Page 26 of Right Where You Left Me
“Shut your trap.” I hiss. “I do not.” Fuck this big softie that can read me like a goddamn book.
He chuckles and stands back up at his full height. “Yeah, you do. But that’s okay, I think she likes you too.”
I suck in a breath and hold it until it hurts. He’s just teasing me because he can. She doesn’t like me like that, and even if she did, I promised myself I wouldn’t let her hurt me again. I’m not going to put myself in that situation. It’s— it’s terrifying. Truly, and utterly fear inducing and I know that I’m not brave enough for this. I’m a fucking coward. “Do you think—” I start and River gives me an encouraging smile. I clear my throat and try again. “Do you think it would be different this time?” I ask and my voice comes out small.
“I don’t know, cheri.” He says softly. “But I do know that she lights up when she looks at you. I don’t think that’s nothing.”
“She’s just friendly.” I say again, remembering the night at the bar all those weeks ago saying those same words to Peyton. “She’s a bubbly, bright person.”
“Mm.” River says noncommittally. “I guess we’ll see.”
“Yeah.” I say weakly.
I let out a shaky breath, forcing all the fear and emotion down as deeply as I can. There is no reason to be feeling like this tonight, a night that’s full of joy and friends and watching that girl shine as she takes it all in. I watch Emma grab the bowl, tapping her card to pay for it, before she rejoins us. “I debated waiting to buy this until we were leaving so I didn’t have to carry it around all night since I already have to carry the birdhouse, but I worried it would be gone if I did, so,” She shrugs, “lugging them both around won out.”
River rolls his eyes and makes a ‘gimme’ motion with his hand. “I’ll carry them.”
“What, no. I wasn’t complaining, I can carry?—”
“Emma. Give him your stuff. He will be insufferable if you don’t let him help. He loves to do shit for people, honestly.”
“I do, Emma.” He says with wholesome seriousness. “You’ll actually be helping me out if you let me. Let me carry it, s'il te plaît.”
“Okay…” She says slowly, handing him the bowl gently and once it’s tucked in his arm she hands him the birdhouse. “You speak French?”
River laughs and nods. “Oui, je le fais. I grew up speaking both. My maman is from Giverny. Met my dad there when he was backpacking across Europe on some self discovery artist trip in his early twenties, and he somehow convinced her to move to Chicago when he left to go back to America.” He says with a shrug. His eyes flick down the street and back to Emma quickly.“But, actually, you know what you can do to thank me for carrying your new treasures?”
She quirks a brow in question.
“You can join me to go look right over there at one of the artist’s tables I wanted to check out. I saw on his Instagram he was going to be here tonight, and I want to see some of his work.”
“Check out.” I cough out, and Emma giggles. Warmth pulls in my gut at the noise. Fuck, do I want to hear her make that sound way more often.
“Any particular reason why you want to go and see hisartwork, River?” Peyton asks with a teasing lilt to her voice. His cheeks are bright red and he tries to glare at us.
“No.” He mumbles. “I just— His paintings are really good. Can we just go look without the third degree please?”
“Of course, River.” Emma says brightly. “Lead the way.”
“At least one of you is nice.” River grumbles.
“I’m plenty nice.” I say defensively.
River cackles. “Sure you are.”
“Mother fu?—”
“I think you’re nice.” Emma says softly.
“To you.” River says with a loud laugh.
I can feel my cheeks heating and I clear my throat, trying to get rid of whatever this warmth in my chest is. “Thanks, Em.” I mumble. “C’mon. Let’s go so River can flirt and we can move on with our night.” I follow the two of them toward the back row of artists at the end of the street, Peyton trailing behind me snickering at me.
The closer we get, the more River fidgets and once we’re in the short line that leads to the booth I can see why. The banner hanging in front says ‘Levi Moreland’ in a bold and modern font and sitting behind the table is a man who isexactlyRiver’s type. His blonde curls hang behind his ears, giving him that surferdude look without trying. Blue eyes shining in the lights like sapphires. He’s lean, wearing an eccentric button up with the top two buttons undone. He’s sitting down as he greets the people approaching, but I can tell he can’t be much taller than I am. And River is just standing there staring at him.
I nudge him hard, with my elbow. “Go talk to him.” I mock whisper, and that seems to knock him back to reality. He steps forward, smiling with bright red cheeks, and starts chatting with Levi.
Emma, Peyton, and I walk a little down the street to give him some privacy. I know we were giving him shit about flirting, but I don’t want to make him more nervous with us standing where we can hear what they’re saying.
