“That’s really sweet.” I clear my throat. “Sorry, no one’s ever said anything like that to me before so I’m not sure how to respond.” My cheeks heat.
“No worries.” He shrugs. “You’re not fake or pretending to be someone you’re not like most people around here.”
I glance down at the foam in my cup. There’s a pang in my chest — not quite pain, not quite hope. Just something bittersweet that sits right beneath my ribs.Is this what normal is supposed to feel like?
“I don’t always feel strong,” I admit, voice low.
River doesn’t tease. Doesn’t push. He just says, “That’s okay. You don’t have to be.”
I look up at him, caught off guard by the sincerity. For a moment, it’s almost too much.
Before it can get heavier, he adds with a grin, “Also, I think I owe you a proper distraction. If I’m gonna have a coffee date with Blackmoore’s most intimidating new girl, I better earn it.”
“You think I’m intimidating?” I ask, smirking a little.
He lifts a brow. “You do kind of have resting murder face.”
I laugh. “Wow. That’s one for the yearbook.”
River reaches across the table and his hand finds mine. “I’ve really enjoyed tonight with you Isobel.” His eyes are full of warmth.
“Me too, River.” I return his smile.
“Can I walk you back?”
“Yeah.” I nod.
He stands up and helps me back into my jacket. I flip my hair out and he leads me through the café and into the chilly October air.
His hand is warm and steady in mine as we walk back towards the dorms. I’m not used to this kind of touch. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m allowed to have good things.
We talk as we walk. He tells me about his dog back home, a grumpy bulldog named Clive who apparently hates everyone but him. I tell him about how I’ve never had a pet, and he promises I’ll meet Clive someday.
“He’ll like you,” he says with this quiet certainty that makes something strange flutter behind my ribs.
The campus glows under the lamps, patches of gold light breaking up the night. It smells like dew and pine and fresh-cut grass, my shoes making soft scuffs on the concrete with every step.
I glance at him once, just to study his profile. The slope of his nose. The way he smiles a little whenever I talk, even when I don’t say anything funny. He looks like he means it.
When we reach my dorm building, I stop just outside the doors. My hand is still in his.
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “For the drink. And the walk. And… not being an asshole.”
River laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I try my best.”
“So… wanna do this again sometime? You know. No pressure. Just… talking. Tea. Maybe a bookstore next time?”
I don’t answer right away. A small part of me — the bruised, hidden part — wants to keep everyone out. But another part, the one that sat across from him andbreathedfor the first time in weeks, whisperswhy not?
“Yeah,” I say ducking my head. “I think I’d like that.”
We’re standing close now. Not close enough to suffocate. Just enough that I feel the heat from his body, the quiet question in the space between us.
He lifts his hand to brush a bit of hair away from my cheek. “Can I?—?”
I nod before I can talk myself out of it.
He leans in slowly, giving me time to change my mind. I don’t. His lips press gently to mine — warm, tentative, sweet. Not greedy. Not demanding. Just… kind.
