I was well within my rights to quietly hate every single second of it, though.
Atlas, meanwhile, was in his schmoozing element. Hugging and kissing every woman who came on board. Shaking hands and doing awkward bro-hugs, complete with macho back-thumping, with the men. His barking laughter was too loud. I wondered how many whisky and Cokes he’d already consumed.
I should have been mingling. I should have been letting Atlas do the meet and greet while I yelled above the DJ’s racket to make uncomfortablesmall talk with the guests as they crowded the bar. But I was hovering not far from the end of the gangplank, scanning the line of people still waiting to board.
A tall, stunning woman with hair the colour of caramel strutted on, planting air kisses by Atlas’s cheeks. For a second, my heart thundered. But her hips were too full, her mouth too thin. Her eyes were the wrong colour.
It wasn’t her. Ru Snack, or Irina Rusnac, according to that brief cross check I’d done. I exhaled, deflated. The boat was due to depart for a three-hour harbour cruise as soon as the last guests straggled aboard. And I hadn’t seen her.
I shouldn’t have been anticipating her arrival so much. It was borderline stalkerish to be lurking the way I was, waiting for a glimpse of her. I forced myself to turn away and made my feet take me over to the bar, where I ordered a non-alcoholic ginger beer.
“Your favourite drink hasn’t changed, I see.”
I turned to Cadence, eyeing her coldly. “When I love something, I hold onto it.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she blinked, glancing down. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, wishing I had a packet of gum in my pocket. I’d been so agitated all afternoon that I’d forgotten one of the most important regulation tools at my disposal.
“Thanks for inviting me, Hen,” she murmured, reaching out to squeeze my hand. I let her, not wanting to cause a scene. The words,‘I didn’t invite you, Atlas did,’threatened to break free from my throat, so I took a quick swallow of ginger beer. Years of learning the hard way had taught me that inside-thoughts—no matter how honest—were sometimes better off staying inside.
“This will really mean a lot for Cadence … the business, I mean. There are two creators on your guest list who I really want to chat to about collaborating. But … it also means a lot to me, personally.”
I chanced a glance at her, finding her cheeks pink and her lashes fluttering. She looked earnest and vulnerable. Traits that had drawn me to her back at uni. But how much of it was real? She’d messed with my head so much that I now questioned every face-value assumption I made about people.
“In what way?” I asked, hoping some verbal explanation would make sense of her body language.
Cadence sidled closer, invading my personal space. “I’m hoping that it means we’re taking a step towards rekindling our friendship.”
I swallowed back a snort. “We were never friends, Cadence. We were lovers … and then we were nothing.”
She stepped backwards, lips twitching downward. “Wow. Well, I guess I was holding out hope that maybe you’d be able to forgive me … it’s been six years.”
I opened my mouth, unsure of what I wanted to say to shut her down, but wild, cacophonous screeching erupted from the land. I flinched, clenching my fists because the urge to clap my hands over my ears was almost unbearable.
“I need to go,” I grunted, turning away from Cadence.
The cause of the riot was immediately apparent. Striding up the gangplank was a broadly smiling blond man, blue eyes twinkling as he showed off a truly remarkable set of dimples, and teeth so white they could have been used as roadside reflectors.
The noise was from a gaggle of teen girls, bouncing up and down in barely-there dresses down on the dock. I winced, certain that the entire yacht was about to witness an underage wardrobe malfunction.
“River!” one screamed, waving her phone in his direction. “River Riley!”
“We love you River!” another squawked. He turned his broad smile on them and gave a wave. The girls dissolved into a giggling, squealing mess.
So, this was River Riley. I still couldn’t have picked him in a police line-up. But I’d never been much of a YouTube watcher.
He reached the top and shook Atlas’s hand. “G’day mate.” His voice was mellow, with a broad Australian accent, and as I approached, I noted that now he was on the main deck, he wasn’t overly tall—perhaps five-eight. “It’s a pleasure to be included in your big night!”
Atlas beamed at the man, clapping him on the back, as the TechRaker photographer snapped frenziedly, the flash stabbing into my retinas.
“We’re the lucky ones, having you on board!” Atlas crowed,noticing me and immediately steering River in my direction. “This is Henry, my business partner, and the CTO of Tickle.”
“Great to meet you!” River extended his hand, and I shook it. His palm was warm, dry and slightly calloused. His handshake was strong, and his smile seemed entirely genuine … but as Atlas loved to remind me, I was a terrible judge.
“You too. I must confess, I’d never heard of you before Atlas mentioned he’d invited you along.”
If anything, River’s smile widened. “Fair dinkum! That’s wild! I love it, though.” He let out a small sigh, and the smile dimmed for a brief second. “It’s refreshing, meeting someone with no preconceived notions and no ulterior motives.”
Atlas, glaring at me with a warning so blatantly evident that even I had no trouble interpreting it, stepped in. “We at Tickle are very conscious of the tech industry’s environmental footprint, and we’re always on the lookout for ways to reduce our impact.”
