There must have been five hundred people in this jam-packed auditorium, but the one person Matthew wanted to see wasn’t here. He was absolutely sure of that—no way in hell would a recognizable member of the Hashmi family show his face at a Swain gala, and they sure as shit wouldn’t do it on election night.
The room was still fairly subdued, though the air buzzed with an undercurrent of excitement. Dad would give a speech a little later to get everyone going, and then it would be an adrenaline-charged evening of watching the numbers roll in. Everyone seemed confident that the predictions and polls were meaningless—Bob Swain had tons of support, and he was going to win tonight.
Matthew doubted it, and he was dreading the fallout when the final numbers came through.
Regardless of how the votes tallied, though, he wanted out of here. He was sick and tired of his father’s campaign, and he just wanted it all to be over—the election so their lives could go back to normal, and this gala so he could see Rabi. They wouldn’t see each other tonight, but soon.
Not soon enough.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he surreptitiously checked the screen.
I miss you.
Matthew suppressed a smile. Miss you too. See you soon?
As soon as possible.
Wish it could be tonight.
Me too.
“Hey, Matthew!” Derek motioned him over. “Come give me a hand with these speakers.”
Matthew nodded, quickly sent another message to Rabi, and went to help Derek.
Tomorrow - cornfields.
Rabi glanced around the crowded room to make sure no one was reading over his shoulder. Then he wrote back, Going to hold you to that.
Grinning, he slid his phone back into his pocket. He couldn’t wait for this night to end. He was so sick of the election, and he was itching to see Matthew.
In an effort to keep himself occupied, he went looking for anyone who might need his help. Almost everything was set up now, and things would kick off soon, but there was always something that needed doing.
Near the back of the auditorium, his sister Basimah was manning the computer and projector. Right now, the screen just had an image of their whole family smiling for the camera. Once districts started reporting in, Bas would update the numbers so people had a somewhat real-time view of how the election was playing out. Of course they could just look on their phones, but what fun was that?
Rabi came up to the booth. “Need a hand with anything?”
“Nope, I’ve got it.” She frowned. “If the numbers coming in are any indication, Dad might be the one who needs a hand.”
He straightened. “Really?”
Frown deepening, she nodded. “I don’t have any official reports yet, but what’s trickling in?” Bas shook her head.
“Shit.” He sighed and glanced around. Dad was shaking hands with some people and smiling broadly. Confidently. To his sister, Rabi said, “Well, it’s still early. Anything could happen.”
She held up her hand with her fingers crossed. He mirrored the gesture, then left her to her work.
He wandered a bit, saying hello to people he knew and smiling politely when his dad introduced him to strangers. He got some coffee from the refreshments stand, and as he sipped it, he stole another look at his sister.
Bas was typing something, glancing back and forth from her phone to the screen. Rabi’s chest tightened. The first numbers.
Here we go.
She pressed a button and looked up, and sure enough, the screen changed.
Latest results:
Hashmi – 42%
Swain – 58%
Rabi’s gut dropped. He reminded himself it was still early. Only one tiny district had reported in so far, and even that was a preliminary number. The polls were still open for a few more hours.
One thing was for sure—this was going to be a long night. And at the end of it, either his family or Matthew’s would be celebrating while the other was devastated. One way or the other, the flames of the Swain-Hashmi rivalry were getting fanned tonight.
Uneasiness tightened his stomach, and he took his phone out again to message Matthew.
However the election turns out, we’re still good, right?
Matthew read and reread the text. His jaw had gone slack—did Rabi really think this election could screw with them? Admittedly, he had the same concerns in the back of his mind. Especially since Dad had an early lead. When the first numbers had gone up, excitement had rippled so palpably through the pro-Swain crowd, Matthew was surprised no one had popped a champagne cork.
It was still way too early, though. Coming out of the gate with a strong lead meant literally nothing at this stage. One or the other could still win in a landslide, or it could come down to a handful of votes.
The one thing he was absolutely sure of was that this wouldn’t change a thing about his feelings for Rabi. If Dad won, if Dad lost—it didn’t matter. Matthew loved Rabi, and that had nothing to do with political reindeer games.
Of course we are, he wrote back. I love you.
And as the message sent, he wanted to see Rabi even more than he had before.
I love you too, Rabi replied. Just want to be with you no matter how this turns out.
Matthew couldn’t help but smile even as Rabi’s uncertainty tugged at him. No, this election didn’t matter at all where he and Rabi were concerned. If Rabi still had doubts, then when they were together again, Matthew would make sure to clear up every last one of them.
Same, he typed. I want to see you ASAP. He sent the message, then added, As long as you feel safe.
More numbers came in, and people cheered. Dad’s lead had grown, and now he had over sixty percent of the votes. As the excitement around him swelled, Matthew’s heart felt heavier.
