River Wild

by Towle, Samantha

  Um … okay …

  I look down at my cock. “Is that a problem?”

  She shakes her head. “Get the condom on.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  My hands shake the whole time I put the rubber on, making it almost impossible. But I finally do it.

  Chloe lies back on the bed. Every gorgeous inch of her. Her golden hair fanned out around her head.

  “You’re beautiful,” I tell her. I feel like I might come just from looking at her lying here.

  “Just fuck me, River,” she says, sounding impatient.

  Jesus, she’s bossy. Not how I imagined a girl to be in bed, but what would I know? And I guess it’s kind of hot, her telling me what to do.

  God, this is it. I’m finally going to have sex with a girl.

  I’m finally going to be normal. Like everyone else.

  I climb over her, my body hovering over hers. My hips between her spread legs.

  I’m hard. So hard, it’s painful.

  I hear a bang. It sounds like it’s in her room.

  My head snaps up. “What was that?”

  “Nothing. Probably someone just looking for the bathroom.” Her delicate hands curl around my face, bringing my eyes back to her. “I locked the door behind me. Don’t worry. No one can get in.” She lifts her mouth to mine, offering herself to me.

  And I take her mouth, kissing her.

  She wraps her legs around my waist.

  I’m so worked up. I’m afraid I won’t last long.

  Please last. Please last.

  “Do it, River. Put it in!” she orders.

  “Fuck, okay, I’m doing it. God, you’re so fucking hot. I can’t believe I get to fuck you.”

  I push into her sweet fucking heaven … and—

  Oh fuck, no …

  But it’s too late. I can’t stop.

  I drop my head onto her shoulder, my body shaking through the release.

  “River.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you just … come?”

  “I’m so sorry,” I mumble against her skin.

  I’m so fucking embarrassed. No, I’m mortified.

  “I’ll make it up to you, Chloe, I swear.”

  I feel her body shaking beneath mine. It takes me a few moments to realize that she’s laughing.

  Heart pounding in my chest, I push up onto my hands, moving away from her.

  “Did you get that?” she says.

  “What?”

  My head swings around, and I see Brad fucking Thurlow stepping out of her closet with his cell phone in his hand.

  “Yep. Got it. All five seconds of it.” He stares at me, laughing.

  “What the fuck?” I jump off the bed and grab my jeans off the floor. I quickly pull them on along with my T-shirt, pushing my feet into my sneakers.

  I hear a ping come from his phone.

  “And, now, everyone else has it, too.” He laughs again loudly, caustically.

  “What the fuck did you do?”

  My head is swiveling between him and Chloe.

  “Did you send it already?” Chloe’s voice is high-pitched and grating. “You said you’d make sure no one knew it was me!”

  “Chill, babe. You can’t tell it’s you. You don’t see your face, and he never said your name once. He could’ve been fucking his gran, for all anyone knows. Probably does, the freak.”

  “What the fuck did you do, Brad?” I growl, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.

  Brad grins and holds his phone up, screen facing my way.

  I can see my bare ass and the back of my head on-screen.

  “Fuck, okay, I’m doing it. God, you’re so fucking hot. I can’t believe I get to fuck you,” I hear myself say on the video.

  A few seconds later, I’m watching myself come.

  Misery crawls up my spine. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it out. Shut everything out. Memories fighting to the surface, ones I fight so hard to keep locked away.

  “River,” I hear Chloe’s voice on-screen.

  I didn’t notice the mocking tone when she first spoke. Probably because I was too overcome from coming. But I’m hearing it now.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you just … come?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  The video ends, and Brad is doubled over with laughter.

  “Dude, it was even better the second time around! It was like a fucking second, and you were blowing your load!”

  “You fucking filmed me having sex with your ex-girlfriend?” I growl. My vision is going hazy with anger.

  “Brad, you said we’d get back together if I did this for you.”

  My head turns to Chloe, stunned at what just came out of her mouth.

