Page 173 of Charming Like Us
It’s not the first time the media has pressured him to pick a label. They want some kind of confirmation that he’s into me and it’s not a publicity stunt. Like us kissing isn’t fucking enough.
I hate that he’s being pressured at all.
Tom edges forward in the booth. “When are we finding this Tye Smith guy?” he asks his question. “Because I propose we put bees in his locker. I know a dude—”
“No,” Maximoff cuts in firmly.
Tom waves Thor’s hammer likewhat the hell. “Then what’s this meeting for if we’re not going to plot revenge?”
“It’s a safe place,” Maximoff emphasizes the obvious. “For any of us to come and talk to each other.”
We all have that already. Back when I was single, I’ve been to gay bars with Tom, Maximoff, and Farrow. And Tom will ask questions. He constantly goes to Maximoff for guidance. We’re all willing to share in informal settings, but the formal one is needed too.
For Kinney and for moments where we’re too busy to hit the bars or grab a coffee.
I loved the LGBTQ club I joined in college, and the famous ones don’t trust easily. But they trust security. They trust production. They have us.
Maximoff continues, “And if you need advice or if something shitty happens and we feel like we can’t go to our parents or our friends, we can come here.”
“The Rainbow Brigade,” Kinney says as she slides a button and pin to Jack. “Welcome to the club.”
He picks up both, staring at the letters.
I squeeze him in a closer hug as his eyes redden with involuntary emotion. He seems surprised at his sudden surge of feelings.
I’d love to hear his thoughts, but he looks too choked to express them right now.
“Thanks…” Jack laughs into a brighter smile and lifts the button. “I’ll wear this proudly, Kinney.”
“Cool.” She tries to act nonchalant. Girl is bad at acting because clearly this shit means something to her. And it means something to us, or else none of our asses would be here.
Farrow and Maximoff even left Ripley with his grandparents, all their attention focused on the Rainbow Brigade.
Tom twirls the plastic hammer. “Okay, but the bees—”
“No,” Farrow and Maximoff say together.
“I’m in,” I say, digging into a pint of Rocky Road.
Tom snaps his finger to me. “We’ve got one.”
Maximoff blinks like his brain just malfunctioned. “I’m sorry, I just realized we have way too many Slytherins in this group.”
“Eh, could use one less dork,” Farrow says, smiling a smartass smile on his husband.
“Continuing on,” Maximoff ignores him.
We all laugh.
“Our confessions,” Kinney announces, and seriousness befalls on the booth. She smooths out lacy sleeves of her black dress. “We’re all here to confess something that we’ve kept in.”
That was my bright idea.
This can’t work unless we’re all willing to share here, or else Kinney will just feel like the Rainbow Brigade is for her and notus.
So we’re here knowing we’re going to open up, and that’s when Jack shifts against me. He sits up a little straighter. Runs a hand through his dark hair.
Should I be worried?
