55. Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Four
Rye
Rye sat cross-legged on the fluffy blue carpet in the small open space at the bookstore, watching as Sadie Johnson held up her book with a bright, toothy grin. The kindergartener had just started reading a bunch on her own over winter break, and according to her mom, she’d apparently been quite impatient to share with the rest of the book club.
Sadie jumped straight into her spiel—a detailed if not slightly meandering description of the story and characters—as the four other students listened, all of their faces lit up with delight. They passed around the book while Sadie kept talking, and even the two older children in the group—second grader Andrew Bronte and his twin sister, Lilah—took a few minutes to flip through the pages. It was some story that involved dragons living in underwater caves, and it looked as exciting as Sadie made it sound.
When she was done and the book had made its rounds, each of the other children also took their own turns showing off their favorite book they’d read over winter break.
Rye mostly watched and listened, joyful to feel and see the children’s excitement. He jumped in a few times to help when Joanna Lim got stuck talking about one of the characters in her book and when Andrew asked Dylan Cramer a question about a book series he’d just finished.
It was easy to talk to the children. Easy enough, anyway. The hardest part of his day would be later, when the parents came back at the end of Rye’s hour with them. But Jake would be here by then to help if needed.
Jake always came in on Wednesdays, and not just to help Rye with the parents. Because Wednesdays were half days at the school, the Wednesday book club ran from noon to one, and so, nearly every Wednesday since early November, when Rye had first started hosting the book club, Jake would show up toward the end of the session to pick Rye up. They’d head to the store, grab something to cook for dinner together, then go back to Jake’s house and have plenty of time for pre-dinner snuggles on the couch while they watched TV or played video games.
It was wonderful and had made Wednesdays Rye’s favorite day of the week.
After the kids finished discussing their books, Rye set each of them up with an art tray, paints, and a small canvas. They could barely contain their excitement—again—when he explained he wanted each of them to think about the cover of their book and then paint their book a new cover.
“It can be from your favorite part of the book or of the setting or characters. Whatever you can imagine,” he finished.
Sadie squealed with glee as she blurted out, “I’m going to paint Elba!”
“The blue dragon?” Joanna asked.
“No, that’s Margo. Elba is the orange one. She’s my favorite.”
They got started, chatting away as they painted, and Rye leaned back, smiling, and watched. He felt the moment Jake walked into the bookstore, though. It was a warmth, growing and surrounding him, making that little tickle of unease that nearly always lived with him fade away into the background.
Rye glanced up, knowing he’d see Jake near the front of the store, greeting Janice. Sure enough, Jake stood at the cash register, handing Janice a small box—probably extra cookies that Krista had sent. Jake still had tons since Krista had gone on a holiday baking kick starting in mid-December. She’d baked about thirty or forty dozen cookies of various flavors and sent probably half of those to Jake. Even with Rye and Jake chipping away at the stash nearly every day, Jake had way too many left, and he’d been giving them away to anyone he could, like Janice.
Jake grinned at something Janice said, his face lighting up. His puffy black coat was wet from the rain, and he had on his burgundy Stanford beanie, hiding his dark hair.
It would look funny later—Jake’s hair. When they’d get back to his house and he’d take off his beanie, his hair would be all out of sorts, sticking up in some places, flattened against his head in others. And Jake wouldn’t even be aware of it until Rye would step up to him and stretch up on his toes and run his hands through the dark strands to straighten them back out.
“Psst, Mr. Davis.” Rye felt a tug on his sleeve, and he blinked and tore his eyes away from Jake. Little Sadie had scooted closer to him, and she held her finished painting—a bright-orange dragon with tiny wings sitting on top of an oversized clamshell. Sadie leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially, “Is that your boyfriend ?”
Heat spread to Rye’s cheeks, but before he could answer, Joanna sidled up to join them, holding her own canvas. “Of course that’s his boyfriend. Right, Mr. Davis? He comes in here every week.” She whispered, too, as though it were some secret, which it really wasn’t. But Rye hadn’t thought they’d ever noticed Jake before.
