5. Lovesong.

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Still out of wits after his encounter and the accident, River struggles to find his keyhole after arriving home. The commotion coming from the kitchen, however, startles River when he finally slips inside his apartment. He idly looks down on the center-table to see boxes of Pizza, stacked high, with styrofoam plates and red cups littering the center table.

Smart enough to avoid James’ rowdy gang of friends, to get himself cleaned up and maybe join later, River carefully closes the front door behind him. By the time he makes it past the television, ready to turn into the hallway next to the kitchen, James pokes his head around.

“Hey! Glad you’re here, the guys are killing me for your spinach wraps.” James, seemingly a little buzzed off beer and Pizza, chuckles and River raises an eyebrow.

“Out of all the things I’ve made, they want the spinach wraps?”

“They play football and they all seem to have this crazy idea that spinach makes them big and strong enough to floor the other team.” James shrugs and River sighs, still upset he hadn’t turned the corner fast enough to avoid bumping into James—or anyone.

“I blame Olive.” River frowns and James tilts his head to the left, staring at his mate with a grin.

“I just had some pretzels. They taste like arse,” James slurs, and River nods with a nervous glance.

“Okay, so I will go freshen up.” River says, then walks off, but James stops him by gently nudging his arm.

“But the spinach wraps.” James whines, so River scoffs.

“I made like fifty of them the other day and packed some in the freezer. I knew this day would come, even though those were for your trip to England.” River doesn’t seem pleased at all. But James’ happiness always meant something to him. “Thank god for the munchies. Those things taste like ass.”

“Blasphemy.” James jokingly barks and River shakes his head. “Thanks.” James presses a kiss on River’s lips that surprises him.

Tasting the sweet, bitter flavor of beer on James’ tongue makes River more eager to shower and throw on some baggy sweats. To enjoy a beer or two, watching soccer that he loved with people cool enough to welcome him. A routine thing that became the norm until James’s big Montague Studios announcement. River wasn’t the only one who noticed how drastic the variances between past and present times could affect bonded relationships.

James ends the kiss, enjoying it a little too much, but the blush on River’s face confirms that they both do. “Are you going to join me and the boys after we eat? Liverpool is playing.”

“Cute, but Liverpool plays tomorrow. The Reggae Boys and England are playing tonight.” River grins cheekily, then walks down the dimly lit hallways towards the bathroom at the very end.

“I told you, you’d like soccer.” James smiles proudly.

“I’m still not going to admit it.” River shouts back, closing the bathroom door before giving James a quick wink.

Smiling, happy to be back in a better place with River, James taps the wall, lined with cypress crown molding. Still feeling a barrier between them, after the ordeal they faced. The debacle that almost ended everything they’d built after realizing they were more lovers than friends. Things could never be the same, when a sin as heavy as theirs hung above both their heads. Unresolved issues, feelings, and words not uttered enough to quell the insecurities conceived by their apprehension. Both parties guilty, both parties afraid of what could happen next.

“Yo, James.” A man in his early twenties, with sharp looks and a cleft nose, appears in the living room. “You good, bro?” Marcus Kean asks, a look of concern in his eyes.

“Yeah. Did I miss anything?” James asks and Marcus raises an eyebrow, then walks over. Reminding James that although he was buff, he was still a ways away from achieving the bulkiness of football players.

“You didn’t, but I got a feeling I’m the one missing something here.” Marcus prompts, breaking down any defense James has up. For Marcus was a resident psychologist, one the youngest in his class, with a good enough reputation.

James peers around the kitchen, confirming it was the shower running that he heard. “I’m not sure.” He sighs. “River and I-,”

“Are back together?” Marcus shows optimism, or rather hope for the best, but James shakes his head, disappointing the energy.

“Not back together, but we’re getting there. I don’t know.”

“Does this mean he forgives you for leaving your girlfriend to be with him, then cheating on him with your now ex-girlfriend which leads to you knocking her up?” Marcus asks, aware of the effect it would have on James.

“First, you’re an arse for that, but I’ll give it to you. It’s just-, just that. He seems to have forgiven me, but I still fear that he resents me just as much as Cassie did.”

“You got her pregnant, James. Just be glad he forgave you because that shit ain’t always the easiest thing to forget and that comes from trust.” Marcus taps James’ Shoulder, hoping to instill some strength in his best friend.

“I lied about England.” James confesses, which catches Marcus off-guard. “It’s supposed to be permanent since my father wants me to study business while partnering with the art foundation for the next two years.”

“Whoa, Mothafu-,” Marcus halts, catching his breath and his wits. “Two years? What the hell happened to six months? Shit! Even I know that’s going too far for you.” Marcus, the ever keen and ever moral friend, peers at James. Not shocked, but overwhelmed. “Wait a minute, does River know?” Concerned not only for James, Marcus narrows his gaze.

“He doesn’t, but-,” James tries to justify his truth, but gets cut off by Marcus.

“James, you’re digging yourself into an even bigger hole, bro, River loves you. Even puts up with your shit time after time, but you’re still lying to him.” Marcus grows disappointed, for the look on his face speaks margins of his discontent.

