Page 62 of River & Rue

Then the arm propping me up buckled, and my forehead cracked against his chin.

In the early hours of the morning, the LSD finally released its hold. Mentally, I was burnt toast in a garbage disposal. Physically, I was even more miserable. Chills rolled up and down my body like an external pulse. Still wearing my bathing suit under a dirt-smeared sweatshirt, I itched everywhere from a combination of dried saltwater and sweat.

River turned on the shower and made sure it was the perfect temperature. I kept my bathing suit on, and he helped me into the tub, then sat outside the open door in case I needed him.

The moment my fingers met the hopelessly tangled mess of my hair, I started crying. When River rushed in, wide-eyed with panic, I cried harder because I was crying. Between my flailing gestures and blubbering, he figured out the problem. And he didn’t hesitate, stepping into the tub and getting soaked for his efforts.

He washed my hair. Conditioned it twice. Then I…

Oh god. Oh noooo.

I peeled down the top of my bathing suit and asked him to wash the rest of me.

And after that, I⁠—

“Princess? Are you alive in there?”

I jump back from the sink and crash into the towel rack, which falls with a clatter to the floor.

“Fine! I’m fine!”

“Sounds like it. Well, food’s here.”

“Thanks,” I squeak.

“And, Rue?”

“Y-yes?”

“I know you’re freaking out right now, but you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Oh, and don’t bother asking me to leave. We’re friends now, so you’re stuck with me.”

Wood creaks as he walks away. I wait for the sound of the bedroom door closing behind him, then snatch the nearest towel and press it to my face to muffle my scream.

It takes ten minutes, a few more screams, and several dunks of my head into a sink full of cold water for me to overcome the urge to climb out the nearest window. In the end, it’s not bravery but the smell of coffee and bacon that motivates me to dress and leave the bedroom.

River relaxes at my kitchen table, casual as can be as he sips coffee and scrolls on his phone. On my side of the table sit a tall glass of water and an empty mug, and on the counter behind him are a large carafe and a stack of to-go containers.

Tempting as the latter sight is, I pause a step outside the bedroom to gauge the distance to the front door and the probability of making it past him.

Without looking up from his phone, he smirks. “I’d catch you halfway there.”

I make a face and resume my shuffling progress toward the table.

“Only because I feel like roadkill.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

By the time I reach the empty chair, my pulse is fluttering frantically. I don’t know if, when, or how River will bring up the shower or what happened afterward, but I’m desperate to delay the conversation. Forever, if possible.

My soul joins the protest of my joints as I reluctantly sit down.

River gives me a quick smile before finishing up something on his phone. The moment he moves to set it down on the table, I blurt, “You obviously aren’t aware I ran track in college. I’d leave you in the dust any day, any conditions.”

“Challenge accepted.” He grins smugly. “Not today, though. It’s only fair if you think you have a fighting chance.”

Rolling my eyes, I pull the empty mug toward me. “Pass the coffee, Mr. Delusional.”

He scoffs and reaches for the carafe on the counter.