Page 7 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

“Kinda the way you still look at Cohen?” she teased, pulling a me and changing the subject.

“It’s more like I want to set him on fire,” I corrected, throwing a pillow at her. It bounced off her glasses as she laughed. “And we agreed never to mention Extremely Shit-tacular Freshman Fall.”

“You’re the one who joined mathletes even though youhatemath, because you wanted to flirt with him.” She laughed, throwing it back at me.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” I grumbled. “At least I won us the tournament.”

“I recall you were devastated, even lamenting about—”

“We’re sooo not discussing this. It’s over. Done.” She eyed me over the rim of her glasses, but I refused to encourage her whole Zeke-and-Cohen bit. She thought it was hilarious that I once liked him. “He’s the asshole-iest asshole there ever was. The end.”

But it was more than that.

I’d fallen for Cohen on the first day of high school. We had known each other since we were kids, but he had changed over the summer. His disheveled look reminded me of the Eleventh Doctor when I saw him in the hallway: pale skin splotchy from rushing to class, dark curls adorably messy, his boldness with the rainbow pin on his bookbag—all of it made my brain glitch. I had wanted to be like him, to be near him so badly I joined the team.

A car engine sounded outside, and I inhaled deeply. The breath pushed through my lungs as I mentally prepared myself to see him. We might be forced to deal with each other again because of the QSA, but I made sure he knew I hated every second of it. There were no more longing glances or bumping hands or hopes to be his boyfriend. Only an immeasurable distance between who we’d been and who we’d both become.

“They’re here,” Sawyer announced, immediately smoothing down her hair. Checking her breath and double-checking her deodorant. “How do I look?”

I choked down the nostalgia and gave her the once-over. The dressy blouse she’d changed into for her host shift was pristine, her skirt short and flirty, and her heavy white Docs lent a cool touch. “Fabulous as always,” I assured her. “With an edge of desperation.”

“Not funny.” A knock sounded, and her voice pitched as she called, “Come in!”

“And you said I was the thirsty one,” I mocked as the basement’s outside door opened.

With the deadliest of glares, she threw herself on the cushions. Then she stretched back in a relaxed position. “Hi,” she said, all cool and collected despite how keyed up over her maybe-girlfriend she was.

Kennedy stepped inside, shouldering her tote bag withBHS Cheerembroidered across it. The TV’s glow made the hazel of her eyes shine as she searched for Sawyer. Then the corners of her pink-lipsticked pout lifted into an easy smile. It was clear to see why my best friend was crushing hard. Kennedy was effortlessly cool, even in the Beggs High School cheer practice uniform.

“Hi,” Sawyer repeated, transfixed.

“Hey,” Kennedy said, and tucked a black twist braid behind an ear.

They stared at each other for what felt like an excruciatingly long time. At first glance, no one would think they meshed. Kennedy was the definition of preppy-and-popular, Sawyer a quirky nerd of a badass. But it was these moments when they fell into each’s orbit that made it obvious they were perfect for one another.

“Ehem…Do you two need a room?” I joked to break the silence, and the throw pillow smacked me in the face again.

Kennedy’s smile grew wide as she sat down on the sofa, dimpling her dark-brown cheeks until she took in my bruised face and blanched. “The hell happened to you?”

“Billy Peak…”

My voice went quiet when Cohen appeared in the doorway. It was like we’d switched places, with my hair long now and his chocolate curls cut short in a perpetual state of bedhead. He wasn’t the same boy I’d blurted my truth to over linear equations—the one who’d been both my first kiss and first heartbreak. He’d gotten taller, thicker—with a peach emoji in his chinos. That once-adorable grin was replaced with a scowl whenever he looked at me. That look, paired with his polo-and-prep personality, only reminded me too much of who I used to be.

“Would say sorry that asshole gave you a black eye, but you probably deserved it,” he said by way of greeting, his voice grouchy. Condescension was written all over his infuriatingly cute face.

“You can do better than that weak-ass hot take,” I replied,and gave him the middle finger. Billy had bullied him for being fat, but here he was standing up for the jock out of spite.

“You two,” Sawyer began, motioning between us, “need to keep. Your. Shit. Together. For Pride Day.”

“It’s the Zasshole you have to worry about,” Cohen said, taking a seat far away from me. “He’s too dumb to know how important this is.”

Dumb.That’s what he thinks of me now. Like everyone else, he only sees what he wants to see. My hands balled into fists as a smug grin spread on his face. “Cohen,” I said through gritted teeth. “I really want to give you a black eye right now, see how you like it. But I won’t because I promised Sawyer.”

He scoffed like I was a joke, rolling his eyes. “I’d like to see you try—”

“Oh my god,” Kennedy interrupted. “That must be a new record. Only thirty seconds before you’re threatening each other.”

“He started it,” I protested.

---