He tilts his head and studies me. “You don’t like flying?”
“I don’t mind it,” I say carefully, not wanting to burst his bubble. “The flying itself, I mean. It’s fine. I hate airports, though. Love to travel, but I wish I could just teleport instead.” At least today we’re in one of those planes with two seats instead of three on either side of the aisle, and I find that I don’t mind the cramped seats as much when I get to be this close to Riley.
I regretted saying yes to this trip as soon as we were driving home from the cabin. I haven’t celebrated any holidays since I was seventeen, unless you count a few “Friendsgivings” over the years where a few of us in the industry would meet up and go clubbing. As a kid, I was with a different family pretty much every year, and I always felt like an outsider at best and an inconvenience at worst. The anxiety that welled up just from the thought of meeting Riley’s parents and sister was almost enough to rescind my acceptance of his invitation.
I haven’t had a “meet the parents” moment since being shuffled between foster families. I’ve never had a boyfriend whose family I had to meet. Not that Riley and I are boyfriends or anything. I shake that thought away before I can run with it. “So, uh…what do your parents actually know about me, anyway?”
“Well, they obviously know you’re coming,” he says wryly, bumping his shoulder into mine. “I just told them we’ve become good friends, and that you didn’t have anyone to spend the holiday with. My mom was already demanding I bring you with me before I could even tell her you had already agreed. They don’t know about my job—well, Amanda does, but she’s sworn to secrecy. I didn’t tell them anything about your work, though. I wasn’t sure what you’d want me to say.”
My eyebrows raise at that. “Wouldn’t they be disgusted if I told them I do porn?” I ask. As if proving my point, the woman across the aisle looks up from her book to scowl at me.
“No way,” Riley says quickly, shaking his head. “They’re not like that. I haven’t told them about me because it’s awkward since I’m their kid. They would never judge you for how you make a living. They might be old, but they’re cool.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Actually…my dad just turned fifty-two last week, so there’s less of an age gap between you and him than you and me.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I rub at my temples in distress. “They’re going to hate me. Why aren’t we in an exit row? I’ll just jump out now, thanks.”
I make a move to reach across him to the window, and Riley laughs and grabs my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine and squeezing. “Stop it, they’re going to love you. I promise.”
I squirm uncomfortably at his use of the “L” word. I definitely don’t think that’s true. No one’s ever used that word in association with me before. But Riley’s hand in mine settles me a little, and if he says that it will be okay, I believe him.
“Okay, sunshine,” I say, swallowing down my nerves. “If you say so.”
The Tulsa airport is comically small compared to LAX. It takes only a few minutes to get to baggage claim and collect our luggage before heading outside to pick up our rental car in the parking garage. Riley’s family wanted to pick us up, but he insisted that we needed our own car to get around anyway. I suspect that he just didn’t want me to be overwhelmed meetingeveryone as soon as we got off the plane, and I appreciate him for it.
It’s much colder here than LA, but the air feels damp. The shorts I pulled on this morning were the wrong choice for sure. Luckily, we don’t have to wait long for the car, and Riley is in the passenger seat directing me to the hotel—we put the car in my name to avoid the extra fees since he isn’t twenty-five yet, once again reminding me how old I am. I’m seriously considering turning the car around and hopping right back on a flight to California.
I thought we’d stay at Riley’s parents’ house, since I know that’s what he would be doing if he had come home alone, but he booked a hotel nearby instead. I’m sure this was another concession he made for my comfort, and I’m torn between feeling bad about it and being grateful. It’s not that I’m antisocial, by any means, but I’m more overwhelmed than I thought I would be. I’m glad to be able to decompress at the hotel for a bit before we head over to his parents’ house later.
I’m amazed at how quickly we get from the airport to downtown, and now I understand why Riley is always worried about driving time in LA. He booked us into a beautiful old hotel in the heart of downtown. The exorbitant art deco architecture makes me feel like I stepped into the 1920s, and I’m so enamored by all of the gorgeous details in the lobby—the golden starburst patterns, the marble floors, and rich colors—that I wish I had my camera to take a few photos. I dig my phone out of my pocket; it’ll have to do for now. I manage to angle the light coming through the window just right so that I catch a rainbow prism glinting across one of the golden metal starburst accents on the wall. I immediately upload it to Instagram with rainbow and star emojis for the caption, and I’ve got my head tilted all the way back to snap a picture of the chandelier when I hear, “Whatcha working on?”
Riley’s voice makes me jump, and I nearly drop my phone. “Just wishing I had brought my real camera. This place is beautiful.”
“We can be fancy in Oklahoma, too,” he snickers as I follow him to the elevator. “It’s not all cattle and wheat fields out here, you know.”
I shrug and smile sheepishly back at him. “I’ve never been here before, okay? I didn’t know what to expect, shut up.”
He just grins.
Our room is right across from the elevator, and when I push the door open, the first thing I notice is that there’s one king-sized bed. “Uh, I think the desk made a mistake. Didn’t you say you booked two beds?”
“Yep.” Riley pushes past me, hauling his suitcase up onto one of the luggage racks. “But they offered this suite upgrade at no charge, and I figured, why not?”
“You don’t mind sharing a bed with me?” Excitement is swirling in my gut at the prospect.
“Of course not. I mean, you don’t snore, do you?”
I’m…not sure about that, actually. When was the last time I stayed over with a guy? Had to be in my twenties sometime. I’ve never had complaints, though. Oh shit, what if everyone has just been too nice to tell me?
“Hey, I’m kidding,” Riley says, gently touching my arm. “I don’t care. I sleep like the dead, trust me. I’ve slept through tornado sirens before; we’ll be fine.”
“Unless there’s a tornado, then we might be in trouble,” I try weakly for a joke. I havegotto chill. I travel all the time. I meet new people all the time. I never have this much anxiety over either of those things, and I don’t know why this is messing with my head so much.
Riley laughs and flops onto the bed, sprawling on his stomach, spread-eagled in the center of the mattress. “Oh my gosh, this bed is actually perfect, come try it.”
I haul my suitcase onto the other rack and sit tentatively on the edge of the bed near him. Riley rolls his eyes and pulls me down flat onto my back next to him. He scoots close enough to hook his ankle around mine and slide his arm over my waist. He’s watching me carefully, eyes searching my face for signs of distress. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he tells me quietly.
I reach up to place a hand over his, where it rests on my stomach. “We’ll see if you’re still saying that after I embarrass myself in front of your family tonight,” I say grimly. I’m only half joking. I have no idea what I’m doing. Riley has assured me multiple times that his parents are cool, but I’m not so sure I will be.
I’ve never really felt any shame around my work, because I haven’t had anyone who’s ever actually cared about me outside of Nathan and Jess, and they’re both kind of part of the industry, too, so I know they don’t judge. And it’s not exactly shame that I feel now. But I know Riley’s parents are more conservative than I’m used to, and he’s starting to become very important to me, so I worry what might happen if his parents don’t like me or don’t approve of my work. Granted, Riley is in the same line of work, but they don’tknowthat.
