Page 20

TWENTY

ANDRE

I sank onto a bench on Maple Street, taking a moment to catch my breath after a whirlwind afternoon. Everything had gone smoothly—aside from a brief tech hiccup when someone accidentally unplugged the sound system between panels at the history and educational sessions.

The two panels I’d moderated exceeded my expectations.

The discussion about banned books drew an overflow crowd with passionate dialogue about the importance of representation in literature and protecting access to diverse stories.

Several attendees gave powerful stories about finding themselves in books that others wanted to remove from shelves.

The second panel, focusing on Maplewood’s Pride history since 1970, featured long-time residents sharing memories of the first march and how the celebration had transformed over the years.

Mrs. Goddard’s story about helping organize the first festival brought tears to many eyes, including mine.

She spoke about how, even though there’d been no effort to promote that first Pride outside of Maplewood, more than a dozen people came to town that day so they could safely be themselves.

The other thing that made the day were the occasional texts from Ethan. He’d sent pictures of art pieces he was judging, and his commentary made me smile.

Ethan: How am I supposed to judge when everything’s so beautiful? You didn’t include those instructions.

Ethan: Just saw the most incredible painting of two hockey players.

Ethan: Found the most amazing maple candy vendor! I’m saving you some truffles.

I’d caught glimpses of him throughout the day, usually surrounded by people wanting photos or autographs. He handled each interaction with grace, especially with young people.

A social media post I’d seen earlier showed him with his NHL friends—Caleb, Kyle, Nick, Cole, and Miles—all of them grinning in their team’s Pride shirts as they posed near the maple tree we’d planted. The caption read, Ready to coach, play, and celebrate Pride in Maplewood .

My phone buzzed with a new message.

Ethan: Art walk winner announcement at 6:30. Meet you there?

I smiled as I typed back.

Andre: Wouldn’t miss it. I’m already on a bench near The Wild Palette.

It didn’t take long for me to spot Ethan approaching. He wore a different shirt, a Maplewood High Bears hockey Pride shirt with the team logo in Pride colors. Despite the fatigue in his features, his blue eyes lit up when he saw me. He dropped onto the bench beside me with a long exhale.

“You look like you’ve had quite a day.” I resisted the urge to smooth his tousled hair, which was drooping down across his forehead.

He leaned back, our shoulders touching. “It’s been amazing. But I’m not used to talking to so many people in one day. Not to mention having to decide which art was the best.”

“You seemed to handle it well.”

“Thanks.” His smile was soft. “Texting with you helped. I was so glad to hear about the panels. I want to watch those once this is all done.” He glanced across the street to the vendor area.

“So, I stashed the truffles at the theater because I worried I’d leave them somewhere.

Instead, do you want to grab some ice cream?

I’ve heard good things about the Pride Berry Rainbow Swirl. ”

“Lead the way.”

We wound through the crowd to the ice cream cart, where Ethan insisted on paying. The vendor created perfect swirls of rainbow-colored ice cream topped with edible glitter that sparkled in the sun. We wandered back toward the gallery as we ate.

“So many flavors,” I said after my first bite. “Some blueberry and… is that raspberry?”

“Strawberry too.”

Ethan had a small smear of purple ice cream on his chin. Without thinking, I reached up to wipe it away with my thumb, and the touch sent a small electric current through my fingers. He made a soft hum in response.

People smiled and nodded as they passed us, but no one interrupted our ice cream time. It felt both surreal and natural to share a frozen treat with Ethan while he told me about his favorite art.

“It was so difficult to choose a winner. I’m not sure how I’m going to judge anything else if everything is as good as the art.

” He paused to catch some ice cream that was melting down the cone.

The way his tongue darted out was sexy and sent my brain reeling.

“This hockey painting really got me. I think it could be based on Cole and Miles since it’s got two centers at the face-off dot looking fierce and ready to go while hearts dance above their head. ”

His enthusiasm was infectious.

“I need to see that.”

“I’ll show you.” He checked his watch. “Speaking of which, we should get inside. I don’t want to be late.” He finished his cone and tossed away his napkins. “You want to go to Red’s later? I’m craving a burger.” He paused. “Provided you want to join me, of course.”

“I’d love to.” No way I’d say no to more time with him.