And he was in no way equipped to talk about this with the students. Nor should he, he knew. So he just swallowed hard and nodded with a tight smile.
Sadie grinned, apparently satisfied with his response, and then she lifted up her painting. “All done! This is Elba! She’s the only dragon who can fly out of the water. What do you think, Mr. Davis?”
“I... I think I... can’t wait to read this book. This is beautiful. Great job,” he managed with another smile. One by one, the other students showed him their paintings, all of which were imaginative and colorful. And he praised all of them, his words coming easier again.
When they were finished, the children helped to clean up the paints and painting supplies. Rye glanced up briefly as he felt Jake move closer, his deep voice quiet as he spoke with one of the parents who’d just shown up. Jake seemed to sense Rye’s eyes on him, and he stopped in the middle of whatever he’d been saying and turned his head slightly, the smile on his lips widening. Rye gave a small wave, which Jake returned, and he held Jake’s gaze for another few seconds before turning to the children, who had all just settled back in front of him on the fluffy blue carpet. Each of them held their book and their painting, and they sat quietly, knowing the drill.
Rye smiled and sat up a little straighter. “Thank you for coming, friends,” he said, and they all grinned up at him. He clapped his hands together lightly. “For next week, I want you all to try to read a book that has birds in it. I have a special craft planned, and I think you’ll love it. If... if you can’t find a book or if you need a recommendation, ask your grown-up to contact me.”
They all nodded, and Rye paused and looked over toward the entrance. Jake stood to the side now, watching as the last of the parents scribbled their signature on the sign-out sheet sitting on a small desk next to the door. The other parents were grouped up, talking quietly amongst themselves as they waited. Rye’s stomach twisted a little, as it always did at this part of the session. He probably should have anticipated it—that sending the kids home would be one of the most difficult parts of the whole endeavor, but he hadn’t. Still, he knew or recognized each of the parents, and Jake and Janice were there, and he had the sign-in/sign-out sheet. He took a deep breath to steady himself and turned back to the children.
“When you see your grown-up, raise your hand,” he instructed, and each of the children looked over toward the door and lifted their hand. Sadie squirmed, grinning and waving at her mom, but she stayed seated and quiet, and Rye appreciated that. One by one, he named each of the children, and he watched as they stood and hurried over to their parent. Maybe the whole procedure was a bit excessive, but he’d found it was the only way he wasn’t overwhelmed with anxiety for the rest of the day—when he got to see each child reunited with their parent before leaving the bookstore.
As the last of the children and parents left, Rye waved one last time and then stood smoothly, lifting the box of painting supplies with him. His eyes found Jake’s again, and a warm happiness filled his chest as Jake grinned broadly and started limping slowly in Rye’s direction.
Rye frowned. “The rain?” he asked as Jake reached him.
Jake slipped one arm around Rye’s back and leaned in for a gentle hug. “Yeah,” he said. “But it’s okay. How are you?”
Better now that you’re here. Not that anything had been bad or wrong. Just that when Jake was around, everything seemed that much brighter, like it pulsed at a different wavelength. Rye let himself lean against Jake for a few extra seconds, even as awkward as their hug was with him holding a large-ish box of art supplies in both arms.
“I’m good,” he said quietly. Then he pulled back and looked up at Jake—at his boyfriend —again. Jake smiled softly, his kind eyes studying Rye. Then Jake glanced over his shoulder toward the entrance, and when he looked back at Rye, he bit his lip and carefully lifted up his hand, letting his fingers brush along Rye’s cheek. Rye sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, the touch, gentle and light as it was, sending a jolt of heat all the way down into his toes. Jake’s hand dropped away too soon, and the loss of warmth sent a tug of something through him.
Later. There’d be plenty of time later. Snuggles on the couch, holding hands, all the little light touches he and Jake both seemed to be addicted to now. All of that was for later.
And he could wait. He was patient. Mostly.
