The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys #1)(71)

He looked handsome as ever, and his eyes lit up to see me. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” I said.

He cocked his head. “You okay? You look a little sad.”

“It’s been a rough couple of days,” I said, my throat thick.

“I hear you. Want to go somewhere and get something to eat? Take your mind off things?”

He was so handsome and kind, smiling at me with genuine compassion. His kindness threatened to undo all of the hard work I’d done to keep my feelings in check. They bubbled to the surface, but God, I was so tired of crying. So sick of feeling like a lump of clay, molded and shaped by outside forces. I had to be harder than this, or I’d never survive.

He grinned. “It’s a yes or no question—”

I flew at River. I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him. I kissed his lips, his jaw, his chin, and then his lips again. Urgently. Desperate to erase Miller from my body’s sense memory. To do what he did—move on with someone else and take back control of my own life that was unraveling right before my eyes.

River froze in surprise, his lips stiff and unyielding but eventually parting just enough. He kissed me back, lightly and then harder, his eyes squeezed shut and his brow furrowed, as if our kiss was work that had to be done. Our tongues tangled, out of sync, noses bumping, teeth clashing.

He broke away, his breath short. “Violet?”

“Your room.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. No more talking.”

Talking would lead to thinking and thinking would lead to admitting that this was all wrong.

We stumbled to his room; our mouths still mashed together awkwardly. I pushed his letterman jacket off his shoulders. He fell back on the bed and I climbed on top of him.

“I never expected this from you,” he said.

“Neither did I,” I said. Except that I wanted to escape from being at the mercy of my feelings for Miller. River was my lifelong crush. This should work…

But it didn’t.

Like trying to get a lighter to spark when it’s out of fluid, we tried to ignite with half-hearted touches and kisses that grew shallower. He wasn’t hard in his jeans. I wasn’t desperate to have him. We were like actors with zero chemistry, rehearsing a scene.

With a small cry of despair, I rolled off of him. We lay on our backs, side by side, our gazes on the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Me too. I’m usually better…at that. You just took me by surprise, is all.”

“Okay.”

“That’s why I wasn’t…better.”

“You said that already,” I said, humiliation for what I’d done burning through me. I covered my eyes with a hand, but the hot tears spilled out. “I’m so sorry.”

I’m sorry, Miller.

“Hey.” River gently pulled my hand away. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s me who’s messed up. Believe me.”

I shook my head. “No. You didn’t deserve that. Everything’s been going all wrong. I used to be so organized and on top of things. Now…” I gestured at the ceiling. “Now it’s all falling apart. I’m falling apart. Doing things I’d never do. Being someone I’m not.”

River turned his gaze to the ceiling, his mouth a hard line. “Yeah. I know exactly how that is.”

“You do?”

“Definitely.”

I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my sweatshirt and rolled on my side to face him.

“How? I mean…seems like everything’s going how it should for you.”

“That’s because I’m really good at making it look like everything’s going as it should,” he said bitterly. He reached over and plucked a tissue from the nightstand and handed it to me.

“Thank you.” I dabbed my eyes. “Nancy told me you got into Alabama and Texas A&M.”

“I did,” he said.

“You don’t look happy.”

He turned his head on the pillow to face me. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“Swear you won’t tell anyone?”

“Cross my heart.”

He faced forward again, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a heavy swallow. “I don’t want to play football anymore.”

I propped my head with my elbow. “What? Really?”

“I haven’t wanted to…since forever, actually. It’s been more my dad’s dream than mine. He was a big star in his day and could’ve gone pro, until a knee injury took him out.”

“Wow,” I said, absorbing that. “But you’re so good at it. Like Tom Brady or Peyton Manning.”

He smiled grimly. “It’s wasteful, right? To want to throw it all away?”

“Well, no. Not if it makes you unhappy. What do you really want to do?”

“You’ll laugh. Or think I’m a huge dork.”

I smirked. “As someone who dabbled in not being a dork for a short time until Evelyn Gonzalez returned me to the Land of Dorks from whence I came, you have my word.”

He laughed, but it faded fast. “I want to stay here. I want to be with my mom until…however long she needs me. I want to work at the family business. I want to live in Santa Cruz and start my own family.”