It feels selfish.
Deep down, Riley knows it even as he lets Mia walk beside him toward her house, her steps light, almost excited, while his are heavy with conflict.
He knows, and he has always known, that she harbors feelings for him. She has never said it out loud before, but it has always been in the small gestures, the way her eyes lingered, the way her smile seemed to brighten only for him.
And yet, despite knowing, he never once thought of returning them. Not because he simply didn't want to, but because he has never been ready to face them, never been ready to acknowledge them.
And now here he is, knowing fully that he is about to use those feelings for something he shouldn't.
It's wrong.
He wants confirmation. He wants to see if his body reacts the same way it did when he was with Henry, or if it was simply the hunger of long denial, of never letting anyone close, that made his body ignite the way it did.
