Page 73 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Then

I popped up from under the blanket, shielding my eyes from the morning sun. Quentin groaned, pulling the covers back over himself. Miguel rolled away. I shook them both. “Wake up. We’ve got less than forty minutes to make it to class.”

Quentin had a little more time than us, but his first class was in the Luminary building, a few blocks farther than ours. He pushed onto his forearms, peering at the clock on the nightstand. “Remind me again why I thought we’d be fine with only three hours of sleep?”

“Because you wanted to have a sex-a-thon and would’ve said or done anything to make it happen,” Miguel murmured into his pillow.

“Oh yeah, it’s all coming back to me now. Can’t we skip? It’s the first day. Nothing really happens on the first day.”

“No, we can’t.” I grinned tiredly down at Quentin. “We’ll be fine once we shower.” I climbed over Miguel, dodging his grabby hand. He and Quentin morning hugged and kissed as I headed for the hall. I was tempted to turn back and join them, but I was too hyped up to get to class.

“Fuck, Guelly,” Quentin moaned as I grabbed three towels from the linen closet.

“We can’t, Q,” Miguel panted. “You know the rules.”

“Pretty girl!”

I shook with silent laughter. “Yeah?”

“Can I fuck, Guelly, please?”

“Absolutely not. We don’t have time.” I laughed harder as Quentin’s groan and Miguel’s own laughter chased me into the bathroom. They met me there, joining me for a quick shower before hurrying to get dressed.

We’d turned the second bedroom into a walk-in closet/sanctuary. Ironic that I’d been the one in a rush this morning, yet both Quentin and Miguel were dressed and ready before me. They plopped down next to each other on the closet loveseat, watching me change clothes for the fourth time.

“Wear it,” Quentin said when I grabbed the lavender silk camisole.

I’d removed one strap from the padded hanger, then blew out a frustrated breath before changing my mind and hanging it back on the rolling rack.

I trailed my fingers over the pretty blouses and dresses, scowling at the dangling price tags.

I still hadn’t found the courage to wear any of this stuff outside.

“I thought I was ready, but… maybe not.”

“Why not?” Quentin asked as I dug into my dresser drawer for my boy jeans. “You should wear whatever you want.”

“I agree,” Miguel said. It was easy for them to say; wearing whatever they wanted didn’t draw attention, didn’t single them out as different or weird.

I took in Miguel’s jeans and T-shirt and Quentin’s sweats.

They looked comfortable in their skin, happy with their fashion choices.

They fit into what society wanted for them. I didn’t know what that felt like.

I zipped into the rough jeans, hating how unnatural and abrasive it felt against my body.

“Neither of you understands what it’s like to be different.

” It made it hard to take their advice on the subject, hard to be motivated and inspired when they told me wearing whatever I wanted would work out okay.

“Uh, hello, have you met us?” Quentin asked.

“Yourself included. We can’t walk a whole city block without stopping for a group hug or kiss.

We’re on top of each other all day, we feed each other, clean each other, we touch like we’ll die if we don’t,”—He waved a hand toward our bedroom—“and we sleep like we’re on a damn twin bed and scared to roll off the edge.

It’s a king-size mattress on steroids for fuck’s sake, and we only take advantage of that when we’re fucking—which is all the time because we fuck like the world is coming to an end.

That’s weird shit, isn’t it, pretty girl?

” Quentin made it hard to be serious. I both loved and hated it because he knew how to shake me from a funk, but sometimes I just wanted to sulk.

“It’s not the same.” I half-smiled despite myself. I couldn’t bear to wear another solid color T-shirt, so I grabbed a folded plaid button-down before closing my drawer.

Quentin leaned forward. “No one’s gonna fuck with my pretty girl, okay? If they do, I’ll have this place running like Locklier so fast that heads will spin.” He reclined slowly with a nod, resting his arm across the back of the loveseat.

“It’s always violence with you,” Miguel muttered.

Quentin seemed baffled by Miguel’s comment. “Well, how else am I supposed to protect you two? Challenge them to a reading contest?”

Miguel rolled his eyes, focusing on me. “Maybe you can start small. You know, like we did that day at the lake with the nail polish.”

I’d thought I was starting small—or big, if I recalled correctly.

But I’d never taken things a step further than that.

“Yeah, maybe another day,” I said to appease them because we were short on time.

There’d never be enough time to get them to understand, to accept that they couldn’t fully appreciate how I felt.

They tried their best, though, and I loved them for it.

The campus overflowed with students, all hurrying in and out of buildings or scurrying across the expansive lawn. We shared a group hug and a kiss outside of Wembly Hall, both Miguel and I holding on to Quentin’s shirt to keep him with us.

“We should’ve spent some time apart this summer,” Miguel said. “A practice run.”