“How’d they like this one?” Jake asked, motioning to the box Rye held.
Rye smiled. “They loved it, I think,” he said, and he tilted his head toward the office at the back of the bookstore where he stored all of his supplies and things, then turned and started walking slowly.
Jake followed, his hand coming to rest low on Rye’s back. “I saw some of their paintings. They’re so creative.”
“They are,” Rye agreed. “It’s fun. And I think... I think they have fun too.”
“Definitely.”
They reached the office, and Rye took a moment to slip the box of supplies into the small closet behind the desk. When he turned back around, Jake was leaning against the doorframe, watching Rye with a soft smile. Jake reached out to offer Rye his hand, and Rye stepped up and took it without hesitation, allowing Jake to pull him gently up against his chest. Jake’s arms, strong and warm, surrounded him, welcoming him into the embrace.
“Mmm, I missed you,” Jake whispered into his hair, and Rye laughed lightly, slipping his arms around Jake’s waist.
“You saw me yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that.” Rye squeezed Jake and then stepped back, looking up at Jake with a silly half-smile.
Eagerness danced in Jake’s dark eyes. “Yeah, exactly. It’s been almost a whole twenty-four hours since yesterday.”
Rye half rolled his eyes, still smiling, but then he threaded his fingers through Jake’s and said, “I missed you too.”
“Did you now?”
“Mm-hmm,” Rye confirmed with a nod. He glanced sideways at Jake with another grin. “We’re making chicken paprikash tonight, and the recipe calls for chopped onions. You’re very good at chopping onions, and it’s one of my least favorite things.”
Suppressing a laugh at the confusion on Jake’s face, Rye reached around Jake to grab his coat from the hanger on the wall in the office, then slipped it on.
“You . . . missed me because . . . you want me to chop onions for you?”
“Yep.” Rye zipped his coat and then took Jake’s hand again.
“And that’s the only reason?”
Rye shook his head. “No.”
Jake lifted his eyebrows, but Rye just grinned at him and then winked. Jake groaned. “You’re going to keep me in suspense here, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Rye.”
Rye snorted a laugh, then squeezed Jake’s hand. “I’ll tell you when we get to the car.” And he hadn’t meant to lower his voice, but the words came out deeper than he’d intended.
He heard Jake’s breath catch, and he shook his head, wanting to apologize for the tease and just explain to Jake now. But then he glanced around Jake toward the front of the store. Janice sat at the cash register still, and although she appeared to be engrossed in the book she was reading, he wasn’t too keen on having her possibly overhear him tell his boyfriend that all day, all he’d been thinking about was going over to Jake’s place so they could cuddle up on the couch together.
His cheeks felt hot just thinking about it, and Rye quickly hid back behind Jake so Janice wouldn’t see him. That didn’t do a whole lot to calm the flush in his cheeks, though, because when he looked up at Jake, Jake’s eyes were sparkling with laughter and eagerness. An urge tried to tug him forward, enticing him, and he suddenly wanted to reach up with both hands, to frame Jake’s face, to feel Jake’s beard under his fingertips.
He didn’t do it. But he wanted to.
Maybe he’d do it when they got to Jake’s place. He would have to fix Jake’s hair, after all, when Jake took off his beanie. He... could do both.
“God, what are you thinking?” Jake asked, his voice a low whisper. “You’re blushing. And it’s...”
Rye scrunched his eyes shut and groaned, hiding his face in Jake’s chest. “Embarrassing?” he mumbled. But he felt Jake shake his head.
“Definitely not. I was going to say adorable. And sweet,” Jake corrected. “And I meant to tell you how beautiful you look today.”
Fingertips brushed lightly along his temple, and Rye shivered. He relaxed into Jake’s chest as Jake repeated the touch, this time letting his fingers slide farther back, tucking a lock of Rye’s hair behind his ear. It felt so good. So loving and tender.
And Rye wanted to feel it again. Which was why they needed to leave. Soon. Now.
