“I can’t believe you never had a boyfriend. How is that possible? I really can’t deal with straight men.”

“I’m untouchable, that’s why. Well, at least that’s how I’ve seen myself until recently.”

The untouchables. Those of us that have found ourselves on the opposite end of accepted standards of beauty. We who are too dark, disabled, odd looking, ugly, or short to be desired, especially in a place like this. I didn’t know that I would be trapped in this category for so much of my life and that each rejection would burn holes in me. The only thing that has ever drawn people to me is intelligence, but men don’t care how smart you are. They want something beautiful that fits nicely on their arm and who their family will accept. They want someone who answers the question “What would people think?” with statements like: “She’s perfect for you. She’ll fit right in.” What they don’t want is a Black, too dark Chosen One from the west side of Cleveland. Men don’t chase after heroes, they run from them.

“Bryce doesn’t deserve you,” Alex says.

I smile, embarrassed, finishing the last of my tea. People always say stuff like that when they don’t have an answer to your problem.

“But Earnell sounds like a real catch.”

“I know. I just wish I were attracted to him.”

“Oh, the game of love. Who will win? Who will lose?”

“Stay tuned next week to find out on another episode of the Young, Restless, and Minority at Dartmouth College.”

We giggle softly. There are no more words as we both ponder our positions. People walk by. The clanging of pots, pans, and dishes rings out from the kitchen as the café prepares to close. I could have sat there all night, but the next words Alex speaks are of endings.

“You know how we should end our date?” he asks.

“By walking home?” I say sarcastically.

“No,” he says. “With a kiss. Like a real date.”

“But you’re gay.”

“So. That doesn’t mean we can’t kiss.”

The moment is right. Yearning takes hold of both of us. I walk around the table and sit on his lap, wrapping my hands around his neck. He kisses me like I am his boyfriend. Passionately. Intensely. It’s better than I imagined. It transports me to another place outside of myself. I am here, sitting with him, but I am gone somehow. Elevated again. Astral without leaving the realm.

“Thank you,” I say, bashfully staring down at our legs, grateful for the experience even if it can’t go on.

“The night is still young,” he responds before pulling me up for a starlight stroll.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR