Page 27 of Romantic Hero
‘That’s how he meant it.’
‘And that’s how you received it?’
I open my mouth and then close it again. Ugh. My blood pressure starts to rise with sudden indignation at River’s arrogance. How dare he sneer at a relationship he knows absolutely zero about.
I fold my arms across my chest, my eyes suddenly steely. ‘For your information, River Oakley, I’ve had a romantic partner pretty consistently since I’ve been old enough to date. So I am not brand new to love and I certainly don’t need your judgement. Sorry for not being psyched to take advice from a thirty-year-old man who is too emotionally stunted to have ever been in a real relationship. Or are you going to tell me I got that wrong too?’
‘Ouch,’ River says, mock wounded, but the tips of his ears turn deep pink.
I stare at him, my face flaming, a surge of energy making my heart pound. I immediately want to apologise for being so sharp, but I try extra hard not to because he’ll probably just hold it up as another example of my having no backbone.
‘I’m going to get our carveries,’ I say haughtily instead, stalking off towards the pub dining room. ‘Please order me a fresh orange juice. Thank you.’
‘Happily,’ River says with a gentle tip of his hat. ‘And if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to try one of those gigantic puffy things that fella over there is enjoying.’
‘It’s called a Yorkshire pudding.’ I tut, following his gaze. ‘You’re not gluten-free or dairy-free or vegetarian, are you?’
River raises an eyebrow. ‘Don’t you already know?’
Seems I don’t know much of anything any more. Not my characters, not my relationship, not even myself.
‘Please get me some vodka in the orange juice,’ I clip, before shuffling off to get our lunch. ‘Actually, on second thoughts, make it a double.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The alcohol makes me feel a little better. More than a little actually. And while River’s general demeanour and astonishing arrogance is still annoying me, we manage to get into a conversation without too much snipping. So when River suggests another drink, I readily agree.
Three hours later we are decidedly pissed. At least I am. River has had multiple bourbons and seems just as sober as when we arrived.
As the sky outside dims into a lilac twilight, a band starts up in the corner of the pub. River watches them perform, tapping his booted feet, an impressed grin on his face. And then, when the band’s song is finished, and with all the confidence of a man who has never been turned down, he stands up from our table and strides over to the musicians.
‘River! What are you do—?’ I try to call after him, but I don’t even manage to get the full sentence out because next thing I know, River has dug his harmonica out of his jeans pocket and when the band kick into a Tom Petty song, he leans in to share the singer’s microphone and starts casually playing alongside them.
What is he doing? You can’t just join a whole bandwithout preparation! They rehearsed. They have a plan for their show! A set list and a hierarchy!
But, as it turns out, you absolutely can join a whole band without preparation. At least River Oakley can. Within thirty seconds, he has managed to eclipse the lead singer as the star of the show, and the lead singer doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he, and almost every other human being in the pub, is turned towards River, beaming like they’re in the presence of a great. A couple of people have their phones out. One particularly excited woman has taken an electric fan out of her bag to cool herself down even though the pub has air conditioning on at full blast.
River closes his eyes as he plays, fingers flying dextrously over the harmonica, foot stomping happily against the floor, lost in a world of his own.
*
‘That Yorkshire pudding was like a perfect bready cloud in my mouth,’ River muses once we leave the pub and make our tipsy way back to my flat.
‘You’ll have to make them for yourself,’ I suggest. ‘I’ve got a great recipe. My sister’s recipe. Super easy, always a winner.’
‘You have a sister?’ River glances across at me as we make our way down Clipstone Street, the scent of salty chips wafting beneath our noses. ‘You guys fight as much as Cassidy and I do, or do you have a healthy sibling relationship?’
I shake my head. ‘Josie and I only ever fought one time. She actually died four years ago.’ I take my phone out of mytrouser pocket and flick to my screensaver, a picture of Josie and me having a picnic in Regent’s Park. Josie is doing her ridiculous jazz hands dance and I’m clutched over laughing at her. ‘This is her.’
River sighs sadly. ‘She’s … really hot.’
A laugh bursts out of me, my eyes flicking up to meet his. ‘I know. She was amazing and I’m not exaggerating when I tell you she was not only hotter than me, but better in almost every conceivable way.’
‘But could she summon grown men unwillingly to her apartment without them having any knowledge of how they got there?’
‘You’re joking, but Josie probably could do that. She could do anything she set her mind to. She was a very unique woman.’
River nods. ‘How did she d—’
