When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys 2)

River’s eyes darkened. “So…what? You bought this to teach me a lesson? To rub it in my face?”

“I don’t know why I bought it. I wanted to get you something and so I did.”

“Why? You’re the one who called shit off, remember?”

“Because I fucking can’t stop thinking about you, okay? Every day, all day, every goddamn night. And I wanted to do something. Instead of just sitting around being miserable. But it was obviously a mistake. Our favorite word.” I turned to go. “Toss the book in the trash for all I care.”

“Holden…”

I whirled back around. “And yes, it’s reckless and stupid to try again, but what if we need each other? Maybe how different we are works. Maybe we fill in the missing parts for each other. Ever think of that?”

“Yeah, I’ve thought of it. Lots of times. But—”

“River?” A man’s voice called. “You back here?”

“Shit.”

River grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and dragged me around the corner. Our eyes locked for half a heartbeat, and then he slammed me up against the wall, his body pressed against me, our faces inches apart.

“How do you keep doing this to me?” he whispered, his eyes dilated and dark. “So I can’t hardly think. Every fucking time…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I managed weakly, my limbs going slack at being in his space, breathing his air and feeling his hard body after going so long without.

“River?” His dad wasn’t getting closer but not giving up either.

“He’s calling you,” I whispered, then widened my stance to bring River’s groin tighter to mine. Christ, he was hard and huge, and I groaned for missing every part of him.

“Shh.” He covered my mouth with a grease-smudged hand. “Don’t say a word.”

“River,” his dad called. “You down there?”

“Just taking a piss,” River croaked.

I maneuvered my mouth out from under his grasp and bit his finger, tasting the salt of his skin and the sharp bite of turpentine. His nostrils flared and he ground against me, almost against his will, his body responding with mindless need. “Be…right there.”

“Hurry up, though. Ms. Stanlin is waiting for her paperwork.”

We both waited, eyes locked as the footsteps faded. Slowly, reluctantly, River let me go and sagged with his back to the wall beside me.

“Fuck, Holden,” he said, sounding drained. “You can’t be showing up here. Or at my house. My friends…they’re starting to get suspicious. If it gets out about you and me, my football career is over.”

“How very dramatic.”

River shook his head. “It won’t be overt. It won’t be obvious. They’ll just fade me out slowly. Bench me at college and I’ll go undrafted. I wish it weren’t that way, but it is. No one comes out until they’re retired. Not if they want to play.”

“You don’t want to play.”

“I do,” he said. “For my dad, I do. He’s losing Mom. It’s the only thing I can give him.”

A silence fell. My heart felt as if it were breaking and yet strangely full at the same time.

“You’re a good guy, River. Too good for the likes of me.”

I pushed off the wall and started walking. If I looked at him, at his face that was as kind as it was handsome, I’d cry.

“Holden…”

“Go on,” I said without looking back. “Ms. Stanlin is waiting.”