by Kim Karr
After we watch the sunset, River moves back, leaving one hand on the rail next to me. “Ready?”
“Yes,” I say, glancing up and noticing how his strong arm leads the way to his gorgeous face.
When I turn completely around, I see him for the first time since emerging from the bedroom. I notice he’s wearing black denim frayed jeans with a gray button-down shirt that shows hints of his very defined muscles, a belt, and his black work boots. I notice that he is about the same build as Ben, maybe just slightly taller.
River grins as he detects my stare. “Do you see something you like?”
Before I can respond, I stumble slightly, having started to walk toward the living room and River’s nose is at my neck, but this time only because that is where I landed.
River doesn’t waiver as he uses the opportunity to glide his nose to my ear and whisper, “Hey gorgeous, you okay?” I feel his nose at my ear; I feel his breath, feel his lips slightly grazing my neck. But unlike the last time, he doesn’t pull back immediately and the electric pull takes over.
Responding in a very raspy tone, I start, “Absolutely, I’m . . .”
River doesn’t let me finish my sentence as he gently pushes me back against the rail. His arms are extended on either side of me, he’s surrounding me, caging me in, but once again, I don’t feel trapped. He never moves his lips away from my neck as he repositions us. My breath is hitched and my heartbeat has doubled as I tilt my head back to allow him full access to my neck. He’s softly running a trail of kisses from my neck up to my mouth, slowly, lightly licking, softly sucking, until his lips finally meet mine.
Parting my lips, I think I hear a groan from the back of his throat, and I know I hear a small moan of my own as his mouth presses against mine. I’m frozen, unable to move, not even able to lace my arms around him because I’m wrapped up in a different emotion. It’s happiness growing, overshadowing the sorrow. I feel all of my darkest days slipping away, right here, right now, with him—and I’m paralyzed.
My body starts to tremble, and I put my hands on his chest for support. He’s gently kissing me, sucking my bottom lip before he suddenly presses his mouth harder to my lips, his tongue colliding against mine. As soon as I start sliding my hands down his chest, he groans again, louder this time but then draws back. And just like that, our first real kiss is over.
But it wasn’t just a kiss. It was so much more. When our tongues met, it felt like our souls connected with each other as they passed through each other’s mouths. This soul mate feeling confuses me, but looking at him makes me smile. He grins back at me as he takes my hand, leading me through the living room and out the door without a word.
Standing in the silence of the elevator, our hands still connected, each lost in our own thoughts, we don’t look at each other, and we still don’t speak. Memories of Ben flood my mind, but these memories are searching, fleeting thoughts. I can’t remember my body reacting to Ben’s touch like it just did to River’s. He’s so seductive and alluring, he makes me want more than the kiss we just shared. God, does he not want me, is the skinny, frail girl standing next to him just not that appealing? Shaking off my self-doubts because of all the things I am, I’m not a needy, insecure girl. Maybe it’s time to cut my losses and run; finish this interview and take the next plane home.
As the doors open, my scattered thoughts are broken when River asks me if I’m hungry and I am transported into the now. I nod my head yes in response. We exit the elevator and walk through the lobby toward the doors; I’m thinking just finish your job and leave.
I stop abruptly when I remember that I don’t have any of the materials I need for the interview. I left my messenger bag in my hotel room when River knocked unexpectedly on my door. “Shit, I forgot my bag and I need it for the interview.”
River chuckles at me and leans in quietly. He seductively whispers, “Could we do the interview thing tomorrow because you’re looking far too sexy for me to concentrate on anything other than you?”
My emotions are a tangled mess as he gestures for a cab. “Are you playing some kind of game with me?”
“What do you mean?” he says, running his hands through his hair. He sounds genuinely confused as he opens the door to the cab.
Trying to keep my voice down I say, “What do I mean?” Then I point to the top floor of the building as we scoot into the cab. “What was that up on the balcony?”
River tells the cab driver, “N9 Steakhouse please.”
