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“I know. It’s very woe is me. First world problems, right?” she says bitterly.
I scowl at that. “No. Not at all.” I huff a sigh, running my hand through my hair, trying to figure out how to word this. “You’re fifteen. You live in a small, backward town made up mostly of old hyper-conservative white men who’d probably instate a law banning queers if they could. They do the bare minimum as it is by tolerating it, and that’s only because we have places like O’Leary’s and Chickie’s, and families who support the shit out of us, who won’t toleratethem.”
I meet her gaze, and as much as it kills me to spell this out, I know I have to. “I don’t want to scare you, Phoebe. But I amterrifiedfor you. I know, I know it’s probably way different at school. Maybe more accepting than it was when I was your age. But—”
“There are definitely kids at school…boys…girls too…who would not be okay with it if they knew,” she interrupts softly. “Being gay or bi or whatever is one thing. But this… no.”
A cramp ignites my stomach, fear momentarily stealing my breath.
“So I know it’s not safe. I just….” She shrugs. “I feel bad. I feel like I should be braver, or something.”
“Youarebrave. You have no idea how brave. Don’t let anyone ever,everfucking tell you otherwise. To put your safety first is not weak, or cowardice.”
She smiles ruefully. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
She pushes her lips out like a duck. “Soooo…dating is out while I’m still in school then.”
I wince, shaking my head. “I didn’t say that. I just—”
“It’s okay. Like I said. I’m not really interested. Plus, I have Hollie.”
“Yes you do.” Her best friend is the only one outside of the six of us, our parents, and Gavin and Linda who know the truth.
“And there are, like, online forums and stuff. I can talk to others on there who get it, you know?”
“Just be careful.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know.” A beat passes, and she grows serious once more. “Thanks for listening, Crush.”
I flash her a small smile. “Anytime, Squirt.”
Behind her Shawn starts walking back our way, and in his hand is a white styrofoam to-go cup.
Ah.That explains the hold up.
A milkshake, I’m assuming. And if I had to bet, chocolate.
I start sliding out of the booth, when Phoebe says, “You said us.”
Blinking into a frown, I grab my wallet and phone, pocketing both. “What?”
Phoebe’s watching me, her lips twitching with a smile. And there’s a glint in her eye that has my hackles rising. “Before, when you were talking about how we have safe spaces and our family to support us. You said us, not you.”
I still.
My mouth opens, closes, and I fumble for words. “That’s not— I didn’t—”
Her eyes sparkle with amusement.
“I’m not gay,” I mutter faintly.
She slides out of the booth, coming to a stand. She’s tall for her age—on a few inches shy of six feet. She pats my shoulder, and singsongs, “Never said you were.”
Shawn finally reaches us, after having to wait for a group to pass.
Phoebe lights up when he thrusts the drink in front of her along with a wrapped straw.
