I marveled at how at-ease I felt right now, but it didn’t take long to guess why. We were alone, just the two of us, away from prying eyes. I felt a small pang in my heart when I remembered that people saw us walking off into the darker corner of campus together. I hoped I didn’t have to deal with that later.
“You might be able to open this up again.” I leaned back against the lip of the stage. “If the administration supported it. Which, I’m supposing, they probably won’t. Not after just barely allowing me to stay here. I don’t think they’re very open to the more avant-garde arts.”
“Maybe.” Riot fell silent.
And we were back to one-word replies. It was so nice to hear the long, drawn out sentences, though I’d take any excuse to hear him say anything for any amount of time.
We stood together in silence, staring at the stage. He was right. This place did get you completely away from the world. I couldn’t hear the hustle and bustle of the campus outside, and so much the better. I’d had enough of that rattling around in my head lately.
“I’m happy you’re here,” Riot said. “For the paper, I mean,” he quickly added, but I knew what he really meant. He was glad I was here, with him, in his special, sacred spot.
“Anything I can do to help,” I said. “I think moving to daily posts is smart.”
“If things had gone sideways for the paper, if the administration had decided it wasn’t worth it to preserve the history and integrity of it, I had considered maybe starting another one off-campus, on my own or with the other two.”
“I’m glad you don’t have to think about that anymore,” I said.
“Me too,” he said. “An off-campus magazine might have been cool, but it would have meant I’d failed at my job. So would the other two. We would have been responsible for losing all of that history, all of that prestige. It would have hurt our pride.”
I cocked a brow, looking at him directly. “But it’s not like you have anything to prove to anyone.”
Riot shrugged, slipping his hands inside his pockets. “It’s not that simple. When you’re the son of someone who people consider to be a living legend, someone who changed people lives with his moving lyrics and soulful music… I don’t know,” he finished, looking uncomfortable.
I thought of what Cynthia told me a while back, about Riot’s band getting big before disbanding. I wondered exactly how large of a shadow Riot’s father had cast over music history. Riot clearly wanted to impress his father or prove something to him. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Maybe his father was awful, someone Riot would never be good enough for, no matter how many poems he published in a prestigious literary magazine or top charting bands he spearheaded. Or maybe his father was like me, happy to see him living his life the way he wanted, and not having to fill some invisible quota.
“Riot,” I said, trying to keep my voice delicate and gentle. “Come over here.”
He came to stand front of me.
“I want to sit on this stage but it’s too high,” I said. “Pick me up?”
Riot’s normally stoic expression flashed over with amusement. He wrapped his strong hands around me and hoisted me up so I could sit on the lip of the stage. I spread my legs and pulled on his leather jacket until he was standing between them. With this new vantage point, we were eye-to-eye.
“You never have to prove yourself to me,” I said. “I know it might not be easy for you, and it might take some time, but you can be yourself around me.” I settled my hands around his neck, kneading gently.
He exhaled as I worked the tension out. He carried a lot, and it showed. His gaze flicked from my eyes to my mouth. I leaned forward to get closer to him.
I could feel the air turning electric between us. It was so easy to get lost in those eyes of his. Before I knew it, our lips were almost touching. His breathing had grown heavy, and so had mine, anticipating this moment, feeling the intense tension between us.
“Kiss me,” he said, practically on my lips.
I immediately closed the gap, pressing his lips against mine. My heart felt like it was on a cloud as I indulged in his kiss, sliding my hands up to his hair, burying my fingers in it.
It started off slow, and when we finally broke our seal, we stared at each other for a moment that felt like it could have stretched into eternity. He leaned in quick, catching my lips in his again. My pulse elevated quickly. My heart beat hard and strong in my chest as my desire for him grew. I kissed him back, more urgently than before, taking his face in between my hands and spreading my legs wider, wrapping them around his waist to pull him closer.
My mind replayed the first time we had been together, and I could feel the heat growing between my legs in response. I nibbled on his lower lip and was delighted to accept the appreciative groans he made against my skin.
I wanted him. More than anything else at that moment. The world melted away into static, nothing but inconsequential background noise.
“More,” I whispered, bringing my hands down to his leather jacket, ready to slide it off him immediately.
“As much as you want,” Riot whispered into my lips, capturing them in another passionate kiss.
Just when I thought I could completely lose myself in the moment, my phone pinged.
“Ignore it,” Riot murmured.
“It could be something important,” I replied. It almost physically hurt to pull away from him, to do anything other than ravage him in exactly the way I wanted to. But I did, leaning over to my bag and taking my phone out.
It was a text.
Don’t get too comfortable. Soon everyone will know exactly what you are when they see the dirt I’ve got on you.
