“I didn’t know what to say,” I admit.
River exhales through his nose, looking away for a moment before returning to me with something harder in his eyes. “Is he your boyfriend now? Is that what this is?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I… I don’t know what anything is.”
“Because from where I’m standing,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “It looks like I’ve just been someone to kill time with until the others started noticing you.”
“River, it’s not like that.”
“Then tell me what itis, Isobel.” His voice softens, the anger thinning into something more vulnerable. “Because I like you. I really like you. But I’m not going to fight for someone who doesn’t want to be fought for.”
I look down at my shoes. My hands are shaking, just a little.
“I do want you,” I whisper. “Or… I want to want you.”
River’s face twists in confusion. “What does that even mean?”
“It means I’m messed up,” I say, voice cracking. “I don’t know what I’m doing. It means I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be normal. I’ve never dated anyone, and I’m still learning how to be safe in my own skin, let alone figure out who I want to give pieces of my heart to.”
His expression softens slightly, the edge of anger and hurt dulling. “I’m not asking for all of you. I just want honesty.”
That’s when the weight in my chest turns prickly.
I look up at him. “Then I have to tell you something.”
His brows knit.
“There was… a moment. With Tex.” I feel my stomach lurch as I say it. “He kissed me. It wasn’t planned. It just… happened.”
River steps back like I’ve hit him. “When?”
“After our date,” I say quietly, ashamed. “Right after you dropped me off.”
His mouth opens, then closes. “So, that’s why you were acting weird.”
I nod, unable to meet his eyes.
He scrubs a hand over his face. “And now Noah’s sniffing around too?”
“I’m not leading anyone on,” I say quickly. “I’m confused and trying to make sense of everything and I didn’t expect—any of it. I just… I’m trying to be honest. Like you asked.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You’re honest,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean this doesn’t hurt.”
“I know.”
He nods, then backs away another step. “Figure out what you want, Isobel. But maybe don’t keep collecting hearts while you’re doing it.”
And then he turns and walks away.
I’m shuttingmy room’s door when a hand slams against it, stopping it cold.
I jump, heart leaping into my throat.
“Jesus—Tex?” My voice is shrill.
He leans into the doorway, filling the frame with all his muscles and contained rage. His jaw is hard, and his eyes are dark, unreadable.
“Of course.” I roll my eyes. “What do you want?”
