Page 11 of Stroke Rate

Chapter nine

Chris

The two men walked to the restaurant without speaking, the comfortable silence charged with an energy Chris had never felt before. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was pregnant, poignant, and heavy. In these kinds of situations, Chris’ usual reaction was to fill the void with chatter, anything to not feel the awkwardness of silence. But the longer they walked, the longer the hush between them drew out, the more tranquil Chris felt. They exchanged smiles, brushed arms, and their fingers lightly touched; Chris’ intuition told him that being in the company of others should always be like that. Comfortable. A weird, innate sensation whispered to him that every touch he had experienced ‌in the past had guided him to where he stood now. Led him to River. Led him to River’s kind eyes and gentle hands that exuded a calming energy, soothing Chris’ lifetime of frayed nerves.

Even though the silence was calming, Chris still longed to hear more of River’s stuttering voice; he liked it. He liked that River seemed a little uneasy, so unlike any other coach that had ever approached him. River wasn’t all confidence and prowess; his body language and demeanor screamed uncertainty, and his lack of finesse had quickly captured Chris’ attention.

Chris felt River's gaze on him as they approached the restaurant. He glanced up and saw River's intent stare and a bright pink flush spreading up his neck; his smile almost a grimace, eyes crinkled at the edges, making him look uncomfortable. River's anxious energy was so potent, Chris could practically feel it humming in the air.

“You okay? Your face is really pink,” he teased, his dimple pulled in as he smirked.

“I-I-I’m okay. Are you okay?” River peered down at him. Chris watched as River took his plump bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a pinch, and he couldn't watch River abuse his lip another second. He reached up and plucked River’s fingers off his mouth, letting his thumb linger over the freckled pink skin a bit too long. River didn't seem bothered, instead allowing Chris to rub soothing swipes across his mouth.

River’s body relaxed under the touch, his eyes brightened as he leaned into Chris’ caress. He was soft, warm, seeming as if he wanted to melt into the touch. Did River want that? Letting his hand drop, Chris watched River lick his swollen bottom lip, making it shine with spit.

“I’m sorry.” River whispered, “I, I’m nervous. This whole situation makes me super nervous.”

“It’s fine, I’m nervous too.” Chris gripped River’s forearm, getting more comfortable every time their skin touched. The entire situation still felt unsafe as Chris’ mind and body crashed silently, his brain warned of danger while his body craved more contact.

“You are?” River said.

“Yeah, River, what if you don’t like me and don’t want to coach me?”

River scoffed as if that would never be a possibility. “It’s fine. We are fine. You are doing great. So let’s go in there, eat some meat and talk, okay?”

Chris gave River the most reassuring smile he could muster, nodding towards the door. “After you, Sir.” Chris chuckled; his eyes fixed on the deepening flush creeping up River’s neck as they walked into the restaurant.

Chapter ten

River

Chris' fingers on his mouth ‌stunned River—he had just reached up and plucked River's lip out of his nervous pinch. A tic he had developed as an uncertain little boy, who wasn't always able to say what he wanted to. His mom had bugged him about it for years. “¡Basta! ¡Ya!” Stop that, she would say as she ‌plucked his fingers from his mouth.

The touch brought old memories flooding back. Memories River had tried to keep in a box, too painful and still too raw to deal with. He missed his mom so fucking much. She was his safe space, his comfort, and his biggest support until the day she died. Later, when Coop came into his life and noticed the tic, he would take River’s hand in his own, link their fingers, and give him a little squeeze—a gentle reminder to quit the act. Then Coop was gone. It had been so long since anyone had touched him in that way after noticing his little tic. Being seen in that way again made the back of his eyes burn and his chest tender.

Chris, whom he had just met, saw it. Maybe saw him? River watched in slow-motion as Chris released his lip and stroked over it with his thumb. He wanted to melt into that touch; he wanted to suck that thumb into his mouth and swirl his tongue around it, tasting Chris’ skin. Instead, he stood there blushing as sweat dripped down his neck, most likely looking like one of those bulging-eyed goldfish. Dumb, with a gaping mouth, looking lost, swimming in circles around its bowl.

Chris then grabbed his arm and told him he was fine; calling him "Sir" as he grinned that adorable, infuriating smirk before bursting into laughter. Fucking laughed, and a tiny little dimple appeared at the bottom of his cheek; looking as if he had been holding a secret with his lips quirked that way. River had to hold himself back from leaning in and kissing the tender smile off his face, from licking into that little dimple.

“And for you, sir?” A woman’s voice pulled River out of his thoughts.

“Ummm what?”

“Drink, what would you like to drink?”

“Iced tea, please,” he said.

Chris elbowed him, that dimple playing on his face again. “Just an iced tea? You seem like you need a drink. Something to help you relax?”

“Oh, I don’t drink, so no, just an iced tea.” The waitress winked at him.

“I'll take a Dr. Pepper, and we need a minute to look through the menu. Please.” The woman nodded and said she would be back in a bit to grab their order.

“You don’t drink?”

“Nope, my dad was an addict, and honestly, it just doesn’t agree with me. Alcohol makes me nervous; I don’t need help with that. I get super-hot and flushed; I don’t need help with that either.” He could feel said flush start again. “Alcohol also messes with my speech. Again, I don’t need help with that. So I just d-don’t,” he stammered, which forced River to pause before continuing. “Also, I’m old, and a hangover in your thirties is not like in your twenties. Seriously, put me out to pasture. I’d rather die than be nauseous with a headache for three days. Hard pass, zero out of ten, do not recommend.”

“Oh, okay, cool. Well, I don’t drink either, but I love Dr. Pepper.” He winked again and rubbed his belly. “I’m going to apologize in advance for what I’m going to order, how I'm going to stuff my face. Don’t be alarmed by my eating habits.” Chris made an eeekk face, mouth pulled out wide, eyes exaggeratedly large. River couldn’t help but laugh. Chris’ eyes were pools of blue and sparkled with humor as he looked back at River, and all he wanted to do was drown in them. So much trouble.