“God, I haven’t thought about that since eighth grade,” she said with a laugh, her phone chiming with a notification. “You’d been worried about what would change when you finally told your parents you were gay…” She fell silent, her thumb stilling as she checked the new message. Her eyes went wide with realization as she looked up at me. “They finalized their divorce, didn’t they?”
I nodded, unable to speak. Unable to feel anything other than the same vulnerability I had back then.
“I’m sorry,” she said, dropping her phone to grab my hand. “I know it’s been hard on you, and the divorce news dropped out of nowhere.”
“Out of nowhere,” I repeated half-heartedly.
Only it wasn’t, not in hindsight. After she’d helped me find the courage to tell my parents, Mom hugged me while my father had only urged me to keep it quiet. I never told Sawyer how he scared the hell out of me with hate crime statistics. He’d warned me that nobody in Beggs would welcome me, that they would think less of our family.
His self-serving efforts had stopped me from coming out with Sawyer like I’d planned to do when we started high school. She knew he was strict, but not the extent of his dominance. All this time she’d thought I was the one afraid of what other people would think. Getting back at my father after all these years was the real reason I’d suddenly joined the QSA. Sawyer had been over the moon when I told her I was finally ready to be a part of her club, but what I’d really wanted was to show him I wasn’t the son he’d brainwashed.
“Now you can move on with your life,” she added softly.
“I’m trying.”
I risked a glance at her as the episode played in the background, and she was watching me. Still waiting for me to pull my mask off. I couldn’t tell her my reasons, couldn’t begin to describe how I felt like a big fraud for having an ulterior motive for helping with Pride and the QSA. Guilt coiled in my stomach like a snake.
“So…uh…where’s your girlfriend?” I asked, avoiding her stare. “Thought she would be here by now.”
A beat passed as she shifted gears to catch up, but I knewshe wouldn’t ever let it drop. “Kennedy is not my girlfriend,” she said, voice pitching as she grabbed her phone, and I was grateful she took the bait. “I haven’t worked up the courage to ask her yet.”
“Whyare you nervous?”
All I got in reply was a one-shoulder shrug, bright pink blooming across her cheeks as she checked her new message. The crush on Kennedy had only strengthened since Kennedy had joined the QSA. It’d turned into a slow burn of yearning in the hallways, dragging me to pep rallies to watch her cheer, mastermind-level outings where we’d accidentally bump into her…and unfortunately Cohen.
“It’s been a year, Saw.” The oversized sofa pulled me into its cushions as I paused the next episode. “You make out with her like every damn day. And otherstuff.What are you waiting for?”
“You tell me,” she said with a sigh, gesturing toward me. “You have all those guys you’ve ‘other-stuffed’ but none of them are your boyfriend.”
“I’m just comfortable with my sexuality now,” I said over the roar of doubt, wishing it were true. “Plus guys love—”
“I bet they do.” She cut me off with an exaggerated eye roll. “But whenever they want something more, you do the Z-step.”
“First off, I can ‘other-stuff’ whoever I want,” I said, and stuck my tongue out at her. “And secondly, what does that even mean?”
“Yes, you can,” she began, holding her hands up in surrender, “and I’m not saying you can’t…but you do have a habit of dancing around their feelings before you bail.”
“Damn…” I trailed off, not denying it. Not explaining my reasons. “Wait, why are you bullying me right now?”
“Don’t youdare,” she said haughtily. “I’mnota bully…anymore.”
I gave her a pointed look, pushing a strand of hair off my face. Her stint as my tormenter was still a sore subject. She’d get defensive and forget why she was reading me in the first place. Her temper at being called out was fleeting, though. She deflated as her eyes went distant in thought.
“It’s just that…I think Kennedy might be a Zasshole too.”
“Excuse you, I’m not an asshole about it,” I pointed out. “I make sure they always have fun—Wait, do people call methat?”
She shrugged and twirled her hair, the blue tips spinning with her thoughts. That focused look was back, and I knew her mind was moving faster than the TARDIS. I wanted to tell her Kennedy wasn’t like me. That all the guys I’d dated since January never knew the real me, just Zeke, who caused trouble. It was easier to bail before disappointing them.
“Don’t go there,” I told her, leaning over to nudge her shoulder. “No doubt Kennedy likes you.”
“I hope so.” Another sigh, another glance at her phone. “Sometimes I get the feeling she isn’t comfortable being out. Not with all the crap happening in town.”
“Totally get that.”
I hadn’t been aware of how hard it was to be out, not until the Pride Day debacle. The mayor had renounced his support after he’d caught hell for permitting the QSA to use the town square. But he couldn’t stop us from doing it, not with Sawyer’s petition. She’d gone through all the legal requirements,and I hoped my father saw us celebrating—saw me being the best worst type of gay person, or trying to be at least.
“Besides, the way she looks at you is pure thirst,” I added. “So stop flipping out.”
