Chasing River

La tour De France

part 1

IDECIDED as of yesterday evening that I would do my best to keep my distance from boys like RK. They’re no good privileged pricks with a superiority complex who have been placed on a pedestal all their lives, think that money gets them everywhere and that they have the right to treat others like they’re inferior. I would like to say that River merely thinks he’s a king, but he is. From what I’ve heard from the students, the school worships the ground he walks on, and no one knows why. He is the golden boy of St Kathrine’s. When he says jump, everyone asks how high. He can do no wrong in their eyes. I barely know anything about him. All I know so far is that he only speaks when spoken to, is incredibly reserved and under no circumstances does he ever utter a single word about his personal life. River had quite the peculiar accent. Some people had said he was English, because he harboured a slight London accent when he spoke English. Other people insisted he was French because he spoke it so naturally as if he’d lived there all his life. Nevertheless, River Kennedy remained a mystery, an unsolved mystery that I refused to get myself lost in.

Keomi and I were doing our homework in our room when we heard a knock on the door. Keomi immediately jumped up and unlocked it, letting Geneviève in. She and Keomi were going shopping that day so they could catch up. Geneviève looked stunning as always, wrapped in a blue Oscar De La Renta floral dress and, God knows, how many carats around her neck.

‘Are you ready?’ She asked Keomi, and Keomi gave her a look that suggested that she forgot.

“Umm, I will be..” Keomi murmured,

“Don’t tell me that you forgot?” Gene gasped, “We planned this days ago,”

‘I’m sorry, Gene, Armani and I got a tad bit carried away. Just give me 5 minutes, and I’ll be good as new!’ She exclaimed, grabbing some clothes and running into the bathroom.

‘Hey,’ I said, hoping to get on her good side this time, even though I secretly envied her.

‘Hello, how’s your project going?’ She asked, and I noticed that she was trying to be civil this time.

‘I’m still not sure what I’m going to paint, but I’m sure It’ll come to me,’ I sighed, and she rolled her eyes.

“You cannot go through life with an attitude of procrastination. If you do, there will always be someone else far more prepared ahead of you.” Gene groaned, “Especially at a competitive school like this one,”

Geneviève De La Fontaine was the complete opposite of me. She was far from impulsive, she was determined, filterless and had a rather radioactive tongue. I could understand why that made her a great artist. Her imagination must be running at a thousand miles per hour. I originally thought Geneviève was just a mean girl, I’d come across many of those in my lifetime, but I often felt like she was simply misunderstood. That perhaps she was just hurting and defending the memory of her friend in the only way she knew how.

‘River asked me to tell you something.’ She murmured under her breath. At the mention of his name, my heart began to thud in my chest.

‘I don’t want to hear anything he has to say,’ I replied, and she was taken aback. She was obviously oblivious to the fact that he was awful to me the other day. ‘Not right now, at least, I’m sorry.”

‘Wow, really?’ She scoffed in disbelief. Almost as if she couldn’t fathom that someone didn’t want to hear from River. ‘Tu es une garce.’ She cursed.

‘I’m not a bitch, Geneviève . I just can’t think about River right now,’ I responded honestly, and she nodded slowly.

‘D’accord, but he really wanted me to tell you this, and I don’t take orders from you, so I’ll tell you anyway.’ She sighed, taking a seat on my bed.

‘He wanted me to tell you that, and I quote, Saturday, be there.’ She said, and I sighed, collapsing my head onto my desk. Does he really think I’d go see him even after he treated me the way he did?

‘Stop being such a baby, River is complicated, and since you’re so adamant on not leaving him alone, you better just grow accustomed to it. I’m sure that if he put your ass down, he either didn’t mean it, or you deserved it.’ Geneviève taunted just as Keomi came out of the bathroom. She looked gorgeous.

‘Let’s go. See you later, Armani,’ Keomi said, waving goodbye.

‘I’ll see you around,’ I replied, and then they were gone.

As night crept over, I begun to feel that thing again, that thing I felt the day I’d spontaneously decided to waltz into a strange bookstore at 3 AM. Something was telling me that I had to see River tonight and that I’d regret it if I didn’t. What River Kennedy needed was to be treated the exact same way he treated others. He was used to getting exactly what he wanted out of people just by flashing them those damn blue eyes that drowned you till you couldn’t speak. Not this time. I was going to ignore him. Make him wait, he wanted me to meet him at 9 PM, and It was 9:15. It’ll take me about another 15 minutes to get to Parc Monceau from here, and that should give him enough time to think about the extent of his actions.

I put on my red trench coat and headed out. The air was chilly all around me. The streets bustled with people laughing, drinking and having fun on that eventful Saturday night. There’s a reason why Paris is called the city of lights & it’s because you’re always able to find life even in what seems like a graveyard, light even in the darkness. When I arrived at Parc Monceau, I looked around. It was beautiful. The evergreen trees bowed to the summer wind as I passed by, and as the starry night sky reflected in the water– I couldn’t help but feel so alive.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ River’s voice boomed knocking me out of my trance.

‘In my dorm, where I should be after the way you treated me yesterday, that was not okay,’ I dictated, making it clear that I wouldn’t tolerate this bullshit from him anymore.

‘Did I maim your fragile little feelings?’ He mocked, and I let out a chuckle in disbelief. “What a pity.”

‘You’re an ass River Kennedy.’ I cursed. I never cursed out loud. He was already fucking with my head.

‘That’s exactly what I wanted, for you to be angry, annoyed- anything but that pathetic blissful grin you have on your face all the time.’ He told me, and I paused at first in confusion, but kept walking away from him.

‘Not good enough!’ I shouted back.

‘Do you think that I’m going to chase you?’ River scoffed incredulously, ‘Because I will not.’

‘Good,’ I replied, walking further away from him. “That makes all of this so much easier.”

Just then, his footsteps began to follow me, just like I knew they would.

‘What the hell do you want me to say?’ He asked, and I stopped and turned to face him, frustrated.

