by Lindy Zart
"Huh," is my amazing comeback.
HE IS IN THE WATER with me. This truth makes my pulse trip and scatter. I feel like this is a monumental moment right now. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Rivers is on the far end of the pool, not even paying attention to me, and here I am, motionless, quiet, my eyes riveted to his lithe frame as it cuts through the water like a blade.
Night has fallen on us, but the air is thick with hot moisture, making the water around me feel like a blanket of cool relief. The moon casts its glow on the water and us, giving the black liquid a spotlight and making Rivers the focal point of the show. He barely makes a sound as he swims, his muscled form impressive to watch. I can tell he's missed the water.
With the warm, occasional winds, the scent of lilacs floats toward me from neighboring yards. I slowly move my legs back and forth through the water, propped up against the ledge of the pool with my elbows as I notice more than I probably should about Rivers.
He breaks the surface, his face shadows as he turns to me. He swims over to my end of the pool, stopping when inches are all that separate us. His eyes shine as they meet mine. “You finally get me in the water and all you do is watch? What's the fun in that?”
“Trust me, it's loads of fun.”
Swiping a hand over his wet hair, he mutters, “Not even going to try to understand that one.”
I switch the subject before he makes me explain what exactly I did mean by that comment. “How are your legs?”
“Not bad.”
“Swimming is probably the best form of therapy for them. Low resistence.”
“Mmm.”
I can tell he doesn't want to talk about his legs or therapy for them, so I try to think of something else to talk about. “Peanut butter is my favorite food.”
Rivers looks at me for a long time, finally shaking his head. He moves to my side, reclining next to me. “Peanut butter is not food.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don't know. A condiment. Like ketchup or mustard.”
“Really, Rivers? Do you put peanut butter on a hamburger?”
“Do you eat it plain?” he shoots back.
“Yes.”
“Okay, do most people eat it plain?”
“How would I know about most people? I know I eat it plain. I also like it with honey on bread, or with jelly on bread, or all three on bread. Have you ever had a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”
He slowly turns his head toward mine. Our noses are almost touching as he says, “Are you saying you grill peanut butter and jelly sandwiches like we grilled steaks tonight? On a literal grill? What's wrong with you?”
I laugh. “No. Like a grilled cheese. Although, I never understood why it's called a grilled cheese. You don't grill it, you fry it.”
“Fried cheese just doesn't sound as appetizing.”
I consider this. “I guess. I'll make you one tomorrow.”
“No thanks.”
I put my hands on his shoulders, feeling them tense beneath my touch. I lean close to him as I say, “You know what else is really good?”
“What?” he asks warily.
“Peanut butter and bacon on toast. I'll make that for you too.”
“No. Really. Don't.”
I scrunch my nose up at him. “You shouldn't think you don't like something before you even give it a try.”
Rivers' hands find my waist beneath the water as he closes the distance between us. He stares down at me, his expression hard to determine masked as it is by night, but I can feel the scorching intensity of his eyes as they rove over my face. His fingers move around my waist to my back and slowly trail up it, causing goose bumps to break out in their wake. Sliding his palms up my neck so that his forearms are flush with my back, he lowers his mouth to mine. The kiss is slow but short, and ends with him catching my lower lip between his before he pulls away. My stomach is doing crazy flips and my limbs feel too heavy to keep me upright.
“You're absolutely right,” he murmurs. He straightens, a grin taking over his mouth. “Tired?”
My mouth opens and closes. Part of me is still back in the last moments locked in that seductive kiss. “Are—are you?”
“Extremely.” The teasing glint to his eyes disappears as he watches me. His manner has shifted, become dark like the sky surrounding us.
I feel my heartbeat quicken, but I keep my tone light as I say, “You're just saying that. You really only want to get me into your bed so you can have your way with me.”
“Oh, I'm planning on it.” His voice is a purr.
I go still as I gaze at him. Okay, so I wasn't expecting that. Innuendoes and come-on lines make me blush and stammer out ridiculous comebacks because my brain doesn't know how to digest that kind of behavior. But with Rivers, I don't know, I want to be naughty. I want to flirt.
I want him.
I trail my fingers along his chest, feel the taut skin pebble beneath my touch, and say, "Don't blame me in the morning when you're irrevocably obsessed with me."
"I don't think I need to wait until morning for that to happen," he murmurs.
Damn. He did it again. I laugh, but it sounds shaky. "Stop."
He smiles. "Never."
We leave the pool and enter the house, our hands locked together. As we lie down to sleep, I cannot keep the joy from my being. It seeps out into the smile that won't leave my face. It bursts forth in the laughter that falls from my lips. It even tendrils through my arms as I wrap them around Rivers' waist, resting my cheek on his warm chest. This feeling, this joy, outshines anything that has ever hurt me. It heals all past wounds. This joy is a shield against the future. It is my strength to face another day not knowing what it will bring.
"You know how, when you get hurt, you feel it all the way to your stomach? It's not just felt in the place you actually hurt, but within your whole body?"
I kiss his bare shoulder. "I guess, yeah."
His arms tighten around me. "That's how I feel about you. I feel it everywhere, and it really isn't pain, but it isn't exactly pleasure either. It's an ache that sort of hurts, but also gives relief. Does that make sense?"
