The idea pierces my heart like a thorn.
Maybe she was his girlfriend who left him, maybe there was anger in that kiss, and he mourns her. Or she’s his sister, and I’m creating a fantasy.
River doesn’t take down the slackline because he wants to stay here tomorrow. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be in such a hurry to go back. I could stay in the middle of this river landscape forever, enjoying the day, slacklining, eating beef jerky, and listening to River laugh. Okay, the sanitary facilities are rather... rough, but there are enough tall bushes.
The next night, we fall asleep arm in arm, protecting ourselves from the cold with the sleeping bag and the rest of our clothes.
The next day, we eat jerky and drink water again. I don’t think River has anything else to say.
“If things continue this way, our blood type will soon be beef jerky,” he jokes and lets me take a bite of his piece because I’ve already eaten mine. Of course, we slackline again. Walking and turning on the slackline is easy for me now, but getting up from a sitting position still causes problems.
Later, as we sit on the grassy embankment of the river, wet in our T-shirts and underwear, River looks at me strangely. His gaze is urgent and intense, the blue laced with a sparkle that I can’t interpret, so I quickly look at my drawn-up knees.
He gently blows on my cheek, and I smile. “Hey,” he says in that tender, teasing voice I love so much. “Can you do that too?”
He holds out his arm to me, and I look at him questioningly, then blow lightly on his forearm and watch how the fine blond hairs stand up. “That tickles!” He laughs his River laugh. I smile, puff out my cheeks, and blow again. The gentle sound it produces vibrates in my throat. It feels tight and rusty, but also like blowing is cleaning it out. I blow and blow, unable to stop. Eventually, River grabs my wrists, holds them with one hand, and tickles my rib cage. I laugh silently, gasping for air and wanting to tell him to stop, but of course, I can’t. He tickles my stomach, and we roll around, his body against mine, and I canhardly breathe. Finally, I free one hand from his grip, reach into the earth next to me and let it rain over River.
He's so surprised that he releases my other hand. “Oh, you just wait,” he says in a mock-threatening voice. I jump up faster than he expects and dive into the water.
“I’ll get you, count on it!” River throws himself in after me with a loud splash, and I flee, laughing silently. He catches me, grabs me from behind, and presses my arms to my body.
“Now I’ll never let you go again,” he whispers roughly, and a tingle skitters over my skin, silvery like the evening light that dips in narrow channels into the water.
I shiver.
“Hey, baby. Everything’s okay. Don’t worry.” He loosens his grip but holds me tight. I feel his warmth on my back, which is a stark contrast to the icy water that reaches up to my belly button.
I hardly dare to move, not even when he turns me around with an indecipherable sound.
“Tucks,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “If you could see yourself. In this light... everything about you shines.”
I have to swallow. I don’t think it’s only because of the silver light but because of him. He is the answer to everything. He is everything I believe in.
For seconds, he holds my gaze, and I cannot breathe. He runs his knuckles over my cheek and cups my face with his hands. This time, I don’t have to think about what to do. I carefully place my fingers on his arms to show him that I want this too. His skin is still warm from the day, but my hands are cool. He looks at me with eyes that shine in the silvery-white shimmering light like he’s from another world—cool and warm, bright and dark. A tingle of longing runs through my veins, and when he kisses me, everything ceases to exist. There is no longer anyoutside, no inside. My worlds merge into a single reality that needs no words.
Everything that follows is a blur. My fingers slide over his upper arms; there’s a dizzy feeling in my head, and his hands wrap around my waist, half-submerged. I have an intense desire to touch him. I’m intoxicated. I feel his hot, smooth skin, the fine droplets of water under my fingertips traveling over his shoulders to his neck and back to his shoulder blades, where his tattoo is.
Suddenly, he freezes as if he heard his friends calling again. His lips release mine, and his breath breaks harshly against my face.
“Stop it!” he says, backing away so abruptly that my hands slip from his shoulders.
I feel like he grabbed me and pushed my head under the icy water. For seconds, I can’t react, just staring at the dark surface of the water, paralyzed.
I hear him take a deep breath; then he turns and wades toward shore.
He just leaves me there, like my dad did in the laundry room.
Water laps against my stomach, and I shake even harder than before.
Still alive for you, June, a voice whispers in my head.
Did he freak out because I touched those words?
With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I think about his friends’ warnings. Is this June one of the girls he shouldn’t have had?
Why not?
And why does he act like I turned into some sort of Ferengi right in front of him?
