Riven (Riven 1)

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, and spread a napkin on his lap.

“Oh. Thanks.”

The late-morning air was warm on our bench in the sun, but the breeze was chilly. That was New Orleans, all extremes—and sometimes opposing ones at the same time. The sunlight sparkled amber in the dusky water and I watched the barges come round the bend and under the bridge, pass us, then go off down the river.

The earthy scent of the Mississippi, the bite of chicory, the sharp burst of sugar on my tongue. Every sense was full up with a place as familiar to me as my own bed. Only, for the first time, I’d spent the night in a jazz club, not stumbling home until three in the morning, and I wasn’t feeling like crap. I was a little tired, but not hungover, not jittery, not searching my memory for what I might have done that I shouldn’t’ve.

Also, for the first time, Theo was here with me. And that changed everything. Last night, when I’d agreed to take him to The Pearl Lounge, it had felt like holding my hand over the flame—a subtle dance to see how close I could move until I got burned. But, though seeing Dot had forced a tidal wave of memories, every time I’d looked at Theo, it yanked me back to the present. Back to the man who, I hoped, might be my future. I hadn’t let myself linger too long on that thought last night. Ghosts of the past and hopes for the future were a dangerous cocktail. But walking the streets of this city arm in arm with him had meant more to me than I’d realized it would.

“Ugh,” Theo said, tossing the uneaten half of his beignet back into the bag and holding his white-smeared fingers out from his body like they were covered in slime. “You have the rest. I am not about these things. I want a real doughnut.”

“Blasphemer.”

I grabbed the bag and happily ate the remaining beignet and the other half of Theo’s abandoned one. I knew I’d feel sick in about five minutes, but I didn’t care. The chicory coffee was the perfect antidote to the sweetness of powdered sugar, and I had no idea when I would be back in New Orleans.

Sure enough, I was vaguely nauseated a few minutes later, and I downed the rest of my coffee and leaned over, elbows on my knees, staring out at the river.

“Feel sick, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” I groaned. “So good, though.”

“Ugh, not worth it if it’s gonna make you feel like shit, though.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Babe, I’m an addict. That’s the anthem right there. So good you keep going until you feel like shit, and then you wait just long enough to forget how shitty, and do it all again.”

Theo put his hand on my back and I leaned closer to him as he rubbed up and down my spine.

“Feels nice,” I murmured.

“I’m glad because then maybe you won’t be mad that I just got powdered sugar all over your shirt.”

I felt better after a few minutes and we strolled upriver along the waterfront. Theo had on dark sunglasses and a hat, but he still got some double takes. No one stopped him, though, and only one person snapped a picture.

“Wow, New Orleans is so not New York,” Theo observed.

We turned back downriver as we reached the casino, and then headed into the French Quarter so we could change at the hotel before heading over to meet the band. Theo was holding my hand loosely, and he seemed like he was in his own world, looking at everything, watching everyone. It felt nice to be a tether. Something he held onto while his senses roamed.

And it felt important to realize that maybe he could be that for me, too.

* * *

—

“But when would you even do it? It’d totally ruin the drama of our entrance!” Ven’s voice was the loudest of anyone’s, but I thought the sentiment was shared by Coco and Ethan.

We were in Ethan’s suite at the Terpsichore Hotel on Canal Street, and Theo had just told Riven about his desire for us to perform the song we wrote together. I’d taken myself out into the hallway so they could talk privately, but Ven’s voice carried. I was already regretting this entire thing, from agreeing to do the song in the first place, to choosing to come with Theo to the hotel. But the idea of wandering the streets alone had filled me with anxiety, so I’d opted to stay in Theo’s pocket. Stay out of trouble.

I was irritated with myself for feeling that way, but I knew it had been the right choice. I fished my phone out and called Huey, walking down toward the stairwell where I wouldn’t be able to hear Ven anymore, and leaned against the wall.