Page 25

Chapter twenty-five

Sawyer

Sawyer made himself comfortable on the old picnic blanket, a little unsure of himself but trying not to show it. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky streaked with pinks and purples. Around him, the circle of friends buzzed with laughter. Drinks were in hand, fireflies blinked lazily around the edges of the clearing, and Pride Week flags fluttered gently from the nearby trees.

Clayton sat cross-legged beside him, always the center of attention in the most natural way. Mark and Rowan were bickering playfully, Brody and James couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, and Jeff and Malik were curled together like they’d always belonged that way. It was the kind of night that felt soft and alive, like something sacred in its simplicity.

Clayton clapped his hands. “Okay, campers! It’s time for the Pride Week edition of Truth or Dare.”

Sawyer blinked. “Wait—there’s a Pride Week edition?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Clayton said with a grin. “More honesty, more chaos, and”—he gestured dramatically—“a lot more glitter if Rowan has his way.”

Rowan flipped his blond hair. “As it should be.”

Sawyer laughed nervously. “I’ve actually never played.”

The entire circle turned toward him, mock-gasping.

“Virgin Truth or Dare player?” Brody said, hand to his heart.

“Time to change that,” James added with a wink.

Clayton leaned in a little. “It’s easy. You pick someone. Ask them ‘Truth or dare.’ If he chooses truth, you ask any question. Nothing off-limits—Pride Week rules. Since we’re all established couples, we ask our lover. If your lover picks dare, you give them something silly, brave, or embarrassing to do. Within reason.”

“And if they don’t do it?” Sawyer asked.

Malik smirked. “Then they owe the group a coming-out confession. Could be a little one—like a secret crush—or a big one. We all have them.”

Sawyer’s heart thumped. The idea made him nervous—but also…intrigued.

“Brody and James are first,” Clayton announced.

James sat cross-legged, grinning at Brody. “Truth or dare?” he playfully challenged.

Brody tilted his head thoughtfully. “Truth,” he replied confidently.

James smirked. “Alright, Brody, have you ever had a secret crush on someone in this camp? That is, before you met me.”

Brody’s cheeks flushed faintly, but he laughed. “Maybe. Let’s just say they have great taste in graphic T-shirts,” he answered cryptically, leaving them all dying of curiosity.

Brody leaned forward, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Your turn, James. Truth or dare?”

Without hesitation, James said, “Dare!”

Brody grinned. “I dare to do your best sexy dance for the group for thirty seconds.”

James groaned in mock horror, but the laughter from others pushed him to his feet. The group whooped and clapped as James stood, a smirk playing on his lips. The firelight flickered across his body, casting seductive shadows as he rolled his shoulders to the beat of the music from his phone.

James started slowly, running his hands down his chest, then teasing the hem of his shirt before lifting it just enough to flash a glimpse of toned abs. His hips swayed in smooth, deliberate circles as he turned to face the group, locking eyes with Brody.

Then, James dropped into a low squat, gripping his thighs as he ground in the dirt, earning whistles and laughter. When he rose, he spun around and bent forward just enough to give a cheeky view before pulling back up with a playful wink.

For the finale, he strutted around the fire, stopping behind Brody, and leaned in close—not touching, but letting his breath ghost over his ear as he murmured, “How’d I do?” before collapsing back onto the blanket, laughing as the group erupted in applause and whistles. Brody kissed him on the top of his nose.

“Where did you learn how to dance?” Brody asked.

“Rowan showed me some moves.”

Sawyer whispered to Clayton. “I want to learn how to dance like that too.”

“Rowan will teach you.”

“I know. He offered to teach me before. I wasn’t really ready when he offered, but I feel okay about learning now.”

Brody told Jeff he and Malik were up next.

Malik raised an eyebrow at Jeff. “Truth or dare?”

Jeff smirked. “Dare.”

Malik’s grin widened. “I dare you to march around our circle and proudly chant, Love is Love.”

