“I’m in. Whatever it is.”
“I know you are,” I say, squeezing her hand one last time as Liam jumps out of the limo. It looks like it’s requiring every ounce of restraint he has not to pounce on her, and I laugh and let go of her hand. “She’s all yours, Holloway,” I declare, relieving her of her bag so we can stash it in the trunk. His name isn’t even fully out of my mouth before he practically attacks hers.
I roll my eyes and get back in the limo.
“I take it that went well?” Josh asks as I slip my phone back out of my pocket.
“Not as well as that’s going.” I jerk my thumb toward the window. “But, yes, all good.”
“You ready for the rest of it?”
“Not even a little.” Checking my texts, I see I’d gotten a response from Bri to my last one, followed by, I’m guessing you’re with Ally now — lemme know how it goes. And then, sent fifteen minutes after that, I promise I will always do my best to be worth all this, Park. I hope you know that.
My heart squeezes inside my chest, and I write back, She can’t wait to meet you, as Ally and Liam finally join us inside the limo. And you already are.
But by the next morning, I’m not so sure anything is worth this. The Duncans were as easy as I knew they would be; the Parks…not so much. I managed one hour of their reaction of alternating silence with suggestions of therapy before begging Ally to pick me up and bring me to Zander’s so I could get this night over with. My conversation with him lasted less than five minutes and ended with him telling me that I really should see someone about being Saved.
Then I spent the entire night tossing and turning, wanting to call Bri to make me feel better and resisting because I didn’t want her to know how badly everything was going.
And now, as I pull on jeans and my favorite comfy Union Jack sweater in preparation of introducing my two favorite people, I really just want to puke.
“You can do this,” I pep-talk myself in the mirror as I slather lotion on my face and concealer under my eyes. It comes out more like a grumble, though, and I’m silent as I draw on eyeliner. I can’t make myself bother with anything else but mascara, and it’s just as well, since the doorbell rings as soon as I toss the tube back on the bathroom counter.
I know it’s Bri at the door, coming to pick me up, and that I should be excited about that, but right now, all I want is to be left alone. I don’t want her to see how lousy I look. And I really don’t want the tiny bit of regret that’s beginning to seep in to show on my face.
But when I open the door, my mind goes completely blank.
“Too much?” she asks.
I shake my head, my throat suddenly feeling dryer than the Valley in August. I have just learned three things about Brianna Harris: 1) she owns leather pants; 2) she possesses no shame in wearing an “I Heart My Girlfriend” T-shirt in public; and 3) she looks otherworldly hot in both.
Worth. Everything.
“Excellent — then let’s go. I have an important good first impression to make.” She tries to tug me out the door, her silver bangles jangling, but I laugh and point out that I’m not wearing shoes yet. Sighing, she follows me inside, closing the door behind us as I hunt down my shoes and a bag.
It takes me a couple of minutes, but I finally reemerge. “Now I’m ready.”
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.”