by Kim Karr
My mouth dropped open. I was unsure of what to say. I knew he was right. I had stared first.
“So we can get past this; let’s just say I was staring first. Not that it really matters.”
We were looking into each other’s eyes as the bartender passed me my bill. When I turned to pay for my drinks, our connection was broken. Handing my money to the bartender, I thanked him and told him to keep the change. This distraction gave me some time to think about how to handle this potentially dangerous situation.
I watched River as he ordered two more beers, and realized I had to work out my conflicted feelings. I pushed my guilt aside and handed him one of the shots.
“Cheers.”
“It’s a beautiful day,” he replied before shooting back the shot.
I tried not to show how turned on I was that he had just quoted lyrics from one of my favorite songs.
Setting his shot glass down, he put his hand in his pocket. “So, does this mean you forgive me?”
His voice was strong, but soft, and made him even more tempting. I found myself thinking that he was not only adorable, but unlike anyone I had ever encountered before. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. I had a boyfriend that I loved waiting for me.
I raised an eyebrow and asked, “Forgive you? Forgive you for what?” I was having a hard time concentrating on the conversation and honestly had no idea what the apology was for.
He shifted on his feet. “You know what. Never mind,” he muttered in my ear. His warm breath brushed my neck and I wanted to feel it everywhere.
Looking me up and down, he changed the subject. “What, no costume?”
Continuing our dangerous flirtation, I glanced down, motioning with my hands from head to toe. “How do you know this isn’t my costume?”
While tugging on my T-shirt and pulling me a little closer, he seductively whispered, “If that’s your costume you’re definitely taking first place in the contest because it’s the sexiest one I’ve ever seen.”
We were silent for a minute; not even our heavy breathing could be heard. The noise from the bar and the crowd around us had quieted, but his words, his touch, they inflamed me, excited me, and sent fire through my veins.
“Where’d you get this, anyway?” he asked, tugging at the knot on my shirt, pulling me closer.
It felt like the room was spinning and I wasn’t sure if it was him, the alcohol, or the fact that he had just asked me a question I didn’t want to answer. “My dad managed the Greek and was a collector of concert T-shirts,” I said, trying to push back the emotions welling up inside me.
He seemed to understand my hesitation before nodding, clearing his throat, and once again changed the subject. “So, have you ever seen Foreigner play?” he asked, now pointing to his own shirt and grinning.
As I looked at the bold white letters across his chest, I pushed aside my sadness and refocused on our conversation. We were just two people who had a lot in common—or at least that was what I wanted to think. When our drinks were gone, he ordered another round. As I finished the shot, I accidentally slammed the glass on the bar, and the bartender glowered at me. “Sorry,” I mouthed.
River reached out and grabbed a strand of hair that had come loose from my ponytail. He very slowly tucked it behind my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Circling his index finger around my ear, he lightly tugged on my lobe. He sparked a fire in me that never before existed.
Gulping the drink I didn’t need to be drinking, I hoped to extinguish the flame. I hoped no one had seen him touch me that way. Ben would be fucking furious. He was ridiculously jealous. We had many arguments about other men, all unjustified. At least until now.
As the strobe lights started to flicker and I leaned my hip against the bar for support, he put his hand on my waist and turned me so my back was against the bar. I wondered if he noticed me almost lose my balance from the flashing lights and drunkenness. Moving to stand directly in front of me, he put his hands on either side of me and pressed his palms into the bar. He was enveloping me, but I didn’t feel trapped. I didn’t know what I felt, but I knew my heart was pounding out of my chest; my stomach was doing flips, and I became light-headed as goose bumps emerged on my skin.
I thought he was going to kiss me as he stared intently into my eyes. I closed my eyes preparing for it but I felt him abruptly pull away. Immediately, I heard a high-pitched voice squeal, “River, don’t forget we’re leaving right after the show,” and before I could catch a glimpse of the girl, she bounced away.
Smirking at me he said, “My little sister has the worst timing.”
I was going to respond when I heard a drumroll echo through the bar. Glancing around, I tried to figure out what it was for. Amused, he rolled his eyes before looking at the stage and then back to me. “That would be for me,” he laughed, leaning in so we were face-to-face. “They want me back onstage. I’ve gotta go unless you’d rather I stay and we finish what we started? Because that certainly would be way more fun.”
I really hadn’t heard anything he said, but everything seemed to finally make sense. He was the voice I heard when I came into the bar. He was so charming, so captivating, and so aware of me. I was pretty sure I was drunk because I was feeling things I should not have been feeling. As I stared into his powerful green eyes, I knew I should’ve been trying to escape them.
Before I could say anything in response, he moved his head slightly back, lifted my hand, and slowly kissed it. Then he leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “Guess not. Not yet, anyway.” My hand was on fire, my ear scorched.
That same drumroll rumbled through the sound system again and he quickly turned his head back to look at me. “I gotta jet.”
He was still holding my hand, as he looked straight into my eyes. “You’ll wait for me until after the show.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. And then motioning between us, he added, “Because this isn’t finished.”
At that moment I realized that what had started as harmless flirting had turned into a situation that had gotten way too dangerous.
He placed his hands back on the bar and waited for a response. Since he hadn’t asked a question that I wanted to answer, I just smiled and said, “If you’re in the band you’d better go, you shouldn’t leave your fans waiting.”
He gave me one last heart-stopping grin and then leaned in and kissed me. My body reacted strangely; a rush of something I couldn’t identify surged through me. At first he only lightly touched my lips with his then for a few short seconds he pressed a little harder before pulling away. I didn’t kiss him back, but felt light-headed.
“I hope you’ve become a fan,” he said, winking at me before grabbing his hat. Then he turned and walked away.
I brought my fingers up to my lips and watched as his silhouette disappeared through the crowd. I became vaguely aware that “Superstition” was playing, but my mind was focused on him.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the thoughts that shouldn’t be there. I knew I had to leave, or I would end up doing something I would regret. I loved Ben, and Ben would fucking kill River just for looking at me the way he did. And then there was the kiss; yes, Ben would certainly kill him.
Knowing these things, I wondered why I hadn’t walked away in the first place. For a moment there, I felt as though I believed in love at first sight, which I didn’t. And how could love at first sight even exist when you were already in love with someone else? I didn’t want to keep thinking about what happened because I was confused as hell, and I knew the meaning of it all wasn’t what I wanted it to be.
I smiled about our encounter. He definitely was not a stalker. He was adorably charming and utterly charismatic, a guy who had a simple ease about him that I really liked, and a guy I didn’t ever need to see again. This I knew for certain.
With thoughts of River swirling through my head, I made my way through the crowd to the dance floor where I found Aerie with some kind of pink drink in her hand. �
�We have to leave. Now!” I shouted at her while pulling her off the dance floor.
“What? Why? Are you sick?” she asked, struggling for words.
Then she turned and pointed to the stage. “Because if you’re not, I want to see that hot guy sing first.”
I turned to see where she was pointing and sure enough it was him, River. I then realized I’d never even told him my name.
Pulling Aerie through the crowd under protest, I heard the audience chanting, “River Wilde, River Wilde.” I glanced up to the stage just in time to see him grab the microphone. Before the live music started we exited through the door, and Aerie started yelling obscenities at me. As we walked away I found myself thinking I had just had the most magical encounter and might never be the same because of it.