[ eight ]

I didn’t see Kielson again.

I walked over to the pediatrics section of the hospital for the one week I stayed there but I didn’t catch a glimpse of him again. Not to mention, I didn’t get my frozen yoghurt either because River forgot about it. Ugh, cue eye roll.

I stuffed my clothes in my duffle bag as Julie went to drive the car over, leaving River to supposedly ‘help me’ pack my stuff. But the said boy sat on the two-seat sofa and scrolled through his phone while I packed everything up.

“Why does it seem like you were the injured one?” I questioned; sarcasm laced in my voice. River looked up from his phone and slapped a hand over his heart, “Because I am injured. You wounded my heart!” He spoke dramatically.

I pursed my lips at him, grabbing a worn shirt, I balled it up and threw it at him. The shirt hit his head and he melodramatically fainted on the sofa. I snorted at the sight and shook my head. His eyebrows furrowed together as he brought the shirt to his nose, “Ew. You are a literal pig. Your shirt stinks.” He hurled it back at me and I stuck my tongue out at him.

Once I was done with packing everything, I zipped up my duffle bag. With my uninjured hand, I gripped the straps and held it by my side, “Okay, I’m done. Let’s go, your mom should be waiting.”

He lifted his eyebrow at me and I sent him a confused look, “What?” A sigh escaped his lips as he got up and walked over. Snatching the duffle bag out of my hand, he swung it over his shoulder. An unamused look crossed my face, “So now you decide to be a gentleman.”

River threw me a wink before heading towards the door. I snickered before following him. I waved and said goodbye to the nurses and doctors who tended to me on the way down and as we exited the hospital, an uncontrollable smile made its way to my face. I was finally out and free from the tasteless hospital food!

The sound of cars on the road reached my ears instead of the humming of machines, “Freedom is sweet,” I muttered. River flicked my head gently and I glared at him. “Don’t be dramatic Summers, now get in the car.” I looked at him incredulously, he was the pot calling the kettle black. He had tossed my duffle bag in the trunk before getting in the passenger’s seat. I followed suit and sat behind with my duffle bag.

The moment we reached home, I collapsed on my soft bed as River placed my bag on the floor. He started towards his bedroom but halted midway and turned back to me. Leaning against my doorframe, he informed, “Oh yeah. The Hawthorne’s Charity Ball is this Saturday and Mom wants us to go clothes shopping after school tomorrow.”

Without getting up to answer him, I raised my arm and did an okay sign before he left.

The Hawthorne’s Charity Ball was an annual event held by the Hawthorne family who owned Hawthorne’s Hotel chain and held for families who owned big companies. Though the ball was mainly for the big shots to donate money to a specific foundation and look good for the public, it was also an excuse to find investors for their next big project.

Not focusing on the business side of it, it was a night to drink fancy champagne and hang with all the rich heirs and heiresses of big companies for the kids of the various families. And for River, it was a place to hook up with gorgeous heiresses.

While for me, it was all about the food. The only reason I went every year, was because of the two-star Michelin food. That shit was amazing and by the end of the night, I would go home feeling nauseous because of all the food I consumed. I practically inhaled the whole buffet table.

My stomach growled thinking about the food and suddenly, I craved brownies.

Having the motivation to get off my bed, I made my way down to the kitchen with my phone in hand. I hummed to myself a little as I searched up a recipe. Putting my music playlist on shuffle, I searched around the kitchen for the ingredients. Death of a Bachelor by Panic! At The Disco started playing.

“Do I look lonely? I see the shadows on my face…” I sang along to the song. My feet did a little dance and a smile found its way up my face. I grabbed the packet of flour and sugar out of the cabinet as the chorus of the song was coming up, “The lace in your dress tingles my neck, how do I live?” Placing both the packets with the other ingredients, I scavenged for a whisk.

