Chapter 8 Dakota I gave a small nod. "You're really cool, you know that?" There was a long stretch of silence. Then, more softly, River asked, "Why did your dad leave you and your mom?" I hesitated. The lump in my throat swelled as old memories stirred. "I wish I knew," I said quietly. "I had just turned seven when my mom came home crying. My dad had already packed up and left. Before he walked out, he handed me his journal and told me he loved me." I paused, swallowing hard, willing the tears not to fall. "I never got an explanation. One day he was there, and the next... he wasn't. My mom was shattered, and I didn't know how to fix her. I was just a kid. At school, I was the target. They teased me for not having a dad. I came home crying one day, and that's when my mom finally told me the truth." I took a shaky breath. "She said he cheated on her. That he left us for another woman and a child he had with her. He chose them instead of us." River looked at me, eyes dark with something unreadable. Then he shook his head. "That must've been really hard." I forced a smile, brushing it off. "It's all in the past now," I said quickly, trying to sound like it still didn't ache. But, it ached. "So... where are you heading?" "Home," I said, gesturing at my stepbrothers' car. "Nice whip," he said, as we walked toward the car. "I don't see them anywhere." "I'll have to wait for them. They must be having fun with their girlfriends," I said, leaning on the car. River smacked his lips, staring at me. "I'm inviting you to my house for lunch." "No, thanks. I-" "You'll rather stand here and wait for people who don't give a damn about you. Okay," he nodded and started walking away. He was right. My stepbrothers definitely didn't care about me. I had to stop playing their loyal servant. If they could have fun, I could too. "Invitation accepted," I yelled. River turned around. "You don't have to come if you don't want." "I want to come," I said cheerfully. "Aren't you scared?" he asked, his piercing gaze all over my face. I paused and bit my lip. Mr Isaac's words crossed my mind. Silver wolves were hunted down in the past by Hybrids. "You're alright?" he asked keenly. I exhaled. "Yeah. Um... you never really told me about yourself." River blinked. "Well, if I told you about myself, you'd doubt it." "Why?" I asked, raising an eyebrows. He opened the door for me. I got in and he closed the door. Before I could even blink, he made a teleportation-like movement into the driver's seat. I flinched, my heart racing. "How did you do that?" He leaned on the seat. "I'm a Vampire." I laughed. "I give it to you. That was funny." River laughed too. "You think so?" "Yeah, of course." "You don't believe vampires exist, do you?" I shook my head. "No, I don't. Their existence is nothing more than a rumor. Do you believe vampires exist?" "I believe everything. Hybrids, Vampires, Humans, Witches," he said, starting the car. I looked out of the window. "Mr. Isaac talked about Silver Wolves. You believe that too?" River nodded. "Well, Brenda made me believe everything is possible." Strange. "Okay." By the time we pulled into River's driveway, I was still reeling from everything he'd said. Vampires. Witches. Silver Wolves. He was either really committed to the bit or something else entirely. But what could I say? I'd seen the way he moved - too fast, too smooth. His house was nestled at the edge of a wooded area, surrounded by tall pine trees that cast eerie shadows across the driveway. The building itself was warm and inviting, though an old-fashioned brick house with ivy climbing up one side and a small porch swing swaying in the light breeze. It reminded me of something out of a storybook. "I like it," I said, stepping out of the car and slinging my backpack over one shoulder. River smiled and ran a hand through his dark curls. "Thanks. Come on in. You'll help me whip something up before my stomach devours itself." I laughed and followed him inside. The interior of his home was even more charming than the outside. It was warm and smelled like cinnamon and something woodsy. A few paintings hung on the walls, and bookshelves lined one side of the living room. I spotted a few familiar titles and grinned. He had good taste. "I'll get some stuff from the fridge. You okay with pasta?" he asked, walking into the kitchen. "Sounds perfect. I can chop vegetables," I offered, slipping off my jacket. He tossed me a cutting board and knife. "Deal." We worked together in surprisingly comfortable silence. I chopped bell peppers and tomatoes while he boiled water and mixed sauce ingredients. There was an easy rhythm to it, like we'd done this before. Like we were two halves of the same beat. "You're a good cook," I commented, watching him season the sauce like a pro. "You flatter me," he said, tossing me a smirk. "It's all in the wrist." I laughed. "So... what do you really do? When you're not at school or pretending to be a vampire." "I don't pretend," he said, turning to face me, eyes suddenly serious. I raised an eyebrow. "Come on, River." "Alright, fine," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I