The gallery buzzed with excitement as people gathered. Olivia stood at the microphone, clipboard in hand and covered works of art on either side. Ethan made his way to join her and Justin Mayer, last year’s winner. I found a spot near the wall where I could see everything.

“Welcome, everyone!” Olivia’s amplified voice carried through the space.

“We’ve had an incredible showing of art this year, with over fifty pieces submitted.

They’ll be on display all week and you can pick up a location map here so you can find them all.

Now, before we announce Best in Show, each judge will share their personal favorite. ”

Justin went first. He unveiled a series of photographs capturing quiet moments of queer joy in Maplewood—two elderly women holding hands in Maplewood City Park’s gazebo, teenagers studying together at the library, a group sharing maple cotton candy at last year’s Pride.

“Ethan?” Olivia gestured for him to speak next.

He stepped forward, hands loose at his sides instead of fidgeting. “My choice is Team Passion.” He unveiled the painting he’d described earlier. “The artist captured something special with these two opposing players ready to battle for a puck while also clearly in love.”

Olivia nodded in agreement before announcing her own choice, a painting that at first glance seemed to be swirls of rainbow colors but after a closer look became a scene of Maplewood’s Pride parade.

“And now,” Olivia continued, building anticipation, “our Best in Show winner.” She opened an envelope with the appropriate ceremony. “Tracey Childs for Team Passion!”

The crowd erupted in applause as a teenage girl with a hockey jersey tied around her waist made her way to the front, looking stunned. Ethan’s face lit up as he handed her the ribbon and plaque.

“Speech!” someone called out.

Tracey gripped her plaque tight. “Um, wow. Thank you so much. I… I was inspired.” She glanced around and her eyes suddenly went wide.

“Oh gosh. They’re here!” She took another breath.

“This painting was inspired by Cole Ackerman and Miles Robinson. They play on opposite teams, but their love doesn’t affect their competitiveness.

I saw them in a similar pose during a game, and I wanted to capture that because it’s the game I love and, of course, who doesn’t love a love story? ”

More applause followed before people moved around the gallery, congratulating Tracey and viewing all the artwork.

Just as Ethan got to me, Miles and Cole also joined us.

“Oh my God, she painted us.” Miles pointed to where Tracey was talking with admirers by the painting. “No wonder you texted us to make sure we were here.”

“I’m glad you could make it. I didn’t know she’d win the whole thing, but it was my favorite. It’s so awesome that it’s really based on you two.”

Cole slipped his arm around Miles’s waist. “Let’s go talk to her. Catch you two later?”

“Yeah. We’re going to go grab a bite.”

They gave us a knowing look, one that could only pass from one couple to another. Were we starting to develop that?

We stepped out into the cooling evening air. As we walked toward Red’s, two teens approached with hopeful expressions and Pride shirts in hand.

“Mr. Gallagher, would you mind signing these?” asked a lanky teen with braces who was wearing a Phoenix Pride hockey jersey. His voice cracked with nerves. “I’m Anton and this is my boyfriend, Clark. We’re trying to get everyone’s signatures.”

“Of course.” Ethan took the offered marker, his smile warm and genuine as he accepted the Maplewood Pride shirts from them. The shirts already had signatures from Dix and Caleb.

Clark, the shorter of the two, with glasses and a rainbow beanie, bounced on his toes. “Thank you for this! It’s so amazing meeting all of you.”

Ethan looked around, trying to decide what to use to write against, when Clark dug into his shoulder bag.

“Sorry,” he said, handing over a copy of a Kendrick Sanderson book. “This will help.”

Ethan nodded and put the shirt against the book. Then he carefully added his signature with deliberate strokes. “You can find Miles and Cole in the gallery down the block if you want to try to grab them now.”

“Oh cool!” Anton exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Are you coming to the game on Saturday?”

They nodded enthusiastically.

“We start camp in a week too.” Clark clutched his signed shirt to his chest. “It’s going to be cool learning from you and Kyle Pressgrove.”

“Fantastic. I look forward to seeing what you’ve got on the ice.” Ethan’s genuine interest made both teens beam.

“Thanks so much.” Anton held up his shirt like a trophy. Clark was already folding his, treating it like a precious artifact. “See you around!”

The boys hurried off, their excited chatter trailing behind them.

“You’re great with them,” I said as we resumed walking.

“They remind me of myself at that age.” He laced his fingers through mine. “Though I didn’t have out hockey players for mentors then.”