Shallow River

I still, and my brows draw forward. Ice drenches my body, distinguishing all the heat radiating from my pores.

“What?” I ask, utterly baffled by his question. My blood chills as Ryan continues to glare. There’s no longer a question if it’s from lust or anger. My boyfriend is completely enraged and I’ve no idea why. I hadn’t thought of Mako once since we stepped through the door and he ripped my clothes off.

“Don’t play fucking stupid, River.”

My mouth opens and closes, not sure what the hell to say. I’m blindsided by his question. He takes it for guilt. He pushes off me harshly, roughly pushing me into the wall for a third time. This time it’s hard enough to cause me to topple over. I hit my elbow on floor in the process, the pain shooting up my arm.

“I fucking knew it,” he growls, looking at me with accusation.

I stare up at him in shock, panic blooming. How could he possible think that? Why can’t he see how much I love him? “Ryan, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t want Mako, I only want you,” I plead, desperate for him to just see the truth. Because I don’t want Mako. I scramble off the floor and step towards him, my hands raised with placation.

He does better and charges towards me. Instinctively, I back up into the wall. This wall and I have never been so well acquainted, and it’s starting to grate on my nerves. He presses his chest into mine and leans forward until his breath his tickling my ear.

“If you’re lying to me, I will hurt you, River.”

The threat sends cold shivers down my spine. He’s never threatened me before, not with physical violence at least. Just a minute ago, I was on top of the world, ready to get myself off on his thigh before he brutally fucked me. Now, I feel bereft.

Empty, unsatisfied, and utterly fucking bereft.

“I’m not,” I say. It sounds weak. Pathetic and desperate.

The moment over, he huffs like a bull and walks away, jeans still hanging low on his lips. I look down at my own naked body. A handprint decorates my thigh from dinner.

Tilting my head to the side, I study it.

In my psychology books, this would be considered abuse. But do I feel abused?

The tear trailing down my cheek answers my question for me. I wipe it away before Ryan sees.

Asshole.

“SO, HOW DID MEETING the parents go?” Amelia asks, her brown expectant eyes radiating excitement. We’re no longer roommates, but we never let each other go, even with us now in senior year and separate houses.

I force a wide smile. Meeting the parents went great until we got home, then everything went to shit. I’m still confused by what happened, and a cold, deep pit has been nestled in my stomach ever since. “His parents are really nice. I think they liked me.”

Amelia’s grin grows, and she hops a couple times in excitement. My best friend is a good six inches shorter than me, so it’s like watching a Leprechaun dance because they found the gold at the end of the rainbow. “I’m happy as fuck for you, girl. I know how important meeting the parents is.”

She would. She and her husband, David, have been together for five years now, one of them married. In the beginning, David’s Catholic parents didn’t approve of Amelia’s atheist beliefs. It took several years before they warmed up to her and now they actually invite her over to dinner. They’re a beautiful couple, inside and out. I’ve never met a man more genuine than David. Doesn’t hurt that he looks like a lumber jack out of those erotic novels I’d sneak in the library when I was a little girl. Suppose it works considering Amelia looks like she stepped out of Vogue magazine, despite her shortness.

I shrug a shoulder. “To be honest, they’re those kinds of parents that would probably love anyone as long as they aren’t Satan worshippers or something. They’re pretty chill people.”

Amelia waves a hand. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad. Did you fuck in his childhood bed?” she asks, wiggling her brows at me suggestively. Now she looks like a Leprechaun enticing a young child to eat the lucky charms.

I chuckle. “None of that this time.”

She makes a disgusted noise. “You disappoint me.”

We’re on our way to a local ice cream shop that sells the best ice cream in a fifty-mile radius. It’s just a little shack with benches outside. Gives you that full experience—you’re not truly eating ice cream unless you’re racing the sun and attempting to eat it before it melts all over your hand.

“He has a brother, though. I didn’t even know that until I got there,” I mention casually. When Amelia stops walking and frowns at me, I bite my lip. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Like, never, never mentioned him? Ever?”

“Never ever. He actually specifically said he was an only child.”

Her frown deepens, along with the teeth digging in my lip. I only stop when I begin to taste copper. Her blonde hair whips in the wind as she turns around and walks backwards, strands sticking to her face as she seems to contemplate that. Her effortless beauty makes me want to smudge her make up or something. I’m just waiting for her to trip, but she never does.

Graceful bitch, she is.