study. I read. I run. At night, mostly." "Sounds suspiciously like a vampire's schedule," I teased. Before he could respond, the front door creaked open, followed by the sound of heels clicking across the wooden floor. "River? Are you home?" a woman's voice called out. River stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. "In the kitchen, Mom." I turned toward the doorway just in time to see her enter. She was stunning-tall, elegant, with high cheekbones and jet-black hair pulled into a low bun. Her green eyes were striking, and her presence was... regal. Like someone who belonged in a high society magazine or, oddly enough, a gothic novel. Her eyes immediately landed on me, narrowing slightly with curiosity. "And who's this?" she asked, stepping fully into the room. I wiped my hands on a dish towel and stepped forward. "Hi. I'm Dakota. River invited me over for lunch." She tilted her head, observing me with keen interest. "Dakota... that's a lovely name. I'm Brenda. River's mother." "It's lovely to meet you, Mrs.-" "Just Brenda," she said gently, offering a small smile. I smiled back. "I was helping River cook. I hope that's alright." "Of course," she replied, glancing at the food on the stove. "That smells wonderful." "Thanks. We sort of make a good team," I said, nudging River playfully. Brenda's gaze softened as she looked at her son. "He used to help me in the kitchen all the time when he was younger. Then he became moody and mysterious." River rolled his eyes. "Still not moody." Brenda chuckled and leaned against the doorframe. "Alright, I'll leave you two alone." She turned to leave, then paused and glanced back at us. "Oh-and don't burn anything. Or each other." Her eyes twinkled mischievously before she disappeared into the hallway. I turned to River, giggling. "She's funny." "She's something," he muttered, shaking his head as he stirred the sauce. The pasta was soon done, and we set the table in the cozy dining nook near the window. Golden light filtered through the curtains as we sat down and dug in. It tasted as good as it smelled-creamy, garlicky, with the perfect balance of spice and herbs. "This is amazing," I said around a mouthful. "See? I told you I was a pro," River grinned. After we cleaned up, River suggested we head to his room to study like we'd originally planned. His room was on the second floor-modestly sized but filled with character. The walls were covered in posters of indie bands, old vinyl records, and pinned-up Polaroid pictures of friends, places, and memories. I spotted a small bookshelf with worn paperbacks and a desk cluttered with notebooks, sketches, and what looked like calligraphy practice sheets. "You write with a quill?" I asked, picking one up. River grinned. "Sometimes. It feels... timeless." We sat on the rug and opened our textbooks, attempting to focus on our project. But after about fifteen minutes of half-hearted math problems and trading glances, we gave up and drifted into easier conversation-favorite movies, secret fears, weird dreams. At some point, I spotted an old photo album sticking out from under his bed. "What's this?" I asked, pulling it out. "Oh no," River groaned, flopping backward. "My mom must've been snooping again." "Too late," I said, flipping open the cover. The first few pages were adorable. Baby River with curls and chubby cheeks, River on his first bike, River in a vampire cape for Halloween. "This is gold," I laughed. He groaned louder. "I'm going to regret this." As I turned another page, we found ourselves leaning close, laughing over every awkward stage, every missing tooth, every pouty toddler face. I looked up. River was already watching me. His laughter faded, his eyes soft. "You have a really nice smile," he said quietly. "Thank you," I whispered. Before I could think twice, River leaned over. His lips brushed mine, tentative at first, then deeper, warmer. My heart fluttered. The moment stretched like a bubble, delicate and private until the door opened. "Oh-sorry!" Brenda's voice rang out. We jumped apart like guilty kids. Brenda was holding a tray with cookies and lemonade. She smiled awkwardly, placing it on the desk. "Thought you might want a snack," she said. "Carry on." As the door clicked shut, I covered my face while blushing. River burst out laughing. "She's going to tease me forever." I peeked at him and started laughing too. "At least the cookies look good." We reached for the cookies and kept flipping through the album. But then, I froze. There, in the middle of a photo-River, a little younger, standing beside a woman I assumed was Brenda, and someone who resembled my dad. My heart dropped. "That's my dad, mum and me," River said, pointing at the picture." I swallowed. "Your dad?" It's been ten years since I last saw my father but I never forget what he looked like. And there was no difference between my dad and the man in the picture. "Are you okay?" River asked, reaching for my hand. "I'm fine," I said and cleared my throat. "I have to leave. My parents and brothers must be worried about me."