But—”
“You packed five pairs.”
I shut up.
In minutes, Maya has two piles: essentials and only-if-there’s-room. Everything else is in a heap on the floor. Deferring to her expertise—she’s actually been camping before—I start repacking. She settles against the pillows with a gleam in her eye.
“Back to our previous conversation.”
“Ew.”
“Too bad. As your interim BFF, this convo is overdue and mandatory.” Her amusement fades.
“You know I’m all for slow burns, but at a certain point it becomes torture for everyone involved—and by everyone, I mean you, River, and all of us subjected to your insane sexual tension.
You guys need an intervention. Is there a literary term for something that speeds things along in a story? ”
I shove a shirt in the bag with more force than necessary.
“Not that I think this is relevant to the topic, but yes. Depending on the story’s structure, it could be The Ordeal, Pinch Point, The Crisis, Dark Night of the Soul, or All is Lost.”
“Whoa, are there any that don’t sound depressing as hell?”
“Pre Climax.”
“Yes! We want climaxing. All the climaxing.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s still a darkest-before-dawn moment, and it still doesn’t apply. Sorry to disappoint, but there won’t be a Pre Climax, Climax, or Denouement—also known as the Happily Ever After—to this story.”
“Why not? He looks at you like you’re the center of his world, and no offense, but you light up like a Christmas tree around him.
It’s obvious you have feelings for each other.
Real feelings.” She hesitates, and her voice softens.
“Do you really want to go home in two weeks without seeing where this could lead?”
This time, I can’t hide my flinch.
She sits up fast. “Rue? I know I’m not Ivy, but I’m in your corner. I want to support you like you’ve supported me. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have given Dan a chance, and I would’ve missed out on spending time with a seriously great guy.”
I cinch the backpack and close the flap, then meet her concerned gaze.
“I appreciate you, Maya—more than you know—but I can’t tell you what you want to hear.
I may write fantasy worlds, but I don’t live in one.
When I get home, I have to tell Ivy everything and beg her to forgive me.
That potentially life-altering disaster aside, River and I don’t have a future together.
He’s famous and lives a fast, exciting life.
I’m a homebody with a semi-truck of trauma and enough trust issues to send a psychotherapist into early retirement. ”
Maya’s expression twists in surprise before softening with sympathy. We’ve grown close enough that she knows I don’t talk about my childhood, and this is the nearest I’ve come to telling her why.
“Are you afraid he’ll sleep with you, then walk away like it was nothing?”
I did, however, tell her about my disastrous dating history during a late-night soak in the hot springs our second week here.
Swallowing thickly, I drop my gaze to the backpack between us.
“River might hold out a little longer than the others, but yes. Eventually, he’ll realize I’m too much work.
And this time, I’ll be left with no best friend, no family, no home.
I’ve lost them all before, and I… I won’t survive a second time.
No man, however perfect he may seem, is worth that risk. ”
When Maya doesn’t say anything, I look up and find her staring past me with wide, horrified eyes. Then I hear it—a creak from the front room. My stomach does a sickening whirl, and I whip around in time to see the front door close with a soft snick.
“Oh no. Oh fuck.” Lightheaded with panic, I turn back to Maya. “He was supposed to be with Dan. They were meeting us at the trailhead.”
“I know. I—I didn’t see him until…” She shakes her head helplessly. “I have no idea how much he heard.”
I clutch my head with shaking hands. “Well, there you have it. A story beat in real time.”
“Which one?”
Maya’s voice is almost as shrill as my answering laugh.
“The Catastrophe.”