‘I want you to admit that you were completely fucking wrong, River. I want you to apologize.’ I professed, and he stiffened, tightening his jaw. He remained silent, his tall, dark silhouette in an almost inhumane stillness. If he felt anything, he sure as hell wasn’t letting it show.

‘Okay, that’s fine, stay silent, you won’t mind if I leave and we never speak to each other again?’ I retorted. I knew that my words meant nothing and that they were spilling out of me like word vomit.

River then looked down, he disarmed himself, and I could almost see a brick falling out of the wall he’d built around himself. He took a deep, strangled breath.

‘Let’s just talk, okay?’ He sighed, and I knew that’d be the most I’d get out of him tonight. Perhaps in his own way, he saw his wrong. That’s all I could hope for.

‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’ I remarked sarcastically, ‘And of course, we can,’

We took a walk through the park in silence at first, admiring the scenery. Parc Monceau was undeniably beautiful, with tall ancient-looking arcs and black and gold gates concealing it. There was a carousel with reds, pinks and whites hidden amongst a grove of tall elderly oaks that’d bent over as if to greet us. I glanced over at River. He didn’t seem to be as entranced by our surroundings as I was. He wasn’t looking at Parc Monceau. He was looking down at me.

‘So, will you do it?’ I asked, ‘Will you teach me?’

‘Depends…’ he anticipated, his voice slow and sweet like melting honey.

‘On what?’ I wondered impatiently.

‘If you’re willing to stop being such a smart ass.’ He told me, and I sighed, learning that he couldn’t help but be an asshole. “Despite whatever you may believe, you don’t actually know everything.”

“And you do?” I retorted and he gives me a weak smirk,

“I know enough.” He concluded, his eyes twinkling in the cunning moonlight.

‘So let me get this straight, in your eyes, A woman being outspoken makes her a smart ass?’ I scoffed, and his eyes gleamed with mischief,

‘No, unfortunately, that’s just you.’ He quipped, leaning in close enough that I could make out his earthy scent.

‘Whatever, do we have a deal?’ I asked, reaching my hand out to shake his, but he just glared at me.

‘Only if you tell me something that no one else knows about you.’ River requested, and I stopped in my tracks.

‘You want my grown-ass to tell you a secret?’ I asked with a slight laugh.

‘Call it whatever you want, but as I said– I want to know who you are when no one’s watching.’

‘I’m just an artist, like everyone else.’ I insisted.

‘You’re more than that, and you fucking know it.’ He persisted, and I sighed, racing through my memory files to find something real to tell him. “Modesty is an unconvincing disguise on you.”

‘How do I know I can trust you?’ I quirked, and he rolled his perfect blue eyes.

‘You don’t.’ He disclosed. “That’s exactly what makes this rather amusing.”

“River, all you’re doing is playing games–” I refuted, slightly insulted,

“Oh, but Armani, you are my favourite one.” He gloated, looking at me in a way that ignited something deep within me. “I roll the dice, and every result is in my favour….”

“Roll again.” I teased, “You might not be as lucky this time around.”

“Unlikely. So tell me, what’s the one thing that nobody knows about you?”

I sighed, taking a seat on a bench between a grove of trees and statues. ‘I’m not who my parents think I am .’

He burst out laughing. For the first time since I’d met River Kennedy, he was laughing– nevertheless, like my secret was a joke to him.

‘What the hell?’ I spat, folding my arms.

‘That’s not what you really wanted to tell me.’ He dismissed, lifting an eyebrow condescendingly.

‘You really think you know me, River, but the secret is that I have none,’ I told him, and he stopped laughing.

‘Is that so?’

“Yes, it is. I have been an open book all my life, hell– I mean, you even said so yourself that my every emotion is written on my face for everyone to see. I am an open book because before Paris, I had not lived yet. My life has only just begun.” I explained to him in the hopes that It’d make sense.

‘Why?” he asked in confusion,

“Because I have had my eye on the prize, I have been far too focused to be…distracted.”

“Am I distracting you?” He asked, trying his very best to appear doe-eyed and innocent, and when I was immediately gobsmacked, he let out a soft laugh.

‘Right.’ he concluded ‘A deal’s a deal.’

At that moment, there was an element of vulnerability in his voice, and I could tell it made him uncomfortable to be open with people like that. Open with me like that. But, on that day, River Kennedy allowed me a glimpse at the one thing that he’d never let anyone see…himself.

The fall leaves crackled beneath my boots as Fabian, Merilla and I headed to our first class of the day, English. Which was taken incredibly seriously because it wasn’t a lot of people’s first language here in France. It hurt me that English was my first language and not Swahili. Mama always scolded me about how I never made an effort to properly learn my mother tongue. And I always felt a cloud of shame looming over me every time we visited Nairobi, I felt like a foreigner on my own soil and like everyone was secretly judging me for not being Kenyan enough.

Then once I moved to the United States, it was almost the complete opposite. I wasn’t American enough. I was often mistaken for being African-American to which I had to politely correct to just…African. When I was younger, I had quite a heavy Kenyan accent which my primary school teachers did a good job of white-washing till I was ‘articulate’ enough for them. I made an effort to do as much research as I could about my country, be it by watching old films in Swahili, memorizing the map of Kenya, learning how to cook traditional foods in the kitchen with my mother or simply just looking in the mirror and acknowledging who I am and where I came from. Every time I visited home, I made sure to appreciate the little things as much as possible. Whether it was watching Auntie Zahra make her delicious sakuma wiki or having my grandmother tell me traditional stories beside the fire. It was becoming increasingly difficult to deny that my heart yearned for my home every day, but I knew that greater things awaited me in Paris.

‘Hey Armani, are you okay?’ Fabian asked, placing a hand on my shoulder, ‘You kinda zoned out there.’

