Rabi’s phone might as well have been burning a hole in the pocket of his slacks. It had vibrated a few minutes into the rally, and even though it could have been anyone, he knew it was a message from Matthew. One telling him where to meet.
Excitement and nerves and fear and giddiness had his pulse going haywire, and he desperately needed to read that message and find out where he’d be seeing Matthew tonight. It took all the control he had not to fidget and squirm up there on the stage. He could usually handle his dad’s speeches. They were long and kind of boring, but they were bearable.
Just not when Rabi desperately needed to find his way to Matthew. He didn’t know if it would be tonight or if they’d make plans for another time or what. Or would Matthew have second thoughts if Rabi took too long getting out of here?
The thought made the squirming almost impossible to contain. He needed to make contact. Needed to go to Matthew. After a couple of days spent kicking himself because Matthew had gotten away before they could exchange contact information, he wasn’t letting this opportunity go.
He kept reminding himself Matthew had made the effort to contact him. He’d shown his face at an Emir Hashmi rally. That had to mean something, right? It had to mean he wouldn’t lose interest if it took Rabi another ten or fifteen minutes to respond to his message?
And just the thought of someone going to those lengths to see him made Rabi’s head spin. They’d only had a few minutes together. He was usually lucky to get a guy’s attention at all, but making so much of an impression that Matthew came looking for him?
Come on, Dad. Wrap it up. I need to go see this man right now.
He couldn’t resist shifting his weight a little.
Eshaan shot him a look that was a combination of Quit moving around and What is your problem?
Rabi just shrugged and faced forward, and focused as hard as he could on staying still.
Finally, the rally was over, and as soon as Rabi was absolutely sure no one would steal a peek over his shoulder, he took out his phone.
Text me your number, Matthew had said. And I’ll text you my location. I’m pretty close by.
Below that was his number.
Rabi couldn’t help grinning as he sent a text. Done with the rally. Where are you?
It only took seconds for Matthew to respond. He wasn’t far from here. Maybe ten minutes, plus however long it took Rabi to get out of the rally and back to his truck.
I’ll be there ASAP.
He said his goodbyes to his parents, gave them an excuse about going to a coffee shop to study, and started to make his escape.
His brother stepped in front of him, though. “Hey.” Eshaan looked down his nose at Rabi. “Where you going in such a hurry?”
Rabi schooled his expression. “Does it matter?”
“It does after that party the other night.”
Rabi’s stomach flipped, but he forced his face to stay neutral. “Seriously? I spend three minutes talking to Bob Swain’s kid without even realizing it, and now you’re watching me?”
“Yes, I am.” Eshaan glared at him. “I saw the way you were looking at him.”
Jaw clenched, Rabi stepped closer and snarled, “Could you say that a little louder? Maybe so someone could hear you?”
Eshaan just stared at him.
Rabi huffed. “Look, you made your point the other night, okay? I’m just going to go somewhere and study since my afternoon and evening were kind of”—he gestured at their surroundings—“shot to hell.”
His brother kept watching him for another couple of seconds, then stepped aside. “Fine. But if I hear about you getting involved with—”
“You won’t,” Rabi snapped. “Because I’m not. Back the fuck off.”
“I’m serious,” Eshaan hissed. “You remember Cousin Tadeen, don’t you? You’re not just sneaking around with someone Mom and Dad might not like. You could end up dead. Do you understand that?”
“I’m aware of that. And you’re worrying about nothing. Back. Off.” Rabi started walking again, and he kept going without waiting for a response. On his way to his truck, he looked over his shoulder at least a dozen times, but didn’t see Eshaan or anyone else tailing him. Which was ridiculous—even if they followed him on foot, that wouldn’t help them once he was behind the wheel.
Still, when you were the son of a high-profile politician on his way to see the very attractive son of a rival high-profile politician, particularly when those rival politicians came from families that had a long-standing and sometimes bloody feud, paranoia came kind of naturally. Especially when history had shown that Swains could and would kill Hashmis without recourse.
