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Jude felt a sympathetic twinge in her chest. She recognized that feigned nonchalance and could sense the need under it. She could hear the questions Kat wasn’t asking, How do I do this? How do I go about building this life that’s so different from the one I grew up expecting?

“Here.” Jude pulled down This Book Is Gay. “This book says it’s aimed at teens but it’s really helpful for everyone. And this one is essays by a woman who came out in her thirties.” She placed Would You Rather? in Kat’s hand.

Kat blinked up at Jude with her big, wide eyes. Jude wanted to hug her. She wanted to wrap her arms around this soft-hearted, brave, unsure person and tell her that it was all going to be okay, and that no matter how hard figuring all this stuff out was, it was worth it.

But Jude didn’t know how to say all that to a stranger without being weird or presumptuous. So instead, Jude gave Kat a small smile and tried to convey it with her eyes.

Kat gave a small smile back. “What if—” She stopped and cleared her throat a little bit, then continued in a hesitant voice. “I have this friend who…doesn’t really know what label is right for them? And hasn’t really, like, done anything about it? Could that person still call themself ‘queer’?”

“Absolutely,” Jude said in a soft voice.

“I mean, I’m not the arbiter of what’s queer and what isn’t.

But that’s the thing—no one is. You don’t need to be one hundred percent sure of your sexuality to call yourself queer.

In fact, most people aren’t ever completely sure.

If queer feels right to you, you get to call yourself queer.

Even if you’re worried you might change your mind later.

Even if other people try to tell you that you can’t.

” Jude shrugged. “At least that’s what I believe.

And what most of the queer people I know think, too. ”

Kat stared at her, and Jude swallowed. Had she said too much, gone on for too long, overstepped a boundary? But then Kat blinked rapidly and looked away, and Jude realized she was trying not to cry.

“I, um,” Kat said, her voice a little thick. “Thank you. I needed to—I mean, my friend needed to hear that.” She winced. “Will have needed to hear that?” She raised her eyebrows and laughed awkwardly, and Jude laughed, too.

Damn, she was cute with her little self-deprecating grin. Jude had stepped closer when she handed over the last book, and neither of them had moved back. Jude’s heart started to race. She could feel every inch between them, excruciatingly aware of how little space separated their bodies.

Kat’s dark eyes tugged on Jude like a magnet, making her unable to look away.

The collar of her T-shirt felt three times tighter than it had this morning.

Jude was aware that it was her turn to say something, but all she could think about was how the air seemed to be growing heavier around them, pressing them toward each other.

She couldn’t stop herself from taking a small step forward—a tiny step, but one that Kat mirrored immediately.

Her perfume smelled like sun-warmed flower petals.

Even though they had just met, Jude wanted to kiss her.

Admitting that to herself made her already racing heart race even harder, squeezing on each beat like a fist clenching hard.

Clenching very hard. Clenching too hard. Each beat so strong it felt like her heart was filling up her throat, squeezing the passageways she needed to breathe.

Oh no. Not here. Not now.

Jude’s fingers had gone numb. Her wrists tingled painfully, and she twisted them in tight circles, trying to stop the sensation before it climbed higher up her arms. Trying to stop herself before she went too far.

She could not have a panic attack in front of this woman.

She could not start thinking about what had happened the last time she’d asked someone out and what that had led to.

But suddenly, that was all Jude could see—Becca, biting her lip by the store’s biography section.

Looking up at Jude with those regretful, pitying eyes.

Saying, “I’m sorry, Jude. It’s just better this way,” and then walking out, the cheerful shop bell chiming behind her.

Jude’s heart became a frantic wingbeat in her chest. Her throat was clogged. Something was blocking it. She couldn’t get enough air. What was wrong with her? She just needed to calm down and breathe. She was fine. So why wouldn’t her body recognize that?

She took a step back from Kat, then another.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today?” Without meaning to, Jude had dropped back into her customer-service self, the words coming out with an impersonal lilt.

Kat stared. “Oh.” Her voice sounded confused. “Um, I—” She fumbled in her purse for her phone, then held it out so Jude could see a Notes app list with four titles on it. “Do you have these?”

“Of course. Let me grab them.”

Jude’s hands shook as she found the books.

What was she doing? Why was she blowing this?

But her chest felt squeezed now, in addition to her throat, and black snowflakes had started to fall in the corners of her vision.

What if she really couldn’t breathe? What if she was having a heart attack? Was she going to collapse right here?

Jude dropped the books on the counter and hurried behind it. The second she did, she felt a little better. Her heart was still thrumming desperately against her too-tight chest, but she could breathe a little more. She knew every inch of this counter. She was safe here.

“Which of these would you like?” she asked, gesturing at the pile of books she’d recommended without looking up.

“All of them, I guess.”

“ All of them?” Jude must have pulled over a dozen books from the shelf. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Kat’s voice was flat.

Jude wished she could shake off her panic and act normal again, but she couldn’t seem to do it—her spine refused to relax, and her eyes wouldn’t lift to meet Kat’s.

She rang up the books in silence. It seemed to take an impossibly long time, the strained silence broken only by the irregular beep as she scanned each title.

“And a tote bag, please,” Kat said. Her voice was stiff and formal.

Jude tucked the books into one of their store-branded tote bags and then slid the bag across the counter.

This was the last possible moment to ask for Kat’s number or invite her for a drink or say something.

Jude opened her mouth, willing herself to find the courage, willing her throat to find the words.

But what came out instead was “That’ll be two hundred and nineteen dollars.”

Kat rummaged in her purse, her jaw tight.

She didn’t look at Jude as she dropped eleven twenties on the counter.

Jude reached for the cash register to get her change, but Kat hooked the tote bag over her shoulder and moved away from the counter.

With a huge effort, Jude managed to look up and meet her gaze.

“It was really nice to meet you, Jude,” Kat said in a quiet voice. “Thank you for the recommendations.”

Jude just nodded. She couldn’t speak. Kat gave her one last look. Then she turned away. The bell over the door gave its familiar cheery ring as she opened it, then let it swing shut behind her.

And just like that, Jude let another incredible woman walk out of her life.