Page 76 of Valor on the Move
“Cool. I’d better go.” He closed the few feet between them and yanked Rafa into a hug. “Just be yourself, and everyone else can fuck off.” He slapped Rafa’s back.
When he was gone, Rafa wandered into the Solarium, waiting for his parents. They’d asked to speak with him, and even though he understood why they had to arrange a time and place, it always made their conversations feel so official and fraught with tension.
He thought about his father arranging a time to talk about Rafa’s mid-term grades not long after they’d moved into the White House. Rafa had worried about it for two days, sure that his mostly As weren’t good enough, and that he’d be punished for the two B-pluses on ninth grade math and science. But his dad had only congratulated him on his hard work and taken him down to the kitchen for surprise milkshakes.
As he paced by the curved wall of windows, Rafa stared out at the sunny day. The Washington Monument soared against a blue sky, and cars and people went about their business.
He wondered where Shane was. There were new agents on his detail, and he’d nodded politely to them when he’d gone down to the kitchen to ask Magda for some cilantro and avocado. He’d asked if Alan was okay and when Shane would be back, but they hadn’t had the answer to the latter. At least Alan was apparently recovering. That was something, at least.
His new phone buzzed in his pocket, and he grimaced at the text from Ashleigh.
They’re at work until tonight. Tell me it’s a bad idea to get drunk this afternoon before telling them.
He quickly tapped in: It’s a bad idea. You sure you don’t want me to be there?
The three dots appeared, followed by her message.
I’m sure. You’ve got your own shit. I can do this. I’m not promising I won’t get drunk after. Have you talked to the media yet? They keep calling me. I’m going to have to change this number. People are gagging for an interview with you.
Ugh. He’d briefly looked at the news coverage on TV and online, but it was too surreal. All the years of flying under the radar, and suddenly he was the most famous first kid in decades. He tapped the keyboard.
The PR people are writing a statement for me. I’m hoping it’ll all blow over in a couple days and someone from a reality show does something dumb and/or offensive.
She replied: We can live in hope. Later, babe.
Rafa pocketed his phone. He’d Googled Shane, and tried 411 and every way he could think of to find Shane’s phone number. No luck, and it wasn’t as though he could just go over to Shane’s house with his detail in tow. That was assuming he could even find out where Shane’s house was. Maybe it was an apartment, or a condo, or who the hell knew.
The reality that he might very well never see Shane again was a constant fear, jagged and sharp. He had to find a way. He just needed to talk to Shane and hear the rumble of his voice. Hell, he’d settle for a text, or a freaking Snapchat. But Shane was just…gone. And it wasn’t as if he could call Rafa either, or drop by to say hi.
But does he miss me the way I miss him? Does he want to see me again? Does he still care?
It had really felt like Shane cared. When Rafa closed his eyes, he could imagine he was back in the cave, his head on Shane’s thigh, and Shane’s fingers combing rhythmically through his hair. It had felt so good to just be together and talk—to actually be able to touch Shane and hold him. It had all been so…intimate. Now Rafa felt like he really knew what that word meant in reality and not just theory.
And having sex for the first time had been pretty spectacular. Even if they hadn’t gone all the way, he was pretty sure orgasms counted.
At one of the windows, he pressed his forehead against the glass. The need to be with Shane again was a hunger, and it was more than physical. So much more.
“Rafa?”
He jolted back from the window, whirling around to find his parents watching him with matching frowns.
“Are you all right? Did you have lunch?” Camila asked. “We can have something brought up.” She pivoted in her heels, her black skirt flowing around her knees.
“It’s okay, Mom, I ate. I’m fine, just a little spaced out, I guess.”
“Let’s sit.” His father motioned to the couch, taking off his suit jacket and carefully hanging it from a nearby wooden chair.
Rafa tried to relax on the couch, sitting between his parents. “So,” Rafa said.
“Well, we obviously have a lot to discuss.” Ramon templed his fingers. “First off, a therapist will be coming tomorrow to meet with you.”
