Follow the River

“It has nothing to do with you two specifically. I’ve seen something just like this with a couple of my friends back in Michigan,” he tells me. “Passion is passion. All-consuming, raw, and even toxic at times. It’s all in how you decide to harness it that establishes the line between love and hate.” He pauses, tapping his fingers twice against the bar before grabbing my own hand to force it into silence.

He’s always tried his best to let me cope that way, but I know it a

“Sorry,” I tell him, putting my hands in my pant pockets.

“Don’t let it make you anxious. Stop fighting it. There’s no use being afraid of it.”

I scoff. “I’m not afraid of love or passion.”

T bites his lip and nods, but it’s one of those that he gives me when he’s thinking you’re so full of shit and we both know it.

“I’m not.”

“Sure you are, Riv. I don’t blame you for it either. Did you forget I watched you go through your parents divorce once you came out? What you thought was a marriage built to withstand the most brutal storms was blown to smithereens the second a tiny little gust of wind hit.

“And worst of all, your dad decided you weren’t worth being his son anymore, as if being bisexual was a lifestyle choice when we should know by now it’s who you are in your damn DNA. So the day your dad walked out on you? He proved his love was conditional.”

I clear my throat, attempting to work the knot that lodges itself there out. “And what does this have to do with me and Rain?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re afraid of love, knowing what it feels like to have what you thought was unconditional love ripped away. Turning your life upside down in the process. River, you’re afraid of loving someone, only for them to not love you enough to stay.”

Shit. If he didn’t just read me like a damn book.

“When did you become such a fucking expert?”

He laughs at that. “You forget, my friend. You and I are the same side of the same coin, just etched a little differently.”

I nod, knowing the truth behind his statement. Though we didn’t grow up exactly the same, Taylor always had it a little rougher than I did. Even with a superstar NFL player for a father.

Or maybe because of that.

“Look, man. The point I’m trying to make is to not be afraid. If you are, you’ll never be able to end up on the same side of the line as Rain. The right side this time.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible with us,” I shake my head. “It’s been a week since we stopped clawing each other’s eyes out. This can’t be anything more than sex.”

“Love, passion, desire. None of it has a timeline, man. Again, you know this.”

I sigh, hating the logic in his argument. “There’s so much more in play here. So much he’s keeping close to the chest. I don’t…I don’t even know if he knows where he falls, you know? He’s definitely not out.”

“In this case, I don’t think it matters, Riv.”

My brows furrow. “What makes you say that?”

He grins and looks up and over to where Siena and Rain sit. I follow his gaze, finding the two of them are watching us intently.

And the grin on Rain’s face…fuck.

“Because he looks at you the exact same way you look at him,” he says simply, keeping his eyes on them. “With the same kind of passion.”