Page 8

“Hey, Zeke.”

I gripped the rainbow pinata as someone said my name, bracing for the inevitable.

Everyone kept asking questions I couldn’t answer.

They all looked to me as though I was a leader like Sawyer, but they were wrong.

I was just…me. I didn’t immediately have a response when someone asked where we’d host the secret Pride celebration.

It had been that lady—Carmen Bedolla—who stepped up and offered the basement of Estrella Books.

When? Kennedy had suggested nine p.m. without missing a beat, claiming it would give us enough time to get set up. And now…

I glanced down from my perch on the ladder. A woman stared up at me, adjusting a Bama Slammers hockey hat over her fiery curls. “How are we supposed to make a dance floor?” she asked. “There isn’t a lot of space down here.”

“I, uh,” I tried, floundering. The downstairs of the bookstore was a narrow room with bricked arches. Inventory shelves lined the walls, while worktables were scattered along the center. What the hell was I thinking? I groaned inwardly, eyeing the back exit. I should just dip out —

“Nora, have those guys from Ryland Farms move the tables to one end,” Sawyer jumped in. Her brain had immediately shifted to focus mode when we arrived, while mine couldn’t keep up. “That’ll create space in the center.”

I watched the woman go, picking at the rainbow papier-maché.

Nervous energy filled me like it had when Sawyer and I had argued in the children’s section upstairs all those years ago.

There’d been this air of intimidation about her when we’d read the X-Men graphic novel together.

She’d decided when to turn the page, whether I was done reading or not. Now she was taking charge yet again.

“Once you get this hung up,” Sawyer instructed, “we need to bring down the sound system from Kennedy’s truck.”

“Right,” I said, my voice clipped. I cautiously climbed another rung. It’s not that high.

A beat passed as I wobbled on the ladder, and then she asked, “Are you okay, Z?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” A deep breath. “It’s just six feet off the ground. That’s, like, the same height as me.”

“Not the ladder,” she said. “I meant, are you okay after…you know…your dad and the mayor?”

I inhaled, gathering myself as I glanced down. She stood tall, and not only because of her chunky-heeled Docs. I could see her favorite shirt with the SAPPHIC WARRIOR graphic peeking out from the bib of her shortalls. She was the epitome of Pride, and I felt like a fraud standing next to her.

“Like why was he even there?” she pressed.

“The mayor?” I forced a grin, but she narrowed her eyes.

This was neither the time nor place to discuss my father.

If I told her everything, she’d go into her bully-with-kindness mode and push me to fix it.

And I didn’t need any more doubt weighing me down.

“I haven’t spoken to him since April, so I dunno. ”

“Does he know how problematic—”

“Why do we need a pinata again?” I cut her off, clearing my throat.

Slowly, her concern twisted into a smile. “Because we’re gonna pretend it’s Mayor Dickbrain’s face,” she relented, allowing me to change the subject. But there was a bullish glint in her eye that said we weren’t done discussing it. “And I filled it with glitter to make tonight extra gay.”

“Yeah. Totally. I should’ve suggested that,” I said, tying the rainbow’s string around a ceiling joist. But I didn’t know where to begin suggesting anything. I wasn’t like her, and all I did know fit in a shoebox.

“Zeke?” someone called as I climbed down, and my face heated with more embarrassment.

“Drape those flags over the lamps,” Sawyer ordered before I had a chance to respond. “Here, I’ll show you what I mean.”

She darted off while I stood there like a dipshit.

Before December, I’d known what to do. Stand on the pitcher’s mound and make the bleachers erupt in cheers as I struck out the competition.

Pretend to be straight and make everyone love me like my father had wanted.

Keep my mouth shut and convince them I fit in.

But now? I didn’t know how to be me like I’d thought.

Trying to prove myself wasn’t so easy.

I need a break, I decided, turning on my heels. Anything to get away from not being able to answer another question. My sneakers squeaked on the concrete floor as I walked quickly to the stairs. It was nearing nine p.m., but it was obvious Sawyer had things under control.

I pushed open the door for the main level, and I slinked out before it closed behind me.

“Seriously, what the hell was I thinking?” I mumbled into the darkness of the bookstore, leaning back against the wall.

No reply came other than the buzz of the neon sign by the entrance.

HOLA Y BIENVENIDO it read, but I was feeling very unwelcome right now.

