The Blind Date

“Yeah, but . . . social media influencer?” Arielle asks. “Do you really want to become one of those thirst girls who spend all day posing around like a Barbie doll and doctoring up photos?”

“No, I don’t mean that,” Riley says excitedly, shaking her head. “I want to spread a message of hope and inspiration. I want to . . . you know, make people happy. Put some sunshine in their lives. Everyone should have that.”

“Good luck with that,” I growl. I don’t mean to interrupt them, didn’t even mean to say it out loud, but it’s loud enough that Riley and Arielle hear me, and they turn to me. Arielle looks pissed. Riley looks confused.

“What do you mean, Noah?” Riley asks. “The world needs more positivity.”

“Yeah. The world needs a lot of things,” I shoot back. “Do you know how many inspirational assholes there are out there online? A simple Google search will show you a million websites and probably fifty million social media accounts, each of them telling people that the sun’ll come out tomorrow and all that shit.” I hold my hands up, fingers spread wide as I swipe them through the air sarcastically.

“So?” Riley asks, crossing her arms. “They took their shot. Why can’t I?”

I don’t mean to, but all the frustration, the jealousy, the exhaustion . . . all of the feelings inside me seem to bubble up to the surface, spilling all over the Watsons’ backyard.

“Because the world isn’t sunshine and rainbows, Riley. It’s hard work! It’s putting responsibility on your shoulders and dragging the world, kicking and screaming, uphill by sheer willpower. It’s about struggle and sweat and busting your ass!”

Arielle and River are gawking at me, but Riley’s not ready to back down. “It’s more than that!” she says, stomping her bare foot on the concrete patio. She’s sitting up in her lounger now, passionately defending this hair-brained idea she has of dropping out of college to spout nonsense on social media. “There’s good in the world, and happiness!”

I snort, shaking my head and looking at River like ‘I see what you mean about your sister, man.’ “Maybe when you’re a pampered princess, it seems that way.” I look around the yard pointedly, from the pool to the outdoor kitchen to the house across the yard. Even inside to the two parents. “For the rest of us, it’s about squeezing blood from a stone.”

“That’s enough, Noah,” River says, his eyes tight. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I take a deep breath. “Let’s take a walk.”

I shake him off, but the interruption lets a small dose of reason into my overworked mind, and I see the tears glittering in Riley’s eyes. They stop me, my anger deflating.

Shit. I’m such an asshole. Making some wide-eyed kid with big dreams cry because she has the luxury of dreaming.

With a jagged sigh, I follow River into the garage. He waits for me to follow, closing the door behind us. “River, I was—”

His fist meets my jaw, and I stagger back, seeing stars. That was a sucker punch . . . but then again, I deserved it. My ass hits Mrs. Watson’s car, and I barely keep my balance. I look at River, who’s still got a fist clenched.

“I know you’ve got issues. Everyone’s got issues. But don’t take yours out on my family. Especially not my sister. Understood?” he says, his voice heated but even. He’s not the happy-go-lucky best friend right now. He’s the protective big brother, and no matter how much shit he talks about his sister, it’s not my place to do it. I understand that because I would never stand for anyone talking shit about Arielle. Though she doesn’t need my back-up. She’d slice and dice anyone who dares to look at her wrong. Hmm, maybe that’s why I’m so worried about that . . . because she hasn’t stood her ground yet. But that’s a thought train for another trip because River’s glaring at me, expecting an answer.

I rub my jaw, nodding. “Understood.”

The incident never came up again, and that was my only visit to the Watsons’ house for a long time. River and I moved past it, our shared experiences with Friendzone and what he knew of my past allowing him to understand. But we stopped discussing our sisters. Or more specifically, other than in passing commentary, River stopped talking about Riley.

My sister also understood where I was coming from, and she forgave me. So most of the news I’ve gotten about Riley has come via Arielle as the two have remained best friends. She told me about Riley’s success, how she proved my predictions of doom wrong.

Truth be told, I’m glad I was wrong.

But I’ve never been able to talk to Riley. I never got a chance to apologize or explain. And now she’s stormed off . . . and I’m going to have to make this right.