Jake snuck a quiet glance at Rye, who was squinting down at his pencil and paper, his face taut with concentration. Rye shook his head and blinked, then reached out, picked up the pair of reading glasses he had sitting on the table, and slipped them on.
And Jake’s chest was suddenly quite warm.
He tore his gaze away, feeling his cheeks heat up, too, and with a quick but deep breath to reset himself, he opened the cupboard, pulled out two mugs, and started heating water for tea.
A few minutes later, Jake took his spot at the table again, setting Rye’s tea just next to the laptop. Rye’s shoulders were tight, and he set his pencil down and rubbed the bridge of his nose just under his glasses.
“Thanks,” Rye said, and he seemed to attempt a small smile as he picked up the mug.
Jake tipped his head in acknowledgement, taking a cautious sip of his tea. “Everything okay?” he asked quietly.
Rye just nodded and then took a sip of his own tea and picked his pencil back up to continue working.
An hour and a half later, Jake was settled on the couch and had just finished returning an email from his editor when he heard Rye blow out a long breath. He looked up as he closed his laptop. Rye’s hands covered his face, and his chin was tucked down against his chest.
“All done?”
Rye nodded, but didn’t otherwise move.
“How’d you do?”
“I don’t know. I . . . can’t look.”
Jake frowned, set his laptop on the coffee table in front of him, and then stood up slowly and made his way across the room. He grinned as he got close enough to read the numbers on Rye’s computer screen.
“Rye, you can open your eyes,” he said gently, stopping at the chair next to Rye’s and setting his hands on the back of it.
“It’s not awful?”
“Hah, no. Not at all.”
Slowly, as though he couldn’t quite believe Jake, Rye lowered his hands and blinked open his eyes. And then he nearly slumped down onto the table, obviously relieved. The computer screen showed all of his test scores, with the words “Likely to Pass” written underneath each score. His math score was the highest of all—a whopping one hundred ninety-two out of two hundred possible points.
Jake laughed lightly. “You’re ready for this, Rye.”
Rye took off his reading glasses, then buried his face in his elbow on the table and shook his head. He mumbled something, too, but Jake couldn’t quite hear him.
“You’re so ready,” Jake repeated. “You passed all the sections easily, and you still have a week if you think you need to brush up on anything else. We don’t head to Redding until next Thursday. And you said they approved all the accommodations you requested, right?”
Rye nodded into his elbow but didn’t otherwise say anything.
Jake took his seat next to Rye again, and Rye tilted his head slightly to look at Jake, frowning.
“There’s something else?” Jake guessed. “What’s worrying you?”
“I... don’t know,” Rye admitted. “It’s just...” A pained look flickered in Rye’s eyes, and he screwed them shut again and buried his head back in his elbow.
Jake had seen that look before, especially as he’d helped Rye study over the last few months. And every time it had come, Rye had seemed to need to shut down for a while. He’d go quiet, unable to speak, much like when they’d first met.
A sinking feeling landed in the pit of Jake’s stomach, and he shook his head lightly, even though he knew Rye couldn’t see.
“It’s okay. You can talk to me,” Jake reassured him, though he knew it wasn’t that simple. Whatever it was that had Rye anxious in the first place was probably the same thing that made it so difficult for him to talk.
Yet Rye seemed intent on fighting it today. He nodded and then propped both his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. The look of pain in his eyes was gone, but his jaw was still tight, his eyes uncertain. He stared at the computer screen for a minute, silent, and Jake just waited. Finally, Rye dropped his chin again with a sigh, sending a lock of his hair pitching forward over his forehead.
Jake’s fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and push it back, tuck it neatly behind Rye’s ear where it had been. But he didn’t move.
“I-I told you this before, back in April,” Rye started, his voice low and shaky. He didn’t look up at Jake, and his hands shifted to his lap, clasping together. All of his earlier tension came back, too. Strong and obvious in his shoulders and jaw.