“Not lied, I just concealed the truth.” James peers away, guilty, oppressed by his own sins that keep piling up. “And I will tell him, he’s just been so elated about this new internship. I don’t want to distract him with something like this.”

“Well now, tell him.” Marcus slinks closer. “Your father is who he is, but that doesn’t mean you should sell out. You were preaching love to River all but weeks ago. What the hell, bro?”

“My father expects me to be more stable than I was before him finding me.” James adds and Marcus’ eyes narrow. “I thought leaving England would help me, but I was wrong. It made it far more complicated for my father to find me.” James explains, seemingly to veer off-subject.

“Man, I know you’re happy you found your dad and all. Happy for you myself, but I’m sure you don’t expect to ask how high when old dude tells you to jump.” Marcus’ voice trembles as he speaks, terrified that James seemed to decide based on what pleases his father.

“This is an enormous opportunity, Marcus. It isn’t something I intend to piss on.”

“Then you got to make a choice, right in the middle of this fallout with River. It’s bad enough you let him feel guilty for the breakup with Cassie, but you’re now punishing my boy by holding on to him?” Marcus asks, making it clear he was on River’s side, at least to James. “Haven’t you lead him on enough? Let him go, James.”

“I don’t have to do a damn thing, and I don’t intend to break up with River!” James retorts, out of wits and lacking any more patience. “Hurting him is something I won’t ever forgive myself for.” His face reddens in embarrassment. He expected Marcus to be straightforward, but such a high margin of truth was certain to hurt.

“There’s your problem, bro. You got to forgive yourself before you expect him to forgive you. Take a few weeks, put some space between you two and then you’ll know what place you both deserve to be at, aight?”

“I love him, Marcus. Leaving kills me and I want to ask him to come with me, but he has his own life, his own dreams that he deserves to pursue.” James paces the living room, unaware that idle ears could easily eavesdrop.

Unaware that River was right there, casually making his way to the bedroom as he’d forgotten a clean towel. Hearing everything, feeling every part of his heartbreak. Sick to his stomach with grief after making one of the hardest decisions he’d ever have to, River flees. Tiptoeing away, back to the bathroom, hoping to wash away his tears.

Marcus and James’ conversation carries on. Leading James up to one pivotal moment in his life. The revelation that a decision seemed imminent concerning where he’d end up or what he’d do to get there. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice his love for River, or the love he’d rip from his lover’s hands.

“That’s why you both need space. Speaking of space, there’s way too much between me and that fine ass lawyer of yours.” Marcus claps his palms together and James screws up his face.

“She likes men that lives in penthouses and wears lacy things for fun, not some preppy football player who sweats pizza grease and Gatorade.” James turns up his nose and Marcus waves him off. “Also, don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“You’re such a hater. Remember, you were eating sardine sandwiches made with stale ass bread with me and everyone else in that dorm room.” Marcus bites back, this time his voice more somber than before.

“I remember, and I won’t ever forget.” James promulgates, almost inaudible because of his overwhelming surge of emotions. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this trust fund nonsense.” James crosses his arms over his chest, expelling an aggrieved sigh. “It doesn’t mean I will forget the person I was before and after I met you.”

“Yeah, that’s nice, but I came here for the wraps and not to do my... thing.” Marcus says, excited yet a little addled, and James raises an eyebrow.

“Do you guys like his spinach wraps?” James asks, out of curiosity, and Marcus flashes him an incredulous look.

“Bro, we eat pumpkin seeds and drink Aloe Vera water during training. These spinach wraps are the closest thing we’ll get to gourmet and coach gave us the go-ahead.” Marcus speaks, gesturing to his bulky footballer frame. “Maybe that’s why you flunked out of football. Not enough fast food.” Marcus gives James a pitying glance, feigning disappointment.

“Fair point.” James shrugs and heads towards the fridge. “Also, I stopped playing football when I realized I could follow my dreams.”

“Bra, you flunked out because you found an uncomplicated way out of doing it the complicated way. That’s called daddy’s money.” Marcus taps James’ shoulders with both palms, then brushes past him to roam the refrigerator.

“Way to make me feel better, jackass.” James rolls his eyes.

Twenty minutes later, the game was in its second inning, and River still hadn’t joined James and the guys. Concerned, James wanders out of the living room to find River standing at the enormous window of their apartment. Overlooking North Brooklyn. His mind somewhere else, with his body still. Left hand clasped over his chest, with a Beer bottle in his right clutch.

River had been down-spirited since coming home from his day. Although he had exclaimed excitement for his interview. He soon reverted to his moody self, even before watching the game with the boys.

“Wanna talk about it?” James asks, walking up to River.

He turns around facing James, perplexed and absentminded. “I’m fine, James, just nervous about my interview tomorrow morning.” River dismisses and James’s face hardens.

James knew he had to allow River to deal with things on his own, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t that kind of partner. He however felt terrible for using River the way he did, knowing that things would only become inordinately complicated. They had a wonderful thing, but James had changed it—all because of his selfish desires.

“Ok, we don’t have to talk about it.” James nods, wrapping one arm around River’s shoulder from behind. “But I’m here for you if you do.” He promises, kissing River’s temple gently.

