Set the Record Straight

by Hannah Bonam-Young

If I had to pinpoint it—if I was asked at this exact moment—I’d say my sexuality is the corner of Evan’s lips. It’s the gasps she makes that act as a windstorm in my chest. It’s the space between her fingers where I fit better than anywhere else. It’s all instinct here. Intuition. And I’ve been waiting my whole life for this rush. So I’m not questioning it anymore.

“I actually thought there were only two kinds of love before. That it was just love like your family or romantic love. But I think there may be hundreds of kinds. Love like a new lease on life. Love like a place to exist freely. Love like being understood. Love like the contented quiet. Love like freshly baked cookies. Love like a thin veil between wishing it’d started earlier and loving the way it began.”

Let it be known I tried not to do this. “Fuck it,”

“It’s an LG-BLT flag, I’m told.” Daryl nods, beaming with pride.

“Evan… do you accept this rose?”

“Sometimes, they melted before you saw them—but I still did it, regardless. Just for the chance that you would drive past, and maybe—just maybe—I could be a part of your day. Make you smile. Make you happy.”

🥹🥹🥹