“You mean Jalon, the king of Van Doren?”
I snort. “Please never call him king to his face. He can already be unbearable.” It’s kind of true. Both aspects of it. Jalon didn’t start Van Doren Technologies. It’s been around for three generations. But Jalon has made it the beast it is today, with a tentacle in nearly every industry around the world. “But yes, that Jalon.”
“You know him? You’re related?” His eyes are wide.
“He’s my oldest brother, so… yes.”
He looks at me, completely astonished. I let him stare for a minute before I need to know if this bothers him. “Is that okay?”
His laughter sounds a little hysterical. “Is it okay?!” He pffts. “Why wouldn’t it be? You can’t change that stuff anyway.”
“No,” I say, and I don’t have an answer for the first question. So I don’t answer.
He sighs and presses his lips to mine again. “Kiss me, Oxley Van Doren.”
I do. For a very long time.
7
HUNTLEY
I’m tornbetween wanting to continue kissing him and letting ourselves get carried away again, and sitting in awe to speculate about everything he’s told me. Van Doren! They’re like legends. Gods. My generation alone has seen headline after headline about how they’re conquering the globe in technology, trade, fashion, entrepreneurship, science, law, publishing, and entertainment, even medicine. There’s even a Van Doren in the president’s cabinet! Basically, if it exists, they now have their own version of it.
Except the police. That is, if I discount how they’re trying to intercept gang violence! Wherewerethe police?!
“Nothing I’ve said bothers you?” Oxley asks.
“No. I might be a little wary of the gun you said you had, but… you wouldn’t be a threat to the hate gangs without one.”
“Guns don’t shoot themselves,” Oxley says. “The person holding it aims and pulls the trigger. It was his conscious decision to shoot you. He could have scared you just as much by shooting into the air, where no one would have gotten hurt.”
“It’s hard to believe the world has come to this,” I murmur. Nearly all ancient cultures show homosexuality as being a part of their society. The world might be more progressive as far as technological advancements go, but our humanity is devolving as our species gets older. It’s disgusting.
“I won’t pretend that other countries are necessarily a better solution, but I do think ours has taken several steps backward. Not just in LGBTQ rights but women’s rights, too.” Oxley shakes his head. “We don’t need to discuss this. Just know that our family agrees, and that’s why we work so hard to make our reach so far. When the ‘law’ fails, we try to find a way around it to still correct where they refuse to act or their hands are tied for lack of evidence or whatever the case may be.”
“What if you get caught?” I ask.
“Van Doren Law is one of the biggest practices in the country,” he says, the corner of his lips quirking up.
I laugh.
We sit quietly for a while, his lips pressing softly to my jaw, and it occurs to me… “Do you know whoIam, Ox?”
“Oxley,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “No.”
“Why haven’t you asked?” I’d expected him to say yes. Otherwise, I’ve been here for several days now, and I’m virtually nameless to him.
He leans up, his body pressed tightly to mine, while not putting any pressure on my leg. His eyes stare into mine so intently, I want to squirm. It takes conscious effort not to. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to know. Maybe you want to stay anonymous.”
It wouldn’t have occurred to me not to give him my name. “Do you want to know?”
“Very much.”
I press a hand to his face and love when he leans into it. “My name is Huntley Fowler. I’ve only been living in that neighborhood for three months because I mistakenly thought that hate crimes happen to other people and I’d be safe. I moved out of my parents’very safeneighborhood because I had it in my mind that I was an adult and should be living on my own.” With a laugh, I close my eyes. “Not that I could ever afford an apartment in Anaheim on my own. I have three roommates.”
Oxley’s phone ringing interrupts us. He looks toward the edge of the bed and sighs before pushing himself up and carefully crawling over me. I lose sight of him as he crouches down to find his phone in his discarded pants.
He stands as he pulls it to his ear. “Hello.” Pause. His eyes flicker to something on the nightstand and then to my leg. He climbs onto the bed and hands me the phone. “Talk to Mark while I unwrap your leg.”
