“Yeah.” There’s something in his voice I can’t quite identify, and he changes the subject. “So, speaking of our video, how do we do this?”
I explain the details of how I run my own page as I finish up the steaks and we head back inside, Aggie trailing along behind us with her bone. Riley asks a lot of insightful questions about how Jess manages the messages and schedules posts, and I grab another beer for me and one for Riley as we sit down to eat and discuss. He’s complimentary of my cooking, which has me puffing up with pride, and I answer all of his questions. I can tell he’s anxious to get the video up, so we finish up our meal and make quick work of cleanup (which he insists on helping with, in spite of my protests).
Once I’ve fed Aggie and started the dishwasher, we make our way to the living room. I sit on one end of the couch, and he surprises me by sitting right next to me instead of at the opposite end. He’s a little closer to me than is strictly necessary, but I’m not complaining. Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I open up the Fanboy app and queue up a new post. “You ready for this?” I ask.
He grins back at me and nods, practically vibrating with excitement. He’s already got Jess’s caption pasted and the videoloaded. I quickly do the same, and we both hit the ‘post’ button at the same time. Within seconds, message notifications are rolling in, and Riley is smiling ear to ear, a look of wonder on his face as he watches the notification number climb. “No going back now,” I tell him.
His eyes are bright and, if possible, his smile widens even more as he turns to look at me and says, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
9
RILEY
The response to my video with Luke has been better than I could have imagined. I’ve definitely watched it a few times myself. Okay, maybe more than a few. I’d die before I’d admit that to Luke, though. He’s so insanely hot that sometimes I can’t even believe that’s me on screen with him. I keep thinking one of these mornings I’m going to wake up to find this has all just been a crazy dream.
We haven’t seen each other again since dinner at his house the other night, but we’ve been texting a lot. Well,I’vebeen textinghim. He told me to feel free to message him any time with any questions I have, and if I happen to sit around pondering questions I can ask to get a conversation going without itseeminglike that’s what I’m doing…well, no one has to know. I just really enjoy talking to him, and the more we talk, the more he lets down his guard, and I see a softer side of him come out.
I check the clock on my nightstand again. I’m meeting Benji for our collab in a few hours, and I’m a little nervous. I keep telling myself that it’s just because I haven’t met him yet, but I’m also worried that after the collab with Luke, there’s nowhere togo but down. But that’s crazy, right? I’ve seen nothing but good things about Benji online. There’s nothing to be nervous about.
I take a nice, long, hot shower to help settle my nerves and do my usual prep. I feel more relaxed by the time I get out, at least. Maybe I just need a pep talk. I got nervous right before the shoot with Luke, too, and he put my mind at ease. I glance down at my phone on the bathroom counter and bite my bottom lip, considering.
Lukedidtell me to text him if I needed anything. And he hasn’t seemed annoyed any of the other times I’ve reached out. Before I can overthink it, I type out a text:
ME:
Collab with Benji in a bit…wish me luck.
I hit send and immediately regret it.There wasn’t even a question in there, you idiot. What’s he supposed to reply to? It sounds like I’m just giving him a play-by-play of my day or something.
Just then, my phone pings:
LUKE:
Good luck! You’re a natural, you’ll do great.
I blow out a deep breath, releasing tension along with it, and I already feel about ten pounds lighter. He’s right. It’s gonna be great.
ME:
Any advice?
I watch as the three dots appear on the screen, indicating he’s typing, and then they disappear. A couple of seconds pass, and they start up again…and stop. Maybe he’s sick of me. Maybe he’sgoing to tell me to get over myself and just do the job. Maybe Ihavebeen texting him too many dumb questions. A minute goes by before I finally see the dots again and get a reply:
LUKE
Enjoy yourself. You look so beautiful when you’re happy.
I read and reread the text a few times. I’m really glad he can’t see me, because I probably look like a complete fool the way I can’t stop smiling.
ME:
Beautiful, huh?
LUKE:
Beyond. You’re radiant, sunshine.
Oh, be still my freaking heart. Suddenly, all my nerves have vanished, and maybe all of my bones, too, because I feel like I’ve just melted into a puddle on the floor. He’s got a nickname for me now?
