Stella

Although Rivers has seen me naked more times than I can count, I still rush to zip my jeans. He hasn’t seen me in years after all. My body’s changed, just as his has. Lord have mercy has his body changed. I bite my lower lip just thinking about his broad shoulders and what I can tell must be amazing abs based on those magnificent biceps I tried and failed to squeeze last night. I release my lip and mentally berate myself for even thinking about this infuriating man.

With his eyes on me, though, naturally, I struggle. Damn. It’s like the world is conspiring against me wearing clothes with him around. Feeling the weight of his stare on me, I peek up.

“Need help?” he asks.

“Nope. I sure don’t. I have it all under control.”

He saunters in anyway, owning the room, his body, and judging by how the lower half of my body clenches, he owns mine too. Still.

Damn him.

One finger lifts my chin until our eyes meet. “Let me try.” Kneeling in front of me, his face is level with the front of my jeans . . . and what’s under that denim.

I suck in a breath, and my words fly out on the exhale, “You really don’t have to—”

“I know. But I like the view. And I’m pretty good at working a pair of jeans.” He looks up at me with a smug grin on his face and winks.

My gaze goes to the door in annoyance because I see his ego is as big as it ever was. He really shouldn’t affect me like he does. I zoom between hot and cold with him, not able to settle in the middle. He’s screwed my emotions all up between the past and the present. “I just bet you do.”

The zipper slides down, and then he slides it with ease all the way back up. “There you go. You just needed me to work you over.”

“Or a pair of pliers.” Not wanting to give him too much credit. His ego might explode. “I thought it was broken.”

Standing in front of me, he says, “You’d be surprised what you can fix with the right touch.”

“You do that a lot.”

“What?” His deep voice carries. So I grab him and drag him back to the porch and prop the door open with my shoe.

“The way you talk to me in double meaning. Everything seems to have two purposes—one that serves the situation and one that serves you. Do you really think I’m that naïve not to notice?”

“I don’t think you’re naïve. Quite the opposite. I think you’re very aware of what’s going on here.” Annnnd he smirks.

“Instead of leaving me in suspense, just tell me.” I wave my hand between us. “What’s going on here?”

“We’re getting to know each other.”

“Oh, no, no. I’m not looking to travel down memory road with you, so you’re wasting your time if you think showing up here unannounced looking all handsome will make me just forgive and forget, you can move along to someone who appreciates a smooth talker because that’s not me anymore.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

Scoffing, I say, “Figures that’s your takeaway.”

“It was a joke, albeit a bad one.” He sighs. “Look, Stella, last night was not as awful as you want it to be.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Because then you could close this door and feel justified doing it. Right now, you’re struggling to find your footing because you don’t hate me as much as you once did. This is a good thing. This is a starting point.”

My patience wears as he gets closer to the rawer parts of my heart. “Just say it, Rivers. What do you want?”

“You got your say. I want mine.” His expression is missing the arrogance I expected to see. Instead, it’s just him with a crease between his eyebrows, worry in his eyes, and a frown. He shouldn’t have to beg.

I just dumped my thoughts on him without asking, but he’s taking my residual animosity and greeting it with reasoning. “Okay. That’s fair.”

“Generally speaking, I’m not a liar.” His jaw tightens. He closes his eyes and seems to struggle with what he should say. “But I lied to you. I’m sorry. You were my life, and you ended us without so much as a discussion.” I grip the doorknob tighter, my heart beating for the man in front of me as all the memories—good and bad—rush back, making my heart hurt.

Coming closer, he lowers his voice as if his own pain is coursing through him. “I’m only in Austin for a short time, but I’m only back because of you. I want a chance to explain everything when we’re not rushed to get out the words and we have time to hear them. Then if you decide we’re over, we’re over. I’ll leave you in peace. It won’t be easy, but I’ll accept whatever you decide.”

I find myself leaning in, wanting to touch him, to ease the lines in his forehead and give him what he wants because he’s not demanding it, he’s asking with his heart on his sleeve. And maybe I’ll get what I need to put this, us, to bed for good. “You’re not going to change my mind, but I’ll give you a chance because I think it would be good for both of us to have closure.”

