“In that case, yes. But she also disliked that guy Jeff I went on three dates with a few years ago because she thought his sideburns were too long, so she’s a bit of a mixed bag.” She takes a clementine from the bowl, and I watch her dig in with her stubby purple nails. “Is this about Miguel?”

My mom is the only person in the world besides Miguel’s mom and his boyfriend, Malcolm, who knows that Miguel and I are both queer. But she’s worried throughout this entire fake relationship that I was going to catch feelings Miguel couldn’t reciprocate, and since talking to my mom about my hookups has always felt like a step too far into awkward, she doesn’t know about anyone else I’ve been with.

“Sort of? I mean, not about him, but it does involve him. And also someone else.” I break off another piece of banana and roll it gently between the tips of my thumb and forefinger, even though I know it’s gonna leave that gross banana residue.

“Can I have a little more detail, please?”

I smile wryly. “I’m living the dream, Ma. Cheerleader snagged the quarterback.”

“What a wonderful cliché you are,” she says, handing me a clementine segment. I pluck it between my pinkie and ring finger, my other fingers still holding the piece of banana, and admire the little fruit cocktail in my hand before shoving it all into my mouth. “A well-mannered, classy cliché.”

“Or am I?” I pull out my phone with my fruit-residue-free hand and show her a selfie Jack and I took on the couch. “That’s the new quarterback.”

“Okay, this just got very interesting.” My mom puts down the fruit and dusts off her hands before plucking my phone away. “First of all, very cute. Very cute.”

Sometimes it’s really nice to have a bi mom. “Isn’t she?”

“I meant the two of you together,” she says, giving me a smirk. “I’ve never seen you look so couple-y. How is she as a quarterback? I imagine she’s gotta be pretty great for Atherton to have given her a shot.”

“Incredible. You should’ve seen that first game. Robbie never ran in plays or threw for over one-twenty in a single game. She’s really good, but everyone treats her like dirt because she’s not him.”

“Even your friends?”

“Especially my friends,” I mutter, grabbing my phone back and dropping my chin into my hands. “Cara hates her. Like, is actively plotting against her. And I don’t know how to handle that, especially since I haven’t come out to anyone and Miguel and I are still supposedly dating and everything is … you know. Complicated.”

“Honey, if your friends have a problem with you because you’re—”