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“Okay, let’s not—”
“Yes, okay, you’re right, if the projections hold, we’re fine,” she says, hopping down. “So, do you want to talk about why you’re choosing to punt so hard on this particular moment in your career as a risk-taking fashion plate?”
“Nope,” Alex says. He waves the hangers at her. “Blue or gray?”
“Okay, so.” She’s ignoring him. “I’ll say it, then. You’re nervous.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course I’m nervous, Nora, it’s a presidential election and the president gave birth to me.”
“Try again.”
She’s giving him that look. The “I’ve already analyzed all the data on how much shit you’re full of” look. He releases a hiss of a sigh.
“Fine,” he says. “Fine, yeah, I’m nervous about going back to Texas.”
He tosses both the blazers at the bed. Shit.
“I always felt like Texas claiming me as their son was, you know, kind of conditional.” He paces, rubbing the back of his neck. “The whole half-Mexican, all Democrat thing. There’sa very loud contingent there that does not like me and does not want me to represent them. And now, it’s just. Not being straight. Having a boyfriend. Having agay sex scandalwith aEuropean prince.I don’t know anymore.”
He loves Texas—hebelievesin Texas. But he doesn’t know if Texas still loves him.
He’s paced all the way to the opposite side of the room from her, and she watches him and cocks her head to one side.
“So… you’re afraid of wearing anything too flashy for your first post-coming-out trip home, on account of Texans’ delicate hetero sensibilities?”
“Basically.”
She’s looking at him now more like he’s a very complex problem set. “Have you looked at our polling on you in Texas? Since September?”
Alex swallows.
“No. I, uh.” He scrubs his face with one hand. “The thought, like… stresses me out? Like, I keep meaning to go look at the numbers, and then I just. Shut down.”
Nora’s face softens, but she doesn’t move closer yet, giving him space. “Alex. You could have asked me. They’re… not bad.”
He bites his lip. “They’re not?”
“Alex, our base in Texas hasn’t shifted on you since September, at all. If anything, they like you more. And a lot of the undecideds are pissed Richards came after a Texas kid. You’re really fine.”
Oh.
Alex exhales a shaky breath, running one hand through his hair. He starts to pace back, away from the door, which he realizes he’s gravitated near as some fight-or-flight reflex.
“Okay.”
He sits down heavily on the bed.
Nora sits gingerly next to him, and when he looks at her, she’s got that sharpness to her eyes like she does when she’s practically reading his mind.
“Look. You know I’m not good at the whole, like, tactful emotional communication thing, but, uh, June’s not here, so. I’m gonna. Fuckin’. Give it a go.” She presses on. “I don’t think this is just about Texas. You were recently fucking traumatized in a big way, and now you’re scared of doing or saying the kind of stuff you actually like and want to because you don’t want to draw any more attention to yourself.”
Alex almost wants to laugh.
Nora is like Henry sometimes, in that she can cut right down to the truth of things, but Henry deals in heart and Nora deals in facts. It takes her razor’s edge, sometimes, to get him to pull his head out of his ass.
“Uh, well, yeah. That’s. Probably part of it,” he agrees. “I know I need to start rehabilitating my image if I want any chance in politics, but part of me is like… really? Right now? Why? It’s weird. My whole life, I was hanging on to this imaginary future person I was gonna be. Like, the plan—graduation, campaigns, staffer, Congress. That was it. Straight into the game. I was gonna be the person who could do that… whowantedthat. And now here I am, and the person I’ve become is… not that person.”
Nora nudges their shoulders together. “But do you like him?”
