2 ~ The Cat

"Where's your partner in crime?" May asked, looking around.

"Probably trying to escape before any teachers can talk to him," I said, scanning the crowd. "His dad couldn't make it."

May's expression soured slightly. "Big surprise there."

I spotted Rafael then, trying to slip away toward the parking lot. "Raf!" I called, waving until he turned.

His face softened when he saw me, that rare genuine smile breaking through his carefully maintained facade of indifference. He changed direction, weaving through the crowd toward us.

"Got it," May said, snapping a picture of him mid-approach. "That's going in the album."

"Hey, valedictorian," Rafael said when he reached us, tugging playfully at my honor cords. "Nice speech. Very touching. I almost shed a tear."

"Shut up," I laughed, swatting his hand away. "You loved it."

"It was decent," he conceded, which from Rafael was high praise.

"Congratulations, Raf," May said, giving him a quick hug that he awkwardly returned. After practically living at our house during his father's frequent business trips, he'd become like family, but physical affection still made him stiffen like a startled cat. "We got you something."

"You didn't have to— "

"We wanted to," I interrupted, pulling the small wrapped package from my bag. "Open it later."

He nodded, tucking it into the pocket of the leather jacket he'd already changed into, having ditched his gown somewhere. "Thanks."

"Victor really couldn't make it?" May asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

Rafael's face closed off slightly. "Last-minute trip to Singapore. Business." The clipped reply told us not to push further.

"Well, his loss is our gain," May said smoothly. "You're still coming for celebration dinner, right? I made your favorite cheesecake."

"Wouldn't miss it," Rafael replied, his expression lightening.

"Great. I need to run to the bakery first to check on things, but I'll meet you both at home in an hour." May gave me another quick hug, handed me the camera, and headed toward the parking lot.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Rafael turned to me with narrowed eyes. "You're pale. Did you take your inhaler?"

"I'm fine Dr. Moreno," I said, rolling my eyes even as I appreciated his concern.

The 'asthma' excuse had served me well for years, explaining away coughing fits and shortness of breath without revealing the truth of my cystic fibrosis. Only May, my doctors, and a few school officials knew the full extent of my condition.

"Don't be a smartass, Sunny," he retorted, but his eyes remained concerned.

"I used it before the ceremony," I lied. It hadn't been my inhaler but my actual medications, taken in a bathroom stall with shaking hands. "Come on, let's get out of here before Ms. Jenkins corners you about that English scholarship again."

As we walked toward the parking lot after graduation, a black blur darted between parked cars, making a beeline straight for me. "Midnight!" I exclaimed as the sleek black cat wound between my ankles, purring loudly. I crouched down, careful not to wrinkle my graduation gown, and scratched behind his ears. Rafael watched with that half-smile that always made my heart flutter.

"Still feeding the campus stray, I see," he said, though his tone held no judgment.

"He's not a stray anymore. He's mine—he just doesn't know it yet." I pulled a small bag of treats from my purse, offering one to the eager cat. Midnight took it delicately before rubbing his head against my hand in gratitude. "He'll be waiting at my window tonight. Always is."

"That cat has better college prospects than me," Rafael joked, but I caught the hint of sadness behind his words.

"He's just smart enough to recognize a good thing. "

I replied, standing up as Midnight trotted away, mission accomplished. I didn't mention how comforting it was to have Midnight's steady presence on nights when breathing was hardest and sleep wouldn't come.

We made our way to the student parking lot where Rafael's pride and joy waited, a restored vintage motorcycle he'd rebuilt himself and painted a glossy black with subtle crimson detailing.

"Hello Persephone." I said, patting the motorcycle's seat. Rafael had named it after the goddess of spring who was taken to the underworld.... his own private joke about how the bike could probably kill him someday.

"You riding with me?" he asked, handing me the spare helmet he kept just for me.

I hesitated, calculating my breathing capacity. Today hadn't been terrible, and the ride to my house was short. "Sure."

I climbed on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek against his back. This was the only time I allowed myself such closeness, the only time I could breathe in the scent of him, leather and motor oil and something uniquely Rafael, without it seeming strange.

The ride home was over too quickly. When we pulled up to my modest two-story house, I reluctantly disentangled myself from him, running a hand through my helmet-flattened hair.

"I need to shower before dinner," I said, heading up the front walk.

Rafael followed, as comfortable in my home as in his own, more so, probably. "I'll wait downstairs. May said she left some of that spiced tea you like in the fridge."

Inside, I took longer in the shower than I'd planned, letting the steam open my airways, trying to prepare my lungs for the evening ahead. When I emerged in fresh clothes, hair still damp, I found Rafael sprawled on our couch, flipping through an engineering magazine he must have brought with him. Another secret, his fascination with how things worked, a natural talent for mechanics he downplayed around everyone but me.

"Find anything interesting?" I asked, settling beside him.

"Just an article on new combustion engine designs," he said, quickly closing it. "May texted. She's running late but said to start the pasta without her."

I nodded, but made no move to get up. Instead, I pulled my backpack closer and withdrew a small leather-bound journal I'd been filling for months now.

My heart hammered against my ribs, partly from nervousness, partly from the constant strain of breathing.

"..hm, what's that?" Rafael asked, eyeing the journal curiously.