  “Sure, babe. Sure.”

  “So, we’re back together?”

  “I said so, didn’t I?” he snaps dismissively.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I bark at Brad. “You blackmailed her into doing this?” I swing around to look at Chloe. “Why would you do this? You can do better than this jerkwad.”

  “I love him,” she whines, pouting.

  “You heard the girl,” Brad says smugly, answering for her. He puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a little bag of white powder.

  Cocaine.

  “Here, babe, go do a line. You deserve it after that.”

  He tosses the bag to her, and she eagerly catches it. Scurrying away over to her dressing table, she tips the powder out and starts drawing out lines.

  She’s a cokehead.

  I should’ve known.

  I should’ve fucking known all of this was too good to be true.

  Good things don’t happen to me.

  “You’re fucked up. Both of you,” I spit the words at him.

  “Maybe I am. But I’ll never be as fucked up as you. How was it, watching your mom blow my uncle away?”

  “Fuck you.” I stomp to the door.

  “Look at it this way … I was doing you a favor. You got to fuck the hottest girl in school. I know it was only for a couple of seconds”—he laughs—“but it still counts. And, now, you won’t be known just as the son of a cop killer. You’ll also be known as the one-pump chump.”

  I turn back and storm toward him. He actually steps back, and that makes me laugh.

  Fucking pussy.

  I grab his phone from his hand, throw it on the floor, and stamp my foot on it.

  “What the fuck?” he yells. “You’ll pay for that, asshole! That was a brand-new phone! And, if you think that got rid of the video, think again. ’Cause I already sent it to everyone who goes to our school.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  His expression is so arrogant and condescending. I want to hit him so bad.

  I want to keep hitting him and never stop.

  I turn my nails into my palms, pressing into the skin to ground myself. Stop myself from hitting him. I feel the skin break, blood seeping into my hands.

  Walk away, River.

  Walk. Away.

  Releasing my fingers, I force myself to turn away from him and walk over to the door. I unlock it and yank it open, leaving my blood all over the handle, but like I fucking care.

  Then, I’m out of there, speeding down the stairs and pushing through the mass of people, most already watching the video. I shut the front door on their laughter. Laughter about me. Aimed at me.

  I jog quickly to my car. Getting inside it, I turn on the engine and peel out of there.

  I’m so fucking dumb! I can’t believe I fell for that.

  They’re all in there, laughing at me. Brad will be having a great fucking time, telling everyone about it.

  Sick son of a bitch. Just like his uncle.

  Hurt and pain well up inside me. Things long buried resurfacing.

  “Fuck!” I roar, slamming my hand against the steering wheel. “I fucking hate people! I wish they would all just leave me alone!”

  Never again will
I be so stupid to trust a girl.

  Never a-fucking-gain.

  Carrie

  I’ve got a car!

  It’s a fifteen-year-old Chevy Impala with too many miles on the odometer to count, but it’s mine, and I got a great deal on it. It was selling for fifteen hundred bucks, but Ivan, who owns the local dealership, has been a regular at the diner since Sadie opened it, and he gave it to me for twelve hundred bucks. I’m not super flush with funds, but I’ve been saving up all my tips, and I’ve been picking up extra hours at the diner these past few months to pay for it, so no more walking for me. Yay!

  I just picked the car up after my breakfast shift at the diner, and I was itching to take it out for a drive. So, I decided to take a drive out to Thistleberry Farm, which is where I’m heading now, to buy some of the fresh produce they sell. Healthy food for the baby, who is growing nicely.

  I had my latest checkup and the twenty-week ultrasound yesterday.

  I decided not to find out the gender at the ultrasound. I want the surprise at the birth. So, I’ve taken to calling the baby Olive since that conversation I had with River about the fruit—

  And nope, not going there. River is a no-go topic for me nowadays.

  I haven’t seen him since that night. Not a glimpse. Not that I’ve been actively looking for him because I haven’t been.

