Page 31 of See My Words

“The weight loss, the lack of muscle tone.” Corey grimaced. “Your skin looks coarse and pasty. Everything about Pete is on point, and he’s packing the house, so I’m keeping him on for now.” Whatever Corey saw on Scott’s face made him put his hand on his shoulder.

“Pete’s just a placeholder. You know that, baby,” Corey said reassuringly. “Take the next few weeks, a month, whatever, to get your ass back in the gym. Work on your base tan, your clean eating, and you’ll be back up to par in no time.”

“Thanks,” Scott murmured, and Corey gave him a gentle pat on the cheek before disappearing into his office. Scott stood there, his fists clenched, staring up at the ceiling.

“He’s right, Rylan.”

Rylan didn’t say anything, and Scott walked over to him, that old telltale whiteness around his lips. “See?” He waved his hand at the promotional posters on the walls. Rylan stared at the larger-than-life images of Scott in the briefest of underwear, his torso lean and ripped, his skin glowing.

“That’s what people expect when they come here,” Scott grated. “That. Not a pasty white eyesore.” He turned and made as if to slam his hand into the wall, pulling his punch at the last moment, instead rapping it lightly with his knuckles. “I’m so fucking useless right now.”

Rylan laid his palm between Scott’s shoulder blades, feeling the tension radiating off him in waves.

“Let’s just go home, Scott.”

Scott gave a terse nod, pushing away from the wall before striding out the door toward the parking lot. Rylan had to trot to keep up with him, and when he got to the car, Scott was already sliding in behind the wheel.

“Gonna drop you at the condo,” Scott grunted, “then hit the gym.”

“Okay.”

Rylan clutched the door handle as Scott drove like a bat out of hell, making short work of the distance to the apartment. He barely came to a stop at the curb, almost pushing Rylan out before screeching away, a horn blaring from somewhere as Scott’s taillights rapidly disappeared into the distance.

Shit. Rylan blew out a breath and trudged through the lobby, waving to George and climbing on the elevator. He stared morosely at the mirrored walls as he made the swift ascent up to the fourteenth floor.

Elizabeth was just pulling her own front door shut when Rylan emerged into the hallway.

“Hi, Rylan!” she called with a cheery wave. “How are you?”

They made small talk for a moment before Elizabeth’s face brightened. “Oh! Scott got his wires off yesterday, right? I have just the thing.” She unlocked her door and hurried inside, reappearing a moment later with a casserole dish covered in foil, which she presented to Rylan.

“Shepherd’s pie,” she said proudly. “Mashed potatoes, ground beef, carrots, and peas. If he smooshes the veggies up with a spoon and mixes it all together real well, he should be able to swallow it easily. Good hearty food to put some meat back on those bones.”

After thanking her profusely, Rylan headed inside to put the casserole dish away before grabbing his laptop and settling at the kitchen island to edit the pictures of the bachelorette and her squad. When he was satisfied with them at last, he emailed them to Corey for final approval.

It was interesting, he thought. In Miami, most of the gay clubs refused to host straight-girl hen parties, especially in the days before marriage equality when a group of people flaunting a right another group of people didn’t have in their own space was downright offensive. Corey had an open-door policy for that sort of thing, apparently.

He put work aside and opened his own Instagram account, chuckling when he saw a few comments from Gabriel on his Camelback Mountain hike pics.

Living vicariously through you, man! Take me to the Grand Canyon already, would ya? Not like I’m ever gonna get to Arizona.

Rylan typed out a quick reply.

You know you’re welcome out here anytime, G. My apartment’s a piece of shit but the couch is all yours! I’d love to show you around.

He spent some time on his other social media accounts, until his growling stomach reminded him it was almost dinnertime. Rylan pulled the casserole out of the fridge and popped it into a low-temp oven, and before long, a mouthwatering aroma filled the air. He fixed himself a huge bowl of salad to go with the shepherd’s pie, rinsing off the cutting board and knife just as he heard Scott’s key in the lock.

“Hey, you hungry?” Rylan called to him. “Elizabeth made something delicious for us. I tell you, that woman in a treasure.”

Scott walked up behind him as Rylan pulled the dish from the oven and ceremoniously peeled the foil back. “Shepherd’s pie, the world’s most famous comfort food.”

Scott stared down over his shoulder as Rylan turned his head and breathed deeply of the scent of clean sweat, wanting nothing more than to drop to his knees, yank down Scott’s gym shorts, and bury his face in—

He jumped as Scott snatched up the oven mitts, grabbed the hot dish, and in one swift motion dumped the entire contents in the trash.

“What the actual fuck?” Rylan exclaimed, staring at Scott in utter shock. “That was our dinner!”

“More like a fucking carb nightmare,” Scott growled. “Mashed potatoes, starchy vegetables.” He shuddered. “I can’t eat that shit.” Pulling a bottle of water from the fridge, he guzzled it as he stalked toward his bedroom.