Page 100 of See My Words

Rylan slid his eyes leisurely up and down Scott’s body, from his head to his toes. He bit his lip. “Wow,” he murmured, shifting in his seat.

Scott looked down at himself, wondering if he had food on his shirt from serving. “What?”

“I think that’s the most clothes I’ve ever seen you wear,” Rylan said hoarsely. “And fuck, it’s so hot.”

Scott blinked. “More clothes is hot?” He could feel his cock start to react to Rylan’s aroused perusal, and he gave silent thanks he was wearing his half apron to hide it. “That’s a new one.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s hot.” Rylan peeped up at him through his lashes. “Why? Because I know exactly what’s underneath them.” He ran his tongue across his lower lip.

Scott groaned as his burgeoning erection hit full mast, and he crouched next to Rylan’s bench to hide it, spreading his knees wide to ease the pressure.

Under the table Rylan did the same, and Scott suppressed a moan as he watched him slide his hand up his own thigh to cup himself soothingly and squeeze.

“Jesus,” Scott growled, his eyes fixed on Rylan’s fingers and what they were covering. “Stop it. I’m seriously in danger of coming in my pants right now.”

Rylan grabbed his napkin and dropped it in his lap instead, tilting his head up toward the ceiling to suck in deep breaths. “Right there with you.” Then he glanced at Scott. “How long till you get off?”

Scott choked, and Rylan gave a half grunt, half laugh, saying ruefully, “Shit, that came out wrong. How long till you’re done with work?”

“About an hour.”

Rylan made a small sound of protest, his blue eyes dark with longing. “Well, I’ve waited six months, I guess I can wait one more hour.” He reached out and rubbed his thumb over Scott’s lower lip. “Soon. But first, food.”

Scott pushed to his feet just as he heard a small commotion at the door. A group of at least ten people was crowding inside, and Scott recognized them as a family he’d waited on before and who always requested to be seated in his section.

Sure enough, Joy led them to a large semicircular booth not far from where Rylan sat, and Scott gave him a half shrug of apology. “Gonna be more than an hour now,” he mouthed, and Rylan quirked his lips in response.

Scott hurried off to grab some chips and salsa for him while the other party got settled, and on the way back bumped into Joy coming around the corner. His heart ached at the way she immediately stiffened and turned her head away.

“Hey,” he said, pausing for a moment. “I’m sorry if I—”

She interrupted him with a sharp gesture. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one feeling so stupid about the other night.” Her face was beet red. “You must think I’m such an idiot, asking you to come over like that.”

“I don’t think that, Joy, not at all. I was nothing but flattered.”

“But you’re—” She broke off, her lips pinched.

“I’m in a relationship, yeah,” he said gently. “That’s why I said no, not because I don’t like you or don’t think you’re attractive, okay? I think you’re pretty great, to be honest.”

Scott could tell she wasn’t really mollified, but she gave a sharp nod of her head and marched back to her post, her heels a staccato click on the floor. He sighed. Putting yourself out there and getting turned down always stung, and he hoped it was just that and not the fact he was in a relationship with a man. Not much he could do about it either way, but still—

He felt in his apron to make sure he had his pad and a pen before heading over to drop off Rylan’s chips and greet the large group, who were as loud and boisterous as they always were. The next hour and a half was a blur as he went back and forth between his two tables, relieved beyond measure Joy didn’t seat anyone else in his section.

Rylan ate his steak fajitas—extra green peppers, no onions—and when he was finished pulled an iPad out of his messenger bag, set it up, and proceeded to type busily on it. Scott studied him as he bused the family’s table after they left, wondering what seemed different about him and not quite able to put his finger on it.

His brown hair did look lighter, probably from all the sun, and it was longer than Scott had ever seen it, curling around his neck and ears. He was a little thinner than before he left, his cheekbones more sharply defined, but it wasn’t until Rylan lifted his eyes from the screen and stared off into space that it hit Scott.

He looked older.

Not in appearance so much, but in spirit. The expression on his face and in his eyes held a gravity, a sort of—weariness, as if he’d seen things, maybe even done things, that weighed heavily on his soul.

Scott thought about the photo he’d taken that had gone viral, one depicting an old pickup truck full of bullet holes, blood spatters visible on the white paint. On the ground next to the truck was the body of a boy, maybe eleven years old—a Ugandan child soldier, his gun still clutched in his lifeless, heartbreakingly small hand.

Hefting the tub full of dirty dishes, Scott lugged them to the kitchen, remembering his horror when he first saw the photo under Rylan’s byline. Heart in his throat, he’d searched for an accompanying story, eventually reading about a truck full of LRA rebels who had run across a contingent of government soldiers, resulting in a shootout. There’d been many casualties, and both sides fled after the gun battle, leaving their dead behind. Chris and Rylan, while riding with the group sponsoring their work, happened upon the scene many hours later. Scott couldn’t even imagine what that must have been like.

He dropped the dishes off and went out to wipe the table one last time, seeing that Rylan was packing up in preparation for leaving. Scott waved away the money he proffered. “No,” he said simply, relieved when Rylan didn’t protest. “Hey, I just need to close out my shift with the manager and then we can get out of here. Maybe another fifteen minutes or so?”

“You still out at that same cabin?” Rylan dug a set of car keys out of his jeans pocket. When Scott nodded, he went on. “I have Minh’s car. Can I just go on over there while you finish up?”