Caleb finally slows when we reach a vendor’s booth bursting with Pride merch—stickers, flags, buttons, pins. It looks like a rainbow exploded here.

"Hey!" A tall guy, probably around our age, steps out from behind the booth and greets us with a wide smile.

"Hey, how’s it going? We’re in need of a few pins," Caleb says, pulling out his wallet.

"What? No, Caleb. I’m fine. I don’t—"

He waves me off like a fly.

The vendor nods his head cheerfully. "Do you want the original rainbow, or I could get your specific flag? Or both?"

Then he adds, locking eyes with me, "Which flag will you be rocking?"

Why’d he ask me that specifically?

Is… is he hitting on me?

I glance at Caleb, who’s now barely holding back a laugh. Of course. This is all some elaborate joke to him.

“I’ll take the rainbow pride colours, please,” I say, lifting my chin.

Caleb’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting that. HA. Got him.

“I’m actually very comfortable with my sexuality. If you’re trying to make me uncomfortable, you’re going to be very disappointed.” I roll my eyes, taking the pin as it’s handed to me.

"Oh is that right?" Caleb smirks. "Comfortable, huh? Mr. I-only-slept-with-the-same-girl-for-four-years."

I lightly punch him in the shoulder. "I never should’ve told you that."

"You didn’t have to. I could read it all over your face." He snickers.

The vendor hands Caleb his pin, and he slips him some cash.

"Thanks. And hey, I hope to see you later," the guy says, his gaze lingering on me a little too long.

"Yeah… bye!" I laugh awkwardly before turning to walk away.

What is it with men hitting on me lately? First my boss, and now this guy? Do I have some kind of sign on my back?

"Every time something like that happens, you get all fidgety and nervous," Caleb says beside me, pinning his button to his shirt. "It’s obvious you’ve never really had a sexual experience before. Not really."

"Yeah, well… shut up," I mutter, attaching mine too.

"You know what we need?" He spins on his heel, grinning. "Drinks and a show!"

Then he takes off again, disappearing into the crowd like a bisexual Peter Pan.

I sigh. This guy is going to be the death of me. But of course, I chase after him anyway.

13

caleb

Nathaniel continues to surprise me.

One second he's blushing about admitting how inexperienced he is, and the next he's half-dancing, half-laughing, lip syncing to Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan in the middle of a crowd of sunscreen covered strangers while queens in sky-high heels strut across the outdoor stage in TD Square.

Okay, it took a couple of coolers to get him there—but still. It worked.

The air hums with bass and body heat, matching the buzz of energy around us. All different colored flags wave from vendor booths, and strangers bump hips in time with the music. I haven’t seen Nathaniel this... alive in years. Not since we were just kids, hanging out in my dad’s basement theater room, sharing dumb jokes and snacks. It was always so easy when we were alone. And for some reason here, even if he still hates me, it feels easy here too.