He stopped in his tracks, stomach in knots as he reconsidered meeting with Matthew. Except hadn’t he let the Swains’ violent hatred dictate enough of his life? He kept his hotheaded cousins in line when they tried to antagonize the assholes. He kept a damn gun in his truck even though he didn’t want to. He toed the lines laid out by the Swains so he didn’t find himself on the wrong end of an angry white supremacist. Living under that family’s thumb was exhausting, and the thought of quietly rebelling was irresistible, especially when it involved meeting up with the man who’d been on his mind ever since the party. No one had to know.
Yeah. He was doing this. Discreetly and quietly, of course—he wasn’t that stupid—but he was doing this.
Rabi reached his truck, and just to be safe, he circled the block a couple of times, then circled another one. Satisfied no one had followed him, he let the GPS direct him to the place Matthew had sent him.
That place turned out to be another park. A much smaller one than where the rally had been held—just some grass and bushes around a single fountain ringed by a few benches.
Rabi parked in front of a dry cleaner that was closed for the night, then walked across the street. The benches were empty, but he saw someone standing near the fountain, looking at his phone.
Cautiously, he called out, “Matthew?”
The man turned around, and yes, it was Matthew. And holy shit, it was tempting to break into a run.
Rabi kept his cool exterior, though, and hurried closer. “Hey. Sorry I took so long.”
“It’s all right.” Matthew smiled as he slid his phone into the pocket of his jacket. “I didn’t creep you out, did I? Showing up at your dad’s rally?”
“Not at all.” Rabi stopped when he was maybe an arm’s length from Matthew. “Made it kind of hard to sit through the speech, but . . .”
Matthew laughed, shifting Rabi’s pulse into instant overdrive. As their gazes locked, Matthew sobered, and it was hard to tell if the blush came from the chilly wind or something else. He broke eye contact. “Listen, I know it’s crazy. We had like two minutes, and suddenly I’m . . .” He swallowed. “I just can’t stop thinking about you.”
Rabi’s heart thudded hard against his ribs. “Neither can I. If we hadn’t been interrupted . . .”
This time, there was definitely some blushing going on. “Yeah, sorry about that.” Matthew laughed and rolled his eyes. “My friend likes to shoot off his mouth and poke at frat boys.”
Rabi chuckled. “Oh, he’s that type.”
“Uh-huh. I just wish he wouldn’t do it when I was trying to—” Matthew’s teeth snapped shut as he met Rabi’s eyes again. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the ground at their feet. “When I’m talking to someone.”
“No kidding. I was rather enjoying our—”
Footsteps made Rabi tense up, and he looked to see a middle-aged couple heading their way. They didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Matthew or Rabi, but even still, Rabi instinctively put some more space between him and Matthew, and Matthew seemed to do the same. The couple didn’t notice them at all, but as Rabi warily watched them continue across the park at a brisk pace, a whole new set of nerves coiled in the pit of his stomach. He’d finally made contact with Matthew, and they were finally in the same place, but . . . now what?
Matthew cleared his throat. “Shit. Too many people in this town know our faces.”
“I know.” Rabi’s heart sank. They exchanged uneasy glances. He could hear the maybe this isn’t such a good idea coming from a mile away. Even if the couple walking past hadn’t noticed them, that didn’t mean the next person wouldn’t. But he’d reconnected with Matthew, and like hell was he going to let him go again, so he blurted out, “We could go someplace else.”
Matthew’s eyebrows shot up. “Like where?”
“Anywhere.” Rabi shook his head. “Just drive out into the country or whatever. I really don’t care.” I just want to be with you. He held that last bit back; he didn’t want Matthew to think—well, know—how desperate he was.
Matthew chewed his lip for a moment. “That could work.”
Renewed hope surged through Rabi. “We’ll text. Set something up. I know it’s risky and everything, but I really want to see you again.”
“Me too.” Matthew smiled. “I was hoping we could spend more time together tonight, but . . .” He frowned in the direction the couple had gone.
“I know. Same here. But once we get out of town . . .”
“Definitely.” Matthew moistened his lips. “I’ve got your number now. I’ll text you tomorrow?”
“Yes, please.”
They shared a long look, and then all too soon, they were heading in opposite directions again. Damn. Rabi had wanted to—
“Wait.”
He turned, expecting Matthew to say something more.
Instead, Matthew doubled back and stepped close, right up into his space, and touched his cheek. “Before you go . . .” Matthew’s eyes flicked to Rabi’s lips. Back to his eyes. To his lips again.
