Page 50 of The Prime-Time Experiment
“It’s…” She exhaled quietly, her fingers pressing more firmly against the edge of the laptop. “It just matters to me, I can’t explain it.”
The words were flat, insufficient. There was a small shift in front of her. Riley didn’t register the movement until it was already happening: Declan stepping closer, his hand lifting, his fingers touched lightly beneath her chin, a brief point of contact, enough to guide her focus upward.
It was instinctive, clearly unplanned. Her attention snapped to him. For a second, the rest of the room dropped away.
His eyes were closer than she had expected. Hazel, not a single colour, but layered. Green held at the centre, warmer tones threaded through it, shifting depending on the angle, the light. Riley found herself tracking it.
Something in her chest shifted in a way that subtle and unfamiliar. She had never let someone touch her like that, often people touching her would cause her to panic, to end up back in her childhood home in her mind, trapped. But the feeling of him, of his warmth? She didn’t feel the need to move away.
Declan seemed to realise it a second later, his hand dropping back to his side almost immediately, like the contact hadn’t been intentional enough to justify holding. But the moment didn’t break with it.
“You don’t have to answer that if it’s going to make you frustrated or uncomfortable.”
Riley was still looking at him. “I don’t?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
“No,” he said simply. “You can take your time. Figure out how you actually want to say it. Hell, you don’t ever even have to answer me if you don’t want to, Riles. It’s your choice, always.”
The space between them felt still and calm, peaceful in a way Riley didn’t know could exist with another man. Riley nodded once. “Okay.”
The front door opened, slicing the moment clean through the middle. “Tell me you’ve ordered food.” Tyler’s voice carried down the hall, loud enough to cut cleanly through the quiet. “I refuse to believe you’ve learned how to cook in the last week.”
Footsteps followed, heavier this time, singular. Riley’s attention flicked toward the doorway as Tyler appeared at the base of the stairs, pausing when he took in the scene in front of him.
Declan stood closer than he had been a moment ago, his posture not quite reset. Riley hadn’t stepped back either. The space between them still held something unspoken, not yet reorganised into something neutral.
Tyler’s gaze moved between them once, and then he quirked his brow “… Have I interrupted something?”
Riley answered immediately, “No.”
Declan said at the exact same time, “Yes, get lost.”
Tyler’s mouth twitched, something amused settling into his expression as he looked between them again. “Right,” he said slowly. “Good, so glad we’ve cleared that up.”
Declan exhaled quietly, dragging a hand briefly through his hair as he stepped back properly this time, creating space like it hadn’t existed a second ago. “What do you want, Ty?”
“I live here part-time,” Tyler shot back. “I don’t need a reason.”
“You absolutely do.”
Tyler shook his head. “Nope.”
Declan glanced at him. “You literally own your own place.”
Tyler didn’t answer.
“Which you avoid,” Declan added. “Conveniently.”
Tyler ignored that as well, his attention shifting to Riley instead. “Hey, sorry for coming unannounced,” he said, tone easing, more grounded now. “Ebony’s just grabbing something from the car. Thought I’d come down first and tell you that she asked to come and see you.”
“I’d love to see her,” Riley replied.
Tyler glanced between them once more, like he was still piecing something together, then let it go with a small shake of his head. “You two always stand that close, or should I tell Ebony we need to pick up some food and come back in five minutes?”
Riley didn’t know how to react to that question, heat building in her cheeks. “This distance was relevant to the conversation,” she said.
Declan huffed out a quiet laugh under his breath. “Translation: mind your own fucking business.”
Tyler grinned. “I heard her just fine.”