Quentin scoffed. “Fuck that. What you two should’ve done was enroll in my major. Then we could’ve taken all our classes together.”

“Sports and business management?” I scrunched up my nose. “No thanks.”

“Hey, this face and body are going to bring in big bucks once I get drafted. I’ve gotta learn how to manage it.”

Both Miguel and I shook our heads at him.

“Besides,” Quentin continued, “you aren’t even sure you want to get an English degree.”

“At least it closely aligns with my literary interests. It’s enough until I figure it out.” In

truth, I didn’t know what I wanted to do or who I wanted to be. I didn’t know enough about anything to decide.

“Yeah, yeah.” Quentin kissed us one last time before jogging away.

Student traffic had drastically reduced, everyone likely already seated in their classes. Miguel and I hurried into the building, reading the signs for the lecture hall.

We made it in the nick of time. Ten seconds later and we would’ve been marked late, according to our professor. He took our names, confirmed our pronouns, then dismissed us with a flick of his wrist.

“Ballbuster 2.0,” Miguel muttered under his breath as we moved past the one open seat along the bottom row for the two available ones at the top.

“And finally,” Professor Ingram called out, finishing up attendance, “Ms. Rachel Sullivan.”

“Here!” a girl dressed in all black said. She sat between the two open seats.

“Do you mind switching?” Miguel whispered to her once we’d made it to the top row.

“Sure.” She slid her things over and moved down a seat.

“Thanks,” I said as we settled down at the long table.

The door opened about five minutes into the syllabus review, and I sat up straighter.

The class glanced over at the doorway, but most of them lost interest in the latecomer pretty quickly.

There were others who gawked, though, and a handful who camouflaged their laughter with coughs or cleared throats.

The latecomer either didn’t notice or pretended not to.

“You’re late,” Professor Ingram said, sliding his glasses on to scan his attendance sheet. “Everyone on my list is already checked in. Who are you, and why are you here?”

“My name’s Kayden Sims. I’m a late add.” Kayden held out a sheet of paper for the professor to read.

Professor Ingram sighed, sliding the attendance sheet across the table to Kayden. “Very well, add your name and pronouns to the bottom and have a seat. Quickly,” he added before addressing the class again.

Ingram went over assignments and expectations, but his booming voice went in one ear and out the other. I was too fixated on Kayden’s pleated skirt and thick-soled boots as they walked to the only remaining seat up front.

“You okay?” Miguel whispered, startling me.

“Um, yeah.”

I stole glances at Kayden over the rest of class, noting the earrings dangling from their ears and the streak of pink running across their dark, cropped hair.

I desperately wanted to know their pronouns, to know if they were a guy who preferred to wear women’s clothing like I did, or if they were simply dressing according to their gender identity.

Either way, if this were Locklier, Delaney and his crew would’ve had a field day with Kayden, and it made me wonder how things were going for Kayden here at Wembly.

Not everyone had someone like Quentin guarding their backs.

I had Quentin protecting my back, and I was still too afraid to be my full self outside of our apartment.

Miguel and I quickly collected our things at the end of class.

We had fifteen minutes to make it across campus.

Professor Ingram was packing up, but the attendance sheet still rested at the edge of his desk.

Discreetly, I glanced at the name written in pink ink at the bottom as I passed.

The “i” in Kayden’s last name had a heart over it.

My gaze flew over the pronouns. He/him/his.

Having been closer to the door, Kayden made it out of class before us, hips swaying as he went. He was already turning the corner up ahead by the time we got into the hall. I did catch a few people doing a double take at him before he disappeared from sight.

“Ellie?” Miguel sounded worried, and from the look on his face, he’d called my name more than once.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

He pulled me to the side. “I asked if you were okay. You seem… anxious.”

I was anxious. Anxious to know Kayden’s story, to know how he survived the stares and commentary—sure that he’d experienced both. I also felt inspired, awed, and like I’d found a kindred spirit. All without ever having spoken a word to him.

“Was it the skirt and earrings?” Miguel asked softly, tugging on the end of my braid.

“You saw him?”

He snorted. “How could I not? I saw the people giggling at him too. That won’t be you.

” His words were meaningless because they weren’t true.

I didn’t need to be convinced that no one would care because they would.

I needed to gain the confidence to be myself despite it.

I had no clue that what I’d also needed was to see myself in someone else.

“Yeah.” I looked toward the corner Kayden turned down. “I know.” I didn’t know, but since he’d said something intended to make me feel better, I did the same for him.

Miguel slung an arm around my neck, smiling as if he’d made a difference. “Come on, or we’re going to be late by the time we hike it across campus.”

We rushed through the doors of Wembly Hall, and I couldn’t help looking back, wondering where Kayden Sims had gone.