2. River
RIVER
Ellie:
You coming over for dinner? I’m making your favorite.
The next evening, I’m sitting at a bar at the airport, preparing for my flight home, trying to stave off the hangover that was not far off.
I eye the text message from my future sister-in-law as I let the beer I’ve been nursing for the past hour hover near my lips while I try to recall my favorite.
I have narrowed it down to three, and I find myself instantly regretting the dumb, reckless, and if I'm being honest— horny decision to stay in North Carolina for the weekend. Because few things were better than Ellie’s cooking.
Yes, that included a night with the birthday redhead last night.
Fun, sure, but… predictable. Lackluster? Boring?
I wince at the thought, because boring was never a word I’d use to describe sex, yet last night, it all felt a little been there, done that.
Me:
Can’t tonight.
Ellie:
Choosing bar food from The Dugout or takeout over my pot roast? Who are you?
Me:
Better question is where am I, which is still in North Carolina.
Rowan:
I thought you were done with camp two days ago?
My older brother interjects in our group chat, and I already know that my answer is going to cause them to gang up on me.
Me:
I decided to stay the weekend.
Rowan:
For no reason other than to get laid, I’m sure.
Ellie:
Didn’t we talk about this!?
Me:
Talk about what?
I roll my eyes inwardly, thinking about the last conversation I had with Ellie after a few too many beers, when I broke down and told her that I did want to meet someone, but evidently, my intimacy issues and “my inability to approach anyone over the age of twenty-two” make it impossible.
Ellie’s words. Now, she’s made it her mission to press me about it every time I fuck someone.
“Don’t you want to settle down?”
“Maybe you should start dating women who are closer to your age?”
Yes, I would like to meet someone, but can’t a guy have fun in the meantime?
Was last night even that fun, though?
My phone comes to life in my hand, and while I know Ellie means well, and I’ve grown to love her like the sister I never had or wanted, but semantics, sometimes she can be a pain in my ass.
“Yes, mother?” I answer, while rubbing my forehead.
“I want to set you up with someone,” Ellie declares immediately.
“No,” I respond without another word because I’ve already gone out with three women Ellie set me up with, and while I did fuck two out of the three, I felt nothing.
And I’m fairly certain the third one was in some sort of cult she spent the entirety of dinner trying to recruit me for.
“Unless it’s Jacqueline.” I smile, knowing that the only way I could get a date with Ellie’s best friend was over her dead body.
I wasn’t even particularly interested. I just loved to get under Ellie’s skin about it. Jacqueline was hot and smart and had breasts worthy of grade A porn, but she’s also a psychologist and, just like Ellie, has tried to decipher my issues on more than one occasion.
“You’re the worst,” she deadpans. “I’m serious!” she adds with a more excited lilt.
Movement in my periphery catches my attention, and while I was already well on my way to tuning Ellie out, the blonde who just sat down diagonally from me at the bar has just demanded all of my attention with one glance.
Her lips tick upward slightly in a way that’s almost a smile but could also be construed as a smirk before stunning blue eyes with long lashes flick downward toward the menu that the bartender has just placed in front of her.
I find myself still staring at her, long after her eyes have left mine, my brain still trying to memorize that shade of blue that I could only compare to ocean waters.
Only when her eyes flit back to mine do I detect a hint of nervousness, I assume due to my blatant staring, so I turn my attention away from her and back to my beer.
“Ellie,” I start, not even realizing if I’m interrupting her because I haven’t been listening for the past thirty seconds. “I’ll swing by when I get home. I should be there by nine. You can lecture me then.”
“I’m not lecturing! You made me promise to hold you accountable because you want to meet someone within the next year.”
“I need to stop talking to you after I’m six shots deep,” I grumble as I vaguely recall the conversation she’s referring to when I may or may not have gotten emotional over the fact that my oldest niece, Margot, was graduating from high school this year, and my younger niece, Isla, was damn near driving.
Okay, she’s seven, but still, I remember the day she was born.
I’d gotten in my feelings over the fact that my older brother had three kids that I loved like my own.
But they weren’t my own. And for the first time, I allowed myself to admit that I did want children.
It didn’t help that Ellie was still in her twenties and about to marry my brother and probably pop out three more of his children if the way they go at it was any predictor.