Rabi swallowed. Something in Matthew’s eyes made his pulse soar.
You kiss me right now, he wanted to say, there’s a good chance we won’t get out of here anytime soon.
Then Matthew drew back a little, as if either shyness or caution—maybe both—had made him think twice about taking this any further. Rabi barely contained a sigh of both relief and frustration.
Clearing his throat, Matthew smiled. “I’ll, um, see you soon.”
“Yeah.” Rabi smiled back. “See you soon.”
But not soon enough.
A few nights later, with some excuses about a study group and some upcoming exams, Rabi left his parents’ house. The GPS directed him to the place Matthew had said to meet him—a shopping center near the rich part of town—and fifteen minutes later, Rabi was pulling into the parking lot.
He parked near the south end of the lot by the edge of a wide field that separated the shopping center from a neighborhood of giant houses. Engine idling, Rabi texted Matthew to let him know he was here, and then waited. He watched out the windshield, but even as well lit as this upper-class—like, upper-class—area was, it was hard to see much on the other side of the field besides a handful of cars parked in the streets and the floodlit facades of the enormous houses at the ends of long driveways behind tall fences. It was all probably really pretty in the wintertime, blanketed in snow and glittering with Christmas lights and oversized holiday decorations. Shame all the houses were full of assholes. Rabi might’ve given some of them the benefit of the doubt, but every single home in that neighborhood was undoubtedly sporting a gigantic red ELECT BOB SWAIN – US SENATE sign for all to see. Hell, on his way here, he’d seen no fewer than four with the version that included A voice for American decency.
Rabi was reasonably safe here by the shopping center—it was one his own family frequented without much hassle—but he didn’t dare cross over into suburbia. If he drove past the field and into that neighborhood, he’d be balls-deep in Swain territory—a cluster of rich conservatives who’d been trying for years to find a way to chase people like him out of this town. Arbor Hills had areas where you didn’t wave a Bob Swain flag unless you wanted your ass kicked, and it had areas where no Hashmi went unarmed and without locking his car doors. Especially in the last several months, tempers had been running hot and everyone was just waiting for something to ignite the gas. That confrontation with Derek Swain just before Rabi met Matthew could have easily been the catalyst. Now it was just a matter of time before someone with the wrong name stepped into the wrong neighborhood and looked at someone the wrong way. Or parked near the wrong neighborhood to wait for the wrong guy.
Rabi shifted nervously in his seat. There was a part of him that second-guessed whether he should be here. He desperately wanted to see Matthew, but did he really want to see a Swain? Was it safe, especially now?
Rabi’s family would have his head for seeing Matthew, but the Swains? He shuddered just thinking about it. That clan saw Rabi’s entire community—especially the Hashmis—as pure evil. To Swain and his constituents, Emir Hashmi represented the dismantling of America, the eradication of Christianity, and the arrival of Sharia. Rabi wasn’t sure where they got that out of his dad’s focus on access to education, creating jobs, and making sure people had healthcare, but okay.
Rabi rolled his eyes and muttered “idiots” into the stillness of his truck. The people who had actively rallied against allowing the mosque to be built in Arbor Hills—the ones who’d also damn near rioted when same-sex marriage had been allowed nationwide—thought Rabi’s father wanted to impose his religion and destroy freedom. Okay, then. Good thing the rest of the state, according to recent polls, was more reasonable.
His stomach roiled. November was just around the corner, and regardless of who won, he had a feeling it was going to be . . . eventful. The rivalry between the two men’s supporters was almost as heated as the rivalry between the Hashmi and Swain families themselves. There was a reason gun sales were through the roof in this town and the ones around it. Even Rabi’s father, who really didn’t like so many guns in the hands of private citizens, had encouraged all of his sons to start carrying. As soon as Eshaan and Rabi had each turned twenty-one, their father had taken them to the county courthouse and helped them get their concealed carry permits. While their classmates had their first drinks, Eshaan and Rabi had each received their first pistols.
Rabi didn’t think he’d ever feel entirely comfortable with a weapon on his person. He’d balked at the idea. Hated it, really. After one of his cousins had picked a fight with a Swain at a downtown bar, though, and a few days later, another cousin was badly beaten on the side of the road for the crime of changing a tire while Muslim, Rabi had given in. So now there was a Para Ordnance nine millimeter under his seat.