  I refuse to even look in the direction of his house.

  And I’m totally fine about it all now.

  I was sad at first, but then I figured, I couldn’t lose something that I never had, right? And, apparently, I never had his friendship.

  Okay, so I might still be a little mad. But it’s fine.

  He’s nothing to do with anything.

  So, yeah, Olive is now the length of a small banana and coming along nicely. I have a decent-sized bump now, so I’m really showing, and I’ve had to invest in some maternity clothes to keep up with my ever-growing waistline. Thankfully, my diner uniform includes black pants, which I got a couple of maternity ones that have the stretchy waistband—so sexy. And my work shirt is provided by Sadie. She’s ordered me in another shirt, a couple of sizes up, as the last one she got me, which I’m wearing now, is tight across my belly already.

  I can’t believe I’m twenty weeks, and it’s March 1 already. Time is flying by. Christmas seems like an age ago.

  I spent Christmas Day with Sadie and Buddy. Sadie cooked a turkey, and I helped with the rest. It was fun and happy. My first Christmas in a long time where I felt safe.

  New Year’s Eve I spent with Buddy. Sadie and Guy went out to some bars. They’d tried to talk me into going, but bars aren’t really my thing. They’d said it was my last New Year before the baby came, my last New Year of freedom. But what they don’t realize is, I have more freedom now than I ever have. And, honestly, I’d rather be home with Buddy.

  I turn on the radio. My car fills with the sound of “River” by Leon Bridges.

  Nope. Just nope.

  I switch the radio off and travel the rest of the way in silence.

  I arrive at Thistleberry Farm fifteen minutes later.

  I park my car in one of the parking spots, grab my purse off the passenger seat, and head on into the store.

  And I stop dead in my tracks.

  River is standing behind the counter.

  My heart does this weird shimmy in my chest at the sight of him.

  I’m staring at him.

  He’s staring back at me. His face is a mask of surprise.

  I think mine mirrors his.

  I need to look away.

  Turning away, I grab a basket and start moving through the store with no real direction other than to get as far away from him as possible.

  What the fudge is he doing here? And why is he working behind the counter?

  I really want to leave. But that would look weird, and if I just walked out, he’d know that I was bothered by seeing him.

  Also, I came all this way for some fresh produce, and goddamn it, I’m getting my fresh produce!

  As I move through the aisles, I start grabbing things off the shelves at random, dropping them in the basket.

  When I stop and look down, I see I’ve got a jar of pickled green tomatoes, a jar of hot pickled radishes, a green pepper, a bunch of asparagus, a jar of applesauce, a tray of cherry tomatoes, a bag of pumpkin bread, and a jar of sweet potato butter.

  Huh. Calm down there, Rachael Ray.

  Well, I can’t put the stuff back because I’ll look like a complete tool, so I’ll have to just buy it. And the pumpkin bread and sweet potato butter look yummy.

  Calming down, I start actually looking at the items I’m getting, focusing on them and not in the direction of where I know River is still standing at the counter.

  I hate that I’m so aware of him.

  Ugh.

  I stop by the gala apples and look down at them, picking out ones that look the best, dropping them into my basket.

  I feel movement to my right. Followed by the scent of cigar smoke.

  River.

  “Red.”

  The sound of his voice is like welcome rain on a hot day. I hate that, too. I hate the way it intensifies the ache in my chest.

  Why is he talking to me?

  He made it perfectly clear that talking to me was the last thing he wanted to do.

  So, I do the only thing I can do.

  I walk away from him.

  I hear him mutter, “Fuck.”

  I walk to the far side of the store until there’s nowhere else to go, and I find myself standing among glass ornaments on display.

  Momentarily forgetting River and the hurt I feel, I look at the shimmering glass items on the shelves.

  Vases of all different colors, shapes, and sizes. There’s one that looks like a hanging basket, complete with a handle. So pretty.

