by Scott, S. L.
“You underestimate yourself.”
“Maybe it’s that you don’t know me anymore. I’m not the same little girl you left.”
“I don’t want a girl. I like the woman you are.”
I swipe at the strands of hair that have wriggled free from my ponytail and then tuck my hands under my legs. “I wish I could live up to whatever image you have of me, but my road has been a lot different from yours.”
“I want to hear everything I missed.”
Resting my chin in my hand, I reply, “It’s not glamorous. It’s not even pretty. If I tell you all the crap that’s happened . . .” I stop, not sure how much to give him. I like that he still sees me as beautiful. My voice lowers, and I’m tentative to speak. “You won’t see me the same.”
“Try me.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and let it all out in a hurry to get it off my chest. “I’m twenty-five with a job I thought I’d love, but I don’t. My mom ran off with a medical sales manager, leaving my dad after twenty-one years of marriage. You know what he did after that?”
Rivers stares at me, but I can’t read his thoughts. He knew my parents. They were always on shaky ground. He doesn’t seem surprised by the news, but he holds nothing but compassion and interest in his eyes. I say, “He drank and gambled his way into so much debt that my sister and I dropped out of school for a year to work full time so he didn’t lose everything.” I sigh, the visuals, even with time and space from what had to be done, flash through my mind. “Trust me, Rivers, you don’t want me anymore. Some things will never wash off, and I have scars that are never going to heal.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, angling toward me as if he has no control of the pull between us. I understand the feeling. It’s why I showed up today. “I’m so sorry you went through that. I never wanted to leave you—”
“But you did. And when the horrific happened, I blamed you too. Which I now know wasn’t right. It wasn’t your fault. It was my father’s. It was those disgusting men. But I felt so . . . abandoned. You, Jet, Tulsa, and then my mom, my dad. It was hard. And . . . well, now it’s just Meadow and me.”
“Shit, Stella.” His hand flies to my hand on instinct, but he seems to stop himself. Resting his head against the tips of his fingers, he asks, “Do you need financial help now? I can help you—”
“No.” I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted. Everything I did to pay that debt eats at my soul, sending me to hell with the imagery. But hearing him offering to be here for me now soothes some of the loneliness I’ve felt for so long. If he knew how much I struggled . . . he would hate it. “No. I don’t want your help.” I handled it on my own. “I didn’t tell you to beg for a handout.”
“That’s not what I meant. If I can help you, I will. Any way you want.” If only it was that simple. If only his presence now could solve my problems.
“It’s just too late. I’m catching up, making it work. Slowly, but it’s happening. It’s irrational to blame you, but that’s part of my anger. I think I wanted . . . I needed you to help me emotionally. I lost you, and then I lost my mother, our home, our cars were sold or repossessed. I was sol—” I come so close to crying but don’t, holding the hurricane of emotions inside. “I’ve learned that what’s done is done. There’s no changing the past.”
Reaching over, he wraps his hands around mine that are clenched together on the table between us. “I hate what you’ve gone through because of your parents. I hate what you’ve gone through because of me. If I could turn back time . . . If I could change the past, I would have been there for you and Meadow.”
“But you can’t.” I hate that I cry when I’m upset. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Earlier today, I was wondering why now, and if you’re here because your brothers are both married?” Surely, that’s not the reason to bring him back to town in hopes of patching things up with me.
“You could say that. But not for the reasons you probably think. I’ve missed you being in my life, Stella. I haven’t felt right for a long time now, and watching my brothers find their other halves made me finally admit that I still love you.” He looks down as if the confession steals his strength, as if he’s a weaker man for admitting the truth.
Tension forms a line between his brows, and when he looks back up, the molten chocolate of his eyes silently pleads with me. A calm washes over him, easing the angst trapped in his expression, and then he says, “I love you. I never stopped. I want you back. I want to be yours again, and I want you to be mine.” The words are heavy like the deep breath he takes. “And I know that may not happen. But I can’t go through life not having tried with everything I have. Not anymore.”
12
Stella
The way the light from the far windows flows in causes the gold flecks in his deep molten chocolate eyes to shine brightest. I always appreciated how handsome he is. Me, and thousands of other women . . . maybe it’s millions of women now that he’s world famous.
The University of Texas ball cap he wears makes him look like a college kid again. Also, it helps him blend in, which is what he’s probably trying to do. He didn’t blend in back when we were together, and he doesn’t blend in now. He’s just lucky it’s a weird time of day—past lunch but too early for dinner.
“You love me, so you came to Austin and want me to take you back?”
“That’s the dream, but I know it’s not that easy. For one, you have a boyfriend.”
A boyfriend . . . I almost forgot the defense mechanism I put in place to protect me. I take a sip of water and lean back, sliding my hands out from under his and knowing it’s time for me to confess. I won’t hide in the shadows of my lies even if they’re only little white lies. Shame fills me. “I lied to you. I believe my intentions were of a different nature, but it was still a lie.”