Jeff was a mountain of a man—broad shoulders, arms like tree trunks, and a presence that could command an entire room with just a glance. But here, in the campfire’s glow, he was more than just an intimidating figure. With each step, his boots crunched against the grass, his steady rhythm almost ceremonial as he marched around the circle.

His deep voice rang out, strong and unwavering. “Love is Love!” he chanted, his baritone carrying across the campsite. The words weren’t just spoken—they were declared, each syllable infused with conviction, as if daring the universe itself to challenge the truth.

Some of them grinned, others clapped along, a few joining in, their voices layering over him in a growing chorus. Jeff raised his fists in triumph, his normally stern expression softened by the firelight and the energy of the moment.

The chant grew louder, spreading beyond the circle, echoing into the night. And there was Jeff—this towering, powerful figure—leading the charge, reminding everyone in the camp that love, in all its forms, was something to celebrate. The others joined in.

Jeff plopped back down, catching his breath. “Alright, Malik. Truth or dare?”

Malik took his time before he said, “Truth.”

Jeff leaned in, his tone teasing. “What’s the craziest coming out you had?”

The group hooted in anticipation. Malik sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But y’all better appreciate my suffering.”

Malik shifted in his seat, the fire crackling beside him, casting flickering shadows across amused faces. “Okay, so this happened when I was, like, fifteen. I had been working up the nerve to tell my grandma I was bi for weeks. I knew she was supportive—she literally has a collection of Pride pins like they’re Pokémon cards—but still, you know, it’s a big deal.”

Rowan nodded. “Oh, totally.”

Malik rolled his eyes. “Anyway. I figured, why not make it cool? Like, really memorable. Maybe I’d stand out as the most legendary coming-out story in the family. So, I baked it into a cake. I spent the entire afternoon making this lopsided rainbow mess. But the real magic was in the frosting. I wrote, ‘I’m Bi!’ in huge letters across the top. I was so proud.”

The group collectively inhaled, sensing disaster approaching.

“So,” Malik continued, shaking his head, “I go to present it to my grandma after dinner, super dramatic, like, ‘Behold! The most important cake of my life!’ And she takes one look at it and bursts out laughing. Like, gasping for air, tears in her eyes, laughing. Meanwhile, I’m standing there holding my cake, feeling like I’ve just been rejected by the universe itself.”

Jeff snorted. “What did she say?”

Malik sighed, rubbing his temples again. “She finally calms down and goes, ‘Malik. Honey. I love you. But your little sister already told me last week.’”

The group erupted into laughter. Malik threw his hands up. “Like, excuse me? Apparently, she already knew and my sister casually dropped it in conversation like it was the weather report! And I spent hours on that cake!”

Sawyer wiped tears from his eyes. “Did she at least eat it?”

“Oh yeah,” Malik said, crossing his arms. “She said it was a very bisexual mess but tasted great. So, yeah. My grand coming-out moment was spoiled by my sister, and all I got out of it was a sugar rush.”

Brody clapped him on the back. “Iconic.”

Malik groaned again, but a grin tugged at his lips. “Glad you all find my pain entertaining.” He paused, looking around the circle.

Jeff told Mark that he and Rowan were up next.

“Okay, Mark. Truth or dare?” Rowan asked.

Mark crossed his arms. “Truth.”

“Alright, Mark,” Rowan said, leaning forward with a devilish smirk. “What’s the biggest mistake you’ve made while drunk or high at a gay club?”

The group cheered and laughed, sensing something good was about to unfold. Mark sighed, shaking his head. “You are evil for this.”

Rowan shrugged. “I only ask the important questions.”

Mark rubbed his face, stalling, but there was no getting out of it. The truth had to be told. “Fine. It was two summers ago. I was at Pulse—yeah, that place, the neon nightmare where dignity goes to die—and I was, uh…let’s say, well beyond tipsy.”

Clayton snorted. “That means absolutely wasted.”

