I what? She’s right, isn’t she? I’ve deluded myself into thinking I was actually giving her a shot, when really I’m just waiting for our experiment to be over and for River to leave.
“Okay, okay,” she says, holding up a hand. I watch her as she studies me for a second. It’s simultaneously unbearable and fantastic to be the target of that look. River smoulders…I’m not sure she realises she does it, but her looks are enough to melt a person to the spot in an instant.
“Let’s do this.” She points her index finger at me and then…what is she doing?
“Boop.” Jabs the aforementioned index finger at…at nothing?
My confusion must be displayed across my face because she gives me a playful eye roll and starts to explain. “That was me hitting the pause button, and I didn’t know what sound to make so I booped it.”
“Oh, right.” I giggle. “Sorry, I’ve never heard a button ‘boop’ before.”
“It was a digital button,” she shoots back, making my shoulders shake with laughter. “Anyway. I’ve hit pause because I think we need to have one more chat before the date proceeds. I don’t want us to keep running around in circles, okay?”
“Okay. What do you think we need to talk about?”
“The obvious,” she laughs. “You’re reticent about this whole thing, I know that. However,” she punctuates with the same index finger that booped the air, “I told you I’m ready to try this, and I am. I admit, I shouldn’t oversell what I can offer. We both know this is a brand new concept for me, but,” she says a little more forcefully when she sees my mouth open and ready to shoot back a reply. “I give you my word I’m not taking this lightly. Granted, I came up with the whole dating concept on the fly, and hadn’t thought it through. You were right to call me out on it, and I want to reiterate that I heard you. I know your heart is not an adventure or experience for me. I won’t play games withyou, Cleo. If at any point I know it’s not working for me, I promise to talk it through with you.”
She’s right, we needed to have this conversation again. “I appreciate you saying that, and it has reassured me. I…I told you a little about my past.”
She nods and waits silently.
“Unfortunately, River, I’m coming into this with an already tainted view. I can admit it.”
“Okay, so what can we do to move past it?”
I blow out a breath. “Be patient, I guess. I can’t change my mindset overnight.”
“No, you can’t, and it’s going to be equally difficult for me at times. So I think we just promise each other to check in, yeah? Take things slow, like we said.”
Nodding, I let myself breathe slow and steady. “We can do that.”
“Great. I’m going to press the play button now, and we move on.”
“Does this button ‘boop’ too?” I grin.
“It does. Now, are you ready?”
“Only because my Yorkshire pudding is getting cold,” I joke.
The banter between us is fresh and fun. River is herself, but she’s dropped the overly cocky persona, whichI appreciate. Don’t get me wrong, she knows how to wield it, but in this setting I don’t want that. I want to see who River is underneath the charisma.
I could tell when we sat down how nervous she was. Especially when she uncovered the food. My guess is she thinks I’m someone I’m not at the minute. Understandable, considering who my dad is and the money he makes.
“This is delicious, River. Tadpole, or Toadstool, makes a mean Yorkshire pudding.”
“Tadpole, and yes, he does. He’s from the north and I think it was encoded into his DNA how to make Yorkie puds.”
“The sausages are nice too.”
“Richmond sausages are the staple around here.”
The simple conversation is nice. I feel comfortable with her, and I like that she can delve into a topic without overthinking it. I’m also grateful she’s not flirting. I suppose I had this image in my head before I arrived that she would be overtly flirty, like she was in the bar the night we met. It seems I really need to stop prejudging shit, because so far I’m getting it all wrong.
I came here expecting cocky River. Dismissive River. The woman from the bar who couldn’t wait to leave. Butthis River—the one who coordinated an entire date, who listens when I speak, who admits her own fears—this is someone I could actually fall for. And that terrifies me more than anything.
“Will you tell me how you got into journalism?”
It’s the first “serious” question since we pressed play. I recognise it as River’s way to start getting to know me properly, and I quite like the feeling it elicits inside my chest. There’s been a considerable amount of time between the last person I let in and now. Hopefully I won’t make things too difficult on myself or River.
