Page 77 of Riptide

As I pull up to the curb and roll the window down, he leans in, resting his arms on the edge of the door with that familiar tilt to his mouth.

“Hey,” he says. “You always drive around picking up stray surfers?”

I smile, the memory of me saying something similar to him still vivid in my mind. “Only the cute ones,” I say as I wink at him.

He laughs, the sound filtering into the car with him, wrapping around me like a hug. I love hearing him laugh. There’s something unguarded about it, and it fills an empty part of me that I’ve been nursing for years.

“You ready?” I ask as he gets into the car, feeling more at ease now that he’s here.

He nods, then reaches for the seatbelt, clicking it into place with ease. “Yeah,” he says, but his voice is tinged with hesitation. “I think so.”

I reach over and place my palm on his thigh, squeezing. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

A warmth spreads over his cheeks as he nods, smiling. “Okay, let’s go.”

The drive is around four hours. He’s made our playlist long enough to cope, and to my surprise, it’s not all Bruno Mars. He also put some Harry Styles on there, which makes me cackle. But when Riley Green and Ella Langley start crooning about looking like they love each other, I go quiet. Suddenly, I’m too aware of everything as I grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Trying not to read too much into a song we didn’t choose together.

We stop to grab gas and snacks. When Finn climbs back into the car with his bag of goodies and a smug grin, I can’t help but mirror him.

“That’s a lot of snacks.”

“It is,” he says happily.

“Is there anything remotely healthy in that bag?”

He bites the corner of his mouth. “Popcorn’s healthy, right?”

I bark a laugh. “Only when it’s popped at home and not covered in sugar and toffee.”

“Well, there are peanuts inside the M&Ms; that’s gotta count for something?” He opens the bag and starts rummaging through, then pulls out a bag of Cheetos, and I groan.

“Now those are my weakness. Will stain your insides orange, but they’re the best kind of snack. My mom used to let me have them on Saturdays after I played baseball.”

He chokes on something as I pull out onto the road again. “You played baseball?”

“It didn’t stick,” I say. “My parents tried to get me to play all kinds of sports, but I loved reading and solving problems instead. My head was forever in a book.”

“You don’t talk about them. Are they nearby?” he asks, genuine curiosity coating his words.

I shake my head, keeping my grip on the wheel. “No, they’re in my hometown in Northern California.” I pause, because that little bit of me that feels the loss of them pings inside my chest, but it’s not anything I’m not used to. “They never came to terms with my sexuality, and when I met Ryan, we married young, and that was that. I haven’t seen them in years.”

Finn’s chest deflates, and I see it out of the corner of my eye. “I’m sorry, that’s really tough.” He’s quiet for a second, then adds, “I don’t know how I would’ve felt if my parents weren’t okay with me being bi.”

I nod once, acknowledging that our coming-out experiences are different, and that’s okay too. “It hurts when someone can’t see you for who you are,” I admit. “I never really thought about it at the time, since I had Ryan. We were in love. Moving to go to college together felt like the start of something. And it was. I mean, it wasn’t perfect, but it was real. Following my heart never felt like the wrong decision.”

I briefly glance over at him to see him watching me. He doesn’t tear his gaze away, even when I look back to the road. Just like in class, I can feel the weight of him—focused, a quiet intensity I don’t know if he realizes he possesses.

“When did you realize you were bi?” I ask.

He bites his lip as he thinks. “Probably when I had my first kisses at twelve.”

I think I mishear him at first. “Kisses?”

“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle. “I kissed Mary-Beth Porter during first break and liked it, then later, during second break, I had that same feeling for Garrett Daniels, so I kissed him too and liked that as well. I went home and told my mom, and she explained a lot about different sexualities.

“Her older sister, my Aunt Carrie, is bisexual, so I talked to her at some point. She had a lot more insight, and she was great at helping me through my teenage years, because I had a lot of questions. Eventually, when I was around fifteen, I decided that being bisexual felt right for me. I was lucky. I know I was fortunate to have support the whole way through, and I don’t take that for granted.”

He’s right—he is lucky. And I don’t think that just because my experience was different from his or that I’m envious in any way. I think it because it matters, to be accepted exactly as you are. To know you never have to change yourself to make other people comfortable. That being who you are isn’t the exception; it should be the norm. That belief is what kept me going all these years. The knowledge, and hope, that not everyone will turn their backs on you because of who you love. Love shouldn’t come with conditions.

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