Page 48 of Don’t Be A Stranger

The words that tumble out of my mouth had no shot of remaining as an inside thought. “Yeah,” I say. “I usually don’t have a problem keeping things there.”

River’s eyes widen and I slap a hand over my mouth, trying desperately to not let my cackle travel down the hallway. River hides his own laughter in the crook of his elbow, his shoulders shaking.

Maybe it’s sleep deprivation, or maybe it’s simply that I’ve missed River, but at this moment I feel as if I’m on the top of the world. Standing in the kitchen with him, chugging down caffeine and getting into Moose’s secret stash of M&M’s is surprisingly all I could ask for. I wouldn’t change anything about this moment. Well, there is one thing I’d change. River keeps staring at me like he wants something but he’s too afraid to either ask or take it.

“What?” I finally ask, smiling against the glass cup.

River shakes his head like he’s about to dismiss my question but then he pauses for a moment, his eyes watching me in the dimly lit kitchen. Our laughter dies, a brief moment of tension taking its place, but it doesn’t last long when River sets both of our cups down and reaches for my hand while the other rests on my hip.

A smile once again forms on my lips when I realize what he’s doing.

“May I have this dance?” River whispers.

I step closer to him, our chest touching and my free hand goes to rest on his shoulder. “Of course you can.”

We sway back and forth gently, our feet remaining in place. The kitchen lighting is warm and the glow wraps around us, encasing both of us in this moment. I wouldn’t mind being frozen in time if it meant I’d be able to live in this forever.

My smile only widens when River begins humming “My Girl” under his breath. He pulls away only to gently spin me around. The twirling is awkward at first as I try to catch my footing. My sock-clad feet against the wood has me slipping but just like always, River is there to catch me. He wraps his arm around my waist, playfully dipping me.

River kisses the tip of my nose before popping me back up and spinning me around so that my back is against his chest, his breath warm against my neck. I’m so wrapped up in River that I almost don’t hear the slow, heavy footsteps heading in our direction.

I quickly drop to the floor, wincing when my knees hit the wood. River reaches down to help but Moose’s voice travels into the kitchen.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?”

River stands to his full height, haphazardly reaching for the share-size bag of M&M’s and holding it up in Moose’s direction. “I was hungry.”

Luckily, I’m behind the counter and Moose remains in the hallway so he can’t see me unless he walks into the kitchen.

“Are those mine?” Moose inquires, his voice raspy and laced with sleep.

River winces. “I’ll…buy you more?”

“Damn right you will,” Moose mutters, his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

River and I both wait to hear the click of Moose’s door shutting before we look at each other and laugh.

Sixteen

Summer

River lets the gate shut behind him with a slam, as if we’re not on a self-imposed stealth mission. I don’t know why I thought sneaking into the country club pool would be easy. Or quiet. River has been tripping over his own feet and doing nothing to hide his hyena laugh.

Yeah, there’s no way he’d ever get a starring role in Mission Impossible.

River stumbles over himself yet again, trying to peel off his socks and shoes. Then he stands, prideful, in nothing but his swim trunks.

My throat dries and I have to tear my eyes from his tan skin and the sharp, delicate line of his collarbone. I promised myself that I wouldn’t try to rip off his clothes until we made it back to the apartment. Or his car. It really depends on my patience level by the end of the night.

“Do you get off on being as loud as you possibly can?” I scold.

“Yeah.” River smiles. “Usually.”

I know that statement holds true because the noises that come out of this man’s mouth during sex are going to replay in my head forever. And because I don’t need to be caught sneaking into my job—or with River deep inside me at that—instead of reaching for River’s swim trunks, I begin stripping off my own clothes, leaving me to stand in front of River in nothing but my bathing suit. For I’ve worked hard for the body I have. Hours of dedicated swimming and dry land training will do that, but for some reason I feel more exposed in my two-piece than being completely naked.

“What?” I shift my weight to my other foot, trying to pretend that River’s blatant staring isn’t creating a wet spot in my bikini bottoms. “You act like you’ve never seen me in a bathing suit before,” I say.

During the season, I practically live in my one-piece. And River has literally seen me naked. My plum bikini shouldn’t be this distracting for either of us.