  There’s a bright red glass apple. It makes me think of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

  And Grumpy, the giant dwarf, is right over there.

  My eyes follow over to some balloons hanging down from the ceiling.

  They’re made from glass. They have a light inside them.

  Oh, they’re a light shade.

  So beautiful.

  I especially love the blue one. It’s iridescent.

  “Amazing, aren’t they?” A voice comes from behind me.

  I turn to see Macy standing there.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, I remember you. You’re River’s neighbor, right? Carol.”

  “Carrie.”

  “Carrie. Of course.” She moves closer to the balloons, looking up at them. “He’s really talented, isn’t he?”

  It takes me a second to catch her meaning. “Oh, the artist? Yes. Very.”

  She brings her eyes to mine. “You mean, River?”

  “What?”

  “River. He’s the artist. He makes these. All of these.” She lifts her hand in the direction of the ornaments.

  River makes these glass ornaments?

  That brash, callous man over there makes these beautiful, delicate items.

  Why didn’t he tell me?

  “Oh. Didn’t you know?” she says, looking pleased at the fact that she knew something about River that I didn’t.

  I swallow and shake my head. “No. He never told me.” I curse my voice for sounding so weak.

  “How strange.” She flicks her long hair over her shoulder. “I wonder why he never said anything. But then he isn’t a big talker. Except with me, of course. We talk a lot. All the time in fact. We spend hours just chatting about nothing really.”

  Okay, Macy, don’t oversell it. I’m not a threat to you when it comes to River.

  The guy doesn’t want to be my friend, let alone anything else.

  Not that I do either.

  “That’s … nice for you.” I hold back the eye roll I really want to do. I’m about to walk away from her when something occurs to me. “Did River make the Christmas ornaments you sold here last December?”
/>
  “Of course. We only sell his art here.”

  The train. He made that.

  He knew I loved it, and he gave it to me and never once said that he’d created it. He didn’t even want me to know he was the one who had given it to me.

  Why?

  He doesn’t seem to have a problem with Macy knowing. So, why me?

  Probably because he thought I’d use it as something else to talk to him about. And he wouldn’t want that. Because he barely liked me on a good day, right?

  Ugh. Why am I even bothered by this?

  I’m not. I’m not bothered at all.

  “Well … nice seeing you again”—not—“but I need to get my shopping finished.”

  “Of course.” She moves out of my way as I turn.

  Her eyes drop to my belly.

  “Oh. I didn’t know you were pregnant.” She sounds genuinely surprised. Like my pregnancy has some bearing on her life.

  “Yes.” I place my hand over my bump. “Five months.”

  “Well … congratulations.”

  I’ve never heard a more disingenuous congratulations in my life.

  “Thank you.”

  “River never mentioned you were married.”

  Is this woman for real?

  You don’t have to be married to have a baby, Macy. It’s not the 1950s.

  Christ, she and Neil would be perfect for each other.

  Then, I immediately hate myself for that thought. Because she doesn’t deserve someone like Neil. No one does.

  “I’m not married.” My ring finger twitches with the lie. “And I don’t have a boyfriend either.” Might as well clear that up as well.

  “Oh.” Her eyes move down to my bump again and then back up to my face. I don’t like the look in her eyes. “I see.”

  No, Macy, you really don’t.

  She casts a glance over to where River is. He’s back standing at the counter, pen in his hand, staring down, as he writes something onto a sheet of paper.

  “I don’t have a kid, so I wouldn’t know, but I hear that being a single mom is really hard,” she says, voice lowered, so only I can hear. “And it would totally make sense if you were looking for a daddy for your baby … but, well, River isn’t your guy. He’s … unavailable, if you know what I mean.” The look she gives me makes me know exactly what she means.

  I ignore the painful twist in my chest at the knowledge.

  He doesn’t want to be my friend. But he has no problem being super besties with benefits with Macy. Or whatever they are.