Then after turning to face me he says, “That was a kiss and I think . . . no, I know you know what that is.” His tone is much harsher than I have heard from him before.
My eyes open wide and my mouth drops open. I’m at a loss for words.
I don’t have to speak because River does before I can. “We’ve met before you know?”
I look at him a little perplexed and a little hurt that he hasn’t mentioned it. I nod my head indicating that, of course, I remember. Then with a low raspy voice I answer, “You remember meeting me and haven’t said anything up until now. Why?”
With an equally low voice and the harshness seemingly gone in his tone, he says, “Why haven’t you, Dahlia?” He’s looking at me with his powerful green eyes and I know there’s no seeing the future in them right now.
With honesty pouring out of me and thankful that he actually does remember me, I answer, “I just didn’t think you remembered me, that’s the only reason.” And I wonder why he seems to think there is more to it than that.
“That’s rich,” he says almost with a laugh, his harsh tone returning. He clenches his fists as he leans his head back on the cab seat.
I stare past him looking out the window to avoid his gaze. We are sitting still in the traffic. How appropriate. I don’t want to look at him. I’m trying not to cry. I’m confused and not sure what to think. After all the flirting, the attraction, and now the bitterness; his emotions seem to ping-pong faster than I can keep track of and I know I have to get out of this game.
With sudden clarity, I turn my entire body to face him. Doing this with a dress on isn’t easy. I brace my hand on the seat in front of me so the slick leather bottom of my skirt doesn’t slide across the bench and I fully cross my legs. The cab starts moving again; horns are blowing and bright colored lights are flashing everywhere.
“River, I don’t want to play games. I don’t know what is going on here, but let’s just go back to my hotel, let me get my stuff, finish the interview, and then we can say our goodbyes.” I let him know this in as flat a tone as I can, knowing this is not what I want but what needs to happen.
Ignoring my request to change our destination he turns his entire body toward me. With his elbow up on the ledge of the back window and his knee slightly bouncing he says, “Dahlia, I’m not playing any games here. I’m just trying to figure things out. So let’s start with the night we met, okay?”
I nod but think this isn’t going to go well at all.
Sitting up and in a monotone, but rather harsh voice he asks, “Why did you leave the bar that night with another guy?”
“What are you talking about?”
Staring at me he says, “Dahlia, come on, just tell me the truth.”
“I didn’t leave with any guy. I left with my girlfriend Aerie. So what are you talking about?”
Running his fingers through his hair, he hisses his words between his teeth. “After my gig you were gone. Here I thought we had some intense connection. Then I had to go back on stage and you said you’d wait for me, but you didn’t. You just left. Later that night I had to stop by my brother’s frat house to look for my sister who left without us and I saw you there. You were standing with some guy near the stairs and he was sucking on your neck.”
He says the last part with disgust in his voice and I start to feel a little queasy. Never did I think my two worlds would collide like this. With my most apologetic tone and my eyes pleading forgiveness for my omission I say, “River, that wasn’t just some guy th
at was my boyfriend and I was afraid of what might happen between you and me, that’s why I left when I did.”
“That’s fucking fantastic news to hear now. That wasn’t something you thought you should share then?”
My eyes start tearing up as I say, “It’s not like that, you don’t understand.”
He curls his lips into a sneer as the cab starts inching its way to nowhere. While gritting his teeth and looking at the floor he says, “Really, because I think I understand pretty well. You were out for fun and looking to have a good time.”
Raising his gaze to meet mine he continues with, “Do you have a boyfriend now?”
I flush, swallowing back my tears. I’m a little pissed myself now at his bitter reaction, so in a slightly clipped tone I answer, “No, Ben was my boyfriend but he died almost two years ago, and actually he was my fiancé.”
His eyes flash to mine and I see compassion and maybe a little bit of pain in them. He studies my face like he’s trying to bring back the last five years but doesn’t know how. “Is he the same guy? The boyfriend from the party and your fiancé?”
