What Happens Next..

River’s POV

I opened the door.

And there he was.

Daniel Wellington. Standing on my front step like this was something normal. Like we weren’t a complete mess. Like he hadn’t called what we did last night a mistake and watched me walk out without a blink.

He held something in his hand.

A black short. Mine.

I blinked, still wet from the shower, towel wrapped around my hips, water dripping down my back. My hair was sticking to my forehead. I was half-naked. And barefoot. Of course.

“Really?” I asked.

Daniel lifted the short like it was some kind of peace offering. “You left this.”

“That couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

He stared at me for a second. “You left it on my bedroom floor.”

The way he said that, calm, sharp, a little too direct, made my stomach twist.

I stepped back without saying anything and left the door open. If he was going to come in, let him. If not, let the breeze slam the door on him.

He stepped inside.

Just like that. Like it meant nothing.

I turned and walked toward the living room, not even caring that my towel was loose. If he was going to act like last night didn’t mean anything, I could pretend too.

He followed me in. The short was still in his hand.

I sat down on the arm of the couch and pulled the towel tighter around my waist.

“You came all this way to return that?” I asked.

He looked at the short in his hand like he’d forgotten he was holding it.

“Yeah,” he said. “And to check on you.”

I raised a brow. “Check on me? What am I? A plant?”

Daniel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You ran out this morning. I didn’t like how we left things.”

I laughed. Not because it was funny. But because it was ridiculous.

“You mean after you told me what we did was a mistake?”

He flinched, just a little.

“I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

I stood up and took the short from him. “But you still meant it.”

Silence.

The kind that sits heavy in the room. The kind that feels like it’s waiting for something to break.

“I don’t know what I meant,” he said after a long moment.

“Of course you don’t,” I muttered. “You’re good at not knowing.”

Daniel looked around the room like he was stalling. His eyes landed on the blanket on the couch. The two mugs on the counter. The photo of me and Ethan from that beach trip we took in September.

“Ethan moved out,” I said, catching his glance.

“I figured,” Daniel said quietly.

I walked toward the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. I needed something to hold. Something cold.

“I guess you got what you wanted then,” I said. “No boyfriend in the picture. No distractions.”

He followed me into the kitchen, stopping at the edge of the counter.

“That’s not what I wanted.”

I took a sip of water, letting it cool my throat. “Then what do you want, Mr. Wellington?”

Silence again.

This time it was longer.

I could feel him thinking. I could feel him looking at me, like he was trying to find the right words. Or maybe trying to stop himself from saying the wrong ones.

“I don’t know,” he said again. “You confuse me.”

I turned to him. “You think I’m not confused too? You kissed me. Then you pulled away. Then you fucked me. Then you said it was a mistake. You show up at my house with a black short like it’s some apology gift. What exactly am I supposed to do with that?”

He stepped closer. Not too close. Just enough.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Too late.”

He looked like he wanted to reach for me but didn’t.

“You’re still wet,” he said suddenly.

I blinked. “What?”

He pointed to my chest. “From the shower. You’re dripping.”

I looked down. A single drop rolled from my collarbone, down my stomach, and disappeared under the towel. Heat flushed my face, but I didn’t move.

Daniel’s eyes followed it.

Of course they did.

“Do you want to stay for coffee?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His gaze snapped back to mine.

“Coffee?”

“Yes. Coffee. You know… the brown thing that comes in mugs? You drink it when you’re tired or awkward or when you’re avoiding talking about something real?”

Daniel gave a small, dry smile. “Sure. Coffee.”

I turned and walked to the counter. I didn’t have fancy stuff—just an old coffee maker that groaned when it brewed—but it would do. I poured water in, added grounds, and pressed the button.

It started hissing like it was angry to be woken up.

Daniel stood behind me, quiet.

“You can sit,” I said over my shoulder.

He sat.

The silence was weird now. Not heavy. Not sharp. Just awkward.

Like we were two people pretending we hadn’t been naked together last night.

Pretending this was normal.

I grabbed two mugs and placed them on the counter.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again after this morning,” I said softly.

Daniel looked at me. “Neither did I.”

“But here you are.”

“Yeah.”

The coffee finished brewing. I poured it and handed him a mug.

“your coffee black?” I asked.

He nodded.

We stood there, sipping coffee like strangers. Like we didn’t know what the other tasted like. Like he hadn’t kissed my ribs and whispered things that still echoed in my chest.

He put the mug down. “I’m sorry.”

My eyes lifted.

“I don’t know how to handle this,” he went on. “You were just a kid when I met you. And now—”

“I’m not a kid now,” I cut in.

“I know,” he said quickly. “Believe me, I know. Last night proved that.”

The heat came back. But not the good kind.

“Is that all I am to you now?” I asked. “Some grown-up moment you regret?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally said, “You were always Elliot’s best friend. I saw you grow up. You were part of my house, my world. Somewhere along the way, I started seeing you differently. I tried not to but it was hard And I didn’t know what to do with that.”

I swallowed. Hard.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he added. “Even when I tried.”

I set my mug down next to his. The counter felt cool under my fingertips.

“Then why push me away?”

“Because I don’t want to be the mistake you regret later.”

I looked at him. Really looked.

His eyes weren’t cold now. They were tired. Sad.

“You weren’t a mistake,” I whispered. “You were the one thing I wanted that actually happened. Even if it was messy. Even if it ended the second it began.”

Daniel stood slowly and walked around the counter.

We were close again. Close enough that I could smell his cologne and the faint scent of my own skin still on his shirt.

He reached up and touched my cheek. Light. Careful.

“I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“Then don’t,” I whispered.

His hand dropped. “I should go.”

Of course he should. That’s what he always does. Leave before it gets too real.

He walked toward the door.

“Daniel,” I called him by his first name before he opened it.

He stopped. Turned.

“You’re still confusing. You’re probably going to break me again.”

“I know.”

“But I still want to know what happens next.”

He smiled. Just a little. The kind of smile that says me too.

Then he opened the door, stepped out, and was gone.