Our laughter echoed through the quiet night. My chest felt tight, but I couldn’t tell if it was because I was laughing so hard or because he was crushing me.
“Get off me, you oaf,” I grumbled between wheezes.
River’s limbs, long and crushing, lingered on me before he grunted and pushed up. I sat my butt in the seat and smiled at River’s jealous scowl. “I got here first.”
Rocks scraped against the ground as he dragged his feet to take a seat at my feet, defeated. “Not fair.”
Chuckling, I began pumping my legs to move the swing. River batted at my feet, but I kept going even though they nearly hit his face each time. It was his fault for sitting directly in front of my swing.
I assumed he would eventually move so I could swing in peace, but when my feet came flying to his face again, he gripped my ankles and held them there. Now my feet were stuck in the air, and he was holding them hostage.
River held my legs like a trophy. “Why won’t you stop?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I want to make you ugly so that no one else will ever want you.”
“Why? So you want me to be single forever?”
I shook my head.If you stay single forever, how will you be mine?
River let my feet go, and this time I didn’t use the opportunity to kick at him again. Giggling, he began tracing delicate patterns along my leg muscle.
I squeezed the metal chain connected to the swing. “Does your mom remember me?”
“Does she…” he drawled with a scoff and eyeroll.
Our eyes met, and I tried hard to read his tone. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“In that tone.” I sat up, deepening my tone unnaturally low to mimic his. “Does she...”
It made him smile, and I had to grip the chains of the swing tighter to stop myself from kissing it off his face. Still tracing along my leg, he said, “Ever since she found out I found you again, she asks about you every time we talk."
Knowing she still cared enough to ask about me made my heart swell. I didn’t expect her to forget her son's best friend for half of his life, but part of me wondered if she still felt as much endearment for me as she had all those years ago. She used to call me her second son. I still wanted to be that.
I let my fingers roam through his hair. “How is she? And your dad.”
River paused. “Momma’s been good.”
“Does she still call you her star boy?”
He chuckled. “She never stopped.”
“You used to get so flustered when she’d call you it in front of everyone.” My head fell back as I laughed. “And your dad? I thought I would’ve spotted him coaching you in the stands like he used to.”
River wasn’t laughing. I glanced down, and he was still there, head in my lap, but completely frozen. A heavy, serious vibe floated between us, one identical to the troubled River that burst into my apartment a bit ago. Suddenly, I regretted bringing up the topic of his parents.
I could feel my pulse pick up as my fingers ran through his hair. “Riv?”
In the dark, his face shifted, and I couldn’t figure out what was going on in his head. He kept silent, as if the words were too painful to speak, and my heart dropped. What happened to his dad?
I gently took his head from my lap, got off the swing, and knelt to be at eye level with my best friend. “River, you’re scaring me.”
The only time I had ever seen him this crushed, besides the tragic day with his goldfish, was after he confessed to losing my favorite stuffed animal in second grade. It took him months to forgive himself for that.
I held his hands in mine, looking into his eyes that were glistening with worry. Squeezing my hands, he turned his head, blinking away the feelings. “Mom still tries to come when she can, but Dad can’t.”
I braced myself as I asked, “Why not?”
