Page 8 of Don't Let Me Go
Audrey nods, her face and body relaxing as Tara/Tala takes her hand. “Audrey and I have been together for two years.”
“Two and a half,” Audrey corrects her.
“You can’t count those first six months.”
“Oh my gosh, Tala, how many times do we have to have this conversation?” Audrey groans melodramatically. “They count. They absolutely count. We went onmultipledates.”
“Yes, but I didn’tknowthey were dates. I just thought you really liked hanging out with me and holding hands.”
“You’resucha little liar!” Audrey laughs, pulling her girlfriend into a hug.
I turn from the cuddling girls to Duy, who casually plucks a speck of lint off Riley’s shoulder in the same way that Micaela used to pick grass off my football jersey.
“So, are all four of you?.?.?.?um...” I realize too late that I have no idea how to finish this question.
“Yes,” Riley growls. “We’re all ‘um.’ Very,very‘um.’?”
Shit. I genuinely didn’t mean to offend anyone. I just wasn’t expecting everyone I met tonight to be gay.
“Cool,” I say, trying to shrug off my awkwardness. “That’s—cool.”
“Glad we have your approval,” Riley shoots back.
Tala shoots him a scolding look. “Be nice, Ri.”
“What? He started it.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, wishing I would just stop talking. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“It’s okay,” Duy assures me, flashing me an amused smile as they adjust the red silk scarf around their neck, the only pop of color in their otherwise all-black ensemble of crop top and short shorts. “We totally acknowledge that your sporty football life back in the conservative wasteland that is Tallahassee might have shielded you from close contact with amazingly fabulous people like us. So, just for today, you get a pass. But for the record, Riley and Audrey identify as gay, Tala is bi, and I’m queer/nonbinary with a preference for guys who look like Henry Golding or Regé-Jean Page. Got all that?”
“Got it.” With everyone sharing their sexuality, it strikes me that I should do the same, so I add, “I’m straight.”
The group stares at me, and once again I find myself wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.
“That was probably obvious,” I say.
Fixing me with his green eyes, Riley grabs one of the hot dogs and pointedly tears the end off with his teeth. “There were clues.”
Chapter 4
Riley
After being force-fed my weight in carnival food over the past half an hour, I can safely say that I never want to see another funnel cake or fried pickle for as long as I live. I know my friends are just looking out for me, but honestly, I feel worse now than I did after I fainted. My insides are practically on the verge of exploding.
“Okay, now that we’ve refueled Riley,” Audrey says as she hops up from the picnic bench, “who’s ready for the Death Drop?”
My stomach makes an inhuman-sounding groan, and I stare at her with unrestrained incredulity. “Are you joking?”
The Death Drop is a so-called ride where people are slowly raised three hundred feet into the air and then sadistically and violently dropped to the earth at fifty miles per hour. It’s never been my favorite attraction, and given my current condition, I would be out of my mind to think that I could ride it and not end up covered in my own vomit.
Not that Audrey seems to register that fact.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, looking genuinely perplexed.
I indicate the enormous swath of grease-stained wrappers strewn across the table in front of me.
“Oh,” she says as the light of realization dawns in her eyes. “Right.”
