“I’ve been texting with Mr. Brock—”
“He’s the principal at the school? I think I know him. I see him sometimes at the café.”
“Yeah, he, uh, was a teacher at the school when I was a kid.”
“Hmm.” Jake snuggled his cheek more into Rye’s hair and inhaled a deep breath.
“I texted with him earlier in the week and asked if it would be something he thought the parents would be interested in as an after-school activity. And Janice agreed to let me use the bookstore, so Mr. Brock said he’d send out an email to the parents of all the kids in kindergarten through third grade to try to gauge interest. He’s supposed to text me back Monday and let me know. Even if it’s just a few kids...”
Jake nodded lightly. “Then you’d host the program a couple of times a week, maybe?”
“Yeah, that would be the goal. Janice loves the idea. She’s been building up the children’s book section over the summer, I guess, because it’s been popular with the tourists. But she’d love for it to stay that way in the offseason too. And I think... I think I’d like to work with children. I think”—Rye’s head pressed into Jake’s chest a little deeper—“I’d be good at it.”
“God, I’m so proud of you,” Jake breathed the words into Rye’s hair and let his fingers drift a tiny bit lower to Rye’s wrist then back up. Rye made a quiet sound, something like another of those contented hums. “I think you’ll be wonderful at it.”
They were both silent for a few minutes except the soft sounds Rye kept making as Jake stroked his fingers along Rye’s hand and to his wrist. Finally, Rye sighed and said, “That feels so good. I... never thought I’d... like a touch like this.” Rye’s palm pressed into Jake’s chest again. “Can I try?” he asked hesitantly.
Jake inhaled sharply and paused with his fingertips just at Rye’s wrist. “You want to...”
“I want to touch you like you’re touching me. It feels good, and I want to know, um, if it would feel good for you too.”
A wave of want rushed through Jake—or at least, that was what he thought it had to be. He’d never felt anything like it before, and for several seconds, hewas unable to respond. Then he managed a nod. “Yeah, of course,” he mumbled, and he lowered his hand down to his thigh. Rye’s hand tentatively covered his, lingering for a moment. Then Rye moved, running his whole hand up just past the braided dark-blue bracelet Jake wore on his wrist—the one Rye had given him on Christmas—before caressing back down. Rye repeated the motion with only his fingertips the next time, and it was more than a little overwhelming.
“God,” he rasped as he closed his eyes.
Rye laughed quietly. “I guess that’s a yes?”
“Hmm? A what?”
“A yes that it feels good for you too.”
“God, yeah. It feels incredible,” Jake said.
And Rye chuckled again, snuggled into Jake’s shoulder more, and said, “Good.” Then he continued with the motion, his fingers so light and warm, inching a little more up Jake’s arm every few strokes.
He tried to stay still and quiet, but a low moan slipped out when Rye’s fingers brushed along his inner forearm almost at his elbow. Rye paused with his hand there, settled lightly on Jake’s arm, and Jake felt the heat spreading all the way into his chest now.
“Jake?”
“Hmm?”
“Was this... a date? Did we have a date tonight?”
The swoop in his stomach took his breath away for a few seconds, and then he straightened up a bit, lifting his head so he could look down at Rye. Rye had his eyes on the spot where his hand rested on Jake’s arm, but then he glanced up, tilting his head back slightly, his expression hopeful and bright.
And god, Jake wanted nothing more than to kiss him right now. The urge was stronger than any he’d had so far—than any he’deverhad in his life—and he took a long, slow breath to steady himself.
“Do you want it to be?” he asked carefully, and he searched Rye’s eyes, looking for any sign that Rye was reluctant or regretful or scared.
“It was pretty perfect,” Rye said, the corner of his lips twitching up in a half-smile.
“It was.” Jake held himself still, but he kept his expression soft. “I thought about it earlier, how I’d have loved to ask you on a date, but I didn’t want to rush you or, um, anything.”
“But did it feel like a date to you?” Rye asked again, and this time, Jake did see something in his eyes—just a flicker of uncertainty.
Jake smiled gently and nodded. “It did,” he said, and then added, “It felt like the best date ever. Perfect. Because it was with you.”
It was cheesy and silly, but it was absolutely true. And the pink tinge growing in Rye’s cheeks was quite possibly the most adorable thing Jake had ever seen. Slowly, he brought his free hand up, pausing just before he touched Rye’s cheek.