A smile forms to my lips as tears prick my eyes. "Yes." It is the epitome of what I feel now with his words lingering in my head and heart.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH my son?" No form of greeting, just that.
I coat two slices of bread in peanut butter, glancing at the cell phone on the counter next to me. I put it on speaker phone, but now I wonder if I should have. I look up, glad Rivers isn't in the room in case I am about to get yelled at. Being yelled at in private sucks—being yelled at with a witness listening is excruciating.
"I think he's around here somewhere. Do you want me to get him?"
Monica laughs. "Delilah! I meant, where did the brooding, unhappy young man go? Not that I want him back. I'm just wondering how you managed to do in less than two weeks what I, and doctors of any kind, haven't been able to do in months."
I open my mouth to ask if any of them offered to make out with him, but decide she might not find that as humorous as I do. "I got skills," is what I go with.
I finish with the jelly, place the buttered sides of bread in a frying pan, and place the twins on top. Making them makes me happy. The thought of watching Rivers try one makes me even happier.
"He's swimming."
"Yes."
"You're amazing, you really are."
"That's me." I twist a lock of hair around my finger and rest my backside against the counter, the scent of butter filling the room. "How is everything going over there?"
The line is silent, but somberness can somehow be felt through the phone. "Not good. It shouldn't be too much longer now." She sighs. "It's all so horrible—waiting for someone to die, knowing they're about to, and being unable to do anything about it but watch."
My mouth goes dry and a sick feeling punches me in the stomach. "Right."
"Sorry. We don't need to talk about maudlin things. Cheer me up
. Let's talk about you and Rivers."
The way she said that implies there is something to talk about. "Oh, you know." Rivers appears in the doorway, one eyebrow lifted. I turn the speaker phone off and pick up the phone, placing it to my ear. I flip the sandwiches in the pan and they sizzle as butter meets heat. "Actually, you should know, Rivers ate all of your ice cream. He didn't want me to tell you, but I felt I should. I mean, you're my employer, not him, so my loyalties have to be to you." His eyes narrow and I grin. "I got more, but then he ate that too. I think he has a problem."
"Hmm. He's in the room, isn't he?"
"You could say that."
She chuckles. "I still have a hard time imagining him eating it at all."
"He loves it!" I hold a laugh in when he scowls at me, nudging me aside to eye the grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I flip the burner off and move the pan, bumping my hip into his side. He gently bites my bare shoulder in retaliation and I have to fight for air for a moment. I push him away and he gives me a look saying he'll get me back for that.
"I think he's just trying to impress you."
"Most likely." I stick my tongue out at him.
"Tell Rivers hi and have fun. I'll be in touch."
"Got it." The call ends. "Also, he likes to kiss me, like, all the time. He even shoved his tongue in my mouth. And the groping...it's endless."
The phone is grabbed away from me. Rivers puts it to his ear, his eyes on me. "Funny." He sets the phone down and brushes a finger across my lips. "Were you eating the peanut butter as you made the sandwiches?"
"No."
He shows me the peanut butter he removed from my lip.
"It fell...upward...somehow."
"And just happened to latch onto your lip? Who knew peanut butter was so gifted."
"Me." I point at myself and laugh when he rolls his eyes.
He moves around me and grabs two plates, sliding the sandwiches from the pan onto the plates. "Am I going to regret this?"
"No. You only regret the things you don't try," I tell him.
Grabbing a butter knife, he cuts the sandwiches into halves and offers me a plate. "That's one way to look at it. Although, that one time I went skinny-dipping and came out to a swarm of mosquitoes biting me in really bad places—totally regretted trying that. Let's eat." I want to ask who he went skinny-dipping with, and then I realize that, no, I don't.
I wait to eat my own sandwich until he takes the first bite of his, laughter wanting to break forth at the cautious look in his eyes. He slowly chews, his eyes going to mine. With a shrug, he takes another bite.
"It's good, right?"
"Not bad."
"I'll show you not bad."
"I'd rather you showed me bad."
Rivers = 1. Delilah = 0.
I COULD TELL FROM THE phone call I received from my mom the night before that it is time to stop at home. She sounded unusually sad and I know the past ten days with me away is weighing on her. The longest we've gone without seeing each other is probably two days, max. When she asked me to bring Rivers over for supper, I couldn't say no. Hopefully he doesn't either. If he does, I'll just go by myself. For some reason, though, I feel that they need to meet. I guess because they are the two people in my life I care about the most.
The breath whooshes from my lungs when I admit it to myself. I'm not saying I love him, but I do care about him. I mean, yeah, I've known the idea of Rivers for a long time, but I have only really known him for close to a month. That isn't long enough to form feelings like that for someone. Of course, that doesn't stop me from thinking I have been given something I need to cherish and hang on to for as long as I can. So maybe I do love him, on some level. Why waste time trying to figure it out? I just need to embrace it while I can.
