5. - LUIS -
five
- LUIS -
T he thing about Rafael is that he always leaves just before things get interesting. He’s been that way for as long as I’ve known him. He pushes you, teases you, gets under your skin—and then, just when you think you’ve got him cornered, he slips away. It’s maddening. Addictive, even. Tonight was no exception.
Maybe I shouldn’t have let it go. But little does it matter now as I’m standing in my kitchen with a cup of coffee that’s already gone cold. And I can’t stop replaying the look in his eyes when he walked out. It wasn’t anger or even irritation. It was... fear? No, that’s not it…
Whatever it was, it’s stuck with me, and I hate that it has. It’s late now and both time and coffee have sobered me up.
My phone buzzes on the counter, breaking the silence. For a split second, I think it’s him.
Monica: Meeting rescheduled. 10 AM tomorrow.
Straightforward, professional. No hint of warmth. I don’t know why I expected anything else. She’s not the type to waste words—or time—on needless pleasantries.
I sip my coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow’s another chance to prove I’m better than Raf. Smarter. Faster. Worth her attention.
That’s the real reason I’m playing this game, isn’t it?
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
The embassy is buzzing when I arrive the next morning. U.N. Security guards patrol the entrance, their crisp uniforms spotless. The air smells faintly of polished wood and fresh coffee—a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Monica is already here, standing near a conference table with a group of officials. She’s poised, commanding, the very picture of professionalism.
And then there’s Rafael.
He’s leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s wearing one of those suits that make him look like he stepped out of a magazine, and the worst part is, he’s not even trying. I had my suit tailored to fit. He just naturally fills his out.
Our eyes meet across the room, and he nods in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable.
“Luis,” Monica says, drawing my attention back to her. “You’re just in time.”
I flash her a smile, the one I know works on most people. “I’m happy to join you this morning, but confused about why we are all meeting.”
She doesn’t smile back, but her eyes soften slightly. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it. Then she holds out her phone to me. “You need to see this,” she says quietly.
The post on the screen is from Rafael’s NoxTech boss. The words are sharp and crass if I was to use my work vocabulary. ‘DEI hires always come from TITS. Can’t see her lasting long in New York or D.C.’
“That’s… messed up to say,” I mumble, more confused than before. Monica nods, her gaze unwavering. “I’m sorry but I don’t get it.”
Raf sighs. “TITS is the name of the public university NoxTech bought and renamed.”
“My alma mater,” Monica adds.
“That’s outrageous,” I continue, before searching Rafael’s face for more clarity.
Thankfully, he doesn’t take advantage of my confusion. “My boss offered me as her personal security to show it was just a joke.”
So he did get reassigned. Horrible for our game, but great for Monica.
“I absolutely don’t want to make this sound about me,” I say, running a hand through my hair, “but I don’t know why our meeting was rescheduled if we are the only ones here.”
“I was authorized to give your side better terms as an exclusive state supplier. The offer will probably only last until NoxTech stock bounces back. Thus the haste,” Monica explained, then frowned. “Sorry if I was too blunt in my text. My notifications were very nasty last night.”
Oh. Maybe I’d get a bonus at my cover job too. I could treat myself to something nice—something to soothe the sting of losing this round to Raf. After all, who could resist a beefy bodyguard?
Monica crossed her arms, her expression sharp as I realized she had a bigger plan. “I was going to turn down NoxTech’s offer,” she says evenly, “But then I realized this could be mutually beneficial for us all.”
“It won't be easy,” she continues without missing a beat. “I need someone who can outthink a billionaire with an ego the size of Texas. That’s you. Or at least I think it is.”
Rafael snorts softly from the corner, but I ignore him. I expect a fight, but the words that follow are so unexpected it takes me a moment to process them. “No one better at words than Mr. Navarro.”
For the first time, my rivalry with him fades into the background. For all of my complaints, I don’t hate my cover job. I just always wish that I could do more in my actual job. Make a real change at an international level beyond just witnessing something occasionally worth reporting on.
“I understand now,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “What’s our first step?”
