Henry uses every ounce of willpower to turn toward Riley, his chest pounding so hard he feels it in his throat.
By now, Riley has already slipped his t-shirt back on, but it doesn't hide the way his chest still rises and falls unevenly.
His lips are red and swollen, a clear reminder of what just happened between them. The air in the room feels thick, heavy, alive with everything unspoken.
"Uh…" Henry starts, but the words dissolve on his tongue. Nothing comes. His throat feels dry, his mind scattered. What could he possibly say right now?
Part of him wants to snatch up his shirt, dress quickly, and leave. Yet the thought of leaving without saying anything makes his chest twist with dread. He doesn't want Riley to think he's pretending that nothing just happened between them, or worse.. that he regrets it.
But the truth is, he has no idea what Riley is thinking. Riley hasn't looked at him once, and the avoidance stings more than Henry will admit.