“Closure?” The word wounds him as pain flickers across his face. “That’s not what this is about.”

The last thing I want to do is inject promises into his pain when I’m still cautious and not quite sure what he wants from me. “What is it about then? We’ll never be able to pick up where we left off like nothing happened.”

“I agree. I’m not looking for that. I also don’t want to rush this conversation.”

“What do you want then?”

“A new beginning.” He centers himself, staring directly into my eyes, refusing to be deterred from his goal. “Name the time and place and I’ll be there.” His determination gains steam, and a small smile appears.

“I’ll figure it out today and text you. Will that work?”

His grin grows. “That will work.” Leaning down, he kisses my temple, and then whispers, “Thank you.”

Tilting my head, I brush my cheek against the roughness of his jaw, but I stay right there until both of our breaths come out a little harder. I close my eyes and swallow the emotions building in my chest before I turn and take a step back. “I’ll text you.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

I’d point out that he did it again, waiting for me instead of waiting to hear from me, but I know what he’s doing, and I can admit I like it. Since this, whatever this is between us, feels so good, I decide to tease him. “I’m going in now, so I can finally drink my coffee, you stalker.”

He chuckles. “I only pull out my best stalker moves for you.”

“I’m flattered. Now go. It’s not even seven in the morning.”

With his hands up, he says, “Going. Going. But don’t forget about me.”

“I’ve tried but never could.”

“Good.” I’m sent a wink before he heads down the steps.

Leaning over the rail to get one more good look at this man, I say, “For whom?” when he appears from the stairwell.

“Guess that remains to be seen, but I’m feeling pretty damn good right now.” He opens the door of his SUV, and asks, “How about you?”

I wave my hand. “I can’t tell you all my secrets, or what will be left?”

“The whole world and when we burn through that, the universe.”

My knees weaken. He was always a poet with dreams bigger than the lives we were born into. His success comes as no surprise. I just wish I could have been there to watch his star shoot across the sky. “Save your lines for your lyrics, pretty boy.”

That makes him laugh again. He starts the engine and rolls down the window. Resting his arm out, he looks back once more at me and gives me a little wave.

I stand there for a few seconds before I go back inside, not ready to see him leave. When his car pulls out of the parking lot, I actually mourn the loss. He was once my life. We’re not kids now, so we need to talk as adults and then move . . . and then . . . and then what? I think that’s the crux of the problem. A few days ago, Rivers Crow was but a painful memory. But now, he’s in my present.

Beginnings. That’s what he wants. Logic tells me I’d be stupid to even consider it. “You’ve closed your heart off for so long, Stel. But you deserve happiness.” I hear what Meadow is saying, but will letting him into my heart equal happiness?

We need to talk, but I wonder if we’ll discover there’s too much water under this bridge to go back to what we once were.

“Morning.”

I jump, covering my heart with my hand. “Good lord. What the hell, Meadow?”

She laughs. “Jumpy much?”

“Yes, when people sneak up on you and catch you off guard, especially before seven a.m.”

“So what was going on outside?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?” She puts the K-Cup in the coffee machine and presses the flashing button. “Nothing?”

“Nope.” She doesn’t need to know that I just made a date—Ugh. Not a date. An appointment . . . with Rivers. Yes, that’s what it is. That’s all it is.

“I heard voices.”

“That was just me. Umm . . . talking to myself.”

She turns around and studies me. “You sure? It sounded like Rivers.”

I drag out my sip of cold coffee and shrug. When that doesn’t satisfy her, she stares at me just as the coffee machine gurgles. She turns her attention to the coffee thank God. When she finishes adding creamer and takes a sip, she heads for the bedroom. She’s already out of sight when she says, “I have a date with my bed and bad TV movies today. I’m glad you have a date with Rivers.”

“It’s not a date,” I call, loud and clear.

“Sure.”