‘Oh, I’m fine, don’t worry about me,’ I replied with a crooked smile, feeling slightly flustered,

‘Did you do the English homework madame assigned?’ Merilla asked, pulling out a wide-rimmed pink folder from her backpack,

‘Of course, I never miss assignments,’ I assured her, and she rolled her eyes playfully,

‘Of course, you wouldn’t. You’re… like perfect.’ Fabian smiled, and I chuckled,

“Perfect?” I snorted, thinking I’d heard him wrong,

“Yeah, you know, flawless, ideal, immaculate— free from any visible flaws.” He mused in a humorous Fabian kind of way.

“You’re ridiculous, Fabes.” I laughed, swatting his shoulder, “Did you swallow an Oxford dictionary?”

“I’m simply just stating the obvious.” He told me,

‘I can assure you I’m the furthest thing in all of Paris from perfection,’ I concluded, but he silently shook his head, his brown eyes glinting in the sunlight bleeding through the open window.

We arrived in class and took our seats. Fabian immediately started chatting with the perky blonde girl I believe was called Mariè or something of the sort. My eyes glanced across the classroom for River, and when they didn’t find him, a little sense of disappointment tugged at my heartstrings. Just then, in place of him, Keomi and Geneviève walked in, giggling and laughing about something. They took the seats directly in front and behind me.

‘We’re going out tonight in the city. Wear your sexiest dress,’ Keomi informed me, and I was taken aback,

“Yeah, the kind of dress that would make society question your morals.” Geneviève added marveling,

“The kind of dress that would give one of those love interests in romantic mangas a nosebleed.” Keomi nodded, and I laughed.

‘Wait, what-‘ I questioned, but Gené cut me short,

‘It’s not up for discussion. We’re having fun tonight with or without you, so you can choose to bitch about it or have some fun for once.’ She said as bluntly as always,

‘I wasn’t going to turn you guys down. I’d love to come.’ I smiled, and Keomi then clapped giddily.

My eyes were then drawn towards the doorway when River walked in, his presence magnetic, and I was pretty sure everyone felt it, didn’t they? Because it couldn’t just be me who felt the confidence radiating off of him, I couldn’t be the only one who felt this static allure towards him. He was wearing a denim Calvin Klein jacket and matching jeans. I could have sworn I saw that exact outfit on the latest cover of Vogue Paris last week. He looked like he belonged on a runway, not a classroom. But it was the kind of effortless sense of style that you couldn’t help but find rather endearing. As always, he spoke to no one and made his way to his seat in the front row.

Monsieur Bordeaux, our photography and world studies teacher, was a young and handsome man with dark hair and auburn eyes. He didn’t waste any time giving us our next assignment. He wanted it to be fun and give us a chance to truly appreciate the city’s beauty.

‘You all will get into pairs and photograph all the best places in Paris. You will then write a descriptive piece on what you found the most eye-catching.’ Monsieur Bordeaux announced,

‘This is great. We’re already going into the city tonight, so we can complete it all today!’ Keomi beamed,

‘I’m not going to assign you any pairs. I trust that you’re mature enough to do so on your own.’ Monsieur said, picking up a notepad, ‘Just make sure to let me know who’s teaming up with who before you leave, bonne chance!’

Everyone then stood up and went over to their partners as though they’d already known who to be with.

‘Hey Gene, did you ask you know who about you know what?’ Keomi asked an absent-minded Geneviève tossing a crumpled piece of paper at her to get her attention,

‘Hey!’ She gasped, fishing the paper out of her hair, and Keomi laughed, ‘I haven’t gotten the chance to just yet.’

‘Oh, please stop being a coward. You were the one who suggested we invite him.’ Merilla interrupted, pulling up a seat next to us,

‘Yeah, but you know how he is. He’ll probably say he doesn’t want to join.’ Gene scoffed,

‘You’ll never know until you try.’ Keomi insisted,

‘Wait, what are we talking about?’ I asked, and Fabian walked over and sighed,

‘We wanted to ask lonely boy over there to come with us to the city tonight.’ Fabian clarified, and we all turned to look at River, who was talking to monsieur Bordeaux.

‘You claim to be his friends, and yet I never see him hanging out with you guys. Why?’ I asked, and everyone’s expression fell,

‘Oh please, he doesn’t hang out with anyone anymore,’ Gene said, rolling her eyes bitterly,

‘Look, Armani, River’s been through a lot, we all have, but it sort of changed him, I told you,’ Keomi spoke softly, placing her soft, manicured hands over mine.

‘Changed him?’ I repeated,

‘It happened almost overnight. We drifted apart. Suddenly he didn’t want to hang out with us anymore, declined every invitation, and ignored every attempt at conversation. He stopped filling us in on anything important going on in his life, and he moved out of his dorm into some expensive skyline apartment down the River Seine.’ Keomi told me, slightly frustrated,

‘It’s not like you guys ever did anything to hurt him personally, so why is he being so resentful?’ I wondered out loud, exasperated, and Geneviève ’s eyes warned Keomi not to take this any further,

‘It doesn’t matter why. I’m going to go ask him.’ Gene prompted, standing up and making her way over to River.

She smiled her perfectly charming smile the second his eyes met hers. He looked up at her and shrugged looking down, shaking his head. She placed her hand on his shoulder and turned her back to us, so I couldn’t read her lips. Her honey-blonde lochs cascaded like a bundle of gold down her back. She said something, and he laughed. He genuinely laughed. A bitter sense of envy sat in the pit of my stomach, like dinner from a lousy sushi restaurant.

Something about the way she was able to reach the humanity deep within him, talk to him and understand him hurt. I knew that it shouldn’t and the matter of the fact was that I barely knew him. But I wanted to, I wanted to know him like the back of my hand— every faint line, curve, scar and what made him twitch. I yearned to take a bite from the apple, the wicked tree of knowledge, knowing my world would never be the same, knowing I’d be punished. I was immediately completely and absolutely jealous of her. I didn’t know why but I wanted to be able to make him laugh and make him smile. I was already getting twisted up in his dark little world. And strangely enough, I never wanted to escape.

He said something to her that makes her glance back in my direction, and I couldn’t precisely read her expression. She turned back to him and nodded, proceeding to make her way back to us.