And people wondered why no one in his family sported Emir Hashmi bumper stickers on their vehicles. That was just asking for slashed tires.
So what the hell am I doing here, waiting for Bob Swain’s son to meet me?
Rabi chewed his thumbnail. If anyone in his family knew, they would think he had a death wish. None of them would ever understand how strongly he’d been drawn to Matthew, and he could never begin to find the words to explain it. Maybe that made him reckless and stupid, but even with all the violence and hatred and that swelling tension around town, he couldn’t walk away. Not from this Swain.
Rapidly approaching footsteps jerked his focus into the present, and with visions of Islamophobes closing in on him, he whipped his head toward the direction they were coming from.
But it wasn’t someone here to harass him.
Matthew pulled open the passenger side door and slid inside, a little out of breath from apparently jogging in from wherever the hell he’d come from. “Sorry I’m late.” He met Rabi’s gaze, cheeks flushed in the streetlights. “I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?”
Rabi smiled. “No, you’re good. But let’s get out of here before someone notices me.”
“Good idea,” Matthew muttered, casting an uneasy glance around the street. “Everyone here gets their hackles up if they see me with a man.”
Rabi shot him a glance as he drove out of the neighborhood. “I figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with a guy like me.”
Matthew shrugged, pressing back into the seat and unzipping his jacket. “They wouldn’t like that either because . . .” He sighed and flailed a hand. “Even if they didn’t catch me with a Hashmi, they’re already freaked out because they’re convinced I’m gay.”
“What makes them think that?”
“My conspicuous lack of a girlfriend. And they’re convinced my best friend is gay, so either that’s why we hang out, or his gayness is going to rub off on me.”
Rabi snorted. “They think it’s contagious too?”
Matthew studied him. “Your family does?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Huh.”
“What?” Rabi glanced at him again.
“Your dad is so, like, pro gay rights. I mean, wasn’t he pushing for queer people to be able to adopt without so much red tape?”
“Oh yeah.” Rabi focused on following the winding roads back toward town. “But that doesn’t mean he understands it or wants it in his house. He and our imam have actually had some pretty heated discussions about it.”
“Seriously?”
Rabi nodded. He pulled into an intersection and stopped, left blinker on, and waited for a couple of cars to go by before he made the turn. Then he continued. “Our imam doesn’t think queerness and Islam are mutually exclusive. Dad . . .” He drummed this fingers on the wheel. “I don’t know. He seems to go back and forth on it, to be honest.”
“How so?”
“Like, one year he was furious that the mosque wanted to have a presence at Gay Pride. The next, he didn’t bat an eye that a couple of women in the community were getting married. Then like two months later he was mad that my sister’s hijab had a rainbow pattern on it.” He sighed, shaking his head. “So it’s like he’s still figuring out where he stands. I don’t think he’ll ever push for any homophobic legislation because he knows damn well what it’s like to be oppressed, but his actual feelings about it? Eh.” Rabi paused, and a knot suddenly tightened in his gut. He glanced at Matthew again. “This . . . this stays between us, right?”
Matthew gave a soft, dry laugh. “Shit. You got me. I’m just here to get dirt on your dad.”
Rabi swallowed.
“Hey.” Matthew sat up a little, and his tone was more serious. “I’m just joking. The only impact my dad’s campaign has on what we’re doing now is that we need to be discreet. I’m not here for him.”
Rabi stole another look, still afraid he might’ve let too much slip.
“Don’t worry about it,” Matthew said. “Honestly, I envy you. I’d rather be part of your dad’s campaign than mine.”
“You would?”
“Hell yeah. Do you have any idea how much I die inside every time I have to stand there smiling next to him while he’s telling a cheering crowd about all the ‘decency’ he stands for?” Matthew blew out a breath. “Even if your dad’s not sure what he feels about people like us, and even after all the shit he’s talked about my dad and my family, at least he’s not angling for votes by saying he’ll take away our rights.” Matthew squirmed a little, and his voice was almost inaudible as he asked, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your own father tell a room full of people that he enthusiastically supports conversion therapy?”
Rabi’s hands tightened involuntarily on the wheel as his stomach somersaulted. “He’s done that?”