The right corner of his mouth tilts up ever so slightly when he asks, “What did you lie about?” And maybe I’m looking to justify what I’ve done, but his eyes are bright with delight.
Embarrassment heats my chest, and my heart pounds. “I thought telling you I was seeing someone else would send you away.”
That clears away any joy he was finding in the situation. “Do you still want me to go away?”
“No. But I don’t trust my heart around you.”
Resting his elbows on the table, he dips his head down. He lifts his cap off with one hand and slides his other through his hair. I catch a slight shake of his head too. I know I’ve disappointed him, maybe even hurt him, though I didn’t mean to. I’m quick to add, “I’m sorry. You came back out of the blue and surprised me at work. I don’t know what you expected. I just know that I couldn’t even think straight. I wanted to leave as fast as I could, not realizing the true purpose of why you were there.”
“What are you saying, Stella?”
“I’m not dating anyone.”
He sits back, his body slumping against the vinyl while keeping his eyes on me. A small smile finds its way onto his lips, and then he licks them, sustaining my rapt attention to the small detail. “I understand your hesitation. I even understand your anger. We were left in an ugly place.” Sitting forward again, a renewal of excitement flickers in his eyes like it used to years ago when he’d concoct the craziest of plans. “Let me show you how beautiful we can be again.”
“We have so many demons, Rivers.” I push down how natural it feels to be around him again, how comfortable it is to be open and honest without worrying about repercussions. “In a way, you chose Naomi over me, and then you left. Now you’re back but only for a few days. I’m not sure what to think or do.”
“You’re here. You took the first step, and that’s all I could ask for before. But now, I want to ask for more.” Reaching over, he slides his hand under mine—palm to palm, the tips of his calloused fingers tap along my wrist, igniting goose bumps up my arm. “You said I don’t know you anymore. Give me the chance to meet who you are now,
and I’ll show you who I am.”
There’s such a sweetness to his tone and genuine kindness in his eyes. That’s the Rivers I always knew until we started barreling toward our end. But seeing him like this and hearing him ask for that chance makes me want to give it to him. “I can’t let go of the past until we address it. So if I give whatever this is—this friendship—a chance, and we get to know the people we are today, I’ll still need to talk about what happened and how I was hurt. That’s never gone away, but maybe talking through it with you can help heal us. That’s a starting point. So if you think that would work for you as well, I’m open to this idea.”
His smile grows. “I leave later this week.”
My smile matches his. “Then we shouldn’t waste any time.”
* * *
Am I breathing too heavy?
Can Rivers hear me?
Can others?
My heart is beating too loud?
Does he think I’m just some small town girl compared to the women he meets in LA and New York?
Wonder how many women he’s been with since he was with me?
Ugh. Not the mental picture I wanted.
Watch the movie.
Watch the movie, Stella.
Watch the movie.
He’s so good looking. Wonder if he knows my heart is racing for him?
Don’t look at him again. He’ll think you’re weird or clingy or—“Hi,” he says when I try to sneak a peek at him.
I smile because he is. “Hi,” I whisper, matching his tone in the dark theater connected to Highball. But then I giggle because I’m sitting next to Rivers Crow again and other than the giddiness blooming inside, this feels more right than wrong, and I love it. I slip my hand into his on the shared armrest, and our fingers weave together.
We kissed last night, and I can’t seem to stop thinking about it and how I want to kiss him again. Attempting to seem cooler than I am, I force myself to watch the new superhero movie, though I’m only interested in watching him. Leaning over, he asks, “I thought you wanted to see this movie.”
“No. I just wanted to spend time with you.”
He bites his lower lip as he looks at me and then touches my cheek. “I’m glad. I like spending time with you.”
He’s shushed by a woman a few aisles in front of us in the nearly empty theater but chuckles. His hand touches the side of my neck and slides his fingers into my hair.
I suck in a breath when I realize he’s going to kiss me. My favorite part of last night was when this man was kissing me. I close my eyes, wanting to feel instead of think. Our lips touch, and the pressure gently increases until our mouths are locked in a sweet embrace.
When I part my lips, our tongues touch, and the kiss deepens. Taking it slow, we angle toward each other, not caring one bit if anyone looks at us not hiding at all in the back row. Music blares as a scene changes in the movie, and we open our eyes, sitting back in our respective seats with huge smiles on our faces.
Giggling behind my hand, I glance over at him as I lick my lips. “This getting to know each other again might be more fun than I first thought.”
“I promise more fun where that came from.” He gives my hand a little squeeze and smirks as he turns back to the screen. We don’t make it two minutes before the armrest is lifted and he’s in my space, my head against the back wall as he kisses me like I’m the star of the movie. He’s always been a star to me. “Hey, want to get out of here?”
“Please do,” the lady says over her shoulder.
“Yes,” I whisper and then say loudly, “I do.”
“I love hearing that every time you say it.”