‘So?’ Fabian asked, ‘Let me guess. He’s simply not interested.’

‘He says he’ll think about it, but he was probably already going to see us tonight,’ Geneviève narrated, almost bitterly.

‘What, why?’ Keomi asked, leaning forward,

‘Because he’s going out with her.’ Gene scoffed,

“With who? Jesus, would you all stop beating around the bush and speak!’ Fabian groaned,

‘Why doesn’t she tell you for herself, Armani?’ She suggested, glancing in my direction,

‘What, me?’ I wondered in confusion, ‘I have no clue what you’re talking about.’

‘He says that you guys are partners for this photography assignment and that you’re going out later this afternoon. Stop playing dumb it’s not a good look on you.’ She spat, and I nearly had the wind knocked out of my chest. I glanced over at River, and his beautiful blue eyes met mine. You, me, tonight, he mouthed silently, parting his full rose-tinted lips.

The thought crossed my mind for a second, to deny him and ask that he asked me as a normal person would. But when have things ever been normal with River Kennedy? I wanted to march over to his table and tell him that I’m just a girl and not a psychic and that I can’t always read his fucking mind like he wants me to. But again, I was just a girl, and he was an ocean-eyed god dawning down on me.

So instead, I nodded and flashed him a smile, and he smiled back at me, not the way he had smiled at Geneviève , it was different, like he meant it, and all my envy melted away.

I sat at my desk, finishing up the last of my math homework, well, trying to. Math problems were way more challenging when they were in French. Believe it or not, it was the only subject I wasn’t particularly good at. When I looked at numbers, they didn’t make sense like words and pictures did. I sighed in frustration and shut my textbook. I would finish it later. Just then, my cell phone began to ring, I picked it up, and I sighed in relief at the name that popped up, Mama. I hadn’t talked to her in a while, and by a while, I meant two days. She made it her absolute mission to track my every move, even when I was oceans away. I slid the flashing green icon and answered the phone.

‘Armani, my love, my light, have you been avoiding me?’ Mama asked, her voice was sad.

‘Of course not, mama. I’ve just been busy with schoolwork. It was only two days.’ I defended calmly,

‘Do you have any idea what could happen to you in two days?’ She scolded, ‘Your father and I have been watching those crime channel documentaries, and we fear for you out there. You could’ve at least sent me a text message, your father and I worry about you all alone in a foreign country.’

“Mama, what did I tell you guys about watching scary documentaries?” I scolded.

I understood where mama was coming from, but I was eighteen, I was of age, and it sucked that she still treated me like I was a stubborn teenager. I didn’t want to anger her or my father by asking them for some space, knowing all that they’d done for me to be able to go to an expensive school like this. But some part of my heart still longed for freedom and for them to treat me like an adult.

‘I understand. I’m sorry.’ I apologized instead, overwhelmed by guilt.

‘Your brother Jaadi misses you. You never bother to call and check on him.’ Mama scoffed, and I swallowed the lump in my throat,

‘That’s not true, mama. I call on papa’s phone all the time to talk to him.’ I protested,

‘I’ve heard of no such thing, don’t talk back to your mother.’ She told me, and as if by instinct, I stayed silent.

‘Never mind that, how are your classes going? I hope you’re staying focused as usual?’

‘They’re going fine, and of course, I am,’ I assured her trying not to break down and cry.

My relationship with mama had always been complicated, but I managed because I knew what she expected from me. And I’d learned to never give her and papa anything less than perfection. To never let them see the cracks in my shiny porcelain figure, the dents in the corners of my mind— all of it was to remain hidden.

‘Great, papa and I were thinking of going to visit your grandmother this weekend. She hasn’t been well.’ Mama told me, and my heart dropped,

‘Wait, what’s going on? Is she okay?’ I asked, my heart racing,

‘Bibi has always had a bad heart, since she was a girl, you know this?’

‘I know. I just didn’t think it would get worse,’ I admitted drifting off and gazing out the window at the sunset, with rich hues of red blended with oranges, purples, and crimsons. My heart hurt, and I wanted more than anything to be able to visit bibi along with them.

‘You are a smart girl Armani, and I know you would wish to be with her, but your place is in Paris. I know this.’ She said, her voice softer. Tears began to roll down my cheeks uncontrollably, I wiped them away, but more fell in their place.

‘How?’ I asked, feeling my heart wrench in my chest,

‘You are my daughter, and a mother knows these things.’ She simply responded, and I sighed, grabbing a tissue from my dresser and dabbling it beneath my eyes.

‘I have a lot of work to do, mama. I’ll talk to you soon, goodnight.’ I promised softly,

‘Goodnight, my love.’ She said and hung up the phone.

Conversations with my mother were unusually formal; I always felt like they followed a strict script. I wasn’t allowed to venture outside the lines of what was considered proper for me to say, and so I always said nothing. Just then, Keomi walked in with a few shopping bags in hand, cheery as always. And I never realized before how much I truly envied how she was always smiling and always found joy in the littlest things. I don’t think I’d ever seen her angry or weary in all the time I’d known Keomi Nakamura.

‘Bonjour, ready for your first night out in the city of lights?’ Keomi beamed, wrapping her arms around me.

I wasn’t sure if my eyes were puffy or if she could tell that just a few moments ago, I’d been in tears, but I didn’t care, tonight I would have fun, and I wouldn’t be sad, not anymore.

‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ I replied with a cheeky wink.

Keomi decided to dress me up that night, and I felt like a mannequin in a beauty salon. She’d asked politely if she could straighten my hair, and I knew she didn’t mean anything bad by it, so I allowed her to do so. When my hair was straight, it was at shoulder length, thick wavy and flowy. My mother never allowed me to straighten my hair. She always believed, like all African women, it was knotted with our struggles and represented how we still manage to overcome them. To many African women, our natural curls are a symbol of resilience and something to take pride in. But it was only one night, and there was nothing wrong with trying something new. Keomi had put two white hair clips on either side of my hair. I looked different, good different. She’d chosen a little black dress that I’d gotten from a little boutique by the beach one summer in Orlando.

