Oh no.Shit.Henry only ever read my first Bedlam Creek book and that was years ago now. How does he even remember the character of River Oakley? God, he really does have the most incredible memory. Fuck. This is a massive oversight on my part. How could I not have considered that Henry would recognise River’s name? What the hell am I supposed to do? How do I explain this without revealing that I am, in fact, unhinged? Shit.
‘I … I … so …’ I begin, starting a sentence I have no clue how I’m going to finish. ‘It’s uh, I …’
The rest of the guests stare at me blankly. Sir Otto wiggles uncomfortably in his seat.
‘Use your words, Gertie!’ Henry says, smile a little stretched.
‘Uh …’
‘That’s actually how Gertie and I met,’ River cuts in smoothly, beckoning the waitress over and settling himself on a velvet stool next to me, legs spread wide in a way that makes Henry – on his other side – move his chair a little to accommodate him. ‘Bourbon, splash of water,’ he instructs as the waitress appears at his side. ‘Owl?’ He eyes me expectantly.
Owl? Am I Owl? Why is he calling me Owl?
‘Owl?’ Henry echoes, one eyebrow raised.
‘It’s her glasses,’ River explains with a tender grin that magically softens his whole face into something much less intimidating. ‘Don’t y’all reckon those round glasses make her look like the cutest little owl.’
Oh God.Oh God.
Yesterday, River did briefly mention the possibility of using a pet name for me in front of Henry. But we never fully agreed on it. And I certainly never would have agreed onOwl.
‘Ah yes, they rather do!’ Sir Otto agrees, peering at me and nodding slowly. ‘Yes. A wise owl.’
‘A sexy owl,’ River murmurs, grinning down at me devilishly. He reaches out and slowly trails his middle finger up my bare arm. It’s so unexpectedly, overtly, publicly sexy that I feel myself start to blush. To my annoyance my whole body erupts with goosebumps at his touch. I send River a discreet warning glance. While we talked about our histories in orderfor it to seem more realistic that we were ‘dating’, we did not discuss any public physicality. And now, as River uses his finger to run lazy circles over the back of my neck I realise we absolutely should have, because being the recipient of River’s pure sexual presence – however much he’s faking it – is something IknowI’m not equipped to handle with any degree of elegance.Christ. I firmly tell myself to move away from River’s touch but am thwarted by just how much my stupid body wants to lean in to it. Henry’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as he watches us. Marisol peers between me and River, face screwed up in confusion.
‘Oh!’ she says eventually, pointing at me and then at River. ‘You two are …?’ She trails off. I try not to be offended by her disbelief that someone like River would ever be involved with someone like me. I fail.
‘Oh, weare.’ River grins slowly, eyes glinting with pure sex. ‘Very much so. All the time.’
I notice that Henry’s jaw tightens. ‘So not just a friend,’ he mutters.
Marisol grimaces. This is highly, highly awkward.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you yesterday,’ I blurt. ‘I didn’t want you to …’ I trail off, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. How do sentences even work any more? With Henry’s betrayed expression boring into me and River’s fingers of sex dancing below my ear it’s impossible to think straight. I am crumbling. I am completely crumbling.
I glance up at the approaching waitress. ‘I will need and have a half a cider, please and yes that is what I will have for me. Thank you much kindly.’
‘Half a cider for the owl,’ River says to the waitress. ‘And whatever everyone else is having, on me.’
‘Good chap,’ Jim approves, raising his almost empty glass of red in River’s direction.
‘You were saying how you two met?’ Henry prompts, once everyone’s drinks have been ordered. He crosses one leg over the other and looks directly at River. ‘Please. Enlighten us! We’d love to know.’
‘Henry,’ Marisol says gently. ‘Let’s not put them on the spot. Perhaps—’
‘Oh, I’ll happily oblige,’ River beams, swinging his arm around my waist and pulling me towards him so that his hand rests flat on my midriff. I can feel the heat of him through the fabric of my dress. My breath catches in my throat. He feels like a hot water bottle. A sexy, rugged hot water bottle. The muscular enormity of his body elicits an annoying little thrill in me, something between danger and desire. I immediately try to tamp down the sensation of it but my treasonous limbs start to pulsate in response, my mouth going instantly dry. What the hell is happening to me? It’s not like I’ve never been touched by a handsome man before. I just spent four years being touched by the handsomest man in the world.
Argh. It’s so hot in here. It’s too hot. Panicking, I grab Zo’s pint of iced water and tip it back, necking the whole thing so quickly it dribbles down my chin. To my horror, River immediately reaches out his forefinger and gently wipes an errant droplet off the corner of my lip before casually popping that very same forefinger into his mouth and sucking the water off.
‘Yum,’ he says, in a voice so low it’s almost a hum.
Oh. My. God.
I actually go dizzy. Am I … am Iswooningright now?
Zo picks up the food menu and starts fanning herself with it as her eyes flick between River and me. Marisol touches her hand to her throat. Jim eyes Henry with worry and Sir Otto takes a huge gulp of red wine, eyes goggling at the indelicate display.
All the while, Henry is focused on River, the benign smile on his face betrayed by the rapid tapping of his hands on his knees, something he always used to do whenever he was annoyed.
