“Ugh, yes, steak soundsamazing,” Riley says enthusiastically, assuaging my worries. I pretend not to notice the way he adjusts himself as he stands, and instead focus on Aggie, who’s stretched up on her hind legs with her front paws on his shin, begging to be picked up. He scoops her up andfollows me. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since I got here. I’ve been looking forward to this all day, not gonna lie.”
My chest warms with pride at that. He seems to be adjusting well, but I’m happy that I can provide a sense of home for him. “Well, good. I doubt it’ll be the most incredible meal you’ve ever had or anything, but I do alright in the kitchen. I’ve always been on my own, so learning to feed myself was kind of a priority.”
Riley takes a seat at one of the barstools in front of the island and places Aggie in his lap, stroking her velvety ears absently. “Your parents didn’t teach you how to cook or anything?”
The question is innocent enough, but uneasiness unfurls in my gut at the change in topic. I turn my back to him, checking on the veggies in the skillet on the stovetop, grateful I don’t have to look at him. If we’re going to be friends, I have to tell him about my life. That’s not really something I’m used to doing. Nate and Jess both just kind of strong-armed their way into my life and never left. They know a lot about me now, but it took a couple of years of warming up to the idea that they weren’t going anywhere before I willingly offered up information about myself that couldn’t be found on my social media or through an internet search.
I’ve never reallywantedanyone to know me. I’ve been content on my own my entire life. I’ve had casual acquaintances come and go, but none of them really had any staying power. When I was a kid, I didn’t have love and affection from a family, and as an adult, it was easy to get my social needs met by hitting gay events or the club scene, both of which I was invited to frequently. And then, of course, my base needs were met through my work. I’ve never really known how to make a friend…or be one, either.
“I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject,” Riley says carefully, and I realize I’ve been quiet too long.
“Oh, no, sorry,” I assure him quickly. Now he thinks he’s offended me. Great start. “I just got lost in my head there for a second. I, um…I didn’t have a family to teach me that stuff. I grew up in foster care.”
That single admission has me feeling like I just unzipped my chest and opened it up for him to poke around inside. The experience is unpleasant, and anxiety is still churning in my gut, yet I don’t feel the overwhelming urge to immediately cover up and protect myself like I expected I would. Riley doesn’t feel threatening. He feels…safe.
I’m used to people offering sympathy, like when I got moved to a new foster family and had to go to a new school and explain myself all over again, and I don’t want that from him. I rush to continue: “It wasn’t that bad. My parents died when I was really young, so I don’t remember them at all.”
“That sounds rough.” Riley’s voice is quiet, but not judgmental or pitying. He sounds genuinely interested in me. “You didn’t have any extended family at all?”
“Only one person that I know of.” I shift uncomfortably. This isn’t something I like to talk about, but something about Riley’s sincerity has the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I had an aunt who was supposed to take me in but decided at the last minute it would be too much of a burden to be a single mom to a kid that wasn’t even hers.” There’s a painful ache in my chest at the memory. “Foster care was all I knew. And I had lots of decent enough foster families. They just were never very long-term, so there wasn’t time to learn things like cooking, or how to apply for college, or change a flat tire, or whatever.”
“Is that how you got into porn then?”
“Yeah, it seemed like the easiest way to make enough money to live on without having any marketable skills, you know?” I busy myself with pulling the ingredients for a salad out of therefrigerator, still unwilling to look at his face while we talk about this. Baby steps, right?
“Did you always know you were gay?” Riley asks, curious.
“I’m…pretty sure, yeah,” I say slowly, thinking back. “But I don’t think I really admitted it to myself for a long time because I was never in a stable enough environment to feel safe exploring it. I don’t know if that makes sense.” Shit, that was an overshare for sure.
“Itotallyknow what you mean,” Riley says immediately. “This—moving to LA—is the first time I’ve really felt complete freedom to be myself. Even though I do have a really supportive family, the area I’m from doesn’t exactly have a thriving queer population. It makes it hard to be fully out when you’re not sure how people will respond.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it,” I agree, turning to face him finally. I don’t know why I thought our age difference would make it harder to relate, but his experience growing up super religious and worrying about coming out resonates with me. We have very different backgrounds, and he’s so much younger than me, but he seems like he’s got a good head on his shoulders. “I thought for the longest time that if I just kept it to myself and kept my head down, it wouldn’t be an issue. But it turns out that when you get to high school and don’t date girls, or talk about dating girls, people start to get suspicious.”
