Page 63 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

“It’s obvious there’s something between you two.”

“There are more pressing things to worry about,” I continued, ignoring her smirk. “So much bad shit is happening in Beggs, and now that Pride Month is over, I feel kinda useless. I don’t know what to do now.”

“Okay…” A moment passed while she collected herself. Focus mode was back, Cohen forgotten, while she narrowed her eyes in thought. “What if we had more speakeasies—and were more discreet this time?” she suggested, and I flinched as those same flashes flickered through my mind at warp speed. “What?”

“I c-can’t. Not again.” My heart rate sped up, taking me back to last night, to the mayor’s rally, to all the times I’d felt like a failure.

She reached for her phone with determination. Her fingers tapped the screen rapidly, and then she looked up in triumph.“I messaged the group chat. We need to have a QSA meeting,” she said matter-of-factly. Her phone dinged almost immediately with a new message, and she read it. “Damn that was fast. They’re on their way so we can figure it out together.”

“We?” I asked, unsure if I should leave. “Does this mean I’m back in the QSA, or…”

She grimaced and flashed a tight smile. “I’m sorry I threatened to kick you out.”

“I deserved it, to be honest.” I ran a hand through my hair, smoothing it back as I let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry I was a Zasshole and let everything go to my head.”

“You’re forgiven if you make me two promises.”

“What?” I asked cautiously, unsure of where she was going.

“One, that we resume our list of traditions, because I owe you a sneaky birthday breakfast,” she began, and I nodded, “and two, that you won’t sit back and let people like your dad keep you quiet.” She pointed at me then herself. “Wehave to speak up.”

I thought back to the first night I’d climbed up above Jones Hardware to paint the billboard. How a halo had hovered over the town square from the streetlamps, pushing darkness to the outskirts of town. That was where they wanted people like me, like Sawyer and the QSA, to stay. We were tired of it, tired of feeling unwelcome in our own town. Something had to be done, and maybe we could figure it out.

“I titty promise,” I finally said, bringing a hand to my chest, and she did the same.

Chapter 26

When Cohen and I had arrived back at Roaring Mechanics after the raid, I hadn’t thought twice about his shifty eyes. The way he’d hesitated for a moment before leaving. How he’d cast one last look at me before driving off. Now it was all I could think about after what Sawyer had claimed.

Cohen likes me?

I was second-guessing both his actions and my reactions—why I cared whether or not I looked presentable, or why I was so upset by the case of mistaken identity on Insta. He had those sus eyes again as we sat on the floor of the bachelorette pad. His gaze kept lingering on me like it had last night, on my mouth every time I ate a handful of yogurt-covered raisins. When I’d catch him, he’d quickly turn away as though he was afraid I’d yell at him again.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he spoke. “Carmen’s campaign is picking up speed now,” he was saying.His expression was hopeful, beaming with confidence, even though I had doubt.

He wasn’t Mason. With bedmas_22, I’d let my guard down only to find out he was Cohen. The same guy who’d been a nightmare to me until this summer. The same guy who was the reason I’d joined mathletes. The same guy I’d crushed on hard. The same guy who risked being caught in a raid and helped me during my freak-out.

“Founder’s Day is in a little over two weeks,” he added with such tenacity that it made my pulse quicken. “But it’s more than just an election.”

“What do you mean?” Kennedy asked.

“Ever since that rally Buchanan had,” he replied, “it’s become more than just a mayoral race.” He finally caught my eye and nodded sheepishly. “There’s more at stake.”

I felt my face redden, and Sawyer prodded me with the same smirk she’d given me earlier.It’s obvious there’s something between you two.

“So,” Sawyer began, still watching me skeptically, “how can the QSA help?”

“Y’all wanna help?” he asked. Kennedy and Sawyer nodded, and then he looked to me. “You too?”

“Y-yeah,” I stammered, and a faint smile chased away his worry lines. It was as though he and I were the only ones in the basement. “I, uh, I caused such a mess…and it would only be fair to salvage what I can.”

“But you didn’t,” he assured me. “Your speakeasies are the reason Carmen actually has a chance at winning.”

A vote for Bedolla won’t amount to anything.My father’sunwavering certainty made me nervously tug at the collar of my shirt. “All I did was make the mayor look better.”

“That’s not true, Zeke…” He trailed off. We both shared a look that said we weren’t going to talk about everything that happened. Not now. “He would have found some way to give himself the upper hand. But by breaking up the speakeasy, he pissed off a lot of people in town. People who could vote for Carmen.”

“You think so?” My voice was quiet, the power shift between us like an ocean tide rising and falling.

---