A shadowy figure suddenly stood from behind the register, and I startled upright. The glow from the computer screen shined across his face as he eyed me. “S-sorry,” I managed, squirming under his hooded stare. “Didn’t know someone was up here.”

“It’s all good,” he replied in a velvety voice. He scanned the unlit store, running a hand through his messy dark hair. “I just finished closing up.”

“I can, uh, just go back down…” I trailed off and turned to leave.

“Hey, you’re Zeke, right?” he asked, rounding the counter.

“I’m he,” I replied, turning back. The deep cadence of how he’d said my name tripped me up. “I mean, I’m Zeke.”

A smirk tugged the corner of his lips as he swaggered toward me. Slowly, he came into focus in the dim lighting. The guy was tall, slender, with a tight T-shirt for Estrella Books stretched across his chest. I gulped and stepped back as he checked me out, his gaze raking over my body.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs?” he asked.

“Uh…” I could feel sweat beading on my forehead, and I tried to play it off. “Just needed a break from…you know…”

“Don’t be nervous about tonight.”

My mind raced to ask how he knew what I’d been stewing over. But I managed “I’m not.”

The smirk turned into a dazzling grin. “Good, because what you’re doing is brave. I wish someone would have done this over in West Point. But my hometown is as homophobic as this one. No one cares about Pride. Not like you do.”

“Like me,” I repeated, my cool facade threatening to crack.

“Looks like you’re not afraid of a fight either.” He pointed at my black eye. “Such a rebel.”

“Hardly.”

“For real, there wouldn’t be a Pride if it wasn’t for you.”

“I guess,” I said, more to myself. Sawyer was willing to let everything be canceled, but I’d done something. That had to make me less of a fraud, right?

“I’m Mason, by the way.”

“I’m Zeke…” I blinked slowly, feeling dumber. “But you already knew that.”

He laughed, an even deeper roar that made my pulse quicken. “C’mon,” he said with a wink and reached for the door handle. “We’ll dance those nerves away.”

I let out a breath, exhaling the tension in my chest. This was no different from spending three hours in the town square. I can handle this, I reassured myself, following his lead .

The small basement of Estrella Books was packed.

The community members who’d set up earlier were here, along with a few others I’d never seen before.

They mingled as music blasted from the cheer squad’s borrowed sound system.

A rainbow-hued glow from pride flags draped over lamps served sophisticated nightclub vibes.

Sawyer and Kennedy were dancing, Kennedy’s floral sundress twirling, while Cohen was stationed by the back exit door as a lookout for the alley.

It felt like a real speakeasy.

I had been expecting something like we’d planned, with a drag show or maybe even a parade.

Neither of those options was possible in the small space, but it was somehow better.

Less public than the town square and stress-free after the hell that’d happened earlier.

A safe space where none of that mattered.

The room was growing warm and stuffy as we danced.

I didn’t mind it, though, pushing sweaty hair off my face.

No one could judge me down here. Not even myself.

The pressure was lessening with every new song.

Every spin Mason and I did on the makeshift dance floor.

Every time his hands found a way to rub and squeeze and linger on my body like he couldn’t get enough of me.

His warm palm stilled on my biceps, squeezing gently. He leaned in close to whisper, “Be right back.” The sudden nearness of his mouth made me tingle as he excused himself.

I watched him take the stairs up to the bathroom.

A smirk curled my lips as I envisioned where tonight might lead.

It grew wider when I saw Sawyer motioning for me, nodding at the door before slipping outside.

The next song started up while I excitedly worked my way across the room.

I couldn’t wait to tell her about Mason.

The music faded away as I followed her into the alley, the door clanging shut behind me. I inhaled the fresh night air and grinned. “You’re never gonna guess…” My voice fell when I saw Cohen pacing back and forth, chewing at his thumb. “What’s wrong?”

“A cop showed up,” he said shakily.

“Don’t worry, I handled it,” Sawyer added. “Told him we were having a party for Ms. Bedolla, which technically isn’t a lie.”

“Hold up,” I said, not following. “ What happened?”

“It was because of the noise,” Cohen explained. His anxious stride came to a stop in front of me, and he wrung his hands. “We tried to get your attention, but you were in your own world as usual.”

“Sorry, I was dancing with this Mason guy,” I offered. “Do you know—”

“I’m well aware of who fucking Mason Bedolla is, Zeke,” he spat out.

“Wait…were you trying to get with him tonight?” I asked, taken aback by the thought of Cohen being sexual. Being anything other than annoying.