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River’s eyebrows pull together into his customary angry-pensive expression. “Did he say anything?”
“Are you asking if we had a nice chat? A little stroll down memory lane, back to the days when I used to have regular meltdowns at school and he used to have to come save me?” Man, I am fired up tonight and not in the mood to deal with any more bullshit.
River blinks a bunch of times, his lips thinning. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a public panic attack. I’ve learned how to control the cyclical thoughts and physical breakdowns until I’m alone. It’s easier to fall apart when no one’s looking.
“You two haven’t seen each other for more than a couple of minutes in years. You must’ve talked about something,” Maverick presses, a hint of disbelief in his tone.
“It’s not grill-Lavender time,” I announce. “I’ve had a day, and the last thing I need is the two of you getting on me about Kodiak, when you and Mav are the goddamn reason I needed a ride yesterday in the first place! I wouldn’t have been in a damn rush if you hadn’t taken my car, and then I wouldn’t have broken my glasses and needed to go home and get new ones.”
“Shit, calm down. It was just a couple of questions,” Maverick gripes.
“My car is being detailed, and I’m getting it back in the morning,” River offers.
“How nice for you.”
Mav cocks a brow. “You really are in a mood.”
“Yeah, well, I just came from a three-hour macroeconomics class, so I think I have a right to be.”
BJ makes a face, and River scrunches up his nose. “Why are you taking economics?”
“I don’t know! I didn’t think I was. I thought it was folklore, not a math course in disguise, and then I get there and they might as well be speaking a whole different language.”
“So go to the registrar’s in the morning and see if you can get it switched. I mean, it has to be some kind of mistake, right?” River has resumed playing Xbox, so he doesn’t even bother to look away from the TV as he speaks.
“I should’ve said screw it and pushed for living on campus.” I whirl around, done with this conversation.
“You’d hate the dorms. You’d have to share a bathroom,” Mav calls. “Shark week would be a nightmare!”
I fire the bird over my shoulder on the way out of the living room and make a stop in the kitchen for a box of Lucky Charms. I stomp up to the third floor and my loft in the attic. Like every room in this house, it’s huge and spacious, but it has the added benefit of angled ceilings and skylights and a balcony that overlooks the backyard.
I close my door, put my earbuds in, and shove my hand into the box of cereal, picking through it for all the marshmallows. I derive an inexplicable amount of gratification from eating them all and then putting the box back for my brothers.
I consider texting Lovey and Lacey since we have a group chat, but it’s already ten thirty, and I have to be up early in the morning.
I stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, trying not to let myself fall back into memories I don’t want.
I’m saved from myself by a knock at the door. I know it’s River because he raps twice, pauses for a second, and raps once more before repeating the sequence—like a heartbeat.
I sigh. Looks like I’m not getting out of a conversation that easily. “It’s open.” I lock it before I go to sleep every night.
The doorknob turns, and he pokes his head in. He waits until I wave him over. River is tall, so he has to stay in the middle of the room to avoid hitting his head on the slanted ceilings. He’s very much a hybrid of our parents. He has our dad’s dark hair, but our mom’s waviness. His eyes are hazel, and he and I share the same mouth, but he has our dad’s nose.
Where Maverick is rugged, GQ modelesque, River is . . . pretty. He’s obviously masculine, but his angles aren’t as severe. Everything about his face is softer, which contradicts his personality. And because he’s constantly scowling, he looks like he wants to murder the entire world, but he’d be pretty doing it.
River crosses the room and stands beside my bed, scrutinizing me. I scoot over and pat the empty space. He sits and stretches out, his massive body taking up more than half of my queen-sized mattress.
“No houseguests tonight?” I decide to break the heavy silence with humor.
“I have an early class, and practice tomorrow.”
“How responsible of you.” I tip the box of cereal in his direction.
“I’m good.”
I shove my hand in the box, fishing around for a marshmallow. They’re getting harder to find.