‘You look amazing, as always!’ Keomi cheered, twirling me around like a little marionette doll.

‘Thank you, and so do you, holy shit!’ I complimented, and she did.

Keomi had tied her sleek black hair in a high ponytail and worn a fitting black jumpsuit. She looked fierce and ready to take on well, anything.

Keomi left with Fabian, Genevieve and Merilla soon after I left for Le Chat Curieux. River had texted me, saying to meet him there. The afternoon sky was fading away in preparation for the night sky. The streets of Paris were buzzing that Friday night, with saxophone players on almost every street corner and young couples on romantic nights out.

As I approached the quaint little bookstore, my eye caught River’s. He wasn’t hard to notice. He didn’t quite look like anyone else. He was a black cat in a field of dandelions, a four-leaf clover— he simply just stood out from the crowd. I made my way over to him. Even in my heels, he was still almost half a foot taller than me. He wore a plain white sweater and black jeans with a single silver cross necklace, I didn’t take him for the religious type.

‘Hey,’ I greeted, looking up at him, suddenly feeling small and all too conscious of my every movement.

‘You’re so sad.’ River stated, lifting his hand and tilting up my chin,

‘What do you mean?’ I puzzled swallowing the anxiety building in my throat,

‘You’ve been crying. Why?’ He wondered, his brows furrowing in concern. How could he know? There’s no way he could possibly know. Keomi didn’t even notice.

‘Why do you care?’ I anticipated, turning to look away from him in insecurity.

‘Curiosity.’ He replied simply, ‘Let’s go inside.’

As he pushed open the door to Le Chat Curieux, the bell chimed, and the shopkeeper who’d been previously rude the first time we’d met sighed tiredly, not bothering to look up from her novel.

‘Bonjour comment puis-je vous aider?’ She asked bitterly. How many I help you.

‘Hello, we’ll be fine, thanks,’ I replied sheepishly, and she scoffed, still not looking up,

‘Merde, another American.’ She cursed, and River leaned over the counter. She gazed up at him, her eyes glittering with desire, her cheeks flushed, and she cleared her throat.

‘Est-ce que ce sera un problème?’ River asked, will that be a problem? And her eyes flashed with evident embarrassment.

‘No, my apologies.’ She replied in English this time, and I could tell that she regretted it.

‘Good.’ He smiled, his unnaturally blue eyes gleaming. “Can we take some photographs of the store for a school project?”

“Yes, but you must declare the location and owner of the store, Gerard Aubert.” She informed us, and I nodded slightly.

“Oh, okay, thank you,” I responded. I pulled out my camera and began to look around for things to photograph. The newspaper-covered windows looked artsy enough, so I captured them.

‘You never gave me an answer, good girl,’ River said, his voice calm and collected. I rolled my eyes at the nickname.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ I retorted, continuing to capture the scene, but River lowered the camera from my eyes, his fierce blues meeting mine.

‘When I’m talking to you, you look at me.’ He instructed, and I didn’t have the courage to deny him. ‘Okay?’

‘Okay,’ I replied almost mechanically.

‘If you don’t talk to me, who the fuck are you going to talk to?’ He mentioned sarcastically, yet his voice was laced with a cold hard truth. “I see a lot when I look at you.”

“Oh yeah like what hm?”

“I see a pain in your eyes far too familiar, a pain I doubt the others could even comprehend.” He prompted.

‘My grandmother is ill,’ I admitted, confiding in him. ‘And I can’t fly home to see her because of my academic obligations.”

‘Where is home?’ River asked,

‘Kenya.’ I told him, “Nairobi, to be exact.”

‘I didn’t know.’ He admitted,

‘Of course, you wouldn’t know. You didn’t bother to ask.’ I retorted and something close to offence flashed in his eyes, but then he returned to his usual stone-cold expression.

‘Does she mean a lot to you?’

‘She means the world to me. She taught me everything I know.’ I assured him,

‘Then she lives inside of you,’ River said in a tone I couldn’t quite recognize. He trailed his finger over my chest, right over my heart, ‘Here,’

I could feel the tears begin to sting in my eyes, I didn’t think anyone could ever understand, but he did. How was it possible that Keomi couldn’t tell that I was unhappy, but River could? How could he read me so well and yet claim that he barely knew me?

‘Don’t cry.’ He said, wiping away the tear that almost tumbled down my cheek, almost. That was the first time River Kennedy had ever looked even slightly sincere with me. He was always so eerily calm, like a lake at midnight, a composer’s quill. He was steady.

‘Let’s go down by the River Seine for pictures of La Tour Eiffel.’ He suggested breaking his gaze from mine, and as wonderful as that moment had been, it had dissolved into nothingness.

River and I walked in silence down the street, passing a man playing the guitar by a fancy restaurant. I tossed a few coins into his open case, and he thanked me by playing a song just for me. River didn’t want to wait and hear his song, but I begged him to give me a few minutes.

‘You two are a beautiful couple, merci!’ The man beamed, taking off his checkered hat in appreciation.

‘We aren’t together. Sorry to disappoint.’ I laughed, and River looked away as though he couldn’t even fathom the idea.

‘We have to go,’ River demanded, and I sighed, walking away with him. The view of La Tour Eiffel from here was exquisite and made for the best photos. I figured I’d send some home to my family in a postcard or something.

‘I’ll write the descriptive pieces too if you want,’ I told him, and he narrowed his eyes into two slits of ice.

‘I’d never let you do all the work.’ He declared, “You can take the photos, and I will write.”

‘Oh, that’s great then!’ I agreed. I wouldn’t let his moodiness ruin such a beautiful night. Just then, I got a call from Keomi telling me that she and the others would meet us here in a few minutes.

‘I have to go.’ River said simply, overhearing our conversation, as he begun to walk away.

He was not being serious.

‘Why don’t you want to see your friends?’ I asked, and he stopped in his tracks. ‘Please talk to me.’

