"Riley, wait!" I jump down, skipping the last six steps of the stairs. Those two girls kicked my butt, literally, to get me moving to follow Riley. He's still acting like he needs a hearing aid to notice my presence.

Jeez.

He's the Walkout King and living up to the reputation of 'musicians being overly emotional and highly sensitive'.

I almost roll my eyes, but my eyeballs are stopped from moving when Riley acknowledges my presence. He turns around with a blank expression, though his teary eyes betray him, freezing me from where I am standing. Outside the music room where I first heard him sing. I followed his voice like I was Prince Philip following Princess Aurora's voice. The difference is that Riley is not a princess and he doesn't talk to animals.

Wiping his eyes using the back of his hand, he says, "What do you want, Archer?" His voice is strained yet not calling me Cher stings. I will do anything to make him call me Cher again.

Dammit, where should I begin?

"Uhm," I scratch the back of my neck, buying some time to think of the right words to say. Truth be told, I'm not good with words. Give me a scientific problem to solve, my mood will be sunny hypomania. Ask me to write an essay or a movie review, I'll be in dark hypomania.

"Uhm, can we talk?" I say nervously. I'm usually a calm person so this is a foreign feeling to me.

"We are already talking."

Well, fuck.

"Right. I mean talk talk." Where's the context in what I just said? Taking a deep breath, I take a step forward. Another step and more until we're just two feet apart. The close proximity makes my heart thump against my rib cage. It's so loud that I don't know whether I speak. "Let me explain?"

"What's there to explain?" He's clearly playing dumb and dancing around the issue. I won't let him drag this again for another minute. Weeks are enough. My emotions have been playing push or pull since the night of the concert.

"I know the song, Make-believe, is about me." He opens his mouth to protest but I bring my hand up to stop him. "That song was inspired by the video of me and Selena, right?"

Now is the time to protest but he doesn't say anything. For an expressive person like Riley, silence means yes. "Rye, it's not what you think–"

"You don't know what I think so don't say it," he counters.

"Fine, tell me what you think," I say, a little irritated this time. He averts his gaze so I call him out again, "Rye, if you don't tell me, I will speak what I think you think whether you like it or not."

He mutters an inaudible fuck this. "I'm angry. I'm angry at myself for believing that you like me. I put you on a pedestal like a perfect guy—smart, genius, hot, zen and righteous— only to find out that you stabbed Finn behind his back."

I'm partly insulted, partly amused. I bite my cheeks to prevent the smirk from showing up. Rye thinks I'm hot. I should be upset with him for thinking that I could cheat. A huge part of me is itching to close the gap between us, to hug and kiss him, to silence his ridiculous confession.

BUT. We need to have this talk.

He continues, "I'm madly crazy to let my guard down and fall for someone who prefers pussy over a dick." Clenching his fist, he inhales to calm himself. I grab the opportunity to speak.

"Dammit, Rye, you had it all wrong so listen and hold your tongue." I said the last part with all the authority I can muster. For the first time since we started talking, his eyes sparkled with amusement.

Good. This conversation has improved.

Mustering the courage and silently wishing for the words to come out right, I say, "First, I like you." Riley gasps. "Second, Selena and I didn't cheat and Finn knows that. Lastly, I prefer dick and the first statement proves that."

"You're a gay?" Rye is expressive as fuck. His face is animated and that's how he charms the people around him. Right now, his eyes are probably as big as the table tennis ball.

Is it really shocking that I can be a gay? That I am a gay.

"I am."

"How?"

"How? I don't fucking know. Maybe if you know how you become a gay, then you tell me," I say. That question is like asking why the cow moos.

"You're not kidding, aren't you?" He cocks his head to the right, scrutinizing my face.

"Jesus, Riley, do you need proof to believe I prefer a boy over a girl? I'm not a person who would make fun of sexuality."

"I'm sorry," he says, clearing his throat. "It's just that I've never seen you flirt with guys."

"Are you sure? As far as I remember, we flirted a lot in your room." He never missed complimenting my outfit and how he wished he could pull off a tight-fitting pink shirt. Most of the time I replied by squeezing his muscled shoulder and a light brush to his arms. How about when we held each other's gazes when our eyes met while he's singing. If those weren't flirting, I don't know what would.

He chuckles, a faint blush appears on his cheeks. "We did, didn't we? I thought it was one sided and unrequited until you blew a kiss when I was on the stage." He giggles. He fucking giggles and it's like music that travels from my ears down to my toes, making my skin warm.

He's partly right. I never flirted with guys inside the campus. Being a gay and genius is difficult. Like Riley, most of the students see me as a respectable bloke. Flirting with me is a mortal sin. Not that I wanted anyone to do that. No one has ever woken my nerves like Rye does.

I've been to a couple bars outside the campus where no one recognised me, where people would see me as a normal person. I was always on a Flirt With Archer kinda cravings but never satisfied. Their  presence irked me. With Riley, everything flows fine and comforting.

Cravings satisfied.

"I was an ass," says Riley.

"I like you, Rye. I really do." For the first time in forever, I succumb to my feelings. My brain freezes when Rye closes the distance between us, hugging me so tight.

"I like you too much, Cher." He whispers to my ear, giving me goosebumps all over.

I pull him closer to mine, not really caring if we stay like this forever. Being in his arms, him in mine, is so far the best feeling since I know that word.

Except the bell has to kill the mood. We both jump and release each other.

"Shit! I can't miss the test," says Riley, frustration and irritation clearly visible in his face. This is his only chance to be able to finish and pass this term. Next week, Rainbow will be busy with shows and the Battle of the Bands.

"Calm down. Doing the test won't change my feelings for you." I say calmly but I want to curse the bell for interrupting us. "Best of luck."

🏳️‍🌈

"Riley, last question," says the host of the Battle of the Bands. She is currently interviewing them as part of the marketing strategy to convince more people to come and support their favorite in the event. My parents, my girls and I flew to Sydney to support the Rainbow. Now, we are in the apartment they rented. "Are you currently dating someone?"

Rye's eyes find mine. I shake my head, mouthing a no. Disappointment crosses his eyes as quick as a blink of an eye.

"Yes."

What the hell. I squirm in my seat, anger is flaring out of my nose. To avoid making eye contact with me, he fixes his gaze to the interviewer.

"Do we know him?"

"Whoever he is, I want to keep him mine." He says sweetly. For others, it's charming. The host and the cameraman make an aww-sound.

He can charm them, but not me.

For me, he's nervous, not missing the slight tap of his right foot on the floor. He's nervous about my reaction.

Everyday since our confession, Rye and I hang out wherever we can be together. The memory of my first kiss under the clear night sky and the chemical smell of sex pheromones of seaweeds in the beach will forever be etched in my memory. The members of the Rainbow band and their families, my family and my girls are the only people who know that we are in a relationship.

For me that's enough. Not for Rye.

As expected, Rye didn't agree to this at first. He would like to change his relationship status on social media and tell his followers that he is so taken. Convincing him that the world didn't need to know about us and I want to keep this as a private affair took almost two days.

"I love him. He loves me. I'm taken. That's all you need to know," says Rye, indirectly telling the interviewer that he won't answer any more questions regarding his lovelife.

My anger has dissipated. He wants to tell the world about us. I want to keep our relationship private. We both get what we want. After all, in a healthy relationship, both parties need to compromise.

###
Hey, today is Christmas. Happy Christmas everyone!

I've been busy and was sick due to covid that is why this chapter took a long time to finish.

I hope you're still with Rye and Cher.

Thank you for reading.

Up next is the last chapter of Rainbow Cheater.

Lovelots,
Alya