Under the Lights

She looks up from where she’d been examining the framed picture of the two of us on my end table. “Are you?” she asks, putting the frame down and walking over. “You know, you haven’t said how things went last night.”

I shrug. “They went.”

“They went badly.” She indicates the table. “The picture of you with your parents isn’t there anymore.” It’s true. When I got home last night, I shoved the frame in a drawer. “I wish you would’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want to upset you. And anyway, we didn’t think it would go well,” I remind her, although I think a part of me kind of believed it would, or at least hoped enough to believe. My heart pings, thinking about the conversation and about how many more will be ahead for the next few days, weeks, months.

“That doesn’t make it easier.” She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, her fingertips lingering on my neck. “My mom’s entire response when I came out was, ‘Good — stick with girls and don’t get pregnant.’ Candice and a few of our mutual friends, though…they sucked. That whole thing sucked. I hate that you’re going through this now. But promise me you’ll stop trying to go through it alone, okay? I’m here. That’s sort of the point.”

I take a deep breath and inhale the now-familiar scent of her apple shampoo. “Okay,” I promise softly, sliding a hand just under the hem of the “I Heart My Girlfriend” T-shirt. I love how smooth her skin is underneath, inked with what I now know to be a hibiscus flower. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for being sure enough about me — about us — to go through all this,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear and touching her lips gently to mine. “You’re pretty fucking great, Vanessa Park.”

“You’re not too bad either.” I pinch her tiny tummy, and she laughs and swats me away.

“I take it back — you suck,” she says, but she’s grinning, and then she kisses me again. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.” I tap her on the butt with my bag and lead the way out of my apartment, off to the LGBT Youth Center where Ally, Josh, and Liam are meeting us to serve early Thanksgiving dinner — and to put me in front of the cameras and into our future.

Chapter Twenty-Seven Josh

I break out one last bottle of champagne — this one for the Duncans, to serve with Thanksgiving dinner. They invited all of us to come back after we spent the afternoon at the LGBT Youth Center, slinging turkey and mashed sweet potatoes while “journalists” went all vulture on us. Of course, that was kinda the point — bringing attention to the center — but it didn’t exactly make me sorry to leave this shit behind.

“I’m so glad you could all make it,” says Ally’s mom, wrapping one arm around Ally’s shoulders, the other around Vanessa’s. “And I’m honored you’re spending such an important day with us, sweetie,” she adds, kissing the top of Vanessa’s head. “We’re so proud of you. And happy for you.”

“Thanks, Pam.” She’s blushing, but the truth is, she was fucking awesome today. When a reporter asked what we were doing there, she took the mic and handed it right off to the director of the center to let him talk about the city’s displaced LGBT youth. Then she took the mic back, declared “Oh, and I’m gay” like a fucking boss, handed it back, and scooped up some green beans.

It makes me a little glad I’m leaving, because somehow, seeing her own herself today kinda made me want her again, just a little. Apparently my dick and my brain are slow to get on the same page.

“And it’s great to have you, too, Brianna.” Ally’s mom smiles at her warmly and gives her a hug before releasing her to let her clasp hands with Van. “All of you.” She gives me a hug, too, and I try not to squirm; for all that I like touching the ladies, hugging someone else’s mom when I’ve never hugged my own off-camera is just too weird.

“Hi, Josh,” Ally’s little sister, Lucy, says shyly. She’s got a monster little-kid crush on me, and I love it. Though when she’s legal in six or seven years, she’s gonna be trouble. “Is it true you’re traveling around the world? That’s so cool.”

“It is! Do you wanna come with me? I’m sure your mom will be down with you hiding in my backpack.”

She giggles. “I’ll ask her.”

“No, honey,” Pam calls back. “I’d say when you’re eighteen, but even then, not a chance.”

I grin. “Wise choice, Pam.”

She scowls at me, but it’s playful. I think.

“So, how are you feeling?” Ally asks Van, holding her by the shoulders.

“I…don’t even know.” She shakes her head. “God, this is crazy, isn’t it? I’m sorry about all the paparazzi out front.”

“Eh, that’s what blinds and curtains are for,” says Ally’s dad with a dismissive wave. “As long as they don’t think they’re getting any turkey.”

“I didn’t even ask, Bri,” Pam says apologetically. “Are you a vegetarian?”