I’m thirty-eight, and I’ve only been in one serious relationship back in college with a girl who broke my heart, sending me on the clichéd journey of becoming a fuckboy to protect myself from ever being in that position again.
Ellie and Jacqueline’s words, naturally.
“I have to go. I’m boarding soon,” I tell her. It’s not for another hour, but I wanted a pre-flight buzz, and talking to Ellie about my commitment issues would surely derail that plan.
“Okay, have a safe flight and text us when you land,” she tells me before we hang up, and I turn my attention back to the blond woman, who’s staring down at her phone as she sips her water.
She looks at me from the corner of her eye, and when I smile at her, she sets her phone down and turns her focus toward me.
“Have we met before?” she asks, and the slight raspiness of her voice stuns me, as I was not expecting that to come from her.
She sends a shiny blond curl behind her shoulder and raises an eyebrow at me.
She’s insanely gorgeous, and when her lips tilt upward, a faint dimple appears in her cheek. My dick instantly hardens because if you looked up my type, there would be a picture of this woman.
Topless, probably.
“Ummm… no,” I say in a way that comes out almost like a question, and I’m not sure why, because she’s someone I would definitely remember meeting.
“You just keep staring at me. I figured you were trying to place me.”
“No,” I repeat. “Uh, sorry.” My eyes move downward on their own accord, and my brain takes notice of the tight navy T-shirt hugging what I imagine are perfectly round and perky tits. Remembering that she can fucking see me, I move my gaze back upward. “Your eyes are just…” I start when she snorts.
“My eyes. Right.” She raises an eyebrow at me before shaking her head.
“I noticed them first,” I retort, trying my best not to show my embarrassment over being called out. “They’re gorgeous.” Like the rest of you.
“What’d you notice second?” she asks while playing with the straw in her water.
I don’t answer right away, but the smile pulling at her lips deepens that dimple, giving me an easy answer. “Mouth,” I respond, and she breaks into a full-on grin, her blindingly white smile and straight teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
“I noticed your eyes too and then your tattoos.” I’m wearing a short-sleeved shirt, revealing ink on both arms that I’ve acquired over the past two decades. I’m used to the horny attention from women when my arms are out, and that’s before they even see my full leg tattoo.
“If you’re into tattoos, you should see the ones I have hidden.
” I lean back in my chair just as the bartender makes his way over to me.
I watch as her eyes trace down my frame as she’s probably wondering where these hidden tattoos are.
“I’ll have another,” I say, as I hold up my empty glass, “and…” I look at her.
“Do you want something to drink besides water?”
“I’m good.” She nods, giving the bartender a polite smile before he retreats.
“I’m River,” I tell her.
“Sloane,” she responds instantly and extends her hand. A soft, warm hand clasps mine, and I don’t miss the way her thumb drags across my knuckles when she lets go. So simple and effortlessly sexy, but my dick responds to it like it’s seeing a woman naked for the first time.
Like the thought of seeing this woman in front of me naked.
“Where are you headed, Sloane?” I ask, just as the bartender places my beer on the napkin in front of me.
“Maryland,” she answers. “I’m in the process of moving there.”
Not wanting to let on that I’m headed there as well, in case she turns out to be some sort of stage-five clinger, I nod and tack on another question. “Where are you from?”
She tilts her head back and forth, almost like she’s not sure how to answer. “A bit of everywhere. I’ve been living overseas for most of my life.”
Curiosity rises along with at least ten follow-up questions. “Oh wow. What made you come back here?”
“School,” she says, and the beer sitting in my mouth threatens to expel from me, but I manage to keep it down just as a chuckle leaves her lips. “Relax, I meant college.”
“How old are you?” I ask her, needing verbal confirmation that I do not need to gouge my own eyes out for ogling an underage girl.
“Twenty-one.” She reaches for her bag and pulls out her wallet. “What are you, a cop? Do you need to see my ID?”
“No… school just… threw me off.” I clear my throat and take another healthy sip. Twenty-one was still on the younger side even for me, but there is nothing wrong with talking.
Keep your eyes off her tits then.
“My parents are wildlife research scientists, and I’ve been traveling with them since I was a teenager.” She shrugs. “I wanted to come back here for college.”
“Wow, that’s really interesting. So you’re like Eliza Thornberry.” I chuckle, thinking about one of my favorite childhood cartoons and the fact that she has probably led the most fascinating life of anyone that I know.