Page 47 of River & Rue

river

​. . .​

another long week

At the sound of a small splash to my right, I open my eyes. Muted green light and sulphuric steam rise from the surface of the hot springs, both magnifying a sight that will haunt me forever.

“Fuck’s sake, Dan. Get your dick out of my face.”

Priya’s laughter rises from the opposite end of the shallow, kidney-shaped pool. “Not so fast. Some of us are enjoying the view. Right, Larissa?”

The glass artist from France titters, but her dark gaze strays to me. As with the last hundred times she’s eyed me since I walked in, I pretend not to notice.

Chuckling, Dan steps deeper into the water and settles on the submerged bench a few feet away. When I catch his gaze, he shakes his head subtly.

“Sorry, man,” he whispers. “Maya seemed game, but…” He shrugs.

I nod in understanding and sink deeper, canting my head against the rounded lip of the pool. Since Dan’s often attached to my hip in his free time, Rue deduced I’d be here—and for two long weeks, wherever I am is the last place she wants to be.

Past me would have cornered her by now and made sure she knew how childish she was acting. But things have changed—I’ve changed. I don’t think she’s childish. I think she feels threatened by our changing dynamic and is protecting herself. Just like two years ago, she regrets showing me a glimpse of the real her, so she’s slamming the proverbial door in my face.

Unbeknownst to her, however, I’m not walking away this time. I’ve finally admitted to myself what I want—what Ivy has wanted for years—and I’m ready to work for it.

One way or another, in twenty-six days, Rue and I are leaving this place as friends.

Closing my eyes, I listen with half an ear as Dan joins Priya and Larissa’s conversation about the annual camping trip. He’s been trying to convince me to go, and it sounds like Larissa is under similar pressure from Priya.

“There are no cabins? You sleep in the dirt?” Larissa’s fluid accent is full of disdain.

“We’ll have tents and sleeping bags,” Priya insists. “It’ll be a great time, I promise. It’s a PAC tradition!”

Dan adds, “The hike to the campsite is around three hours. By the time we set up camp, you’ll be so blissed out on the fresh air you won’t even notice the lack of a mattress.”

“You said nothing about hiking for hours, Priya!”

I crack an eye open to see Priya send Dan a glare before she smiles at Larissa. “Kirk said it’s easy, mostly flat. And didn’t you say you wanted to see the redwoods up close?”

“I did,” Larissa concedes.

I tune them out again, my thoughts flecks of metal drifting back to the lodestone in my mind.

When I told Ivy about my intent to bury the hatchet and win Rue’s friendship, her scream made my ears ring. Then she rapid-fired advice at me.

“Don’t ambush her; she’ll bolt. Be patient and consistent. Show her who you really are and let her come to you on her own terms. And whatever you do, don’t flake and give up. I’ll never forgive you.”

Easier said than done.

I severely underestimated Rue’s commitment to avoiding me. She leaves our cabin at the ass crack of dawn. If we cross paths at breakfast, she pretends I’m a ghost, then becomes a ghost herself for the remainder of the day.

Thanks to not actively pushing everyone away anymore, I’ve learned she’s in the gym until the Lodge opens for breakfast. After dinner, she usually goes to the community center for whatever group activity is being offered that day—like astral projection, singing bowl therapy, and transcendental meditation, all of which she knows full well I’m not interested in. If I showed up, there’d be no question I was there for her.

I’m close to risking it though. If I have to ecstatically dance my way into a conversation with her, so be it.

This would be a lot simpler if she came back to the cabin even once during the day. Maybe she’d like that I’ve been feeding the squirrels and birds in her absence. Or she might notice I’ve been watering the patch of dandelions near the porch. I could tell her why—that I knew the flowers were important to her by the way she held them as she braided the crown. Then again, she might not care about any of it.

Either way, I can’t tell her shit because she doesn’t come back until midnight or later. Whatever she’s doing from 9 p.m. on is another mystery that’s becoming difficult not to solve. All I know is she’s not with Maya; for the last week or so, she’s been sneaking into Dan’s cabin at night.

I just hope she’s not hanging out with Matteo, the abstract pottery artist with a sleepy pothead vibe. I don’t like the way he smiles at her, and I really don’t like the smarmy look on his face whenever he catches me watching.