As we walk down the steps in the dark hand in hand, I realize what he means and stop. He looks back, and since he’s a step down, we’re a little closer to eye level than usual, though he’s still a good five inches taller. “I do?”
“I do too.”
The woman says, “Bravo. Now take it outside before I report you to the manager.”
Nodding toward the exit, Rivers says, “C’mon.”
We hurry out of the theater and into the sunshine, stopping on the edge of the parking lot. I ask, “What now? We’re in two cars.”
“Want to go back to the beginning?”
Learning to trust someone who broke it is not easy. But everything about him right now reminds me so much of how we were together when things were good. “Yes.” Trust.
I’m learning to trust the journey I’m on. Though my mind spins in ways that tell me to protect my heart, we have this one chance to start slow and build back what we once lost. I have so many thoughts on what happened, and one day, we’re going to have to deal with that, but today’s been nice. Last night was good. He said he didn’t cheat. He said he’s sorry. I can’t sit on the fence when it comes to him. I’m either all the way in or all the way out. Maybe I need to not just trust in him, but also myself and stop second-guessing everything. It feels good to be with him, but I can’t just let everything go without discussing it first. “It’s beating a dead horse, but I’m choosing to believe you. I don’t need the dirty details, but I do need the basics.” He crosses his arms and stares at me, searching my eyes for some sense of my thoughts on the matter. I don’t want any further misunderstandings. “You said you didn’t cheat.”
“I didn’t.”
I slow things down and search his eyes right back. I always did love the way his warm browns always comforted me. “I want answers, but I also don’t want to cry, and I don’t want to be upset right now.”
He reaches for my hand and holds it again. “I get it.”
“You didn’t cheat. That’s the important part. The rest—”
“The rest I’ll tell you before I leave Austin. I promise.”
“You promise, but you need to talk to her first?”
He nods. “I gave my word.”
“I’m frustrated, Rivers, and I’m going to hold you to that promise.”
“I won’t let you down. Not this time.”
“Thank you.”
Kissing my knuckles, he lowers my hand to his side. “Thank you for giving me your trust again.” He asks, “We can go in your car if you’d be more comfortable?”
Double meaning.
It’s not just about a working air conditioner or having a newer model car. He’s giving me the right to leave. He’s giving me an out. Most of all, he’s willing to take this slow. It may not go anywhere if I can’t get over the past. But he’s trying, so I will too. “Mine, it is. Where to?”
“It’s a surprise.” We start walking to my car when he asks, “How much time do you have?”
“I’m all yours all night.”
“Music to my ears.”
When I look at him, he’s smiling, which suits him. I realize I’ve caught quite of few of his smiles in the past twenty-four hours. I pull my keys from my pocket and dangle them in the air. “Want to drive?”
“Absolutely.” He unlocks the door with a push of the button and walks me to the passenger’s side. Our hands are still joined when I lean against the door and pull him close. “I liked kissing you.”
Moving against me, he traps me between his arms. He kisses me and then says, “I really like kissing you, Stella Lilith.”
The effects of his dulcet tones affect me down to my knees, and I take him by the shirt and pull him even closer. We kiss again just because it feels so good.
When we separate, he moves around and opens the door for me. “I need to run to the store before we hit our destination.”
Once we get to the nearest grocer, I wait in the car because he’s still insisting on keeping it all a surprise. Time in the car isn’t wasted. I text Meadow: I’ve spent the past few hours with Rivers.
Then I go about checking my emails but get a text back in record time seconds. O.M.G!!!! Tell me everything!!!
My phone rings, and I laugh when I see her name on the screen. “Oh my God. Tell me everything, Stella. Do not leave out a single minute.”
Whispering as if someone will overhear me talking in my own car, I reply, “Actually, I’m still with him. He’s in the store right now. He’s taking me someplace, but it’s a surprise.”
She squeals. “Where?”
“I don’t know. I just said it’s a surprise.”
“Sorry. I’m too excited. How did this happen?”
“I listened to my heart and followed it. I also texted him about—”
“This is it! This is your date?”
“It’s not a—wait, yes, it is. It’s a date. I’m on a date with him.”
She squeals again. “I’m literally so excited that you would think it was me on a date with a rock star.”
“Rivers.”
“Yes, Rivers, but he’s a rock star now.”
Rock star doesn’t fit the image of who I know him to be. Sure, he was famous around Austin, and I always knew he and his brothers would make it big, but they were still Jet, Tulsa, and Rivers to me.
When I see him coming out of the store, his head is down. A guy and a girl are following close behind him with their phones aimed at him, watching his every move. He gives them a little wave and then lowers his gaze to the ground again. “I need to go, Meadow. He’s coming back.”
“Have the best time.”
“Thanks,” I reply, still watching him. I don’t know why I suddenly feel sad, but I do.
He opens the back door and sets the bag on the floorboard. When he opens the driver’s door, his smile is still genuine, but it’s lost some of its luster from before. I ask, “Is everything all right?”
The car is started, he adjusts his hat before he backs out, and we leave. “It’s fine.”
