River and Abbey Draft 1

Chapter 4

Without looking, Abbey dumped the plate on the table. And then the wineglass next to it, in a completely random position. Then she moved on.

Behind her, River straightened the placemat, adjusted the wineglass, and shifted the plate so that it wasn't dangling in such a precarious position. For the fifteenth time.

"Is something wrong?" he asked quietly, after a while.

"Everything's just fine," Abbey replied coldly. River didn't pry, and for some reason, that made her mad. They went on in this fashion for a while, her haphazardly setting tables for lunch and River, cleaning up her mess.

When they were done, she made to leave. River stopped her.

"Your session today will be with Nicholas," he said.

Abbey rounded on him. "Where are you going?"

"I have other duties," he said. Before she could say another word, he turned around and wheeled the cart back to the kitchen. He left her. Her anger threatened to boil over, and it was hard to resist the urge to sink a knife into his slender neck, but she settled with stalking off. As though he even noticed that.

River wasn't at fault for what happened at the club. But he was lying to her about who he was. Whenever she closed her eyes, the image of him in the dress would swim up, the dress that came up to his knees, hugging his slim frame, close-cropped hair all disheveled and glittery, face arranged in the most open smile she'd ever seen on him. The smile he'd never ever let her see. Not even the hint of it.

Which frankly wasn't unreasonable, but all the same, her heart thudded a little slower in her chest.

And Nicholas. The memory of him offering his warm hand in a gesture of friendship twisted like a knife, morphing into him laughing with Gel and River by his side, all of them, together, driving her away.

She met him in the ballroom, the same place she always met River. He was humming to himself, polishing a knife with earbuds in his ears. He looked up as she entered, pulled the buds out of his ears, and waved hello.

There must have been something on her face, because Nicholas stopped humming. As she approached, he stood up and backed up a few steps, hands in the air like he was surrendering. Abbey had to give it to him. He was astute.

"Hey," he said. "If this is about what happened-"

"What happened?" she asked innocently. "You only refused to let Eric and I enter the club. Why would I be pissed off about that?"

"Precisely." He seemed relieved that she understood, and wiped mock sweat off his brow, which made her feel like she'd swallowed a rock. "I'm sorry about that, by the way. I was drunk."

"I've only got thirty minutes," she said shortly. "Let's get on with the lesson, shall we?"

He gave her an odd look, but said nothing.

So they began, but five minutes in, Nicholas dropped everything and crossed his arms.

"You're obviously mad," he said. "Want to tell me about it?"

"Not really, no."

"It has something to do with us, doesn't it? I don't need to read minds to know that." Then he paused, like he'd said something he shouldn't have.

"Gee, I wonder how you realized." She sighed, giving up the game. "I followed you. At the club."

She could read his face well enough to know he was keeping it carefully blank. Rare, for Nicholas, who usually let his emotions canter like horses across the wide open plain of his face. "What did you see?"