Trying to wash away my somber mood, I say, “Yes, Ben was my boyfriend since we were like five. Well not really but it seemed like it. We actually knew each other since we were five.”
“Hmmm . . .” is all River says at first. Then after a few beats he looks at me. His eyes are a little softer, and he seems more understanding. And just like that, the charming man that seems to captivate me is back. “That explains a lot. Why . . .?” He doesn’t get to finish his question as the cab driver announces our arrival at the restaurant.
I put my hand on his knee. I’m a little shaken by our exchange but for some reason drawn even closer to him. I don’t know if we can recover from this and honestly I’m afraid to go too much further in case we can’t. “River, let’s just end this here.”
Taking my hand from his knee he lifts it to his mouth and lightly kisses it in the same way he has done before. My goosebumps return and I have to swallow a few times to get the huge lump out of my throat. Still holding onto my fingers, our hands now resting on his leg, he lifts my chin with his other hand and rubs his thumb over my lips. “Dahlia, stay and have dinner with me? You owe me that much for standing me up that night. Then let’s see what happens.” He says this very softly, almost like a whisper as he continues to run his thumb back and forth over my bottom lip. The cab driver gets out of the cab and opens my door. It’s a gesture I’m sure to move us along.
As resolutely as I can, I say, “Okay fine, dinner and then the interview.” But I know that’s not all I meant. It’s time to remove our masks to see if there is really something more between us, but in order to do this I have to get my emotions under control. This is easier said than done around River Wilde, especially because, as I get out of the cab, I can still feel the searing left behind on my lips from his touch.
HOLD MY HEART
How long until I see what you see
Until I see through your facade
Stop bringing me to my knees
And tell me you’re everything you say you are
And how long until I let you hold my heart.
There are some things I expected when I landed in Las Vegas this morning: casinos, alcohol, video gaming, slot machines, crap tables, neon lights, and even River Wilde. What I didn’t expect was the bitter exchange that just took place in the cab.
Grabbing my hand, he leads me to the elevator inside the large glass building. As we stand in silence, I take the opportunity to collect my thoughts as we rise the forty floors to the restaurant. First, he remembers me. Second, he is, was, I’m not sure, upset with me for leaving that night. Finally, he went to the Kappa Sigma party to look for his sister after leaving the USC Campus Bar and saw me with Ben.
The facts are easier to sort than the underlying feelings accompanying them. It’s my feelings I can’t seem to get a handle on. They are growing, almost intensifying with every word he says to me. And although I don’t really know him, this doesn’t dampen the unspoken truth that I feel more connected to him right now than any other living man.
These are the feelings driving me to stay here, to not walk away. But the biggest reason keeping me here is I actually get him. He’s mad right now, but what I see are his struggles between his emotions and his charm. I can see through his anger to his wounded pride at being jilted. I can also see a little hurt there too. The fact that I get him intrigues me, it captivates me, and makes me want him more.
Facts and unanswered questions are swirling in my head as I exit the elevator into the restaurant. We are hand in hand and I’m wondering how this can be real. Doubts start to cloud my reason. Is he on the up and up or is he trying to get me back for leaving that night? Is this all a game? If it’s not, can we put the past behind us? Can I tell him about Ben? What is his motivation in asking me to stay, while pushing me away at the same time? My doubts mix with my certainties, but what I’m most concerned about is why do I feel every time he looks at me he can see through to my soul?
I’m desperately trying to shut thoughts of Ben out of my mind, but for some reason the conversation keeps leading back to him. Not literally in terms of using his name, but figuratively in that all outcomes of this conversation lead to Ben.
As the hostess leads us to a secluded U-shaped booth, I notice the beautiful view of Las Vegas. Our booth faces the interior of the restaurant, and a wall of glass is to our right. Sliding into the booth, I turn to look out at the view and long for the tranquility it offers.
I stay very close to the edge of the booth, not allowing River access from my end. He smirks at me when I don’t move in but doesn’t say anything. He just nods as he gets in from the other end and sits down.
