[Neither of them promised forever, yet it hurt all the same.]
River Hamilton cannot afford to fall for just anyone. To continue the legacy of her family the only way she can, she must eventually marry someone she may not want to spend the rest of he...
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R.HAMILTON
Not everyone had the swing in their arm to play golf, and no number of lessons could change that if they mentally decided to be incapable at the sport. Unbeknownst to River, it appeared as though Harry fell in this group of people and to say it surprised her would've been an understatement. For some time, she believed he improved on the field and he genuinely seemed interested in learning more. As she watched him hit yet another golf ball, and carve out a huge chunk of the ground in the process, she began to wonder if he put up a good show all along or if something bothered him, hence his emotional outburst.
In fact, as she watched him storm away from where he stood and dragged his bag away with him, River felt déjà vu.
Something had happened. Something bad had happened. It made sense when she considered Harry's aggressiveness while playing, why his patience was thinner than melting ice. There had been one previous occasion she found him in a similar moment and when she approached him about it, she was made to feel guilty for caring. It held her back from opening up a channel of conversation between them, no matter how badly her tongue wanted to jump free and run wild.
It was strange, she concluded while she got in position and hit the ball perfectly. No one made her feel reluctant to do anything before. Certainly not someone who worked for her. Then again, River never truly had anyone working for her. It had always been someone hired for the Hamiltons but this time, she had a direct professional connection to Harry. Did this complicate things? Perhaps.
Regardless of this, the point remained that Harry made her second-guess herself in fear of more rejection. There was only one person in her life who rejected her on multiple occasions and she didn't enjoy living with this knowledge since it was her own mother, so to now be awfully aware of Harry being capable of the same left her feeling uncomfortable. This wasn't how she wanted to think of the man she fancied.
At a loss, she exhaled and grabbed her own bag to go after Harry. Communication was not his strongest suit when emotions took control of him. Perhaps she needed to let him come to his own conclusions, find his own peace, allow him the freedom to open up alone. It made the most sense—it also saved her the pain of not being wanted.
Cry me a river, she thought to herself. And, as usual, the saying made her eyes roll. Why on earth did her parents think to name her River of all things?
Compartmentalisation worked wonders when overwhelming thoughts threatened her to break down in tears. To show that level of weakness in public meant complete humiliation she would never live down, and so she continued to box away her thoughts, lock away her feelings, and zip up with a well-practiced smile.
The game went on silently. Whoosh of the balls. Quiet curses. The odd crack of knuckles while River waited for Harry to finish his turn. She most certainly needed to let go of the habit since it didn't serve her any good.
