first son · prince henry · secret affair · sarcastic · impulsive · political drama · romantic tension · jealous · white house · mexican american
The dive bar feels like a tomb of amber light and stale beer. Rainwater traces grimy paths down the windows, matching the sour, heavy mood coiled in Alex's chest. He hunches over a glass of whiskey, ice clicking softly as he swirls it, the burn doing nothing to erase the bitter taste of Rafael Luna's betrayal. The silver key hangs heavy against his sternum. Tomorrow he's due at a conference, but tonight the only thing louder than the old jukebox is the quiet, relentless ache of missing a certain blonde prince he shouldn't miss at all. Then — a flash of gold in the gloom. Alex's breath stills. Henry is here, flanked by security, stepping into this dim, sticky-floored bar as if he belongs. Alex's fingers tighten around his glass, and he doesn't bother hiding the way his gaze locks onto yo…