Page 72 of See My Words

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Rylan stood alone in the middle of Scott’s apartment, feeling a little lost.

What now?

He trudged to the master bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. It was rumpled, unmade, so Rylan stripped it and put fresh sheets on before pulling the comforter up and smoothing it with his palm.

After that, he wandered around for a while, straightening things, putting stuff away, his thoughts racing. It had been such a great weekend in so many ways, yet now he felt drained, emotionally exhausted. Rylan winced. If he felt that way, he could only imagine how Scott was feeling. He hadn’t said much when he dropped Rylan off, other than he’d see him later.

The ladder-shaped bookcase in the corner caught his attention, along with the old blue sneakers on the bottom shelf. Rylan sat on the floor and ran his fingertips across them, over the knots in the ragged laces, the rents in the material. The blue was faded and worn, the iconic swoosh on one of them half-missing.

Tears stung Rylan’s eyes as he remembered that first day in Scott’s bedroom, how he’d noticed these ugly, battered shoes and wondered what they’d seen, the stories they could tell. Well, now he knew. What was it he’d said to Chris, that he’d spent the weekend picking at all the scabs Scott had? A sudden lump rose in Rylan’s throat, and he gave a choked sob. No, that wasn’t anywhere close to the truth. What he should have said is that he’d ripped Scott’s wounds open tooth and nail.

Heaving a ragged sigh, Rylan gave the shoes one final caress before he pushed to his feet. Jesus. On top of everything else, Scott was dealing with the renewed MC₂ endorsement being flung in his face without warning. Rylan couldn’t even imagine the noise in his head right now, the intersection of past and present…and all of it painful.

When Scott’s key scraped in the lock several hours later, Rylan braced himself, wondering what frame of mind he’d be in after dealing with Corey and the huge weight of expectation that had just been dumped unceremoniously on his shoulders.

He was gratified when Scott, instead of pushing him away like before, clutched to him like Rylan was his lifeline. Rylan sifted his fingers through Scott’s freshly washed and cut hair, the smell of lotion and nail chemicals about him strong. “Everything go okay?”

Scott cupped his cheeks in his hands and kissed him gently. “More than okay. Mallory Creswell sent over the preliminary contract, and it’s amazing, Ry. Better than anything we’d hoped for.”

Rylan listened as Scott detailed the terms of the ninety-day contract, wincing internally at the schedule of parties, events, photo shoots, and other myriad appearances Scott would be booked for, including a week in Las Vegas hosting the grand opening of a rooftop pool club.

“Lots of investors to be wined and dined,” Scott said ruefully, letting go of Rylan and collapsing down at his kitchen table. “They need to be flirted with, flattered. It’ll be like a high-octane VIP gig at Spectrum, only it’s gonna last three days instead of three hours.” He sighed. “Then there’ll be pre-parties, the grand opening itself, after-parties…”

Rylan gave a squeak when Scott suddenly grabbed his hand and yanked him down onto his lap. “Tell me you don’t have a problem with all this shit, Ry, please. I haven’t signed anything yet…” He trailed off, his voice full of trepidation.

Moved beyond words that Scott was taking his feelings into consideration, Rylan draped his arms around his neck. “I knew exactly what I was getting into when I decided to get involved with you,” he said huskily. “And I also know how much this means to you. No, I don’t have a problem with any of it, as long as you’re happy.”

“I am. But Ry—” Scott hesitated. “You mean way more to me than any stupid contract ever will. Just want you to know that.”

Rylan felt a grin spread across his face, and he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss. He didn’t stop at just one, and soon they were both gasping for air and straining to get closer. They stumbled to the bedroom, leaving clothes strewn in their wake, their lovemaking fierce but tender.

Afterward, Scott slept in Rylan’s arms all night, his head pillowed on Rylan’s shoulder, his breathing deep and even. Rylan didn’t sleep, preferring to hold Scott close in order to savor this calm before the storm.

Because tomorrow, everything would change.

Chapter Twelve

THE SHARP KNOCK STARTLED RYLAN, and he glanced at his watch, surprised to see it was dinnertime. He slid his chair back from his desk and padded to open the door, smiling when he saw Scott standing there holding what looked like takeout bags.

“Hey,” Rylan said, stepping back to let him in. “Brought me food?”

“Beef yakisoba from Squid Ink. That okay?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Scott set the bags on the kitchen counter before pulling him into his arms. “Hi, baby.”

Rylan lifted his face for a kiss. “Hi,” he murmured against Scott’s lips. “I missed you. How was Vegas?”

“Not bad. The club was pretty nice.” With a last nuzzle against Rylan’s cheek, Scott let him go and took the food to the table while Rylan busied himself getting plates and bottles of beer.

“So a week in Vegas and the only description I get is ‘not bad’?” Rylan teased. “The pictures I saw on Instagram were hot. The fuchsia swimsuit—” He made a show of fanning himself.

Scott smirked. “That pool party was a legit blast.”

“Rooftop pool parties, hosting the grand opening of the new club…wow. How does it feel to be an official Hawt Boy at last?”