Cold and Charisma (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Thirty-Three

I didn't want what happened between us to define our—what can I even call it—relationship. I mean, I knew I fucked up, and pretty badly at that. But I never wanted him to think that I was rejecting him in any way.

If anything, it should've been the other way around—him rejecting me. Riley was way too good for me. Whenever he smiled, it made me feel like my chest was going to burst, and every little thing I did that managed to warm up his icy exterior just made me want more of him.

And now that I had more? I wasn't even sure if I wanted it. Don't get me wrong—I want him, badly. But the idea of sexual intimacy completely scrambled my brain.

I've never even kissed a girl before, let alone had a boy do anything like that to me. I had no problem with Riley being a boy; I just never thought this would be something that actually happened to me.

After thinking it over for a day or two over the weekend, I realized I wasn't scared of Riley himself. I was scared of being intimate with him.

I'd never kissed anyone—fuck, I'd never even had sex. The thought alone terrified me. And once that fear set in, another question crept in: was Riley experienced? For lack of a better word.

I couldn't be jealous of whatever he chose to do in his free time, but if he was experienced and I wasn't, it would only make things worse for me.

Being the golden boy at St. Arthur's wasn't easy; I always had a reputation to maintain. I never indulged in sex or hookups or anything like that. I hadn't even been in a relationship before.

Girls tried—Valentine's cards stuffed into my locker, dramatic confessions, awkward attempts at seducing me—but I never once cared enough to reciprocate.

Maybe a small thank you, an uncomfortable smile. It just wasn't me. I couldn't be intimate with anyone.

But when Riley Lachkov came into my life—rude, grimacing, impossible—it flipped something inside my chest. I felt like a different person.

I was relentless in trying to get close to him, doing things I never would've done before. Like kissing him. Like wanting him this badly.

That was it. I couldn't take it anymore. Staying away from him for two days was enough to drive me insane. It was almost nighttime, and I knew I had to do this before I talked myself out of it.

I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he truly believed I hated him. Because I didn't. If anything, I loved him. More than I loved myself.

I pushed my pride, my fear, and every excuse out of the way as I stepped out into the cold streets of my neighborhood. I passed piles of leaves on the sidewalk, kids riding their bikes, cars honking as I crossed intersections, my heart pounding louder with every step.

Then I saw it—his one-story white suburban house, the familiar bench on the porch where I'd sat before while walking my dog.

None of that mattered. What mattered was showing him that I cared, that I loved him, and that I wasn't giving up.

I didn't stop to think as I ran up the porch steps and knocked on the door. Riley, please. Let me in. The thought repeated over and over in my head. What if he wasn't home? What if—

"What the fuck do you—" Riley stopped short, his messy hair and groggy expression making it obvious he'd just woken up. His tired eyes widened when he saw me, and he rubbed them aggressively like he needed to make sure I was real.

"Riley.." I barely managed to choke out, "Can we please talk? I only need one minute. Please." I begged, not even caring about my pride anymore. Riley only gave me a disgusted look, one harsher than his joking grimaces from days earlier.