Page 24 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

“I’m…I’m trying.”

My face heated as she held my gaze, and then she stepped back. “While you’re gone, I think I might head over to the bookstore and get the Women of Beggs Book Club pick. Some of my old girlfriends reached out about it.” She winked and motioned for me to turn around. “Might have to pull a Zeke and keep my phone on silent so I can read. It has been ringing all day.”

I felt myself smiling, both happy and sad, as she unzipped the dress. Happy that she was doing something for herself, sad that I couldn’t remember if she ever had before opening the mechanic shop. Maybe I was starting to understand her better, that she was figuring herself out—how she was just a person, like me.

She excused herself so I could change, footfalls fading toward the living room. I grabbed my phone from my discarded clothes to check the time. The screen flashed 5:23 p.m. along with another text from Sawyer that I couldn’t deal with. I needed to leave soon to make it on time.

I slipped the dress off in a hurry and yanked on the khakis. Then I buttoned up the shirt, shoved my feet into the maroon sneakers, and shuffled out of my room. As I made my way down the hallway, a whimsical bell echoed through the apartment. The old landline used for shop business was ringing from the makeshift office.

“Could you get that for me?” Mom called. “Tell them I’m not here!”

I yelled back that I had it and veered into the dinette. The bell sounded again with a third ring as I grabbed the clunky handle. “Hello,” I answered quickly. “Roaring Mechanics is closed for the day, and Katherine Chapman isn’t here.”

“Anthony?”

I nearly dropped the phone at the sound of my first name, my father’s voice. It was smooth, cheerful yet serious, and full of artificial sweetness. “What do you want?” I asked, my tone dropping low so Mom wouldn’t hear.

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of your mother since you won’t answer my calls,” he said. “Son, we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, gripping the phone tightly.

“There isplenty.” He took a breath, waiting for a reply I wasn’t going to give him. “For starters, you destroyed my billboard, which was expensive to replace. Not to mention your grades are embarrassing, and then this nonsense with the QSA—”

“Why?” I cut him off. “Why are you sponsoring this Family First bullshit?”

“Anthony,” he began with a heavy sigh, “don’t be immature. The mayor’s plan won’t affect you if you’ll just keep your head down and stay out of it. You have to understand it’s just business, nothing personal—”

“And you have to understand that you can’t tell me what to do anymore,” I said, then slammed the receiver down.

I walked it off, my feet slapping the sidewalk. The nerve of him to think I still cared what he thought. To think he couldgaslight me after the hell he’d put me through. My strides lengthened as I hurried to the rec center with determination. What I’d done for Pride Month had inspired them to refute the mayor’s agenda. And, in turn, my father for supporting him.

It’s just business,he’d said.Nothing personal.

It sure as hell felt personal as the June sun bore down on me. Mayor Buchanan, even the state governor, had made everything feel like it was targeted specifically at my existence. Like I was trapped underneath a magnifying glass of laws and hate and ignorance that scorched me. I didn’t know what to do about it or how I could even help. But I did know I couldn’t go back to being a silent bystander.

My pace slowed as I reached the stairs leading up to the rec center’s entrance. It wasn’t that far from Roaring Mechanics, but I felt like I’d just run a marathon. My shirt was damp, with circles of sweat under my pits, my hair sticking to my neck. I took the steps slowly as I wiped my face with the back of my hand, tried to smooth the wrinkles from the button-up, anything to make it look like I had my shit together.

The glass entrance chimed as the panels slid open, and I stepped inside. A blast of AC hit me in the face, a reprieve from the humidity.Fourth floor.I reminded myself of the details they’d sent, and headed toward the elevator.Room 13.

Before the metal doors closed, someone stepped inside without giving me a second glance. There was no mistaking Cohen’s wide shoulders and perpetually messy hair, the way his chinos fit pleasingly snug. I opened my mouth to antagonize him, still pissy over what he’d said, but his smile stopped me. It dimpled his cheeks as he typed on his phone.

For a second I admired how attractive he could be when hewasn’t making my life a nightmare. Then reality came crashing back as he looked up, shock making him stand up straighter. “What’reyoudoing here?” he asked bluntly.

The overhead light flickered as the cab climbed upward. It washed over us, shining into his soft brown eyes. I tried to think of something clever, but it was like freshman year all over again—my brain glitching as he stared at me.

“Volunteering,” I blurted. “For the kids’ program.”

He gaped at me with disbelief as if he was waiting for the punch line. “You’rehere to volunteer?”

“They, uh, they messaged me about it. On Insta, I mean. Because of the mayor.”

I thought he’d be happy I was doing more, that he might say he now knew I was paying attention. He didn’t, though. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he griped. His face twisted with disdain as the doors opened to the fourth floor. “No, you can’t.”

“Excuse me?” He rushed out without a reply, and I followed after him. His messenger bag flopped side to side as he marched down the hallway. “Cohen, what the hell?” I called.

He came to a halt and spun to face me. “I’m talking to Jess. There’s no way you can volunteer here, Zeke.”

“Yes I can—”

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