The relationship he had with Rabi would be fine, but what about the rest of his world? What would happen once all this was over? If Dad won, everything would change. On a larger scale, Dad would be taking all his right-wing views to Congress. He’d be loudly supporting legislation that could harm queer people like Matthew, Rabi, and Jude, and countless other minorities. The Muslim and immigrant communities here and elsewhere would certainly suffer under Dad. Though Matthew had supported the campaign out of familial obligation, he felt guilty about it now because Dad was the last person who should be elected. He’d never tell anyone, but when he’d cast his own vote earlier today, it hadn’t been for his father. He just hoped that one small private vote could somehow negate his public endorsement of the wrong candidate.
And on a smaller scale, if Dad won, he and Mom would head to D.C., leaving Matthew and his brothers at the Arbor Hills house so they could finish going to school. That part was simple enough.
But after tonight, the campaign would be over, and Matthew realized it had kept a lot of people in their family and social circles occupied. Given them something to do. A way to channel their frustration with problems in the city and the state.
What happened when all that was gone? When the political mudslinging was over, who was to say people wouldn’t be out for blood?
One way or the other, tonight’s results would mean chaos and upheaval. Either a win and all the logistics that came with moving to Washington, or a loss and all the emotional fallout. It was like knowing there was a tornado coming, but not knowing for sure if it was going to take out the house or just rattle the gutters and mess up the yard.
So what about us?
Matthew fidgeted, fighting the urge to just bolt. He was antsy now. Itching to be where Rabi was. Rabi had become his new normal. When they were together, everything in Matthew’s world was right, and now he desperately needed that rightness.
Except they couldn’t be together now. Even if Matthew left, Rabi was busy with his own dad’s gala.
The galas wouldn’t last all night, though. Was it really too crazy to suggest they meet up afterward? Was he crazy for needing Rabi that much?
But he didn’t suggest it. He’d get through tonight. He’d have Rabi again.
He could wait.
The chatter in the giant auditorium suddenly shifted to a titter of excitement. Rabi looked up at the screen and instantly understood: the numbers had just updated, showing that the margin between Dad and Swain had narrowed to almost nothing. If one or two more districts reported with Hashmi majorities, Dad would have the lead.
His heart sped up. Maybe the polls had been right. A sluggish start didn’t guarantee a loss.
The mood in the room was lifting by the minute, and so was Rabi’s. After a full year of the family’s life being dominated by this campaign, maybe they’d have something to show for it after all. It was pretty cool to watch it paying off.
Except . . . he still didn’t feel great. Not just because he was away from Matthew, but because he couldn’t shake that isolated feeling he’d had lately. Even with a common goal and a common thing to celebrate, he was separated from everyone. The way he’d felt at the mosque, when he’d been alone in a room full of some of his closest friends and family. Only one person here even knew he was gay, and Eshaan would be furious if he knew Rabi was still seeing Matthew despite his warnings.
The numbers updated again, and everyone—including Rabi—cheered. Dad was in the lead. Only two percent, but it was hope. It was . . .
Not nearly enough to cut through this funk blanketing Rabi’s mood.
No matter how the election turned out, he’d still be miles away from his family because they didn’t—and couldn’t—know who he loved. They’d never understand that even if Dad won, Rabi would have a pang of sympathy for a member of that hated family across town.
And if he’d wanted to see Matthew before, he was desperate for him now.
Damn it. Why couldn’t they see each other tonight?
The numbers weren’t looking good.
The first reports had been heavily in Dad’s favor, but then several new ones had shrunk his lead to just a sliver, and over the last hour, Hashmi had taken a slim lead. Every time the reports updated, especially now that the larger districts were starting to report in, the margin between Dad and Hashmi widened, and the mood in the room darkened a bit more. Dad’s bright politician smile had faded in favor of fatigue. Not even anger or frustration—he just looked tired. Mom wrung her hands. Nate and Derek exchanged uneasy looks every time the numbers updated. The whole room’s excited vibe had dipped to one more fitting for a funeral.
The screen updated, and a few people cursed.
Hashmi – 71%
Swain – 27%
Other – 2%
His own spirits sinking, he texted Rabi: Things are probably a lot happier where you are right now.
Then he sighed. It was disappointing, watching Dad lose his lead, and realizing that all the work, time, and energy the family had put into this campaign was going to waste. Dad had fought, but it just wasn’t enough. Matthew was relieved to see his father losing his shot at being in a position to legislate his bigotry, but he was worried too. How much of his family’s disappointment would translate into anger? Violent anger?
The phone buzzed, and Rabi had written back, Sorry :( Wish I could make things better for you.
Matthew gnawed his lip as he read the text. His heart raced with nerves and excitement—did he dare suggest it?
Hell, what did he have to lose? So he wrote back, Maybe you can. ;)
And then he waited with his heart in his throat, gripping his phone tight so he wouldn’t miss the vibration while he pretended to be interested in the numbers up on the screen.
As soon as the message came through, he read, How do you figure?
Matthew held his breath as he wrote back, After-party plans?
And then he waited.
And hoped.
Rabi wanted to squirm as he read and reread Matthew’s message. He’d assumed they wouldn’t see each other tonight, but Matthew wanted to, and it was sure as hell mutual.