‘You wouldn’t understand.’ He insisted, glancing away,

‘Look at me, and when I’m talking to you, River Kennedy,’ I dictated, using his own words against him,

‘It’s just not the same anymore. I’m not the same person anymore.’ He admitted and I realized that that was the first real thing he’d ever told me.

‘They’re your friends River. I’m sure they’d understand,’ I sympathized, stepping closer to him,

‘You’re so fucking naïve.’ He almost yelled, he was angry, and this is the reaction I wanted. I wanted to make him feel something other than, well… nothing.

‘Because no one will talk to me.’ I reminded him, then I took a deep breath, ‘Look, I didn’t know you before, but the River I know now can’t be bad enough that his own friends wouldn’t want to be around him anymore.’

‘You don’t know that.’ He laughed bitterly, “I have neglected them for a long time, neglected almost everyone.”

‘I know that they miss you, they really do, so please come with us tonight. It’s just one night.’ I pleaded, not for me, but for Keomi, Fabian, Merilla and even Genevieve.

‘You don’t give up, do you?’ He grimaced, sounding defeated.

‘Never.’

‘I didn’t think so.’ He said, managing a smile, ‘One night.’

Just then, a taxi pulled up and out came Keomi, Fabian Genevieve and Merilla looking lively as ever in their fashionable outfits and overall the most lively I’d ever seen them.

‘Hey guys, don’t worry. We haven’t had too much fun without you!’ Keomi laughed, approaching us,

‘Yeah, are you ready, Armani?’ Fabian asked, reaching out for my hand, but I reached my hand out for River’s on the opposite side, he didn’t take it, of course, but I held his hand, pulling him along anyways. His eyes met mine, and for a split second, all the darkness that he carried with him faded away, and he was just a boy, and I was just a girl alone in the ever-so-magical city of lights.

‘Armani and River,’ I said bravely, and I swear Keomi nearly burst out in tears.

‘You’re coming along?’ She asked River, and he looked at me and then back at her,

‘Yeah, for one night.’ He agreed.

The night was young and the cool Parisian air swept through the night, we were supposed to be on our way to some exclusive club downtown, the kind that required an invitation, and you could only get in if you knew someone who knew someone. But I really wanted to do something else first.

‘Hey guys, please, can we get a closer look at the Eiffel Tower.’ I pleaded, which I knew would earn frustrated groans from everyone, but I simply smiled innocently.

‘Oh, come on, Armani, it’s not that great,’ Gene assured me,

‘But that’s because you’ve always lived here!’ I argued,

‘Sorry, fear of heights, not going up there,’ Fabian warned, hiding behind Keomi, who then whispered something to Genevievè.

“Of all the things to fear, you’re afraid of a few meters?” I teased with a snort,

“I will quite literally pass out if you drag me up there, and I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of pretty girls.” Fabian declared in his defence,

‘Right, okay, so River will take you up La Tour Eiffel, and you can meet us at The Velvet Room after. Sound good?’ Keomi then suggested handing River and me what I assumed were our club entry tickets.

‘I do not know what led you to believe that I’d agree to this.’ River said, but I ran up to him and shoved his shoulder playfully,

‘Please, it’ll only be a minute or two.’ I pleaded,

‘Oh, come on, River, just go with her,’ Fabian added,

‘No.’ He smiled sarcastically.

‘You’re being such a dick, RK.’ Keomi retorted,

‘Wow, really?’ River replied, his silvery eyes glimmering with mischief,

‘You know what? I didn’t mean to cause so much tension, I’ll just go by myself,’ I assured them but just as I was about to walk away I felt a hand grip around my wrist and pull me back.

‘You’re not going up there alone.’ River persisted, I could tell from his tone that he was slightly irritated by the fact that I’d ever even considered it.

But then again, River was always irritable. It’s sort of his natural state.

‘And why not?’ I fought back, trying to untangle myself from his grip,

‘Because it is fucking dangerous, now be a good girl and do as I say.’ He whispered so only I could hear him. I swallowed hard.

‘Don’t call me that,’ I replied almost inaudibly.

‘You love it when I call you that.’ He smiled devilishly, tightening his grip on my wrist and pulling me closer. I didn’t even notice that our friends had already left. And it was just River Kennedy and me, alone, in the middle of the city of lights.

‘You think you know me so well, don’t you?’ I scoffed, finally breaking free, ‘You don’t know what I love.’

He simply walked ahead of me, in silence, barely acknowledging my existence, towards where people had gathered by the tower. I chased after him, and I got the feeling I would be doing a lot.

As the city faded into the darkness of night, we crossed the Seine in silence. Without the traffic, we walked right down the centre of the street, and not far away stood The Eiffel Tower, like a skeleton of metal projecting up into the sky. I ran ahead and paid seven euros to go up the tower. I wasn’t going to let River’s usual negative attitude ruin this once-in-a-lifetime experience for me. I climbed up what seemed like an infinite amount of stairs until I reached the very top. I couldn’t help but feel slightly lightheaded. I took out my camera and took a few pictures.

I took a step back to get a better view, and I felt myself stumble into someone, but before I could turn around and see who it was, they took the pleasure of wrapping their arms around my waist to hold me in place, so I didn’t fall over. I immediately recognized River’s touch. I could feel his breath on my neck.

‘Be careful.’ He warned in a low tone, his hands remaining firmly placed on my hips.

‘I’m sorry,’ I apologized, my throat dry.

‘Don’t be.’ He insisted, and I tried my best not to let a groan escape my lips as I was freed of his touch. Instead, I turn the camera towards him and snap a blurry photograph of him as he squints from the bright flash groaning in disapproval.

“If I wanted to be photographed, I’d just call back Donatella.” He teased, and my mouth hung open in shock,

“As in Versace?” I gasped, and he lets out a soft laugh shaking his head. Then River took the camera from my hands,

“River, you cannot just drop a statement like that and act like everything is perfectly normal!” I protested. “How the hell do you know Donatella Versace?”

