Shameless.
Seth huffed again, if only because he wanted to tell himself he was being steamrolled. “Riley,” he said with exaggerated politeness. “Would you like to come over for lunch?”
Riley immediately beamed at him, and Seth told himself his heart wasnotin his throat. He was probably just getting a cold from working too hard in this dreary weather.
“Yes, Seth,” Riley said smoothly, matching Seth’s exaggerated courtesy perfectly. “I would.”
LeadingRiley into the rental house, Seth couldn’t help but be hyperaware of how his guest immediately began studying the place with the same intensity he always studied everything pertaining to Seth.
Seth shifted in place in the living room, which was separated from the kitchen by a little half-wall counter, weirdly self-conscious in a way he hadn’t been since he was young. “It came furnished,” he offered in explanation.
Riley nodded. He had his hands tucked in the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans again, and it seemed today was one of those good days, where he was maybe more comfortable in his own skin. Able to chat and joke with only a few of his deep silences.
“I thought so,” Riley said after a moment, and it took Seth a second to remember they were talking about his home decor. “Doesn’t seem like you.”
“You can tell?” Seth asked, his lips twitching into a small smile. He supposed hewasthe kind of guy who wore his heart on his sleeve, more or less. Maybe Riley had expected that to be reflected in his home.
Riley nodded again, so incredibly solemn. “I can tell.”
“You want the whole tour?”
Seth regretted the question as soon as he’d asked it. The only other rooms here were the bathroom and his bedroom, and neither of them needed to be on display. But Riley was alreadymoving in the direction of Seth’s room without waiting for Seth to show him the way.
Seth followed him, fiddling with his headband. This room felt a little more personal, and not just because it was where Seth slept. There was more of himself here, he supposed. It had come with a bed, end table, dresser, and vanity, but Seth had added his own touches. He’d made the bed a cozy nest, with a warm russet-orange comforter and lemon-yellow sheets. There was art on the walls that talented friends had made—bright, colorful pieces that reminded him of home.
And the vanity Seth actually adored. It was small and still in its original dark, unpainted wood, with an upholstered stool and a little oval mirror. He’d decorated it with pictures of home, and the little cheesy Maine tourist knickknacks friends had given him as going-away gifts. He had his headbands hanging on a thrifted jewelry stand, and his makeup selection was on display in a repurposed jewelry box and a few scattered baskets.
Riley took it all in, in his quiet, thoughtful way. “This is you,” he eventually said. “This room.”
Seth let out a breath. “Yeah,” he agreed. “This is me.”
Riley took his time studying the vanity especially. He reached out and shook the makeup box oh so gently. “You said I could borrow nail polish.”
“I did.”
He turned to face Seth, holding up his hands. “Will you do them for me?”
So, after a hasty lunch of stovetop canned soup and toasted bread, they were both on Seth’s couch, wearing face masks—because if they were going to do self-care, they were going to go all out—and Seth had his box of polish in his lap. They were sitting cross-legged, facing each other, and Seth had placed a towel in the space between them so he didn’t mess up his hideous, uncomfortable sofa with nail polish.
As Seth adjusted the towel, Riley touched tentative fingers to his mask. “What does this do?” he asked. Which was kind of funny, since he hadn’t said a word when Seth had handed it to him and shown him how to place it on his face. He’d borrowed one of Seth’s headbands to keep his dark hair from sticking to it, and he looked so adorable that Seth had the odd urge to pinch his cheeks.
“It nourishes, hydrates, and plumps,” Seth told him dutifully, rifling through his polishes. There were a few key ones missing—Sascha had definitely been hoarding what he borrowed; Seth was sure of it. “Not that you need it,” he added. “Youthful skin and all.”
Riley cocked his head, his gaze once again fixed intently on Seth’s face. It should have looked ridiculous, with the white mask covering his features, but the intensity of his dark eyes shone through like always. “How old areyou?”
“Twenty-six,” Seth told him.
“Young too.”
Seth arched his brows. “Older than you.”
Riley scoffed. “Young.”
Seth straightened, weirdly affronted. “Excuse me,” he said haughtily. “I’ve lived a life.”
“So have I.”
Riley said the words with such calm, quiet certainty that Seth immediately felt like a complete dick. Seth was older than Riley, yes, but he’d always had a comfortable life, with supportive friends and family and a place in his small community. Even without the town’s rumor mill, he’d have known the same didn’t apply to Riley. There had been struggle there, either in his past or in his present, and it was plain to see, even if it did nothing to dampen his appeal.
