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A single red rose. Could he buy it? Was that something that was okay? That boys did? If it was for a girl, obviously, yes, but if it was for . . .
He’d been born there, though he had no memory of it, his parents having found their way to America shortly after his birth and then to the nearly rural commuter town of Frome just before the eighth grade. He had no accent but had a European passport.
Ayy like me but instead of Spain its England
“How about, because having an identity can be just as powerful as actualizing my fluidity?” “But are you sure you only like boys? Why not keep your options open?” “Because my entire upbringing has told me there was only one way to be. That any other way is wrong. A deviation from their certainty.” “All the more reason to–” “I’m not finished. When I realized how things were, when I said to myself that I am not this thing I’ve been told I have to be, that I am this other thing instead, then Jesus, Ange, the label didn’t feel like a prison, it felt like a whole new freaking map, one that was my
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It was so much easier to be loved than to have to do any of the desperate work of loving.
“Her name’s Felice,” he said, smiling to himself. “It means happy.” “Well,” Adam deadpanned, “that makes everything okay then. What’s her sign?” Marty’s blond eyebrows started a conversation with themselves. “Leo? I think? Why on earth–”
Adam closed his eyes. “We’ve had this discussion, Wade. I will go to human resources.”
Stop warning and do it
“Do black people really not do meth?” he asked. “Nope,” Karen said. “That’s just stupid crackers out in the woods.”
“People with really stiff morals are easier to tip over,”
Linus never even had to come out. As a sophomore, he took a boy—from another school, but a boy nonetheless—to the Junior Prom (having charmed his way into a ticket) and the only person at Frome High who even batted an eyelid was FHS’s very Christian front office secretary, who wrote a note to Linus’s parents, who in turn wrote a note back explaining in great detail how she and the school district would be sued if she ever tried to discriminate against their son again.
“Angela is a bit awesome.” “She is.” “And if she’s your friend, that makes you a bit awesome, too.” “I’m not in third grade, Linus.”
Then he’d withdraw, two fingers holding the condom in place, which he then snapped off and threw into the wastebasket by his bed, and lie down to wait for Adam to finish himself.
THIS HOE DIDN'T EVEN FINISH ADAM OFF
