Page 171 of Last First Kiss

“Pansexual,” she finishes for him, grinning.

His brow furrows. “But you’ve never said anything. To the family. To me.”

She gives him a look like,hello, kettle, meet the pot, which, okay, is fair.

It catches him off guard. Should it, though?

JordanassumedNic was straight. Because that’s always the default. It’s what everyone is until they say otherwise.

But that’s bullshit.

Yes, Nic has always been private. She kept her circle of friends away from their family. And Jordan’s never actually heard about her dating anyone. So what? That doesn’t automatically make her straight.

“I tell who I want to,” Nic says. “My identity is mine. I don’t owe anyone that. I deserve the right to decide how much and who I share myself with.”

Jordan nods slowly. He processes what she said. Thewayshe said it. Like it’s the most obvious thing.

“I figured,” she says warmly, “you needed to hear that.”

A whistle blows. The next game starts. The DJ transitions from Salt-N-Pepa to Troye Sivan, but all Jordan can hear is,I deserve the right to decide how much and who I share myself with.

It shouldn’t be so profound. So loudly obvious. But here Jordan is, mouth dry and heart thumping, trying to find courage for something that shouldn’t require it.

He shouldn’t have to be afraid. Nic loves him. She’s his safety net. He’s surrounded by people who either are or strongly support queer people. This is where he should be able to say this.

Against the thickness in his throat, Jordan says, “I’m struggling with my identity. No, I mean, I don’t know. But… I’m not straight.”

“Thank fuck,” Nic says with a sigh. “How depressing would that be?”

Jordan plows on. “I’m not sure what label fits me.”

Nic grins. “I could tell.”

“You could? Outside of the Jamie thing?”

“Jordan, we know our own kind.”

That tugs a small smile from his lips.

“Braylon knew about me before I did,” she admits. “That’s why he encouraged me to volunteer here. Explore their resources. I told you I had reasons.”

“Did you like what you found?”

She bites on her lower lip. “I did.” She looks toward the main building. “Wanna look around more? Do some reading? Whit’s a tyrant, but she’s a pretty helpful person to talk to. I’ll stay with you. Be your queer Yoda.”

He laughs. It’s a full, bright noise.

“That’d be cool.”

“Cool,” she echoes. A smirk teases the corners of her mouth. “But first, there’s a slam-dunk contest. Time to show these amateurs why Jordan Anthony Carter’s jersey still hangs from the rafters at your old high school.”

The rest of the day goes without incident. Well, without acatastrophicincident.

While manning the food table, Jordan’s eyes catch on a familiar face.

“Jess?”

She smiles awkwardly in thatI should know you, but I don’tway for a solid beat. He’s not offended. It wasn’t a first date he wants to remember either.