“I don’t know Donatella Versace. She knows me.” He corrected me, and I rolled my eyes at him.

Perhaps sometimes I underestimated how well-known River was. I figured many people did. No one knew much about him; therefore, no one could give a decent opinion. Maybe that’s precisely how he wanted it to be. He wanted to be entirely elusive. The window to his mind was blacked out. I wondered what could be so precious inside that he had to keep everything so protected. What are you hiding, River? I couldn’t help but ponder.

‘May I?’ He asked politely but firmly as per usual.

‘Knock yourself out,’ I said in a voice that was almost a whisper, and his dark eyes glittered with something I couldn’t quite explain.

‘You never told me something real about you.’ I reminded him, recalling the night prior to this one.

‘I never said I would.’ He shrugged, and the shutter of the camera he held to his eye sounded with a flash.

‘Well, I’m asking you to.’ I retorted, moving to stand directly in front of him, blocking his view. He remained still, towering over me, a hauntingly beautiful nightmare.

‘I don’t know.’ He spoke, softly.

‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ I gasped dramatically,

‘The River Kennedy doesn’t know the answer to something?’

He let out a low bitter laugh and turned to walk away from me. Who knew he could be such a baby?

‘River!’ I called, racing ahead to stand in his way once again, ‘I’m only teasing..’

‘What do you want to know, one thing.’ He recounted, and my lips curved into an accomplished smile.

‘Anything?’ I ensured cheekily, and I could tell he wanted to reconsider his choice of words.

‘I don’t sleep,’ River spoke as I thought carefully about what he just said before I replied,

“Does your skin also glitter when you step into the sunlight?” I marvelled tauntingly, “Or, don’t tell me— you have fangs and drink blood?”

“Is this a joke, car je ne comprends pas?” because I don’t understand, he asked, and I let out a laugh.

“It was, but you don’t get it. It’s okay.” I admitted clearing my throat.

“Okay, well, it is true that I cannot sleep.” He disclosed,

‘That’s not possible-‘ I started, a small sound escaping my throat before he interrupted me,

‘Pills.’ He clarified with a weak smile, but it was a sad attempt at one nevertheless. I wasn’t sure just what to say.

I decided that he probably didn’t want me to ask any more questions, that it probably was enough that he’d felt close enough to me in this short time to tell me this, therefore this time, I wouldn’t push— no, I wouldn’t take this too far.

‘That’s a hell of a medical bill every month.’ I chuckled, and his eyes brightened with a glimmer of relief, perhaps? Of understanding.

‘Free medical care.’ He corrected me as if I were stupid not to know, and we made our way back down the Eiffel Tower to meet our friends at the Velvet Room.

The Velvet Room was a secret, invitation-only nightclub down an alley on Clairemont Drive. Hues of Red and pink light flashed before our eyes the second the two burly-looking security guards let us in, loud music filled the room, and people were dancing and drinking at every glance. Keomi waved at us from their table, and we made our way over to them. Merilla was perched on Genevieve’s lap laughing hysterically at God knows what while Fabian and Keomi sipped from their colourful drinks.

‘Did you have fun seeing that boring old thing?’ Fabian laughed, and I playfully shoved his shoulder,

‘Don’t be such an ass about it, Fabes!’ Keomi yelled over the music, but she laughed too anyways.

‘Armani seems to have taken quite the appeal to bad things,’ River remarked with a sly, almost phantom-like movement.

‘St Kathrine’s does that, even to the best of us!’ Merilla chimed, then proceeded to order a round of tequila shots.

I’d never really drank alcohol back home in Jacksonville, sure I’d had the occasional glass of wine under the watchful eyes of my parents at Christmas dinner parties, or a sip from mama’s glass when she wasn’t looking, but never out on my own, and most certainly never this much.

‘Armani, do you drink?’ Keomi asked, placing a hand on my shoulder and leaning closer so she could hear me.

At first, I debated my answer. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night for all this, maybe things were getting a little bit out of hand, but then I realized there’s never a bad time to try something new. It’s better now than never. And that’s the only reason at which I replied,

‘Yeah, of course!’ I agreed, and she clapped her hands joyously,

‘This is going to be a fun night…’ Fabian foreshadowed, swirling his glass of scotch on the rocks.

When the waitress arrived, full red pouty lips, drinks in hand, and an impossible-looking black corset on, everyone cheered, everyone except River, of course. He was sprawled out in a leather lounge chair at the head of our table with a dark grin playing on his lips. Daring me, challenging me, condescending me.

‘One, two, three!’ Genevieve called out, and everyone downed two shots each. My gaze was still locked on River.

‘You don’t have to, you know?’ He informed me,

“What if I want to?” I chided, and he raised an eyebrow,

“You look like a deer in headlights right now.” He scoffed before I mustered up the courage and drank both shots, my throat burning, and head spinning.

‘Have it your way.’ He shrugged, then proceeded to talk to Fabian about how it’s been so long since they’d all gone out together.

“That was more your choice than ours RK,” Fabian responded with a smile, but there was sadness behind his eyes. After a few minutes, or was it more? I decided to order another drink, a vodka martini. It was actually delicious and made my head feel fuzzy, and made me just a little bit more daring.

‘Armani, when I first met you, I thought you were a homeschooled jungle freak-‘ Genevieve began, but Merilla immediately smacked her on the shoulder,

‘You’re a really mean drunk Genè, Jesus-‘ She began, but I interrupted her,

‘A mean drunk who quotes mean girls,’ I added,

‘I didn’t mean it like that. Let me finish!’ Gene said, standing up and downing her glass, ‘But you’re not all that bad. I’m just sad, very sad because I keep remembering things I swore to forget.’

‘We all do,’ Fabian added, glancing at River, who immediately stood up and made his way towards the bar stand.

‘What’s his problem?’ I asked, ‘Oh yeah, that’s right, he’s complicated or whatever.’

‘Do you want to know a secret Armani, you clueless….clueless little thing?’ Gene asked, leaning over Merilla so she and I could be face to face.

