“Yep. All you have to do is lift your glass and say ‘Hey’o, I’m gay’o.’” “Or however-you-identify’o,” Foster adds. “Because I’m bi.” “‘Hey’o, I’m bi’o’ sounds like you’re saying you’re science,” Ezra says. “And it doesn’t rhyme.” I lift my glass. “Cheer’o to being queer’o? Is that inclusive?” Ezra’s eyes soften toward me. “You’re perfect.” “I know.”
