Jake grinned at something Janice said, his face lighting up. His puffy black coat was wet from the rain, and he had on his burgundy Stanford beanie, hiding his dark hair.
It would look funny later—Jake’s hair. When they’d get back to his house and he’d take off his beanie, his hair would be all out of sorts, sticking up in some places, flattened against his head in others. And Jake wouldn’t even be aware of it until Rye would step up to him and stretch up on his toes and run his hands through the dark strands to straighten them back out.
“Psst, Mr. Davis.” Rye felt a tug on his sleeve, and he blinked and tore his eyes away from Jake. Little Sadie had scooted closer to him, and she held her finished painting—a bright-orange dragon with tiny wings sitting on top of an oversized clamshell. Sadie leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially, “Is that yourboyfriend?”
Heat spread to Rye’s cheeks, but before he could answer, Joanna sidled up to join them, holding her own canvas. “Of course that’s his boyfriend. Right, Mr.Davis? He comes in here every week.” She whispered, too, as though it were some secret, which it really wasn’t. But Rye hadn’t thought they’d ever noticed Jake before.
And he was in no way equipped to talk aboutthiswith the students. Nor should he, he knew. So he just swallowed hard and nodded with a tight smile.
Sadie grinned, apparently satisfied with his response, and then she lifted up her painting. “All done! This is Elba! She’s the only dragon who can fly out of the water. What do you think, Mr. Davis?”
“I... I think I... can’t wait to read this book. This is beautiful. Great job,” he managed with another smile. One by one, the other students showed him their paintings, all of which were imaginative and colorful. And he praised all of them, his words coming easier again.
When they were finished, the children helped to clean up the paints and painting supplies. Rye glanced up briefly as he felt Jake move closer, his deep voice quiet as he spoke with one of the parents who’d just shown up. Jake seemed to sense Rye’s eyes on him, and he stopped in the middle of whatever he’d been saying and turned his head slightly, the smile on his lips widening. Rye gave a small wave, which Jake returned, and he held Jake’s gaze for another few seconds before turning to the children, who had all just settled back in front of him on the fluffy blue carpet. Each of them held their book and their painting, and they sat quietly, knowing the drill.
Rye smiled and sat up a little straighter. “Thank you for coming, friends,” he said, and they all grinned up at him. He clapped his hands together lightly. “For next week, I want you all to try to read a book that has birds in it. I have a special craft planned, and I think you’ll love it. If... if you can’t find a book or if you need a recommendation, ask your grown-up to contact me.”
They all nodded, and Rye paused and looked over toward the entrance. Jake stood to the side now, watching as the last of the parents scribbled their signature on the sign-out sheet sitting on a small desk next to the door. The other parents were grouped up, talking quietly amongst themselves as they waited. Rye’s stomach twisted a little, as it always did at this part of the session. He probably should have anticipated it—that sending the kids home would be one of the most difficult parts of the whole endeavor, but he hadn’t. Still, he knew or recognized each of the parents,andJake and Janice were there,andhe had the sign-in/sign-out sheet. He took a deep breath to steady himself and turned back to the children.
“When you see your grown-up, raise your hand,” he instructed, and each of the children looked over toward the door and lifted their hand. Sadie squirmed, grinning and waving at her mom, but she stayed seated and quiet, and Ryeappreciated that. One by one, he named each of the children, and he watched as they stood and hurried over to their parent. Maybe the whole procedure was a bit excessive, but he’d found it was the only way he wasn’t overwhelmed with anxiety for the rest of the day—when he got to see each child reunited with their parent before leaving the bookstore.
As the last of the children and parents left, Rye waved one last time and then stood smoothly, lifting the box of painting supplies with him. His eyes found Jake’s again, and a warm happiness filled his chest as Jake grinned broadly and started limping slowly in Rye’s direction.
Rye frowned. “The rain?” he asked as Jake reached him.
Jake slipped one arm around Rye’s back and leaned in for a gentle hug. “Yeah,” he said. “But it’s okay. How are you?”
Better now that you’re here.Not that anything had been bad or wrong. Just that when Jake was around, everything seemed that much brighter, like it pulsed at a different wavelength. Rye let himself lean against Jake for a few extra seconds, even as awkward as their hug was with him holding a large-ish box of art supplies in both arms.
“I’m good,” he said quietly. Then he pulled back and looked up at Jake—athis boyfriend—again. Jake smiled softly, his kind eyes studying Rye. Then Jake glanced over his shoulder toward the entrance, and when he looked back at Rye, he bit his lip and carefully lifted up his hand, letting his fingers brush along Rye’s cheek. Rye sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, the touch, gentle and light as it was, sending a jolt of heat all the way down into his toes. Jake’s hand dropped away too soon, and the loss of warmth sent a tug of something through him.
Later.There’d be plenty of time later. Snuggles on the couch, holding hands, all the little light touches he and Jake both seemed to be addicted to now. All of that was for later.
And he could wait. He was patient. Mostly.
“How’d they like this one?” Jake asked, motioning to the box Rye held.
Rye smiled. “They loved it, I think,” he said, and he tilted his head toward the office at the back of the bookstore where he stored all of his supplies and things, then turned and started walking slowly.
Jake followed, his hand coming to rest low on Rye’s back. “I saw some of their paintings. They’re so creative.”
“They are,” Rye agreed. “It’s fun. And I think... I think they have fun too.”
“Definitely.”
They reached the office, and Rye took a moment to slip the box of supplies into the small closet behind the desk. When he turned back around, Jake was leaning against the doorframe, watching Rye with a soft smile. Jake reachedout to offer Rye his hand, and Rye stepped up and took it without hesitation, allowing Jake to pull him gently up against his chest. Jake’s arms, strong and warm, surrounded him, welcoming him into the embrace.
“Mmm, I missed you,” Jake whispered into his hair, and Rye laughed lightly, slipping his arms around Jake’s waist.
“You saw me yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that.” Rye squeezed Jake and then stepped back, looking up at Jake with a silly half-smile.
Eagerness danced in Jake’s dark eyes. “Yeah, exactly. It’s been almost a whole twenty-four hours since yesterday.”
Rye half rolled his eyes, still smiling, but then he threaded his fingers through Jake’s and said, “I missed you too.”
“Did you now?”
“Mm-hmm,” Rye confirmed with a nod. He glanced sideways at Jake with another grin. “We’re making chicken paprikash tonight, and the recipe calls for chopped onions. You’re very good at chopping onions, and it’s one of my least favorite things.”