The restaurant is dimly lit, but there is an ominous glow coming from the candle in the center of the table and I swear from River too. As we sit in silence, I know he’s staring at me. I can feel it, but I don’t look at him. Instead, I shift my eyes down to study my menu.
When the waiter approaches, he asks what I would like to drink, and I order my trademark cocktail. “A filthy Grey Goose martini with extra olives, please.”
River orders a bottle of beer and starts chuckling.
Looking at him for the first time since we sat down, I ask, “What’s so funny?”
He’s staring at me, and my gaze shifts to meet his eyes as he says, “Filthy. That sounds really dirty and really hot.”
I smile coyly at him, but I don’t break our eye contact. I actually allow his stare; almost welcome it. I decide to join in the banter and ignore the sexual undertone of his statement. “I only drink three types of drinks.” Then holding one finger up in the air, I say, “Beer with ice.” Holding a second finger up in the air, I say, “Martinis.” And finally, holding a third finger up, I finish with, “And champagne, but only with a strawberry.”
Then smirking, I decide to go for it and throw a detail from our first meeting at him. Without any perk or animation I say, “And oh yeah, an occasional shot, but then you already knew that.”
Running his hands through his hair, he raises an eyebrow. “Yes I do. I remember that very well actually.”
And there it is again. A ménage of shuffled signals where words and body language aren’t always in sync, but emotions and body language seem to be oddly connected. With my mind and body having had enough of the chaos, I let it out. I just say it.
“River, what kind of game are you playing? Is this your way of luring me in, because if it is, I’m not interested? I’m not a groupie!” I finally manage to say what’s been on my mind, and I feel relieved.
He moves toward the center of the booth. He’s inching his way closer to me, but he’s still a good distance away. Putting his fingers on the table, he starts tapping it. He looks at me intently and says, “Dahlia, I’m not playing any game. I’m just interested in you, and I know you’re not a groupie.”
His fingers stop tapping the table, and he reaches over to whe
re my hand is clutching the hem of my skirt. He takes it and rests both of our hands on my leg, his over mine. I notice he hasn’t laced our fingers together though. He clears his throat before saying, “I’m just trying to figure that night out. Believe me, the facts are pretty clear, but it’s the whys I’m struggling with.”
River looks at me for a beat, dragging his tongue over his lower lip before continuing. “This is how I remember it. I was singing a gig at the USC Campus Bar. During a break I went to grab a beer. I met the most incredible girl whom I don’t think even knew that I sang in the band, but loved music. We seemed to hit it off. We did a couple of shots, drank a few drinks, and talked without any pretense. I asked her to wait for me after the show. She didn’t say anything about having a boyfriend or not sticking around and then when I finished she was gone.” With his eyes still piercing through me, he pauses as if waiting for a response even though he hasn’t asked a question.
The restaurant seems very quiet as I return his gaze and just nod my head in agreement. All the while knowing what he said is the truth and knowing what he hasn’t asked for is the answer.
Before River can continue, the waiter returns with our drinks and asks us if we’re ready to order. River asks him to give us a few minutes. Once the waiter leaves he raises his glass and out of politeness I do the same. “To beautiful days,” he says and clinks his glass to mine. I can’t help but smile that he remembers my concert t-shirt that I wore that night and the toast he made then, but this also infuriates me.
“That’s what I mean!”
“What?” he says, actually looking confused.
“That! You’re back and forth with me, with your actions, with your emotions. You act like you don’t remember me, then spring on me that you do. You flirt with me and then you stop on a dime. You kiss me and then you pull away as soon as I touch you. You’re mad then you’re not.” I don’t stop to take a breath or let him speak before finally raising the hand he’s holding and letting it go. “You’re holding my hand, then . . .” I trail off, not sure of how to finish that thought. Tearing my gaze from his, I try to rein in my emotions, to wipe the flustered girl up off the floor.