‘What?’ I asked as I felt the alcohol begin to take effect,

‘River’s sad too, perhaps most of all, but he’s just a whole lot better at hiding that shit, tu comprends?’

‘I’d say that I do, but that would be a lie, because I don’t understand anything. I just want to dance!’ I replied, and we both broke out into laughter, in a way that said we understood each other, at least for one night.

I leapt up from my seat and made my way over to River, the blue, purple and pink light dancing across his gorgeous features, his eyes glistening almost. I took notice of how almost every girl in the club had their eyes on him and only him. It was almost as if he couldn’t help but always be the centre of attention. He was drinking a glass of what I’d assumed was more vodka, so I grabbed it from him and placed it to my lips to drink, but it was water. I drank the sip I’d taken reluctantly.

‘Why are you so fucking boring? Who drinks water at a nightclub?’ I teased, handing him back his glass. His gaze carried a hint of irritation.

“Do I look like a man who drinks alcohol?” He leered, “If so I haven’t done a good enough job at showcasing my distaste for it.”

“I don’t speak goody-goody right now. Please be more precise?” I urged,

‘I do not drink. It’s not my thing.’ He told me, his silver-blue eyes fixated directly on mine.

‘I want to dance,’ I declared plainly, placing both my hands on the crook of his neck. I couldn’t control them. They had a mind of their own. River tensed under my touch like my fingertips were leaving scorch trails, like I was burning him almost, and even when I was drunk, I could see the effect I had on him, no matter how minuscule.

‘Then dance.’ He whispered, his eyes cascading down my body. It was a dare almost, and so I slipped my hands off of him, and I did just that.

Just like that, I was loose, swirling and whirling like a daffodil in the wind, fireflies in the dead of night. I didn’t know who I danced with or what they looked like, and quite frankly, I didn’t care. I was the sound of music personified, and there wasn’t a thing in this world that could bring me down. I writhed to the rhythm, my hands moving down the arches of my body in ways I figured a woman must only do in the comfort of her bedroom. I glided over to him, like moving on clouds of light and gold, and my gaze met his. River Kennedy; my carnal obsession, my favourite sin, my rival, and I danced before him, for him. I moved to the area between his parted legs. He didn’t protest, I could see our friends watching us from the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t care less.

I didn’t dare touch him, and he didn’t dare touch me. It wasn’t about the physical aspect of things. It was more than that. It was about everything that was left unsaid. It was about giving in to my deepest and darkest desires that I wouldn’t dare act on sober. The pure want that fueled me every time I was around him that I’d been trying so hard to deny, so hard. I moved to the rhythm and ran my hands through my hair, and my waist was an instrument I played to the music. My world became a kaleidoscope of colour and sound, and he was at the very centre of it, the only thing I could see.

‘Armani, wait.’ His voice was deep, raw, and vulnerable, I didn’t plan on doing so, but then he placed his hands firmly on my hips to stop me from moving. My body was slick with sweat, and I was caught up in the heat of the moment.

‘You’re drunk. You don’t want this.’ He rasped,

and things were getting too intense for me, too real.

‘You’re such a bore, River. You need to have more fun.’ I laughed, escaping his touch and slipping away to join our friends.

‘Holy shit Armani, that was like— hot!’ Keomi teased, mimicking my moves. Fabian, who was beside her, looked slightly withdrawn and bitter.

‘Amateur Pornstar material.’ Genevieve scoffed,

‘Oh, give her a break, Gene. You did way more to get River’s attention when we first met him,’ Merilla recalled, and Gene looked triggered,

‘Oh, trust me when I say he was never even remotely interested in me—’ she began,

‘I don’t want River, okay?’ I assured them, more like myself.

‘We’ll give you the drunk and bored pass.’ Keomi laughed, and I groaned, walking away and starting to dance again.

I felt myself bump into a figure. The red and pink lights flashed so much that I could barely make out his face.

‘Having a fun night ma chérie?’ It was low and gruff,

‘Yeah, I am Mr…who are you?’ I asked, the heat in my cheeks rising,

‘I was sent to make you feel good,’ he slurred, grabbing hold of my hand and slipping in a pack of what I assumed were pills.

‘Wha— I didn’t ask for this,’ I muttered, but the music drowned out my words,

‘That will be €20.’ He demanded, holding out his hand to revive money I didn’t have and didn’t want to give him.

‘But I don’t have any money,’ I told him, my head feeling fuzzy.

‘Then you’ll have to figure out another way to pay me.’ He suggested, leaning in close, then closer. I wanted him to stop.

Just then, a tall, dark figure was in front of me and grabbed the strange man’s neck. No one noticed, no one cared, and everyone was too busy having fun. The strange man’s hands began to turn pale. I could hear him gasping for air even over the loud music.

‘Stop, please!’ I told the tall, dark figure, I didn’t want anyone to get hurt over me.

The figure let go of the strange man and said in a low, threatening voice that I recognized,

‘There’s a special place in hell for monsters like you who take advantage of drunk girls at parties.’ River.

‘I’m a dealer-‘ the man choked, “This is my job, man.”

‘What you are is a predator, a piece of shit, and your mother’s worst mistake.’ River scowled. He was angry, really angry.

‘Si je te revois je te tuerai putain.’ River snarled bitterly. If I see you again, I’ll fucking kill you. And then the strange man ran. He was gone.

‘River, I—’ I began to speak, but he cut me off,

‘We’re leaving.’ He commanded, and I didn’t want to argue or fight him, not this time. Because he’s right, I need to go home. ‘Now.’

And then we were in a taxicab. I was laying my head down on River’s lap, and his soft melodic voice whispered reassurance to me. I was not sure if I was dreaming or not because this couldn’t be true, could it? River didn’t like me, and boys who don’t like you wouldn’t let you do this. I was gazing at the open roof of the car at the Parisian night sky, and then it began to fade away.

If he was talking to me like this, so patiently, so tentatively, so sweetly—

Maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t despise me forever, maybe he’d like me someday.