He sighed contentedly and then stepped back out of Jake’s embrace. “Let’s go?”
Without another word, Jake nodded. Then he backed up and motioned Rye out of the office. As Rye stepped out ahead of Jake, Jake’s hand came to settle low on his back, and he felt it again—a tug, a tiny flutter in his stomach. A... want.
He deliberately walked slow, telling himself it was so Jake didn’t have to walk any faster than he was comfortable. His leg was hurting, after all, because of the rain. But Rye knew that was only part of the reason.
The other part was how good it felt, having the solidness of Jake’s hand pressing into his back.
“Have a good afternoon, you two,” Janice said as they approached the front of the store.
“Thank you, Janice,” Jake answered for them. “You too!”
Rye gave a small nod, because that was as much as he could do right then. And Janice winked at him with what seemed like a knowing smile. Heat flared in his cheeks.
“See you Friday, Ryan.”
He nodded, quickly this time, and then stepped away from Jake to open up the door, welcoming the rush of chilly, damp winter air from outside. Light sprinkles of rain tickled his face, dampening the fire burning his skin, and Jake followed him out, reaching up to adjust the beanie on his head .
Together, they made their way over to Jake’s car, which was parked just a few spots down the street, and Jake limped ahead of him at the last second, grinning as he opened up the passenger side door.
“Beat ya!” Jake said, grinning broadly, his cheeks red, probably from the cold.
Rye stopped at the car and huffed a laugh. He’d been so distracted that he’d forgotten about their little unspoken game.
“You were distracting me,” he said, biting his lip as he reached up to brush a raindrop off the tip of Jake’s nose.
“Was I?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“How so?” Jake was still grinning, and his eyes twinkled, warm and kind.
Rye swallowed hard, and his gaze flitted down to Jake’s lips for half a second. A long, drawn-out half a second. “I, uh...”
The rain began to fall harder, but neither of them moved, and for another few seconds, Rye just stared up at Jake, holding his breath.
What would it feel like to have had Jake’s lips brush against his temple, rather than Jake’s fingers? He tensed, waiting for the unpleasant swoop of his stomach that he’d always get whenever he thought about maybe saying yes to Jake, maybe letting Jake kiss him.
But it didn’t come. The opposite happened, in fact—that tiny flutter, a tug of want. He... wanted Jake to kiss him?
Maybe not here in the rain. Not here on the street, in public, in the rain.
And maybe... he should sit with the feeling for a little while. Maybe he should wait. Maybe he should be sure.
“We should go?” Jake said, though he sounded uncertain, like it was a question.
Rye blinked and then nodded. “Y-yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”
The store was busy. Not really busy, but busier than normal for a Wednesday afternoon, and Jake and Rye had to park on the street rather than in one of the few spots in the tiny parking lot. When they stepped in out of the rain, Rye immediately looked toward the cash register, expecting his mom’s smiling face to greet them. However, she was nowhere in sight, and instead, Campbell, the other cashier who worked at the store, was behind the cash register .
Rye frowned. He’d been looking forward to seeing his mom, and he wasn’t sure where she might be, although, he supposed, sometimes she had to take her lunch break a little later than usual. That was probably the case today.
Jake’s hand pressed into his back. “Do you have the list?”
Rye managed to get his feet to unstick, and with a nod, he turned and grabbed a small basket from the stack next to the door. He looped his arm through the handles and reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. Then he frowned again. The screen was lit up with a text message notification from his mom.
He held up the phone to show Jake, and then, as they shifted out of the entryway and toward the store’s small produce section, Rye tapped on the notification.
Mom (12:42 p.m.): Hi sweetie! Hope you’re having a wonderful day! I’m going to be out on my lunch break until 2 today, so looks like I’m going to miss you when you come in. Can you ask Jake to call me when you get a chance? I have something I need to talk to you both about (easier than texting, if Jake can call). Thanks! Love you!!! XOXOXO
“Everything okay?” Jake’s hand shifted up Rye’s back a little as Rye stopped again. He nodded, but still frowned as he lifted the phone to let Jake read the message. “...Ah, okay. Want me to call her now, or should we shop first?”
