And suddenly River knew how the bridge of the patter song would have to go. He leaned over and pressed one more kiss to Jem’s cheek and then slid out of bed. He needed to get to the studio.
Jem wokeup in River’s bed, sleep-hazy and comfortable but sadly alone. He stretched on the luxurious sheets, rubbing at his eyes. Every inch of his body felt perfect.
His stomach was starting to rumble, though, and the itchiness of dried sweat could be done away with. He hauled himself upright and helped himself to the decadent shower in River’s en suite and a fluffy towel, and then a pair of River’s pajama pants and a T-shirt, because his work clothes smelled like artificial grape flavor. Obviously he’d gotten a little too close to someone’s lunch.
Bits and pieces of the conversation from earlier filtered through his brain as he meandered through the house. The more he learned about River, the more he wanted to know, the more he wanted to crawl into the heart of him until he could really understand. He wondered if this was what River had felt like, being offered only hints of who Jem was and having to guess the rest.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out River was doing music stuff. Jem got as far as the hallway outside the bedroom—he knew there had to be velvet and animal print hidingsomewhereand felt very validated to find it in there—and saw the little red light on above the door to the music room, which probablymeant he was recording something. He thought he’d seen that familiar twitch under River’s skin as he was falling asleep.
Given the choice between taking offense and being flattered, Jem decided to be flattered. He’d never been anybody’s muse before.
Besides, all that physical activity had left him hungry.
Once again he found himself in River’s kitchen, raiding a fridge that was way too well-stocked for someone who never cooked. Maybe Jem could just like, empty out a cupboard and move in. He didn’t think River’s fancy unused cookware would mind.
In the meantime, he rooted through the cabinets until he settled on stir fry, helped himself to a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice, and set to work.
River hadn’t come out of the studio by the time he’d finished, but the light was off, so Jem left the plates in the kitchen, knocked on the door, and then pushed it open.
River didn’t notice him right away, so Jem got to watch him at work on something totally new. He had his guitar on his lap and his phone and a notebook next to him on the table, and he was going back and forth between picking out fingerstyle notes and writing in the book, mumble-singing under his breath.
“River?”
“Hmmm?” He didn’t look up. The guitar-playing didn’t stop.
“Are you hungry?”
River’s stomach made a noise Jem could hear over the notes, and he looked up, eyes wide. “Food?”
Jem smothered a smile. “When’s the last time you ate something?”
River wavered a little on the chair. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven.” Jem had a really good nap.
River nodded like a bobblehead. “Are we counting…?”
Jesus. Jem didn’t know whether to smile, blush, or roll his eyes. He accidentally did all three. “We are not.”
“So… yesterday.”
Oh boy. Jem held out his hand for the guitar and hung it up when River forked it over. “Are you gonna fall over if you stand up?”
River perked up. “If I say yes, will you carry me to the kitchen?”
“If you say yes, I’ll bring your dinner in here and call an ambulance.”
He sighed dramatically and heaved himself to his feet, then draped himself over Jem’s shoulder. “You’ve got no sense of romance.”
“Uh-huh,” Jem said fondly as he nudged him in the direction of the door. “Youdon’t have the sense God gave little green frogs. Come on. You can play with your guitar again after dinner.”
They almost made it to the doorway before River let go of Jem and went back for his phone and notebook, but he didn’t fall over, and he made it all the way to the kitchen, so Jem counted it as a win, even if he did have to keep prompting River to put food in his mouth around bouts of scribbling.
Finally River put down the pen in his right hand, looked at the fork in his left, and seemed to return to his body. “Hi. You made dinner again?”
Jem shrugged mildly, charmed in spite of himself. “You were busy. Besides, I worked up an appetite.”
“Me too,” River said sheepishly. “Sorry I’m a shitty host.”