Monica glances at Rafael, who falls into his silent protector mode and moves towards the door. Her lips press into a thin line as if fully committing to this unusual plan before offering me a faint smile. “If we are lucky, maybe we can skip our next meeting completely.”
“Like a reverse date,” I tease.
Rafael raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. I think Monica even blushes before she pulls over the paperwork to discuss. This day just keeps getting better.
The morning meeting was nothing like I first expected. There is still a mix of diplomacy and thinly veiled power plays. This is what friendly competition has gotten us. Monica is still in her element, cutting through the noise with the precision of a scalpel. Rafael chimes in occasionally, his insights sharp and annoyingly on point. That man knows his boss, and together we can turn a ‘joke’ into something profitable for us all.
By the time the meeting ends, my week is made. We are now looking at a trade agreement that benefits people back home too. Monica shakes my hand before heading off to get final approval from a few other officials.
“You looked sharp out there,” Rafael says, his tone casual. He couldn’t join her in this latest classified meeting because that would ruin the illusion that he doesn’t have state clearance. I pretend I’m thrilled about this for a fake reason.
“It’s not a game of football,” I counter before I can stop myself. “Don’t patronize me.”
“Touchy.” He raises an eyebrow, amused. “You always this sensitive after getting exactly what you want?”
As good as the day had been, it felt endless. I’d expected to sleep in—not work until six in the evening on my day off. It’s not that I dislike his words. Far from it. They’re sticky sweet, and that’s the problem.
I grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. “Maybe I’m just tired of you somehow inserting yourself in all my business.”
He steps closer. “Maybe you should stop making it so easy.”
I tilt my head up, words almost biting. “You volunteered to guard her, didn’t you?”
The air between us is thick with unspoken tension. I can feel the weight of his gaze, the heat of his presence. For a moment, I think he’s going to say something else, something important.
But then the smirk returns as he steps back. “See you around.”
I don’t know why I do it. Maybe it’s the adrenaline from all the praise from my call with my bosses when I recap what happened at the meeting. Or it could be the frustration of always being two steps behind him. I refuse to accept any other explanation besides those two.
Whatever the reason, I find myself at Raf’s door that night, a six-pack of beer in one hand and a flimsy excuse in the other.
He answers after the second knock, his shirt untucked, his tie loose around his neck.
“Luis,” he says, clearly surprised. “What are you doing here?”
I hold up the beer, forcing a grin. “I wanted to say sorry.”
He hesitates for a moment before stepping aside to let me in.
The apartment is as spotless as ever, still all clean lines and neutral tones. He cleans when he’s upset. It’s the complete opposite of my place, which is cluttered with half-read books and mismatched blankets.
Rafael takes a beer, popping the top off one bottle and handing it to me in exchange for the remaining five. “So, what’s the real reason you’re here?”
I shrug, taking a long sip. “Can’t a guy just check in on his friend?”
He smirks, settling onto the couch. “You used that excuse last time.”
The words hit harder than they should, and I cover my reaction with a sip of beer. “I mean it this time.”
We talk about nothing for a while, the conversation drifting from work to old memories to whatever happens to be on TV. It’s easy, familiar. And yet, there’s a tension beneath it all, a current pulling us toward something neither of us is ready to face. The idea of actually working together is something we hadn’t ever tried to do. There had been chances. But we always make sure to outpace each other. He must like Monica a lot to want to be bored around her instead.
At some point, Rafael turns to me, his expression unreadable. “Why do we do this?”
“Do what?”
“This,” he says, gesturing between us. “The competition, the games. What’s the point?”
I laugh, though it sounds hollow even to me. “Because it’s fun?”
“Wait,” he starts without a smile. “A ‘reverse date’. Was that a joke?”
I don’t know how to answer that. Because the truth is, he asked two questions and it’s not all fun. It’s exhausting, confusing, and... I can’t stop. I’m honestly unsure what he is even talking about anymore. “I don’t know,” I admit either way.
Rafael shakes his head, his gaze dropping to the beer in his hands. For a moment, I think the conversation is over.
But then he looks up, and the intensity in his eyes steals the breath from my lungs.
“Luis,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “What are we doing?”
The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable.
And for the first time in years, I have no idea what to say.