Page 24

Sunshine filtered through the trees, shadows of leaves dancing across the pavement as I steered my dirt bike toward the Fort Wood neighborhood.

It reminded me of last night. Each scrap of daylight glinted like the mirror ball, the breeze a reminder of how it’d felt out on the deck.

The talk with Cohen had cleared my head.

Even though Sawyer was still pissed and Mason had crushed me, I didn’t feel the weight of it pressing down on my chest anymore.

When we’d gone back inside, I’d seen firsthand that Cohen hadn’t lied.

More than a hundred people were dancing, laughing, partying because of me.

I’d brought them together, and they were the reason why the Family First ordinance was being met with real opposition.

So what if Sawyer claims I’ll make the QSA a target?

I thought, slowing to a stop at the intersection.

I was doing what I’d always wanted, instead of boxing myself up.

She was just jealous, like she’d been in middle school when I was teacher’s favorite.

And now, I was everyone’s favorite.

I checked both ways before pulling out, satisfaction manifesting into a smug grin.

Right there by the four-way stop was a new sign.

White like the mayor’s Family First posters, but instead of red ink the words were in pink.

VOTE CARMEN BEDOLLA FOR MAYOR! / ?VOTA CARMEN BEDOLLA PARA ALCALDESA!

they read in the same neon as the donkey pictured below them.

Beneath that, endorsements included Roaring Mechanics, Beggs Nature Preserve, Jones Hardware… the list went on.

Everyone is raging in the best possible way. Cohen’s assessment from last night resurfaced as I turned onto Sawyer’s street. He might’ve said that there was no right kind of gay, but I felt like there was—and I was finally it.

My phone vibrated yet again in my jacket pocket, and I knew it was the group chat reminding me I was late.

More donkey signs flashed by as I twisted the handlebar to speed up.

Sawyer had called a mandatory QSA meeting, and the quicker I got there, the quicker we could get this over with.

After the success of last night’s speakeasy, I fully expected her to apologize. To tell me she was wrong.

Sunlight winked off a silver Camry as I pulled into the driveway.

At least Cohen was here. He was on my side now and understood without me having to explain myself.

I laughed, the irony of that thought not lost on me.

The engine’s warble cut off, and I checked my phone to see what fresh hell was waiting for me.

The notification screen twisted my stomach.

Right above a text from Mom reminding me about my birthday dinner tomorrow, there was a new DM from bedmas_22.

From the preview I could tell he was carrying on our conversation.

Like offering me a list of his favorite queer movies somehow made up for him wanting to hook up and nothing more.

I shoved the phone away without replying and angrily kicked the dirt bike’s stand.

I threw my leg over the seat to dismount, ripped my helmet off.

Whatever game he was playing was confusing.

It made me regret all the times I’d done the same thing to guys.

I’d never been on this side before, and I didn’t know how to react.

How to be calm and cool like it didn’t bother me. How to be the Zeke he wanted me to be.

Maybe it’s for the best, I decided, stomping down the basement steps.

I wouldn’t know how to be a boyfriend to him anyway.

Ignoring the sadness, I opened the bachelorette pad’s door.

A gust of AC rolled over me, followed by tense silence.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and when they did, I nearly turned back around.

Sawyer and Kennedy were wearing matching scowls. However, Cohen’s welcoming smile gave me the encouragement I needed to come inside. I shut the door quietly behind me and took a deep breath. “Hey,” I said as casually as I could, leaning up against the wall. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s all good,” Cohen said, but Sawyer narrowed her eyes.

Yep, she’s still pissed, and she wants me to know it, I realized. Her less-than-apologetic attitude only angered me more. “Really, I was putting away the decorations and lost track of time.”

Cohen cut his eyes between us, picking up on the tension. “Thanks for, uh, coming up with the membership drive for the QSA,” he said evenly. “We’ve had seven sign-ups since last night.”

“Really?” I asked, relief cutting through my resentment. He nodded, and my gaze shifted back to Sawyer and Kennedy. “That’s great, right?”

“Just means we have to deal with jockstrap bros because of you,” Sawyer said.

Before I could ask, Kennedy chimed in. “Some of the guys on the varsity baseball team,” she explained. “Damian Jones signed them up.”

“Wow.” I was surprised by that. It made me wish I’d given the team a chance instead of writing everyone off. “At least that brings us up to eleven members now, including us.”

“Us?” Sawyer asked, and Cohen inhaled roughly. Almost as though he was expecting this. “You’re gonna stay in the QSA then?”

I shot her a WTF expression, because why would I quit after everything I’d done? “Obviously.”