River places his drink down on the windowsill, then turns around to wrap his arms around James’s neck. “You’re always there for me,” River whispers, and James smiles lopsidedly.

“I’ll always be,” James says, but sadness clouds River’s glimmering gray orbs.

“Don’t make promises you know you can’t keep,” River suggests, resting his head against James’s chest. Listening to the slow and steady beat of his heart pumping in his broad chest. “You have an opportunity, and you’re taking it.” River speaks, still pressed up against him.

James scowls in reaction. But only because River was right. He hated it and loathed leaving, but he had to accept it. Just as River had, only the look in River’s eyes when they discussed it spoke a language that River was too gentle to divulge.

Never had he been selfish to keep James all to himself, even though he wanted to. Many obstacles stood in their way, and the questions were yet to begin. Neither of them were ready for the changes about to take precedence in their lives. Yet, they couldn’t force it to bend to their yearning.

“Fun fact, I was rear-ended by some rich idiot on his phone today.” River announces and before he knew it, James was glaring down at him, concerned.

“Wait. What?” Incredulous, James takes a step back, arms still atop River’s shoulders. “Are you ok? Did you get hurt?”

Warmed, River chuckles and reaches towards James’ cheeks with a warm left palm. “I’m ok, you big oaf. Insurance took care of it. Thank god I don’t have to see the moron’s face anymore.”

“Bloody hell, you didn’t call me. Why didn’t you call me?” James grows agitated, for his eyes are still wide and his mouth trembles.

“The dent was kinda bad, but I will take it to the shop tomorrow, after my interview. Relax, this guy looks rich enough to buy my car and ten more if he wants to play roller derby on one of his football fields,” River rolls his eyes, shrugging as he steps away from James to walk towards the fridge. “Plus, he gave me twenty-five hundred bucks.”

“No way,” James proffers, bottom lip hanging to the floor.

“Yes way.”

“Are you fine? Do you have a headache?”

“I don’t.” River groans in response as he discards his empty beer bottle in the recycling trashcan.

“You should have called me. Don’t ever just leave me out of things like this.” James pleads and River blushes fiercely.

“Ok.” River whispers, allowing James to kiss him, slowly, exploring familiar territory until he pulls away.

Their eyes meet, and their loins grow heated with need. River took slow, steady steps away from James, who is closing the distance between them.

“Your friends?” River asks tauntingly, and James feels his groin quiver and his manhood harden.

“We’ll make it quick,” James’ husky voice makes the promise too hard to decline when he finally pulls River in again.

He then clamps his palms against River’s cheeks. Brushing lips against lips heartily, as their bodies ignite with a scintillating rush. James deepens the kiss, and River returns it with a galling enthusiasm met with James’ savage moan. Before he can blink, River gets gently guided to the bed, his eyes wide with indulgence and angst. He was feening for James to be one with him. James wanted the same thing. The thing written in his eyes like a love letter and takes over his body like puppet strings. Hands perfectly tender the way they rake over River’s perfectly toned body, outlining every curve, every rise and fall of his chest. Exquisite, much like the art he produces.

Without another second to waste, James crawls between River’s legs, grasping his much smaller hands over his head. James’ stubbled cheek brushes against River’s chin, and a moan erupts from his lips, as James trails kisses to his shoulder blades. James then buries his face into River’s neck, even more aroused by a scent that River always wears. Only this time, it pushes him off the edge, and he takes the dive headfirst. Suckling, leaving affable, teasing bites, as his mouth travels down to River’s hairless chest.

He traces the healed scars on River’s chest, moving to the other side to trail the other identical one. River flings his head back, feeling James’ flesh pressing against his, crushing him into the sheets and mattress. A cry leaving River’s lips, as his body buckles and shivers once James’ slick, rubber-sheathed manhood moves inside him.

James grunts in approval when River’s pelvis grinds against him in a circular motion, pulling him deeper. Driving him wild with desire, that heightens by the second as River’s back arches. James’ heated lips pass over his raw, rigid nipples and River grips the broad, sweaty shoulder blade with his teeth, gently suckling on the salty-sweet taste of James’ flesh. Sending flares of tension and a desperate need for release, surging through them both like a million bolts of electricity.

“James,” River whispers as James penetrates him, deep and spasming.

“I love you so much.” James responds, winding his waist, enjoying the feel of River wrapped around him.

River’s eyes fly open, gazing up to see James looking down at him, and there is nothing but raw passion written on his face. River’s cheeks burn fiercely, and his body twists to position himself when James raises the pace. Slamming harder, relishing the control he’s given, the permission granted by River’s love-song. Lyrics whispered, screamed, or expelled through involuntary means. It wasn’t magic, but close, for the way their bodies reacted to each other, excites them both. It was hard to stop, hard to quit when it felt so right, when it was just what they both needed to come down.

“I love you too,” River cries out when his orgasm creeps up on him, spilling from his body like a broken faucet. Luckily, the look of pure ecstasy on his face as he lets go, elevates James’ own fervor. Forcing him to give in to the exploding feeling that surmounts inside his most delicate area.

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