Rye lifted his eyebrows at Jake and shook his head, then he handed Jake his phone.
“Call now? Right, yeah, sorry for the multiple-question question. Okay. Here, let’s...” Jake took the phone and motioned with his free hand toward the produce section. They moved farther into the store together and then stopped as Jake hit the call button and turned on the speaker phone feature, adjusting the volume down to keep their conversation as private as possible.
Rye looked down at the ground as the phone rang once and then twice.
His mom answered, her voice happy. “Oh, I’m so glad you called! Jake, is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Rye’s here with me. We just got to the store and got your message.”
“Oh, no, don’t you ‘ma’am’ me, that makes me feel really old,” Rye heard his mom say, and he pursed his lips to hold back a laugh .
Jake slipped his free arm slowly around Rye’s shoulders. “Sorry, Shirley. You’re right. How are you? Having a good lunch?”
“Yes! In fact . . .”
Jake and Rye started wandering forward as Rye’s mom chatted with Jake for a few minutes. Rye picked out a good-sized onion and some chives, then led the way toward where the meat was near the back of the store. Just as they stopped in front of the selection of chicken, Rye’s mom paused.
“So... the reason I wanted you to call was, Rye, sweetie, your aunt invited me to head with her to San Francisco tonight. She’s got tickets to see the symphony. Jon was supposed to go with her, but he’s not feeling well. I think he got hit with that stomach bug Tanya had last week, you remember, dear?”
Rye frowned, but nodded.
“He said yes, he remembers,” Jake relayed, and Rye leaned up against him more, fighting as his mind wanted to become anxious. He could already feel the fear building up as he thought about staying home, alone, and he closed his eyes for a moment, willing the panic away.
His mom continued, but he heard the hesitation in her voice. “I’d love to go. It’s been years since I’ve been to see the symphony play, but, sweetie, I won’t if you’re not okay with it. I don’t want to be presumptuous, but Jake, you could stay in our spare room, or...”
An image popped into Rye’s head—Jake trying to get comfortable on the tiny bed in the tiny spare room, which was almost more of an oversized closet. Jake was so tall and big, and that bed... it might have been Rye’s when he was a kid, he couldn’t really remember. But now, as an adult—and a small adult at that—Rye could barely even fit on it. He’d had to sleep on it once, and it had been awful. There was no way Jake could fit. He shook his head and glanced up at Jake, whose eyes looked amused.
“We’ll figure something out?” Jake asked quietly, tightening his arm around Rye in a comforting gesture, and Rye nodded, hoping he’d be able to talk again later, after they got back out to the car. It would make much more sense for Rye to just stay in the extra bedroom at Jake’s house overnight, if Jake didn’t mind.
And Rye was pretty sure Jake wouldn’t mind.
“Rye says it’s okay, you can go. I’ll stay with him wherever it works best.”
“Oh goodness, thank you. Are you both sure? I don’t want to upset any plans or anything.”
Rye nodded again, and Jake squeezed his shoulder gently.
“We’re sure, yeah.”
“Okay, wonderful. Thank you. I’m excited. Sooooo . . . ”
His mom chatted for a few more minutes, explaining her plans for the evening and that she’d be back the following afternoon. And Rye distracted himself by continuing through the store to pick up the rest of the ingredients they needed. Jake followed, keeping his hand on Rye’s back the whole time, as though he knew Rye needed the extra support.
Finally, his mom said goodbye, made Rye promise he’d text later, and hung up, and Rye took his phone back from Jake with a tight smile. He quickly sent her a brief text, as he usually did when they communicated over the phone through Jake like this.
Rye (1:27 p.m.): Love you, Mom! I hope you have a wonderful time
Rye (1:27 p.m.): Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine
And, like always, he followed up his last text with a string of emojis—all hearts and smiling faces—because he knew it would make his mom smile.