That sounded more than perfect to Rye, and he nodded when Jake glanced briefly in his direction.
Jake’s warm smile lit up his eyes, and he turned to look back at the road. “Good, good. So, for lunch, we can order delivery to the hotel, yeah? Krista mentioned this amazing restaurant...”
With a long, slow breath, Rye relaxed back into his seat and closed his eyes, listening to the gentle sound of Jake’s voice and imagining it as a hug. Warm and promising of safety.
Chapter Forty-One
Jake
Sundayafternooncameandwent, and the quiet time in the hotel room seemed to be just what Rye had needed to reset after the events of the morning. Around six, they headed out for another low-key dinner with Krista and Phil, this time at a tiny Italian restaurant just a little outside of the downtown Reno area, and despite the whirlwind of a day it had been for Phil, he was just as eager to see Rye again. And Rye seemed content too; he ate and laughed and let Phil tell him all about some English project he was working on at school, a story he was writing or something. Jake was only half listening. He was too distracted by Rye’s bright eyes and happy smile.
Afterward, they’d all headed over together to the place Rye’s mom had recommended that served rolled ice cream. Even though Jake had made what he thought was a compelling argument for strawberry ice cream, Phil had managed to convince Rye to go with mint chocolate chip, which Phil had claimed was really “the only ice cream flavor that mattered.”
And when the evening was over and they arrived back at the hotel for the night, Rye still seemed okay. Not overwhelmed or anxious or needing to retreat immediately back to his bedroom to rest. So Jake suggested they find a movie to watch—something entertaining and not a documentary this time—and Rye agreed.
They made popcorn—purchased from the little pantry down in the hotel lobby and popped in the microwave in their room—and Jake let Rye pick the movie from the selection available on his Netflix account. And then they stayed up late eating popcorn, watching movies, and taking turns playing some mindless puzzle-match game on Jake’s phone.
It was perfect. Jake wasn’t sure he could have thought of any better way to spend his time.
He appreciated any and all time he got to spend with Rye, of course, but seeing Rye like this—relaxed and happy and enjoying himself—made Jake’s heart feel full.
The second movie ended around midnight. All the popcorn had long since disappeared, and Rye had curled up in the corner of the couch, his eyes closed lightly and his facial muscles relaxed as though he’d fallen asleep. He looked comfortable, content, peaceful, and Jake just leaned back deeper into the couch cushions for a few minutes, watching his friend.
It was incredible, really, how far Rye had come. Six months ago, Rye had nearly died from hypothermia. Six months ago, he’d been unable to talk at all, scared to justbe, scared of Jake and of movement and sound. Malnourished and injured and barely a shell of a person.
But now... Rye was almost like a different person. He was funny and smart. He had likes and dislikes and so many expressions. He smiled and laughed and teased, and he loved reading and learning and nature.
He had a huge, huge heart and the kindest soul.
God, he was beautiful. Inside and out.
Jake closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh. His sister had been right when she’d whispered in his ear earlier, just as they’d been saying goodbye after Phil’s gymnastics meet. She’d said, “You’ve fallen so hard, little brother. I’m so, so happy for you. But you’re going to have to be patient. Wait for him to see you. You absolutely can’t rush things.”
Every word was right. He had fallen hard. And every day, he fell harder. He’d tried to put the brakes on his feelings, tried to convince his heart to hold off. Yet, here he was, him and his stubborn heart feeling every darn thing much too intensely.
He’d never felt this way before. Not anywhere close to it. And although he’d known since he was a teenager that he was somewhere on the spectrum of asexuality, even when he’d developed deep personal relationships, like with his friend Steve, he hadn’t ever had this intense emotional connection with someone before.
Somehow, Rye was different.
Different. And beautiful. Kind and innocent and courageous and compassionate.
Jake opened his eyes again, and he leaned forward and picked up his phone, careful to not make the couch shift too much. He opened up his messenger app.
Jake (12:24 a.m.):You were right
Kris (12:24 a.m.):Only took you 28 years to realize it. ;) lol Right about what?
Kris (12:25 a.m.):Also, why are you up? Weren’t you planning to leave early tomorrow?
Jake (12:26 a.m.):We’re leaving Tuesday morning. Just finished watching movies. About to go to bed now
Kris (12:26 a.m.):...thank you for your detailed itinerary. But you left my most important question unanswered
Jake groaned inwardly, hesitating as he wondered whether he’d made a mistake bringing anything up. But he neededsomething. Advice or a knock on the head, which was maybe more likely considering hewastexting Krista. Just... he neededsomething. So he swallowed his pride and responded.
Jake (12:28 a.m.):Rye. You were right about Rye
He typed another quick message to clarify, in case Krista hadn’t remembered the conversation from earlier.
