Page 20 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

Two hours later, we’d finally sorted all the details for Saturday. The library was on board with what we had planned, and all that was left to do was make a post about it…without making a post about it. Kennedy had said to be inconspicuous, and Cohen returned to form with a smartass remark.It means to not attract attention,he’d said.Put your Insta on private like mine.I’d reminded him that we purposefully unfollowed each other years ago, and he hadn’t spoken since.

I glanced over at the corner of the sofa while I scrolled on my phone. He was doing the same, the glower back in place like it had never left. The tension was excruciating, growing stronger by the second. I checked the time and realized that Sawyer and Kennedy had gone to get the pizza delivery more than thirty minutes ago.

Ugh,I groaned inwardly as my stomach rumbled. Unableto keep scrolling, to keep pretending like Cohen wasn’t sitting there stewing, I cleared my throat. It was too loud in the too-quiet basement, and he startled. “They’ve been gone waaay too long,” I said awkwardly. “I bet they’re totally making out again.”

“Just now figuring that out?” he asked. The sarcasm was half-hearted at best. “They’ll be at it for another fifteen minutes, at least, before they realize they left us down here.”

“Right, right…”

He made a noncommittal grunt as his fingers typed on his phone. I watched his brow unfurl. For a moment I could see the Cohen I remembered. The same guy beneath the asshole personality who’d made my brain glitch.

“Who do you think you’ll be for the speakeasy?” I asked, unable to handle the dead air between us.

“Dunno.”

Strike one,I thought, closing my eyes. “Well, I might go as Zelda Fitzgerald.” I’d given it some thought ever since we’d come up with the idea, and the painting of her in Mom’s shop kept coming to mind. “My mom has a dress and wig from the grand opening I could use.”

“She’s not a character, Zeke,” he pointed out, shooting me an annoyed glance. “She was an actual person.”

Strike two.I inhaled, exhaled through the unrelenting urge to punch the condescension off his face. “Correction,” I tried again calmly. “She played the character people wanted her to…a goddess of chaos, the first American flapper. It was really because of the time frame and her upbringing, but I think it was all for show…What?”

His mouth was agape. “Nothing,” he muttered, red splotches spreading across his cheeks. “Just forgot you used to be smart.”

“Strike three,” I bit out, turning to face him on the sofa. “What thehellis your problem?”

He blinked rapidly, and I could practically see his thoughts racing. Ripples of that guy I used to know, who he turned into, someone else entirely new who was too serious all of a sudden. “Zeke,” he said through a breath. “Don’t start with me.”

“You started it, Coco,” I seethed. “Despite what you said, I’m actually trying to be agood gayand you keep trashing me. What gives?”

“Sorry,” he muttered. His warm brown eyes studied me for a moment before he swallowed roughly. “I shouldn’t have put you down like that, and I apologize.”

“Seriously, stop.” I gestured wildly at him, the newfound civility cringe-inducing. “You’re being weird as hell right now.”

He started to say something, a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue. Then he stopped himself and shook his head. “I can’t go Saturday,” he finally said, glancing down at his lap.

“That’s okay. You can help with the next—”

“No.” He cut me off. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

The audacity. After everything he’d called me out on, every hard truth he’d thrown at me? How I didn’t do enough for the QSA, how I don’t pay attention to the laws trying to erase us, how Pride was about somethingmore—and he didn’t think my idea was good enough?

“Why?” I asked, my voice biting. “I know you were freaked because of the cop, and I understand. If we do get caught, you can blame everything on me. Everyone else does.”

He was giving me a stare down again, all the versions of him flickering as he considered what I said. I’d thought he saw the real me before, but now I knew it was the opposite. I was seeing the real him. And he was nervous and scared.

“I appreciate you saying that, really,” he began, his words pillowed in softness, “but I can’t risk my future. Not like this. I already told Kennedy, but…I’m volunteering with Carmen’s campaign. Plus, I’m working at The Cove and—”

“You asked me if I was paying attention,” I blurted. He was too concerned about his perfect college applications. Too much like how I used to be. “But areyou? What we’re doing is important.”

“I didn’t say itwasn’t.” He sighed heavily. “I think we can change more minds on the inside, and helping the campaign will do that. Pride is about more than throwing parties, Zeke. You would know that if you did more with the QSA when we needed you, not now when it’s convenient.”

If he’d said that earlier, I might’ve decked him right on the spot. There was no winning with him. I knew he was anxious. I couldn’t fault him for that when I was as well. It didn’t stop the sting of his words, though.

“Nothing about this is convenient, Cohen,” I pointed out.

“Look”—he tugged at his collar again, and his shoulders slumped—“I’m glad you finally felt comfortable to come out and get involved forwhateverreason, but I’m worried, okay? What if you get caught and the speakeasies hurt our cause? That’d only give Mayor Buchanan ammunition to use against us.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I knew what he said wasn’t a lie. That didn’t make his digs hurt less.

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