Mark pointed at him. “Correct. Anyway, the music was wild, I was feeling invincible, and somewhere between my second and fifth tequila shot, I decided I should absolutely be up on the platform stage with the professional dancers.”

The group let out a collective “Ooooh,” sensing disaster.

“So, I climb up there like I belong, right?” Mark said, throwing his hands up. “I danced—badly—but confidence is everything, so I think I’m killing it. One dancer, God bless him, tries to guide me back down in the gentlest way possible. But drunk me? No. Drunk me goes, ‘I am the moment!’ and dodges him.”

Jeff wheezed with laughter.

“And here’s the thing,” Mark continued, shaking his head. “In my infinite wisdom, I decided that it’s the perfect time to attempt a body roll. Now, if you know me, you know my body doesn’t roll. It barely bends. So instead of a smooth, sexy move, I just sort of trip over my own feet and face plant directly into one dancer. Like, full-on collision, arms flailing, drinks spilling, chaos.”

The campfire circle erupted into laughter. Rowan was wiping tears from his eyes. “No. No. Tell me you didn’t take him down with you.”

“Oh, I absolutely did,” Mark groaned. “Homeboy fell straight into another dancer, who then knocked over a full tray of drinks from the bar. It was like a domino effect of humiliation.”

Malik clapped. “A whole gay club fell apart because of you.”

“It gets worse,” Mark muttered, covering his face. “Security came to escort me off the stage, but I was still convinced I was a star. So, what did I do? I tried to strike a pose as they carried me down.”

The entire group lost it, howling with laughter.

“Spoiler alert,” Mark added, shaking his head. “The pose didn’t save me. I was banned for an entire month.”

Jeff grinned. “You would have gotten a suspension from any gay club.”

Mark pointed dramatically at Rowan. “And that, my friend, is why I now limit myself to one tequila shot per outing.”

Rowan clapped his hands together. “Iconic. Absolutely legendary.”

Mark leaned forward with an amused glint in his eye. “Alright, Rowan,” he said, “truth or dare?”

Rowan grinned, tapping their chin in thought. “Truth,” he said finally, then sipped his bear.

Mark’s grin widened mischievously. “Okay, Rowan—what’s the most embarrassing text you’ve ever accidentally sent to someone?”

Rowan groaned, covering his face with his hands as the group leaned in with anticipation. “Fine,” he said, laughing. “I once texted my teacher ‘love you too’ at the end of an email because I was multitasking and thought I was messaging my mom.”

The circle erupted in laughter, some of them cringing in shared secondhand embarrassment.

Mark told Clayton he and Sawyer were up.

Sawyer thought for a second. “What was the hardest part about coming out?”

The group went quiet, not awkwardly, just respectfully.

Clayton smiled softly. “Honestly? It was believing I was worth loving just the way I was. I had this idea that I had to earn love by being perfect. Coming out made me realize love isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being real.”

A beat passed, then Rowan lifted his drink. “Cheers to that.”

Sawyer’s chest ached in the best way. Vulnerability looked so natural on Clayton. It made him feel like it was okay to be brave too.

Then, out of nowhere, Clayton turned to Sawyer. “Truth or dare?”

Sawyer swallowed. “Truth.”

Clayton’s voice was gentle. “What are you most proud of this week?”

Sawyer looked down, fidgeting with the hem of the blanket. Then he looked up, meeting Clayton’s eyes. “Honestly? That I showed up. That I let myself come here. I’ve spent so long hiding who I am…and this week, I didn’t. Not all the time. But enough to feel like I’m finally me.”

Clayton leaned over and squeezed his hand. No words needed.

The fire cracked softly beside them. Laughter bubbled again as James dared Brody to wear a tutu someone had somehow packed. The air was full of warm light, friendship, and the quiet strength of showing up for yourself.

And for the first time, Sawyer didn’t feel like he was on the outside looking in. He was part of it. The weirdness. The honesty. The heart of Pride. And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.