That settled, I grab clothes from my tote bag to change into. As I am kicking off my pajama bottoms, I hear a noise behind me and spin around. Rivers stands frozen in the doorway, a coffee cup in each hand. His hair gleams like the feathered wings of a raven from a recent shower and he's wearing a white tee shirt and khaki shorts. I can smell him and the coffee from across the room, both of which are welcome. His expression is sort of comical, as is the way he is standing like a mannequin. Great advertisement for coffee, though. I'd buy that brand.
When he continues to remain silent and unmoving, I sigh and head toward him. It's not like I am naked. I have a pink tank top and underwear on, although, yeah, okay, the tank top is tight and I don't have a bra on—and the underwear are red and skimpy, but still. I'm clothed.
He tenses as I advance, and I fear he may take off before I can reach the coffee that I would actually love to slurp down this morning. I didn't sleep well last night and ended up in the sun room at some point, which made sleep ultimately impossible. I couldn't sleep with Rivers and I couldn't sleep without him. It was a long night of asking myself what the hell is going on. The answers remained unknown until this morning, when I just had that scary epiphany.
“Are you back to not speaking to me? Fine. I can get used to that again. Your comments are kind of annoying. You have this air of superiority every time you open your mouth that really gets on my nerves after a few hours.” I take the mug from his limp fingers and blow on the steaming black liquid.
A deep inhalation of air is sucked into his lungs, breaking whatever trance he was under. “You weren't there when I woke up this morning.”
I raise my eyebrows as I sip my coffee. “You are extremely observant.”
With a scowl blackening his already dark looks, he sets his mug down on a window ledge and swipes a hand through his hair. It is clear he is agitated and my comments are not helping. “Why weren't you there?”
“Did you miss me?” I tease, although I am curious as to whether he really did. In fact, my pulse stutters a little as I wait for him to respond.
Rivers' eyes flicker up and down the length of me and immediate heat shoots through me. I forgot about my partially dressed state. Without saying a word, he takes the mug from me and sets it down next to his. His arm shoots out, his hand palming my waist, and he yanks me to him. When our bodies touch, the heat turns to fire. Both hands hold me now, his fingers dipping low and dangerously close to my rear. He's teasing me, I realize. His fingers inch down, then retract, again and again, until my breaths are leaving me in little spurts and I want to scream at him to just grab my ass already. And let me tell you, I do not think things like this. Apparently, with Rivers, I do.
He presses his lower half to me but leans back so that his eyes are locked on mine as he says, “Miss you? Yes. Long for you? Yes. I realized something last night, as I laid there without you next to me. All it took was one night.” He pauses. “I don't think there is a question as to whether or not I want you, because that is painfully blatant right now, but did I miss you? It was so much more than that. And do I need you? Yes. I need you. My heart needs you, Delilah. I don't want to wake up without you again, not until I have to. And even then—even then I will just barely tolerate it.”
Oh...my...
Chills start at my scalp and make their way down to my toes at the sound of my name on his lips. I do believe it is the first time he's spoken my full first name in front of me since I started working here. My heartbeat picks up at the way he fits against me, and the conviction I see in his expression makes my stomach swoop over and over again. His words—his words just tossed away whatever reservations I had about trying to keep my distance. Keep my distance from the fire that keeps me warm in the face of the cold all around me? Impossible.
My heart needs you, Delilah.
"Why didn't you..." I falter as I struggle to breathe. "Why didn't you come get me then?"
"Obviously you wanted to be alone, but trust me, I contemplated it. In depth. Don't try it again, though. There will be repercussions." He scowls at me, but there is lightness to his eyes—lightness I put there.
I grab the front of his shirt and yank him toward me. I kiss him with all the passion inside me. He
pushes against me, his fingers tangling in my hair, and we get lost in each other. His mouth sears mine, claims it as his, and tells me I will never get enough of this. The touching and kissing is going to reach a point where it is no longer enough. I think we are both dangerously close to that edge. Once we jump, there is no return to the pre-intimacy stage. I don't think I'll miss it.
I smile as he shudders against me, feeling empowered in the desire of Rivers. I feel beautiful, like I was never anything but. I feel like I am perfect as I am, and always have been. I feel like I never thought I would feel, especially with him.
When we finally tear ourselves away from one another, I put substantial distance between us so we don't end up all over each other again. His eyes are glazed over, his nostrils flared as he sucks ragged breaths in and out. He has never looked more appealing.
"We're eating at my house tonight. My mom demands it," I state.
Rivers blinks, some of the fog clearing from his eyes. "Bossy, aren't you?"
"You wouldn't like me as much as you do if I wasn't. And my mom's the bossy one. I'm just relaying the message."
"Hmm." He rubs his jaw and shrugs, dropping his hand to his side. "Sure. I need to thank your mother anyway."
"What for?" I grab clean clothes from my tote in preparation of showering.
"She sent me flowers in the hospital."
I go still, glancing over my shoulder at him. "How do you know they were from her?"
"Do not keep standing like that. I mean, you can. Just know that there will be consequences if you do."
I straighten, blushing as I become aware of the view I was giving him.
"There was no note on the card, but it had the name of her business on it. At first I thought someone forgot to sign it, then I realized it was probably from the flower shop. Wait." It is his turn to freeze. Rivers' eyes narrow as he studies me. "It was you?"