“Unfortunately.” Matthew sagged against the door, elbow under the window and his head resting on his hand. “He’ll never say it around the cameras or during a speech because he knows some of his supporters are against it, but . . .”
“Probably because he knows how horrible it is,” Rabi growled. Then he straightened a bit. “Do you . . . do you think your parents would send you to that if they knew?”
Matthew swallowed. Staring out the windshield, he said, “I’m not a minor anymore, so they can’t make me now, but when I was a kid? I don’t know. I really don’t. I’ve never tipped my hand far enough for them to tip theirs, if that makes sense. But you can imagine why I’ve never come out to them.”
“No shit,” Rabi breathed.
They were silent for a moment, but then Matthew cleared his throat, sat up, and seemed to brighten a bit. “Let’s not talk about our dads or politics tonight. I came to see you.”
Heart fluttering, Rabi glanced at him, and that shy smile made his toes curl. As he faced the road again, he said, “Me too.” He laughed nervously. “I still can’t believe we reconnected after the party. I was afraid you’d think it was creepy when I looked you up on Facebook.”
“Yeah, I was kind of afraid of the same thing when I crashed your dad’s rally.”
Rabi laughed. “No, it wasn’t creepy. I’ve, um, never had a guy do something like that to make contact with me. It was kind of flattering, actually.”
They exchanged glances, and both smiled.
“Why don’t we get out of town?” Matthew suggested. “Go someplace where nobody will recognize us.”
“I like that idea.” Rabi drove faster. They chatted, mostly about school, in between exchanging nervous smiles and shy glances, until Arbor Hills was far behind them. The city was nothing more than a soft glow that barely made it above the gently rolling hills in the rearview. The two-lane road took them to a T-intersection with Highway 16, which ran east to west across the entire state.
At the junction, Rabi slowed to a stop. In the daylight, they would’ve been able to see the highway sprawling all the way to the horizon in both directions. At night, it just went a few broken stripes to the left and right before fading into the darkness.
A faint glow to the right indicated Columbia, which was about thirty miles away. To the left, it was just black. Endless, inky black. Nothing but farms, open plains, and utter emptiness.
He tapped his fingers on the wheel and glanced at Matthew. “So, which way should I go?”
“Well.” Matthew paused. “How about I go left and you go right?”
Confused, Rabi turned to him, but when their gazes met and the dashboard lights brought out the playful sparkle in Matthew’s eyes, he understood.
Without a word, Rabi went right. Matthew went left.
And in the middle, above the narrow console, their lips met.
Goose bumps sprang up all over Rabi’s body. He was used to men who forced their tongues into his mouth or who were so aggressive they wound up pinching lips between teeth. He’d never kissed someone whose lips were just the right amount of soft and firm. They moved with Rabi’s, but weren’t completely passive and weren’t trying to take over. When Matthew’s tongue gently teased Rabi’s lips, and the kiss slowly deepened, Rabi . . . just . . . lost himself. He was finally tasting the kiss of the man he’d been fantasizing about for days, and that man was taking his time tasting him too. When Matthew’s fingers combed through Rabi’s hair, Rabi gasped, but not enough to break the kiss.
It was Matthew who finally drew back after ages had passed, and he stroked Rabi’s hair again as he whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do that since the Halloween party.”
“Me too.” Rabi could barely catch his breath. “Kind of want to do it again.”
Matthew laughed. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Chuckling softly, Rabi cradled Matthew’s cheek and kissed him again, and . . . fuck, the second kiss was as amazing as the first. It probably shouldn’t have been a surprise that a man who could grab Rabi’s attention like Matthew had at the party was also an addictive kisser.
As they pulled apart the second time, Rabi ran his tongue across his lower lip. He glanced in the rearview. There weren’t any other cars around, but that could change pretty fast. That, and he wanted to focus on Matthew, not on keeping his foot on the brake so they didn’t accidentally roll into the middle of the highway. “Maybe we should go find some place . . .” He gestured at the dark expanse to their left. “Private?”
Matthew grinned. “Good idea.”
After one more light kiss, they separated, and Rabi turned onto the highway.
Then, driving faster than he probably needed to, he headed into the unlit stillness of the countryside in search of a place where they could be alone.