With a whisk found and in hand, I brought it to my lips and used it as a microphone as I belted out the chorus and sang to my heart’s content, “The death of a bachelor! O-O-Ohh! Letting the water fall! The death of a bachelor! O-O-Ohh! Seems so fitting for, happily ever after!”

I was immersed in my own little concert in the kitchen that I failed to notice River who stood near the door to the kitchen until he cleared his throat. I froze in my spot with my knees slightly bent and head thrown back. Straightening up, a blush formed on my cheeks.

“I don’t think singing is a good career option for you,” he commented, amusement dancing in his eyes as he placed his empty glass in the sink. I stood behind the kitchen island awkwardly and he came around to where I stood with an eyebrow raised, “What are you making?”

Trying to push down the embarrassment, I said as nonchalantly as possible, “Brownies.” At the sound of brownies, River perked up, “Ooo, make some for me as well.” I turned to him with a hand on my chin, pretending to contemplate, “How about no?” I smiled at him sweetly as I opened the packet of flour to measure out half a cup of it.

Being the child he was that was stuck in a six-foot teenager boy’s body, he pouted before grabbing a handful of flour and throwing it at me. My head snapped to him so fast that I could’ve gotten a whiplash. The flour was in my hair and I was not happy as I narrowed my eyes to slits, “Does it seem like I’m the bowl, Jones?” I said in a snarky tone.

He smirked, mischief glinting in his eyes as he nodded cheekily.

I released an angry breath and tried to shake out the flour from my hair. Deciding to be the bigger and more civilized person, I ignored him and continued measuring and adding my ingredients into a big bowl.

But apparently, he decided that he wasn’t done.

River opened the can of cocoa powder and sprinkled some on me, “There, perfect!” He exclaimed and my patience easily snapped into two, like a dry spaghetti noodle. With the measured sugar in my hold, I thrusted it at him with a sweet smile and doe-eyes, “Oops. Sorry, it looked like you lacked a little sweetness in your personality.”

A smile full of mirth curved his lips, “Oh, it’s on Summers.”

I smirked at him, “Bring it Jones.”

He snickered and grab the can of cocoa powder. River poured out a handful and aimed for my face. I quickly grabbed an empty bowl to shield me away from the powder before I grabbed the packet of flour.

Not even bothering to scoop it up as he continued to hurl cocoa powder at me, I just swung the packet of flour. The flour coated him like snow and I laughed. But my amusement was short-lived as he dumped the whole can of cocoa powder on my head.

He shot me an innocent look, “I’m just repaying you back for what you did to me.”

I licked my lips and nodded, “Okay, sure. Then let me thank you for it.” I grabbed the metal bowl that sat on the kitchen island. He saw what was coming and started to run from me. I chased him, “Come back Jones!” I hollered.

He flipped me off as I sprinted after him. But with my short legs, I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch up to him. So, I aimed for his head. Once my target was locked, I called out for him.

“Hey River!” I used his first name which I hadn’t called him by ever since we were six. Of course, hearing his name slip out of my mouth, he turned. An evil cackle escaped my lips as I thrusted the bowl of mixed ingredients at him.

In my eyes, the bowl flew in the air in slow motion before hitting him smack right in the face. The metal bowl dropped to the ground with a loud ‘clank’ and I doubled in laughter as I saw his face caked with the half-done brownie batter.

He glowered at me and I stuck my tongue out at him. He advanced towards me but before he could even touch a single hair, “What happened here!” Julie shrieked at the messy kitchen.

We both turned to see her standing at the door with arms akimbo and a disapproving look plastered on her face.

Oops.

“This is all your fault, Jones,” I complained as I scrubbed the kitchen tiles. River scoffed, “My fault? If you had decided to share, it wouldn’t have resulted to this.” I scowled as he aggressively scrubbed the tiles across me.

I huffed and River decided he wanted a round two as he splashed some soapy water in my face. I raised my sponge, about to toss it at him but Julie cleared her throat and I shrunk back.

He chuckled and I turned the other way, not wanting to face him anymore.