“I wasn’t sure you cared—”

“Saw, really?” I cut her off, crossing my arms. Her nonchalant shrug imploded all restraints I had on my temper. “Of fucking course I do. Look at what the speakeasies have done for Beggs, and Carmen’s election is stronger because of what I—”

“You?” she asked with a dry laugh. “That’s the problem. You’re always only thinking about yourself.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Your main-character energy is through the roof,” she said, shaking her head. “Ever since we came back from winter break, it’s been the Zeke show. We get it. You don’t want to be called Anthony and you changed your entire personality—”

“What she means,” Kennedy amended, side-eyeing her as though it wasn’t what they’d rehearsed, “is that it feels like you’re making Pride Month about you, and we’re worried that it’s getting too out of hand. Something bad could happen.”

“Something bad has happened,” I pointed out. “The Family First ordinance! Which only came about because of the QSA, if you want to point fingers.”

The tense energy was escalating, and Cohen raised his hands to mediate. “Let’s just calm down,” he said. “Zeke does have a point. None of this would’ve happened if we hadn’t petitioned for Pride. And Sawyer also has every right to be worried.”

“We shouldn’t have fought for Pride Day, then?” She turned on Cohen, and I hated the snippy tone of her voice. Hated how she was acting, how she was making me react. “What were we supposed to do? Keep quiet and not fight—”

“That’s not what he meant,” I said in his defense.

“This is a good thing, Sawyer. Everything that’s happened is good.

” What he’d told me outside on the deck came pouring out.

“The speakeasies have helped other people fight with us. They want us here in Beggs, and it’s more important now with the governor and… What?”

“When did you turn into such an advocate?” she questioned, cocking her head. “Last time I checked, I had to beg you to even join the club.”

“Sawyer,” Cohen warned. He knew about some of the hell I’d gone through. “Regardless of why he joined, I’m glad he did. The speakeasies have helped the work we’re doing for Carmen.”

“Now you’re a fan?” Kennedy asked. “You’re the one who blew us off to work on her campaign because you got scared—”

“Fear doesn’t have anything to do with this,” I interrupted.

Cohen glared at her. The situation was going zero to a hundred too quickly.

“Why are we even fighting? We’re celebrating Pride in Beggs like we wanted, and now the homophobic asshole mayor might not win reelection because of the support we’ve rallied. We should be celebrating.”

A beat of silence passed as we all stared at one another.

I took a deep breath and digested what Sawyer had said about it being the Zeke show.

She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right either.

I’d been second to her for so long while she called the shots.

The only thing that had changed was the fact that I now refused to stay silent.

“At least there is only one weekend left,” Sawyer finally said. “Let’s just keep it simple, and then we can go back to normal.”

Normal? I didn’t think I could ever go back to how things were. “It has to be big,” I countered. That’s what people wanted, for me to live up to the expectations they’d crowned me with. “A huge party to end Pride Month.”

Sawyer twisted at her hair, too focused on whatever was happening in her head to talk. It was Kennedy who spoke first. “Zeke, having a membership drive was good. I’ll give you that,” she admitted. “It’s too dangerous, tho—”

“Dangerous?” I narrowed my eyes at her, then Sawyer. “ How would either of you know? Y’all bailed last night.”

“Because if you haven’t noticed, Mayor Buchanan is on the warpath since you painted that statue,” Sawyer finally said. “He’s looking for any excuse to improve his image. We aren’t gonna risk getting caught by doing something stupid like throwing a rager.”

The expression on Sawyer’s face took me back to middle school.

It was the same pinch to her brow, firm set to her mouth that she’d worn in PE.

Like I should feel weak and let her push me around.

Let her pummel me with the dodgeball and sit out on the bleachers until the next game.

That was how our friendship had always been. Until now.

“They’re not stupid,” I said. “Last time I checked, I was in charge of them, and if I want to throw a giant party then I will.”

“You’re acting so reckless.” She shared a glance with Kennedy that let me know they agreed. Cohen shook his head, but she ignored him. “There’s a lot at stake, and if you’re not gonna take this seriously…then maybe you shouldn’t be in the QSA.”

She locked eyes with me, the amber honey of hers trapping me in their sticky stare. Then suddenly it was only us. Cohen and Kennedy faded away as every moment in Sawyer-and-Zeke’s list of traditions boiled down to one common thread: she was the one who made the decisions.

“I’ve tried telling you,” I said, voice wavering. “Honestly, I’m sick of trying to make you listen. If you’re just gonna bully me to quit because you’re jealous—”

“That’s a low blow.” Her words were clipped, her face growing red.

I knew I couldn’t take it back, but now she knew how I felt. Deep down, it was me who was the jealous one, though. Sawyer had always been so sure of herself, unlike me. My father disapproved of her, and that made me want to be like her. But it was clear she thought I’d never be as good as her.

“You know what? I don’t need your permission to throw my own speakeasy.” My breath had grown ragged, and I turned on my heels. “I’ll just handle everything by myself,” I called over my shoulder. “Again.”

The basement door slammed behind me as tears rolled down my cheeks. I knew I should stay and work things out. But if I went back inside, it would be like going back into that shoebox—hiding a part of myself so someone else could have their way.

And I was done suffocating.