Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
I latch onto those last words, desperate to understand them, and him.
My throat is dry as a desert but I manage to ask, “What changed?”
River sighs heavily, shoves his hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he says, like he’s as lost as I am. “Maybe it was the snow. I don’t entirely know, Owen. We just got here and all I could think was how I’d wanted everything to go as planned. The pie and the drive and the trip and the . . . everything.”
So maybe he’s not talking about feelings. But that’ll have to be okay. Even if we’re never more than friends, that’s enough. River’s the guy who wanted to road trip with me, to hang out, to talk with me. That counts for more than something. That counts for so much. And you don’t throw a friendship like that away, not when I can see us doing the same thing in five, ten, fifteen years.
“Yeah, I get it. No worries. I was kind of wound up as well,” I say, and that’s true enough.
He tilts his head, studying me. “You were?”
“I guess I wanted things to go a certain way too. And then I was frustrated because sometimes you think you can do anything. You’re so confident, which is awesome, but you’re not always realistic.” I gesture to the toasty luxury cabin. “It’s not the worst thing to have to spend the night here, River. It’s like a travel brochure cabin.”
River’s smile flashes again, bright and buoyant. “Do they even make brochures anymore?”
I laugh, and it’s the first one in a while that feels real. “I don’t think so. You have me there.”
“I do have you there,” he says, a spark in his eyes, a naughtiness in his tone once again. Innuendo is never far away with River. I take its return as a sign that all is well.
His gaze travels to the window. “It really is gorgeous here. I did kind of want to take a tour of the home, check everything out, and stare at it all. So I did while you were asleep. I love checking out homes. Did I tell you when my neighbors had an open house a few weeks ago, I went? I was like Ooh, this is their bedroom, I bet he banged her here.”
I laugh again, this time at the absurdity. “So you like to spy on your neighbors?”
“No. But sometimes, I can’t stop thinking about what people are up to behind closed doors.” He drops his voice to a confessional whisper. “Like if I’m walking down the street, I wonder about the couples I pass.”
“Your brain is a very overactive place,” I say.
“Sometimes it’s too busy. And you’re right. I do sometimes think I can do everything, so I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”
“Bring it,” I say, wiggling my fingers.
Drawing a deep breath, he leans forward, palms pressed on his knees. “The pecan pumpkin apple pie was terrible.”
“You made it? For real?”
“I did. Baked it yesterday. I made two—one to taste and one for tomorrow—and they were disgusting. Tossed them both in the trash. I officially cannot bake pies,” he says, banging a fist on the arm of the chair.
“One bad pie attempt doesn’t mean you can’t bake them.”
River waves a hand dismissively. “Eh, it was boring. Baking is so boring. I went out and bought a pie instead, and I bet it’s divine.” He takes a deep breath, his lips curving into a kind grin. “Does your head still hurt?”
“No. I feel better,” I say, and that’s all true.
“Good. I hate it when you get headaches,” he says.
“Really?” That makes me laugh for some reason.
“Why are you laughing?”
I shrug. “That’s sort of a random thing to hate.”
“No, it’s not,” he says, insistent. “I don’t like it when you don’t feel good, Owen. I want to fix it for you. I wish I could take them all away. Stomp on them and crush them out of existence.”
My heart hammers again.
Yup. I need to get back in the dating game for sure. Turn my attention away from River. Get all the way over him because every little thing makes my dumb heart jitter.
I pat the couch. “Naps cure pretty much anything, so I’m all good.”
“Naps should come with a label. Like the opposite of a warning. Instead, they should say . . . naps are always a good idea. Anyway, we’re here now and you feel better. I say we make the best of tonight. Want to pop open some champagne and play a board game? That’s what they do in cabins, right?”
They do other things in cabins. Lots of other things.
But at least we’re not arguing. We’re having fun again, like we vowed to do back in college. Stick together. No matter what. “Yes. But does that mean we’re sneaking champagne from the hostess gift for Declan’s mom?”