Connected (Connections, #1)(32)
River looks at me for a beat, dragging his tongue over his lower lip before continuing. “This is how I remember it. I was singing a gig at the USC Campus Bar. During a break I went to grab a beer. I met the most incredible girl whom I don’t think even knew that I sang in the band, but loved music. We seemed to hit it off. We did a couple of shots, drank a few drinks, and talked without any pretense. I asked her to wait for me after the show. She didn’t say anything about having a boyfriend or not sticking around and then when I finished she was gone.” With his eyes still piercing through me, he pauses as if waiting for a response even though he hasn’t asked a question.
The restaurant seems very quiet as I return his gaze and just nod my head in agreement. All the while knowing what he said is the truth and knowing what he hasn’t asked for is the answer.
Before River can continue, the waiter returns with our drinks and asks us if we’re ready to order. River asks him to give us a few minutes. Once the waiter leaves he raises his glass and out of politeness I do the same. “To beautiful days,” he says and clinks his glass to mine. I can’t help but smile that he remembers my concert t-shirt that I wore that night and the toast he made then, but this also infuriates me.
“That’s what I mean!”
“What?” he says, actually looking confused.
“That! You’re back and forth with me, with your actions, with your emotions. You act like you don’t remember me, then spring on me that you do. You flirt with me and then you stop on a dime. You kiss me and then you pull away as soon as I touch you. You’re mad then you’re not.” I don’t stop to take a breath or let him speak before finally raising the hand he’s holding and letting it go. “You’re holding my hand, then . . .” I trail off, not sure of how to finish that thought. Tearing my gaze from his, I try to rein in my emotions, to wipe the flustered girl up off the floor.
Pulling myself together, I look over at him again and decide to continue. As I’m about to speak, I can’t help but notice that he seems to be contemplating everything I just said. I can read it on his face. So I stop and give him a chance to respond.
“Hmmm . . ." is his only response, as he quickly slides next to me and suddenly his lips are on mine. He’s kissing me very softly. He tugs at my bottom lip before he leans away and moves back into the center of the booth. He rests into the bench and puts both hands behind his head as he looks past me out into the night. When his eyes shift back to mine he says, “Here’s the thing Dahlia, you confuse the shi . . . out of me. Boyfriend or not, I really thought we had some epic connection and then you bagged out without even giving us a chance.” When he finishes he just shakes his head and gazes out the window. His eyes are darker now, sad even.
The waiter returns and we order our food. I’m not the least bit hungry anymore. My stomach is in knots, and I feel uncertain as to why we are still discussing this, where we’re going with this, and what the purpose of staying here is. I just want this conversation to be over. And if we leave together I have no misconceptions that this attraction isn’t anything but a one-night stand, and I’m all right with that. I’ll put aside my confusion and just be with him. I’m craving intimacy: a touch, his touch; a kiss, his kiss; and so much more. But this bittersweet conversation is blocking the way to satisfying my needs, and the driver behind the madness is confusion.
His confusion. He’s confused? My confusion. I’m confused!
Oddly enough, the desire I feel for him is only being stroked by our emotional conversation. What I see in him is so real. I feel like I know more of him, of his soul, than I knew of Ben’s in a lifetime. And that draw is irrefutable, but confusing at the same time. Why do I feel like this?
If tonight happens, I know I will have to deal with tomorrow’s emotions because I’m certain my flame won’t be doused. But to get to tonight, we have to get past this bitterness. We have to speak the unspoken words about Ben, my relationship with Ben. I’m not sure I can.
Soft music is playing overhead, and the candle flame has burned out, but River’s ominous glow is still ever present, and he’s still sitting in the middle of the booth. As I glance over at him. I see sadness in his face, and the pull I feel to be closer to him is overwhelming.
Knowing I’m the cause of his confusion, of his sadness, makes me want to close the distance between us. Physically and emotionally. So I move just a little closer to him. As I do, he shifts his gaze to mine and the corner of his mouth lifts slightly into an almost charming half-smile.
When I’m close enough, I grab his hand, lacing my fingers with his as I say, “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to understand why I didn’t say anything or stop what was happening between us then because I didn’t, I don’t, understand it myself. All I know is, I was a young college girl who flirted with an insanely attractive guy at a bar and had to leave because she felt like the cosmic universe had crashed down on her. And she couldn’t have that, she had a boyfriend.”
I pause a minute, scanning the room before continuing, but I don’t see anything but his intense stare. “To be perfectly honest, she didn’t even think that guy would remember her from that night. And that’s why she didn’t bring it up, that’s why, I, River, didn’t bring it up.” When I finish my speech, I take a deep breath and exhale, clutching his hand a little harder to help contain all the emotion.