With the reports winding down and Dad’s odds of winning nearing a hundred percent, Rabi didn’t really need to be here, did he? Once the champagne broke out—well, for the non-Muslims at the gala—it wouldn’t be bad form for him to make a quiet exit, would it?
And did he even care? The longer the night went on, the more Rabi needed to be with Matthew. He was tired of people and politics and pretend smiles. Matthew was real. So why not do it?
As if Matthew could read his mind, he sent another message: If you can’t, it’s cool, but I want to see you tonight.
Rabi’s heart went crazy. He scanned the room. Getting out of here might be a challenge, but for a chance to see Matthew? A liaison before the election backlash really kicked off? Hell yeah. He could barely contain himself as he started writing a response.
“We’re supposed to be celebrating.” Eshaan’s voice startled him so bad he nearly dropped his phone. “What are you doing buried in your phone?”
“Nothing.” Rabi laughed nervously and pocketed his cell. “Just . . . getting congratulatory texts from people.”
Eshaan’s lips pulled tight and one eyebrow flicked up.
“Back off,” Rabi growled, and didn’t wait for a response. He walked away from his brother, and once he’d put some space between them, he took out his phone again.
Tell me when/where, he wrote. I’ll be there.
Matthew could barely contain his excitement as he surreptitiously worked out details with Rabi. And when the polls had closed, slipping away from the gala was easier than he’d expected. All he had to do was make an excuse about needing to get some sleep so he could go to class tomorrow, and his mother practically shooed him away from the auditorium. Wasn’t like there was any reason to stay and celebrate now that Dad had undeniably and catastrophically lost the election.
So when his mom urged him to go, Matthew didn’t need to be told twice, and got the hell out of there.
They’d agreed to meet at the Dollar Tree not far from the venue. It was a well-lit parking lot even after closing, so it was a safe place to ditch a car.
And just his luck, Rabi was already there.
One look at him—one glance at that sweet smile through the driver’s side window—and the weight of the entire night slipped off Matthew’s shoulders. Which kind of surprised him, and kind of didn’t. Like, holy shit you made everything go away, and at the same time, of course you did—I knew you would.
He got out of the car, hurried to the passenger side, and climbed in. They didn’t dare steal a kiss out here—not with so much light—but exchanged grins as Matthew buckled his seat belt and Rabi put a hand on his thigh.
As Rabi drove, Matthew’s heart raced. He couldn’t stop staring at him. Maybe it was just because he’d had such an emotionally turbulent day, but he was almost overwhelmed by the relief of being in Rabi’s presence.
Which, now that he thought about it, happened every time. Maybe not to this degree, but it was like every time he met Rabi’s gaze, he was overcome with this profound sense of . . . certainty. They’d only known each other for a relatively short time, but he was never more certain about anything than when they were together. Everything was right. This was a dangerous relationship, but it felt so safe. All the risk came from other people knowing about it. Being with Rabi? Safe. Perfect. Right.
No, it hadn’t been too soon to tell Rabi he loved him.
And no, it wasn’t too soon for . . . was it?
He gazed at Rabi’s profile, and a quiet voice in his mind demanded, What are you waiting for?
Yeah. What am I waiting for?
He slipped his hand into Rabi’s in his lap. “Listen, I . . .”
Rabi turned to him. “Hmm?”
“I just keep thinking . . .” He bit his lip, not quite sure how to say it, or if he should say it at all. “I want you. Like . . . I want you.”
Rabi tensed a little.
“It’s all I can think about.” Heart thudding against his ribs, Matthew watched Rabi through his lashes. “How much I . . .”
Rabi squeezed Matthew’s hand as they pulled up to a stoplight. “I know what you mean.”
Matthew licked his lips. “So why wait?”
“Why—” Rabi blinked. “You serious?”
Matthew nodded. “Yeah.” He leaned over and brushed a kiss across his lips. “I love you. And I want you. It’s . . . it’s really that simple.”
Rabi swallowed. He broke eye contact, but kept a tight grip on Matthew’s hand as he accelerated through the green light. He was quiet for a solid two blocks, his thumb rubbing back and forth along Matthew’s in the darkness. Finally he said, “Want to get a room?”
Matthew’s heart nearly exploded out of his chest. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Rabi glanced at him, his eyes equal parts shy and determined. “I’m ready if you are.”
“I am.”
“Then I guess we should stop and get some lube. And condoms.”
Matthew’s pulse jumped even higher. “Do you think we need condoms?”
Rabi pursed his lips, then shrugged. “Well, I doubt either of us is getting knocked up.”
Matthew laughed, his head spinning with excitement as his cock hardened in his pants. “You know what I mean.”
“I do, yeah. And I don’t think we need them. Do you?”
He thought about it, then shook his head. “Okay, so . . . just lube.” He gestured up ahead with his free hand. “There’s a CVS up there on the right. Pretty sure they’re open twenty-four hours.”
They glanced at each other, and Rabi grinned as he turned on his blinker.
Shivering, Matthew grinned back.
So much for losing his virginity in the truck.