Page 59 of Don't Let Me Go
Duy, though, isn’t satisfied.
“Some of these are okay,” they concede with a sigh as they sit under the shade of a dogwood tree, scrolling through the morning’s photos on the camera’s viewscreen. “But I’m not sure I’ve gotten the shot.”
“What shot?” I ask, fanning myself with a book.
“Theshot,” they answer, not making things any clearer.
“I’m sure you’ve gotsomethingyou can use,” Riley gripes, shooting me a sympathetic smile. If there’s an upside to being this hot and tired, it’s that we’re both too worn out to be uncomfortable around each other. The easiness has returned between us. And as long as I don’t think about that dream or hug, there’s no reason things can’t stay easy.
“No. This isn’t good enough,” Duy complains. “There’s not enough fantasy. Not enough romance.” Releasing a groan of frustration, they slump over their camera in defeat. Then almost as quickly, they bolt upright as a look of inspiration flashes across their face. “I know! Go back to the gazebo!”
Riley and I exchange a weary glance and shrug, partners inexhaustion. But we do as we’re told. We trudge back to our place under the ivy-twined arch.
“What do you want us to do now?” Riley asks.
“I want you guys to face each other, gaze into each other’s eyes, and look like you’re about to kiss.”
Despite the hot afternoon sun blazing down on us, I feel the color drain from my cheeks.
“Sorry, what?”
“Face each other, gaze into each other’s eyes, and look like you’re madly in love,” Duy repeats, completely oblivious to my distress.
I turn to Riley, who looks equally tense, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Oh my gosh,seriously?” Duy groans when neither of us moves. “You guys don’t have toactuallykiss. Just get close to each other and look like youwantto kiss.”
Riley shoots me a questioning glance that saysYour call.
I’m not sure what to do. Considering how confused I’ve been since yesterday, the last thing I want to do is put myself in a position that’s even remotely romantic.
Then again, it’s only romantic if Iletit be romantic. If we can pose together like lovers orwhatever,and it’snota big deal, isn’t that proof that everything’s actually fine between us and we really arejust friends?
“What do you think?” Riley asks, his eyes unable to meet my own.
“I’m down if you’re down,” I answer.
“Great!” Duy chirps. “Now, put your arms around each other and stare into each other’s eyes like you’ve just found the love of your life and you can’t wait to rip each other’s clothes off.”
Riley curses under his breath but takes a tentative step closer. Cautiously and clumsily, I slide my arm around his waist and pull his body against mine.
“Is this okay?” I ask him.
He’s stiff in my arms, unsure what to do with his hands or where to look, but he nods.
“Okay, Riley, you look like you’re being molested,” Duy calls out unhelpfully. “Can you, like, try to pretend that Jackson is hot?”
Riley reddens. I feel his chest expand against me as he forces himself to take a deep breath. Then he tilts his face upward, and his green eyes stare into mine with such a look of longing, they take my breath away.
“Good!” Duy shouts. “That’s what I want. Keep looking at each other likethat.”
I hear theclick-click-clickof the camera shutter, but all my attention is on Riley. My eyes drink in his face: his long black lashes, the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, his surprisingly full lips. How have I never noticed how handsome he is?
“Turn your face a bit to the left, Riley,” Duy orders. “And, Jackson, can you lean your forehead closer to Riley’s? That’s it. Closer. Closer.Closer.”
My face is so near Riley’s that there’s scarcely an inch of space between our lips. I can feel the heat on his cheeks and the pounding of his heart. Or maybe it’s my heat and my heart. With our bodies pressed together, it’s hard to know where Riley stops and I begin. What I do know is that I don’t want this moment to end. Because for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m exactly where I belong. And where I belong is with Riley.
Oh, fuck...