I get up in a huff, tilting my head. “It’s not a date, Meadow.”

Her eyes are glued to the TV as she sips her coffee while snuggled in bed. “Okay. Whatever. Have fun.”

“It’s not about having fun. It’s about finalizing—”

Shifting her gaze to me, she asks, “Finalizing what? The breakup? Who are we kidding? That was finalized years ago.”

I lean back on the arm of the couch and fall back, leaving my legs dangling over the side. “You’re exasperating.”

“Actually, you and Rivers are exasperating. Hence, why I’m happy you’re finally going on this date.”

“It’s not a date.” I drape my arm over my eyes.

“Whatever you say. Where you going on this date anyway?”

“Oh my God, I can’t with you.” I swing my legs off the couch and go to my bag. Realizing I didn’t pack clothes for today in my rush to get over here, I look down at the shirt that covers me. My cheeks feel hot to the touch just thinking about that smile on his face when he caught me in this shirt, braless.

After pulling out my flip-flops and packing my heels from last night, I zip my bag closed. “You enjoy your movies. I’m going home.”

“It’s not your home. Also, we need to start looking for a place since the two bedroom in the next building we were supposed to get renewed their lease.”

“Between our measly salaries, it’s not going to be good. Prices have skyrocketed in the past few years, but I’ll start looking again.”

“Me too. Also, keep me posted on your date,” she says, laughing.

I’m not going to bother going back in there to give her my resting bitch face, but I will correct her. “It’s not a date.”

“I let you live in your fantasies, so let me live in mine.”

“You fantasize about me and Rivers going on a date?”

“Yes. Now leave me to it. Later, gator.” The volume on the movie she’s watching is jacked up just as the scary music starts playing.

That’s my cue to leave.

On the drive to the guesthouse, I think of Brian and how I need to tell him as soon as I secure a new place. He’s been more than generous by opening his home to me when I was evicted. I often think about what my father has told me. “Be with someone reliable, someone who won’t abandon you out of nowhere.” Oh, the irony, Dad. Reliable.

Reliable is like a rash Rivers got rid of a long time ago. That and my heart. But then he shows up being kind and begging for time, and I can’t say no.

I pull into the driveway and park in front of the converted garage. Brian’s dressed for exercise and stretching on the patio. I open the door and ask, “Going jogging?”

“Before it gets too hot. Need help with your bag?”

“No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

Reaching into the back seat, I grab the bag and lock the car. While I walk to my front door, he says, “Nice shirt. Good band. Saw them a few times in college.”

My body tenses as I stand frozen on the porch behind him. Looking down, I catch a glimpse of the crow design feeling equally protective and exposed.

Protective of Rivers and the band to any potential scrutiny, I fold my arms over my chest, feeling as if he can tell I kissed Rivers Crow last night.

He says, “When I get back, I’ll shower, and we can go to breakfast if you’re hungry?” Crisis averted.

His even-tempered nature makes him a great principal. He doesn’t blow up or overreact. He likes to get the facts, to have a plan, and to follow protocol, but he’s stepping out of his usual boundaries by wanting to go out. I momentarily pause, thinking it over. I owe him so much that this will be a good opportunity to thank him for the hospitality he’s shown me. “Okay. Yes. I’ll be ready.”

Beyond the teachers who talk about him in the teacher’s lounge, I overhear the girls in my classes comparing him to a cross between Bradley Cooper and Matt Damon. I don’t see it, but apparently, he’s “like a hot dad.” The phrase itself bothers me, but it does make me wonder how I overlooked something everyone else so obviously sees.

He’s been a good friend, but that’s all he’ll ever be to me. Is Meadow right? Am I still so hung up on Rivers that I can’t appreciate a handsome and kind man? Is that why I need to talk to Rivers? To be free of that connection? That bias? And if I do talk to him, will it actually free me or hook me again?

“Great. I’m off.”

“Have a good run,” I reply.

Life is strange and unpredictable, and I have no idea what the next few days will bring. “I’ll wait for you.” I guess that’s where I start.