Page 69 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

As though he heard my thought, Cohen caught my eye. He smiled softly and started toward us. Nerves twisted my stomach tighter with his every step, and I ran a hand through my hair. Did a quick pit sniff test. Adjusted my shirt.

“They’re so thirsty that they’re parched,” Sawyer whispered to Kennedy.

“Stop,” I muttered under my breath.

It had been different when I was pretending not to care. Now it was growing increasingly difficult to pretend. BecauseCohen knew me, all the versions of me. And maybe I wanted to know him better too.

“Great turnout tonight,” Cohen said as he took a seat in a tiny chair next to mine. Then his eyes focused over my shoulder, and I followed his line of sight to where Mason stood. “Even the asshole is here.”

“You really don’t like him, huh?” I asked, lowering my voice. “Just so you know, he and I weren’t ever anything real. That was me and you…”

Our gazes locked, and I felt heat bloom across my cheeks. We’d messaged for hours last night, this time both of us knowing the truth, but never talked about what it meant.

For a moment, I let myself actually see him, giving in to the glitch he caused. His messy bedhead was in need of a cut, the brown tufts starting to curl. The pink “TEAM CARMEN” shirt was stretched tight across his shoulders. I thought of all the things we’d discussed, and he turned into someone new before me. Someone who knew me but still liked me, who wasn’t disappointed once he realized who I was.

He gave me a slight tilt of his head as the bookstore went silent. As though he was letting me know he was here like he’d been after the raid. It made me smile.I like Cohen,I decided, turning to face the front.I never stopped.

Carmen had climbed up onto the counter, tucking one leg under her. She was wearing the same shirt as Cohen, with her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back under a matching hat. Her smile was reminiscent of when I’d helped her at Pride Day, when she’d told me to be proud that I’d shown up. And now I finally understood what she meant.

I was proud to be doing something more.

“Thank you for coming out tonight,” Carmen greeted. “I know we’re in crunch time with the election coming up, but I want each of you to know that I couldn’t do this without your support. Hosting the first Pride speakeasy made me realize how important safe spaces are here in our town. The hate Mayor Buchanan is preaching isn’t who we are. We have to remind voters of that. We’re here to make Beggs feel like home for everyone.”

A round of applause sounded, my own joining in. It was so surreal to think speaking with her on a whim, the idea of the speakeasy, her offering the bookstore…how it led to this. All these people were here because of something I’d done to fight back, but I didn’t feel important enough to have causedthis.

“We have some new faces tonight,” she went on, pointing back to the children’s section. “You all know our very own King of Pride, Zeke Chapman.” People were staring at me, and I shrank back in my chair. “And Sawyer Grayson and Kennedy Copeland, all with the Beggs High School QSA. Along with Cohen, they started the fire in town by petitioning for Pride Day, and Zeke started the underground Pride events. He brought together hundreds of citizens who support inclusivity. I think they all deserve some love for uniting us against hate.”

I swallowed nervously as everyone clapped again, that guilt I’d once carried reawakening. They didn’t know why I’d wanted to do it—

“It’s okay,” Cohen whispered suddenly, leaning into me. “You deserve recognition, no matter how it started. You’re here now.” I felt his breath puff out, knew there was a grin on his lips. “And you’ve never been a ‘bad gay.’ ”

Through a jumble of nerves, I laughed shakily. “Thanks, Coco,” I said softly, fighting the urge to hug him.

“Together,” Carmen continued, with an excited clap, “the Beggs High School QSA has thought of a brilliant tactic that could give us a last-minute advantage!”

She motioned for us to explain, and I waited for Cohen to begin. He didn’t, and neither did Sawyer or Kennedy. They were all waiting on me with expectant smiles.You’re here now,Cohen had said, and it gave me the courage to speak.

I opened my mouth, then closed it, searching for the words to say, as the door chimed. The speakeasies brought together fighters who would continue their efforts no matter what happened. They were in town all along, and now they were here because of us.

“As most of you know,” I began, more sure of myself, “the last speakeasy of Pride Month didn’t go as planned. We were raided like the speakeasies of the 1920s, and before you ask, yes, I have a lot of knowledge of them thanks to my mom.” A few laughs broke out, cutting through my nerves. “She’s the reason why I decided to have speakeasies in the first place.”

Someone in the crowd whistled, and I grinned when I saw Mom over by the entrance. I felt even more sure of myself knowing she was here for me.You never know who’s listening,she had said,so be proud.

“I witnessed the mayor’s rally and saw firsthand the opposite of what we”—I glanced back at my friends—“wanted to do for Pride Month. There was so much hate, so many small minds with too loud of voices. That’s what gave us the idea to throw one more speakeasy, but it’ll be a rally for you in the town square with a voter registration. We can make it like Pride Day, and we even have a parade float you can use as a stage.”

More clapping sounded, but I never let my eyes stray fromCarmen’s. “I cannot thank you enough,” she said, salt-and-pepper hair swaying with her enthusiastic head nods. “Anything that can help amplify not only my message but what it means to welcome everyone in our town.”

Her smile made me feel like I really was a King of Pride—all of us were. I took a deep breath and scanned the room of supporters as I sat down. They were trying to make a difference, and I was one of them. Even if my father was right about the votes, at least our voices still had a chance of being heard.

“Do we have any updates on polling locations?” she asked, continuing around the room.

“All ballot boxes will be set up at the town square for Founder’s Day,” someone answered.

“We’ll have to make sure constituents know where to go, and we need to get them there if they need a ride,” Carmen said. “Any ideas…?”

As she addressed the other volunteers, Cohen twisted in his seat to face Sawyer and Kennedy. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?” he asked.

“We’re hanging up the new campaign posters,” Kennedy explained. “We can split up and cover more ground.”

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