“Would it help if I told you a little more about them?” he asks earnestly, and I nod. I’m not sure if it actually will help, but I like listening to him talk about his family. It doesn’t hurt the way I expected it to, but instead makes me feel…included in his life, somehow. “Well, my mom is Nancy, and my dad is Whit. And then of course there’s Mandy, I mentioned her before. She’s twenty-seven. She’ll be at dinner tonight, too. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, and my dad is an investment banker, sameas his dad before him. That’s my grandpa who passed away last year, actually—who left me the money to move to LA.”
“Were you close with him then?” I ask.
“Really close.” His voice is sad now, and I kind of wish I hadn’t asked. “Last year was the first time he wasn’t at Thanksgiving, and that was tough. My mom’s dad passed away when she was in high school, so I never knew him. Grandpa Cunningham was the only grandpa I had, and I miss him a lot. But he always told me I could be anything I wanted to be, and go anywhere I wanted to go, so I thought moving to LA for a new start would be a good way to spend the money. I thought about investing it, but at the end when he was sick, he told me not to. He told me you can’t take it with you, and that if he didn’t get to enjoy it in his lifetime, then I should enjoy it in mine.”
“He sounds wonderful,” I say, squeezing his hand. “I’m glad you have such good memories of him.”
“Me too.” He smiles softly, but his eyes are still sad. “He would have liked you.”
I snort skeptically. “Oh sure. The weird middle-aged guy showing up to holiday dinner with his grandson?”
“He wouldn’t think you’re weird,” Riley laughs, giving me a playful poke in the belly. “And neither will my parents. Mandy will, but that’s because of me, not because of you.”
“So if she knows you’ve been doing porn, does she know about me?”
“She does,” he says tentatively. “She’s sworn to me that she won’t say anything about it, though. She knows we did a collab and that…that I used to watch you a lot.”
I raise one eyebrow at that. “How often isa lot?” I tease.
Riley groans and tries to roll away from me. “Ugh, I don’t want to say, it’s embarrassing.”
I tighten my grip on him and laugh, my chest swelling with joy. “That often, huh? Wow, I’m flattered.”
He covers his face with his hands, but not before I catch the adorable way his cheeks pinken. “Look, it wasn’t just your porn, okay?” His voice comes out muffled between his fingers. “I followed you on Instagram, too. It was just really cool seeing an out and proud gay guy online when I couldn’t be that yet.”
I’m speechless. Sure, I’ve gotten messages online over the years, or been approached when I was out by people telling me they appreciated my content or that they subscribe to my page or that I otherwise inspired them in some way, but it hits different coming from Riley.
He drags his hands down his face and drops them to cover mine, staring up at the ceiling for a minute before he says, “You replied to one of my comments on a post once. Years ago.” His cheeks turn a darker shade of pink. “It pretty much made my day.”
Obviously being an influencer means youinfluencepeople, that’s the whole point. But knowing that I had any kind of influence on Riley—beautiful, positive, sunny Riley—feels like a major accomplishment. “What did I say?”
“I just commented something dumb about how your photography was beautiful but not as beautiful as you.” Riley rolls his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d actually see it. But you just replied and said thank you for the compliment.” He turns his head to look at me then, and his eyes are soft and full of appreciation. “It was something so simple, but it felt really…genuine. I always liked your daily videos and those felt real too, but still like…curated, you know? But something about that comment was just…I don’t know. Genuine is the best word I can think of. And after getting to know you, that makes sense.”
Nowmycheeks are turning pink, I’m certain. The corners of Riley’s lips tip up in a small smile, and he reaches up to brush the backs of his fingers over my cheek. My skin lights up where his fingers make contact, and I couldn’t look away from him ifI tried. His eyes flick down to my mouth, and a thrill rushes through my veins at the idea that he might kiss me. It’s not like we haven’t kissed before, so I’m not sure why this moment feels so charged with emotion, but suddenly all I want in the world is his soft, full lips covering mine.
Before I can lean in, he shakes his head slightly, as if snapping himself out of a trance, and quickly jumps up, changing the subject. “We have a little over an hour before we need to head over there. Do you want to shower? I was going to, but if you want to go first?—”
“No, no, that’s okay.” I wave him off. “You go ahead. I think I’m going to take a nap. Early flight and all, and I can’t sleep on planes.”
He gives me a small smile, and there’s a look in his eyes I can’t quite identify. Affection, maybe? His gaze lingers for a beat…but then he’s turning away quickly and rummaging through his bag for a change of clothes and heading to the bathroom. He stops at the doorway and turns back to look at me. “I’m really glad you’re here, Luke,” he says again.
Before I can respond, he shuts the bathroom door.
Me too, Ry.
I take a deep breath as I park the rental car outside the Cunninghams’ house. The two-story brick home is actually much more modest than I expected it would be, but knowing what awaits inside is intimidating all the same.
Riley reaches over and clasps my shoulder in reassurance. “Here we go,” he says as the front door opens, and I see two people who must be Whit and Nancy waving excitedly. Riley smiles and rubs my back before hopping out of the car and greeting both his parents with a hug.
I hang back and give them a moment, not wanting to intrude, when his mom pulls out of Riley’s arms and turns to face me. “And you must be Luke!” she exclaims. I’m surprised at how Southern she sounds, since Riley doesn’t have an accent at all. “We’ve heard so much about you! Goodness, you’re handsome! Whit, isn’t he handsome?”
I blush profusely at the compliment as Whit chuckles and leans in to shake my hand. “Whit Cunningham,” he introduces himself. He’s got a nice, firm grip and sounds a lot like an older version of Riley. He looks more like his mom, but sounds just like his dad. “So nice to have you here, Luke.”
“Oh, enough of that formality!” Nancy scolds, pushing her way over to me and engulfing me in a hug. She has to be almost a foot shorter than me, but somehow she manages to make me feel small in her embrace. I’m not much of a hugger; my brain usually puts me right into flight mode when it comes to physical touch outside of work. I remind myself that I’m not in danger here, and I hesitate only a moment before I hug her back, consciously allowing myself to relax into it.
Whit and Nancy make quite a pair. Whit is tall and lanky, with dark blond hair graying at his temples and glasses. He looks good for his age, like maybe he goes for a run every morning or works out in a home gym. Nancy is barely five feet tall, if I had to guess, with short salt-and-pepper hair and a wide smile, which makes it clear she’s Riley’s mother. At a glance, I can tell Riley inherited his dad’s steadiness and his mom’s zest for life, and the combination seems to have created one of the most unique and special people alive.
“Where’s Mandy?” Riley asks.
