Lavender Haze

Chapter 2

Of course it's River St. James standing in front of me. Sure, his hair is longer, grazing his ears, tousled and perfect, and he is sporting a blond stubble that suits him more than I should be noticing right now, but no doubt in my mind this is the man I've hooked up with at Cassie's wedding (and if I hadn't recognized his looks, his name would have tipped me off, because how many River St. James are there in New York?!). My heart is pounding so violently against my ribcage, trashing madly like I've spent the last five days doing cocaine in the blood-splattered, dirty stall of a New Jersey gas station, and I'm afraid I'm going to faint as I wait for understanding to dawn in River's grey eyes.

But that never happens.

He looks at me like I'm just a stranger having coffee with his mother. And that's even more humiliating than acknowledging the fact that we had sex at his cousin's wedding as people were busy eating a golden-coloured cake two years ago. Everything happened so quickly that day. How we hit it off, how I told myself it was fine to let him take me inside the house and have his wicked way with me. Not that I didn't enjoy it. Or that I didn't want it. I was all too happy to let his hands and mouth roam over my body. I was a little less happy when I received the call from the nursing home and had to flee the wedding like a goddamn Mafia Boss before the FBI can storm his office and put cuffs around his wrists. When the dust had finally settled down, and my life had returned back to its regular boringness, it had been two weeks from Cassie's wedding and what was I supposed to do? Stalk social media to find River when he had made no effort to find me? It wasn't like we promised each other anything after that single hookup. He didn't ask for my number just like I didn't ask for his. He didn't say he wanted to take me for a date or see me again or even hinted that was a possibility.

And if I know men, I also know they don't want to introduce to their mothers the woman they had sex with on their great, great, great grandpa's mahogany desk at their cousin's wedding but keep her very far from them. Only rehash the story when it's time to brag about sexscapades with the bros. So of course it wasn't shocking that River hadn't wasted any time pursuing me. But it is beyond offensive that he doesn't even remember me. How many times did he bang a stranger over his however-many-great-grandpa's desk?

"Pleasure to meet you," River says, shaking my limp hand in his, a scowl painted on his face. I don't even know when I offered it, but I'm glad autopilot took over.

Hardly, I swallow the lump in my throat and say, "My pleasure."

Just then River's phone starts blearing. He plucks it out of his pocket, stares at the screen for ten seconds before announcing, "I'm sorry. This is such an asshole thing to do, but I have to take this. I'll be right back." At least one thing hasn't change, I think, at least he still knows he's an asshole.

Macey looks apologetically at me when River walks away and exits the café altogether. "I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head.

"No apologies needed," I guarantee, even if I think River owes me a big one. The fact that he's so easily forgotten me is a big hit on my ego. And I didn't expect him to cry over me or anything, okay, but just – remember my fucking face? Yeah, I think that's the bare minimum to do.

When River comes back, nearly five minutes later, he's holding a mug in on hand and his phone in the other. Macey has just excused herself to use the lady's room, which means I'm suddenly alone with the one guy I decided to hook up with two years ago and who has zero recollection of my existence. Great day to be Astrid Clarke.

"I'm going to be honest and cut straight to the chase," River says, sitting down. "This is hardly a good fit."

"Excuse me?"

"I've taken the meeting to please my mother," he goes on, undeterred. "You're" – he casually moves a hand in my general direction, like he's willing his words to take a less offensive tone – "A novice. And I need someone ballsy. Someone who'll get shit done."