Page 14 of Good For Me

Jas

This is not at all how I expected the night to go. I figured River was going to take me somewhere pretentious and kind of douchey, the type of place where people are more interested in looking for Hollywood celebrities than they are in the music. I rarely set foot in a club like that, but I would have taken it tonight. I would have put up with any level of douchiness in order to get lost in the pounding music, the movement of bodies on the dance floor, the burn of liquor down my throat.

Instead I find myself here—in a bar that looks like it was plucked from a spring break tourist town and transported to LA—eating the juiciest hamburger I’ve ever tasted while waiting for what appears to be a fiddle band to take the stage. At a bar owned by River Ransome’s grandmother.

The same River Ransome who has spent the past four months surreptitiously staring at me from behind the bar. Who has taken every opportunity he could to flirt with me. I figured he’d see tonight as the perfect chance to get into my pants—I’m clearly upset, willing to get drunk, in desperate need of forgetting my asshole ex. That’s like, prime player material right there, and I figured River would take advantage of it.

Instead, he took me to meet his grandmother.

Talk about surreal.

It’s also somewhat of a surprise to realize that I’m not having a bad time. The atmosphere out here on the patio, though nothing I would ever choose for myself, is undeniably fun. There’s no pressure at Ruby’s bar, no catty girls standing in corners gossiping about what you’re wearing. No creepy guys trying to grind up on me. No thirty-dollar cocktails with ingredient lists more complicated than most of my dinners.

There’s cold beer, good burgers, twinkle lights strung across the space, and lots of laughter.

And there’s River, sitting across from me, completely at ease. He’s not trying to impress me. He hasn’t propositioned me yet. And he didn’t push for more info when I told him I hadn’t grown up with my uncle.

It doesn’t hurt that he looks ridiculously good under the Edison bulbs and lanterns. The soft light gives his hair a more golden color and the blue of his eyes is darker. More than that, he looks comfortable in his own skin. He’s leaning back in his chair, one arm slung over the rungs of the chair beside him, oozing self-assurance in a way Kurt never could. Kurt was always obsessed with what people were thinking, how he could impress them. River, on the other hand, clearly couldn’t give a shit.

He also keeps casting me little glances that light up his entire face. He looks like a guy who can’t believe his good luck. Like sitting here with me on the night my whole world got rearranged—again—is some kind of great prize.

“This band is really good,” he tells me, pointing his beer bottle in the direction of the stage where a few musicians are milling around and tuning instruments.

I arch an eyebrow. “That guy has a fiddle, River.”

He grins, the skin around his gorgeous blue eyes crinkling a little. Huh. I never noticed that before. “I realize that, Jasmine. But I promise, they aren’t exactly what you expect.”

“You’ve seen them play?”

He takes a long pull of beer, nodding. “Sure. I’ve seen all the bands that play here. My grandparents are really into music so they’re pretty picky about the talent they bring in here. Only the best.”

“Your grandpa likes music too?”

He looks at me like he can’t tell if I’m joking or not. “Uh, yeah. You could say that.” He chuckles. “He was Ransom’s manager for years. And he’s one of the owners of the label.”

“Oh. Right.” I feel a little silly for not knowing that. Six Man Band Records is one of the biggest in the business. But River doesn’t seem put out by my lack of knowledge in his dad’s band. If anything, he looks pleased.

“Let me guess.” His smile grows. “You’re not a fan of Ransom, either?”

I hold his gaze. “You want the truth or you want me to lie?”

He throws his head back and laughs and I’m momentarily distracted by the movement of his throat.Jesus, Jasmine,I think.You’re getting turned on by a guy’s neck? What’s wrong with you?

“The truth,” River says. “Definitely the truth.”

I shrug. “I think of Ransom the same way I think of the Stones. I can appreciate the talent, but it’s not my jam.”

“Not electronic enough for you?”

“Basically.” He looks delighted. “You’re not offended?”

“Offended? Shit no.” He leans forward, folding his hands on the table. “It’s notmyband, Jasmine. I don’t care if you like them or not.” He chews on his lip. “It’s kind of nice, actually. Most of the girls who want to hang out with me are very into the band.”

I feel a pang of sympathy. That would suck, to wonder if the only reason the person you’re with wants to be with you is because of your famous family. Then again, River doesn’t seem to mind too much. Otherwise he wouldn’t hook up with so many randoms. The girls he brings home from Davie’s Pub don’t seem all that interested in getting to know the real him.

“Well,” I say, “I guess you got lucky tonight. Seeing as how I’m not a girl who has ever shown any interest in hanging out with you.”

He slams a hand over his chest, wincing dramatically. “You’re killing me, Jas.”