Imogen, Obviously

by Becky Albertalli

Not that she’d ever outright admit this, but I think we both know I’m her emotional support hetero.

HUH

Then she runs a hand through her hair, and there’s something so boyish about the gesture, it leaves me a little off-balance.

“You seriously don’t see it.”

My first night out on campus. I know it’s just trivia, not an orgy. Not even orgy-adjacent.

My phone buzzes again. Tessa Minsky started following you.

Heheeh

A few seconds later, Tessa laughs under her breath. Then: touché, Scott, touché I get this flutter in my chest when I read that. Scott. No one’s ever called me by my last name so casually before, and I think— I really like it.

Gretchen cut in. “Cool! Want to know what I’m not interested in? Your ass. You know how I know that? Because I can see the whole fucking thing.”

YEAHHHHHHHH

“You might say . . . she showed her ass.”

I’m straight. So how are my bi vibes through the roof? Is it really just the aesthetic? Am I two lemon squares and a haircut away from making out with girls at a Clairo show?

TM: Right?? I’m allergic to conflict TM: I guess it was more like she was mad at me a lot and I didn’t always know why TM: I was just sad and confused mostly

Felt

I think people forget how different things can be in different places.

Hello I just painted a shed IS: And there was discourse IS: And now I need a shower IS:

Honestly stats is basically math, I promise I don’t get it any better when I’m awake

Okay, but no discourse allowed

Texts with Tessa IS: So IS: Looks like I’ll see you tomorrow

HEHEHEHE

TM: OH MY GOD TM: Are you for real????????????? TM: Scott!!!!!!!!! TM: I’M SEEING YOU TOMORROW TM: I mean TM: Obviously I’m really chill about this

Why you have three identical copies of One Last Stop

Lmaooo

“Kidding! I’m kidding. Oh, you’re so cute. Okay, don’t panic. You’re not gay.”

“I knowwww. I mean she attracts straight girls. Like you.”

Dont pmo

TM: ANYWAY, MORE IMPORTANTLY, HI TM: I’M SEEING YOU TODAY

“But Gretchen stirring shit up with people and then making up for it with gifts is a thing.”

Or when Quinn Santiago asked for ideas about where to buy a binder in person, and I—with mortifying sincerity—suggested Staples or OfficeMax.

Gasp

Basically, there’s a version of me who lives in Gretchen’s head, and as long as I stay within a certain radius of that, we’re fine. But when I veer too far off course—I start to feel kind of hazy sometimes. Maybe I’m more liquid than most people are. I always seem to take the shape of my container. Usually, it’s a sort of relief, letting Gretchen remold me.

“I just wasn’t sure how I fit into the picture, you know?” I shake my head. “It felt like you’d found this really sacred space, and I didn’t want to invade it.”

But it kind of felt like Gretchen decided for me.”

“You know. If you ever had something you wanted to tell me, I could make space for that, too.”

“I hate agreeing with Gretchen.”

I really thought alcohol was supposed to make the talking part easier. So far, it’s just making my brain louder.

I try to focus on the song, because I don’t want to miss the line about Clairo loving Sofia with her hair down. It makes my throat catch every time—there’s just something so earnest about it. Imagine being loved with your hair down. Loved without an agenda, without an audience. Never having to earn and re-earn it. Love without modulation.

She looks like a hot young professor on the first day of class. Our eyes meet, and in my brain, it’s like daybreak.

“Hold up,” Kayla says. “You’re telling me this girl literally shows up at Girl Scouts to turn girls gay?”

All these moments, scattered and separate. All these disconnected dots.

It feels bigger than I want it to be. Do I really have to announce this? Can’t I just feel something and live inside it while it’s happening and not analyze it to death?

I think talking about this with Lili might have made it real.

All the times I said I’m straight. All the times everyone’s said I’m straight. There it was, underlined and written in bold. How could I miss it? Like finding Waldo and realizing he was never really hiding.

Kissed Tessa. I kissed her.

Gretchen looks me up and down. “Cute blazer,” she says slowly. Her voice is as sharp as the edge of a knife.

GET OUT

“Uh. Yeah. Of course,” Tessa says, sounding puzzled. I can hear the smile in Gretchen’s voice. “Really? Isn’t that kind of unusual? I think it’s amazing, don’t get me wrong.”

“A hetero queen,” declares Gretchen.

LET EM A HER

“Did you? Because what it sounds like is a pick-me straight girl appropriating queerness because she thinks it will make everyone happy.”

OH MY GOD

And now you—do you even like girls, Imogen? Like, are you actually attracted to girls?”

“Hey.” She scoots in beside me. “Guess who’s getting a brand-new, freshly ripped, Lili-shaped asshole right now.”

YEAH

“Okay, first of all, fuck Gretchen—”

“I love you. I’ll see you back at the dorm. Or not! Live your life.”

“I love it on you,” says Tessa.

“And it probably didn’t help to have Little Miss One True Queer Gretchen screaming in your face all the time about how straight you are.”

“I don’t want my bed back. Sleep here.”

Then she buries her face in the crook of my neck, and every breath she breathes feels like a love letter.

“No, I always lose my shit like this. Just not out loud.” She looks at me. “So this is what your brain sounds like?”

“Immy, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I will physically drag you next door to make this happen,” says Lili. “There will be rugburn. On your ass, probably.”