“Don’t I know it.” Riley rolls his eyes, running a soothing hand along Aggie’s back. She’s fallen asleep in his lap. “I only came out to my family and a couple of close friends, so I wasn’t out at school. It felt like I was living a double life or something. And kids are assholes in high school.”
I turn back to finish mixing the salad ingredients, feeling a bit too vulnerable to look at him with the direction this conversation is taking. It’s not what I expected, but I still feel pretty okay sharing with him. It’s actually kind of nice to havesomeone to talk to who can relate. Jess is straight, and Nate is bi, but he’s been in an open situationship with the same girl since high school, so their experiences are wildly different from my own. Riley’s is different, too, as far as the details go, but the feelings about it are nearly the same.
“I had a couple of kids my freshman year of high school start telling everyone I was gay,” I say quietly. “It wasn’t really as common or talked about the way it is now, so it didn’t take long for the other kids to start gossiping. That was…” I trail off and swallow hard, debating how much I want to open up to him. I don’t let myself revisit my past very often, and certainly never with an audience. But that safe feeling Riley gives me is stronger than the fear of opening up. “It was difficult to hear people talking about who I am before I even fully understood what it meant myself.”
“I think that’s partly why I want to do this,” Riley muses. “The porn thing, I mean. I spent my adolescence putting up walls to protect myself while I figured things out, and now that I know who I am and I’m in a completely new place with a totally fresh start, I feel like I can finally do something for myself without worrying how other people will react to it. No one here knows me, so they don’t have any preconceived ideas of who they think I should be. I can just be me for the first time ever.”
How the fuck is this kid so wise in his twenties? He’s worked through shit that I didn’t figure out until well into my thirties. Is that what having a stable home life gets you? “I think that’s awesome,” I say sincerely. “And I felt exactly the same way when I started out. It was a little different since I started out at studios, but I’ve found a lot more freedom even in these last few years by going out on my own on Fanboy. Creator-controlled platforms have been booming for years now, but I like Fanboy because it’s tailored to queer men specifically. I’ve met so many other great creators there and had some great collabs.”
“How do you decide who to collab with?” Riley asks, standing when I plate up the steaks and waking Aggie in the process. I gesture for him to follow me outside to the patio. It’s a perfect California evening, so even when I get the grill started up, it’s not too hot in the small outdoor space. Aggie immediately finds a bone she left out here earlier and busies herself chewing loudly as the steaks sizzle on the grill. The air is filled with the scent of the cooking meat almost immediately, and my stomach grumbles awake.
“It depends,” I say after a moment of consideration. “If it’s someone I’ve met and hung out with before, and I know they’re cool, that’s usually good enough for me. If it’s someone who reaches out directly, I usually want to meet them at least once first, like with you. Some guys will collab with anyone who asks, though, especially if their following is bigger. Personally, I like my content to feel more genuine than a lot of what’s out there right now, and I think connecting with someone on a personal level first accomplishes that for me. But there’s no real right or wrong way to do it.”
“I had someone message me on Fanboy and ask to collab after I posted our teaser.” Riley is chewing on his lower lip, contemplative. “I haven’t decided what to tell him yet.”
Something cold and unpleasant slithers down my spine, and I do my best to shake it off. He can collab with whoever he wants to. I’m happy for him that he’s getting attention already. “Who is it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“Ummm, Benji Palmer, I think?”
“Hm, I know about Benji, but I’ve never worked with him.” I concentrate harder than necessary on flipping the steaks. Benji is cute. Tall, lean, with bright blue eyes and a mop of curly black hair. I think I follow him on…something. One of the billion social media apps out there. In every picture I’ve seen, he’s got a playful little smirk that’s turned into kind of a signature for him.His videos are all taken on his phone, and definitely amateur, but people are into them. He seems to be a total top and has the finesse of a jackhammer, but he looks like a nice enough guy. I don’t want to put Riley off working with him if that’s what he wants to do. So instead I go with, “He’s newer on the scene in the last year or two, and he seems like a decent guy.”
“He was really polite in his message,” Riley agrees. “I was kind of leaning toward saying yes.”
“You should,” I say, a bit too enthusiastically. “He’s gained a pretty big following in just a couple of years, so it would be great exposure for you. Especially after our video drops.”
