More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“You’re always talking about how you want to be in love. How you think it’s impossible for anyone to love you. Here I am. Telling you I fucking love you.” He raises his hands up, lets them fall to his sides again as he lets out a breath. “I love you, Felix. But—what, am I the only person in the world you don’t want loving you?”
“Gay cis men, especially white men—it’s like they’re one identity away from being what they’d consider normal, so they hold that identity over us, enjoy their privilege and power in their little elitist group, try to push the rest of us away.
“It hurts. That’s all I’m saying. It hurts to not be included, to be rejected—especially when it’s by people you thought would understand and accept you. You have to admit that it hurts.”
“Yourself,” he suggests. “Loving and accepting and celebrating yourself, and loving and celebrating and supporting the young women like you who will come next. Changing this world, yes—we need people who will fight for our rights, fight for justice in the courts so that it will be better for the next generation. But creating our own world, not just for ourselves in our bubble, but one that can spread to those who need it most—one filled with our stories, our history, our love and pride—that’s just as beautiful. That’s just as necessary. Without that, we forget ourselves. Crumple under the pain
...more
“These younger generations,” Tom echoes. “I envy them. There’s so much more space to explore who they are now. To explore and celebrate themselves. I could never have imagined seeing a transgender man on TV or in the movies when I was younger. And now?” He looks at me. “I look at you and wish I could be a teenager again. I know that things aren’t perfect,” he says, nodding, “and there are still hardships, but don’t forget to enjoy these years. Live. Live them for the people who didn’t get to enjoy being a teenager. For the people who never lived past being a teenager.”
I smile a little. I smile, and then outright laugh, and I might even begin to cry a little, because I know what Bex was talking about now. The confidence that spreads through me. I know that this is right. It’s kind of amazing, that there’s a word that explains exactly how I feel, that takes away all of my confusion and questioning and hesitation—a word that lets me know there are others out there who feel exactly the same way that I do.
Declan’s grandfather seems to remember that I’d been with another boy then, too, but he doesn’t say anything about it—only gives me a sly grin. “You see?” he says. “I told you, you’d like my grandson.”
I just hoped that, maybe, if we had sex, I’d feel like you love me as much as I love you—you as Lucky, I mean, maybe even more than Ezra, and . . . It was fucked-up. I’m sorry.”
“What’s crazy is that I think I still love you,” he says, “but I also don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you.”
“I’m not flaunting anything. I’m just existing. This is me. I can’t hide myself. I can’t disappear. And even if I could, I don’t fucking want to. I have the same right to be here. I have the same right to exist.”
It’s almost like I was looking for the pain and the hurt, because it was easier to live with the idea that, even though I want love, I’m not the kind of person who deserves to be loved.
“I’m trying to understand. I want to understand. There’s a lot that I don’t know, and I’ve been slow. I know I’ve been slow to get it, and I know it’s been frustrating for you, so I’m sorry. I really am. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry if you think my slowness has something to do with how I feel about you. Because I love you, kid. Don’t ever think that I don’t love you.”
“Felix,” he says again, with this small smile. “It fits you. It really does. I love you. I don’t want you to ever think that I don’t. I’ll admit, at first, I had a difficult time figuring all of this out. But you know what? I’ve never seen you happier.
You’re happy. And brave. You’ve been so courageous, just by being yourself, even knowing that the world won’t always accept you for who you are. You refuse to be anything but yourself, no matter what. I look up to that. I admire that.”
Once I start screaming, I can’t stop. I scream so hard my throat feels raw and my heart pounds. I’m screaming with joy. I’m screaming with pain. I’m screaming with the awe that I’m here, that we’re all here, and that we’re here because of the people before us, the people who couldn’t be here, and I’m screaming for myself, too.
“What’d you say? I don’t think I heard you right.” I bite the corner of my lip, trying to stop myself from smiling. “I said I love you.” He squints at me. “Say that again? Just one more time.” “I love you.” He leans in, hands on my cheeks as he kisses me.
