“Ooh, girlfriend outed you?” Jade grimaces. “Not cool.” “She has a name,” I say. Jade waves her hand. “Yeah, okay. Zoe outed you. You’re not mad?” I shrug. “It worked out.” Sure, every time I remember how Zoe’s voice dropped when she said pronouns, like it was some dirty secret, I feel a little sick, but it’s not the biggest deal. Not enough to confront her. It’s not like she’s being horribly transphobic.
See, not endgame
