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Seeing Shawn Payne brought back forgotten feelings.
Thoughts that had been pushed far away, almost locked in the last drawer of his mind—until he saw him again.
His heart pounded, and the hope of being able to apologize crossed his mind. He knew where Kenny lived; he would go with the excuse of the fight they had, and maybe that way they could fix things.
Arriving at the Payne household made his hands sweat. His finger trembled as he pressed the doorbell, and the minute before the door opened felt eternal. He lowered his gaze, trying to brace himself for all the worst-case scenarios if Shawn didn’t want to talk to him. The worst would be having the door slammed in his face.
—Looking for another beating? —Shawn said as soon as he saw him, his brow furrowed.
—No! I just want to talk to you! —Robby knew he was acting stupid, speaking too fast, like he was being chased, so he tried to calm himself and softened his voice. —Can we? Please…
Apparently, making his voice calmer had the desired effect, because the older boy simply opened the door and let him in.
He didn’t pay much attention to the decoration, but his gaze was drawn to a family photo on the wall. He noticed how all four members were smiling happily, then looked at the boy in front of him walking toward what he assumed was the kitchen.
He followed him in silence until, indeed, they were in the kitchen. Shawn grabbed a can of beer and handed one to him.
—I don’t drink —Robby said, looking at the hand holding out the cold can.
—Your dad? —Shawn asked bluntly, assuming that was the reason.
—Yeah… —Robby whispered, Shawn’s mocking voice from juvie echoing in his mind.
—Alright.
Contrary to what he expected, Shawn put the beer back and grabbed a small orange juice box instead, handing it to him.
—Thanks, Shawn —he said, opening the thin straw and sticking it into the small hole before taking a sip.
—What are you here for, Keene? —Shawn asked, leaning casually against one of the dining chairs.
—I wanted to apologize…
—Apologize? —Shawn questioned, clearly intrigued.
—Yeah. I wasn’t a good mentor to Kenny… and I failed the trust you had in me —Robby paused, lowering his gaze before looking back up with the most sincere expression he could manage— I’m sorry for that.
Shawn didn’t look away. The way Robby lowered his head, the guilt in his eyes… it wasn’t the same as in juvie. This wasn’t the same Robby who had kicked his ass.
—I’ll give you this, Vanilla—you’ve got guts —Shawn said with a half-smile.
Robby swallowed, nodding slightly. He was about to speak again, but Shawn raised a finger to stop him.
—I’m not done, pretty boy.
Now it was Keene who looked surprised. He stared at him with those big green eyes that almost looked like a puppy asking for affection.
Shawn set the can down on the counter with a dull thud and crossed his arms. The distance between them was minimal.
Robby had to tilt his head slightly to meet Shawn’s dark eyes, so deep they sent a chill down his spine.
—You weren’t as bad a mentor as you think —Shawn said, grabbing his shoulder and guiding him through the house until they reached what seemed to be his room.
Robby stayed quiet, accepting this unexpected mercy.
The door opened, and so did his perception of who Shawn Payne really was.
No longer just the guy from juvie—but a brother, a son, a human being.
He looked around: the bed in the center, the window facing outside, a door that probably led to a bathroom or closet.
A medium-sized desk. A closed laptop. A lamp. A messy pile of books.
—You went back to school? —he asked, curious, turning around—only to jump slightly when he realized Shawn was very close behind him.
—Yeah. Or my dad will kill me if I don’t —Shawn replied, his chest brushing Robby’s back, his breath tickling his neck.
—And Kenny? —Robby asked.
—Out.
That was all Shawn said before gently pushing him against the desk, trapping him between his body and the wood’s edge.
—You know, Vanilla… you’ve got a really pretty face.
Shawn couldn’t see it, but Robby’s cheeks flushed pink at the words. People had called him handsome before—but pretty? Never.
—You think so? —he asked, staring at a polaroid taped to the wall.
—Everyone thought so —Shawn murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder, invading his space— And I thought it was unfair that that girl left you for someone like… that horchata.
Robby let out a dry chuckle.
—His name is Miguel —he defended his now stepbrother— And about her… it was complicated.
—And now Miguel defends you —Shawn said, turning him around so he was pressed against the desk, unable to escape his gaze.
—That’s just how he is… —Robby whispered, avoiding eye contact—until Shawn grabbed his chin and forced him to look up.
His breathing slowed.
—You’re light, Keene —Shawn said— I noticed when I threw you against the fence today.
…Was that a compliment?
Robby raised an eyebrow, confused, as Shawn’s hand moved from his chin to his neck, making him shiver.
—What are you getting at, Shawn?
—I want to kiss you.
Robby’s eyes widened.
And then he acted on impulse.
His hands grabbed Shawn, pulling him closer. Silence filled the space between them—until his lips pressed against Shawn’s, answering him.
Shawn’s hand slid into his hair, gripping it, tugging just enough to make him gasp. The moment his mouth opened, Shawn’s tongue pushed in, dominant, overwhelming.
The scent of apple-cinnamon air freshener, the quiet house, Shawn’s heavy breathing—
It was enough.
Robby melted into it.
His hands cupped Shawn’s face, wanting more—his lips, his skin, everything.
—Shawn… —he whispered— Damn, I want this too.
The words slipped out before he could think.
Shawn kissed him again, harder.
Robby closed his eyes, gripping his neck as Shawn’s hands slid to his waist, lifting him onto the desk.
Their breathing tangled.
When they finally pulled apart, foreheads touching—
—I’ve wanted to do that for a long time —Shawn admitted.
—You could’ve at least asked me out first —Robby joked.
Shawn laughed.
—What, you’re not easy?
—I’m not —Robby shot back, smiling.
—Where do you want to go?
—I don’t know… you like cheeseburgers?
Shawn smirked.
—I know a place.
—Friday at 7?
—I’ll pick you up.
He stole another kiss.
—You keep kissing me…
—And you keep letting me.
Then Robby’s phone rang.
Miguel.
—Robby? Are you okay?
Before he could answer, Shawn snatched the phone.
—Vanilla’s fine, Horchata. He’s a little busy right now.
—Shawn! —Robby snapped, grabbing it back— Miguel, I’ll be home soon.
—I swear if you come back limping, I’m not covering for you with Sensei!
The call ended.
Robby looked at Shawn, embarrassed.
—Now he’s going to blackmail me with that…
Shawn just laughed—and kissed him again.