17. Dex

17

DEX

It's Saturday morning, and I'm volunteering for the local LGBTQ+ Teen Center's food and clothing drive with the campus club. But it's about more than food for the houseless teens who end up there. It's also school supplies, undergarments, and bedding, among other things that are sorely needed to fulfill their basic needs.

I help Jason set up a table in the center of campus to accept donations, and students seem more than willing to give. Some drop off canned goods, while others donate money they dig out of their pockets, and let me tell you, every little bit counts.

There's another group nearby handing out flyers for some sort of event and one of them with brown hair approaches me.

"Hi, I'm Jay. Can I hand you the deets about our oil-drilling protest?"

"Sure." I take the paper, focusing on the time and date and the fact that it's taking place on the beach. "A drag show theme? Sounds great."

"Right?" He smiles big. I can see the gleam in his eye. The same one I probably get when I'm proud of something I've done to help the community. In Jay's case, it's for the environment. The two definitely go hand in hand.

Jay turns to a group of students walking by to hand out more flyers.

"Hope you get a huge turnout," I call after him.

I make a mental note to show up myself, hopefully with Austin in tow.

Speak of the devil, I smile when I spot Kael and Austin heading in my direction, holding two large garbage bags. I only briefly mentioned the fundraiser, so I'm pleasantly surprised to see them.

"What have you got there?" I ask when they set the bags on the table. Jason raises his eyebrows in our direction, though he's busy chatting with the other club members who showed up to volunteer.

"Mostly underwear and socks," Austin replies. "It was Kael's idea to include chest binders and packers for the trans youth."

"It's hard out there, especially if you don't have support at home," Kael says, and my heart clenches. His input is invaluable.

"This is amazing. Thanks so much."

"You're welcome," Austin says. "We'll leave you to it, then."

"Where are you headed now?" I wish he'd hang out a bit, though I'll be seeing him tonight for our second date.

"To grab lunch on the pier." He arches a brow. "Want me to bring you something?"

I've been so busy I forgot to eat. "That would be fantastic."

"Will do." He smiles. "See you soon."

There's no need to tell him what I want. He's well-acquainted with my menu choices from practically every single place around here. And as I watch them walk away, I think about how cool that is. We know each other so well.

I consider what Milo said at the movie the other night and how that made me feel—both warm and panicky. No way I'd ever want to wreck my friendship with Austin. And since we've started this whole fake-dating thing, Austin seems more attuned to every word and action between us. Though it was heartening to hear his contented sigh when brushing my fingers over his scalp. He's got good hair. How could I not run my hands through it?

About an hour later, I'm staffing the table alone while Jason and another volunteer head off to hand out more flyers. I spot Austin and Kael walking toward me, holding a bag of Luco burgers, and my mouth waters at the thought of those salty fries.

"Oh God, what did I do to deserve a best friend like you?" I'm so hungry that I snatch the bag from his hands.

I'm already taking out the burger and unwrapping it as Austin watches me. "You are pretty lucky."

"I am," I reply around a bite of food.

"You guys are too cute," Kael says with a smirk. "You don't even have to practice for tonight."

I nearly choke on my fry because that sounds way too on the nose. Austin must think so too because he doesn't meet my eyes.

"I've got a paper to write," Austin says as if that's his cue to make his exit.

"See you tonight," I say with a wave. "Thanks again."

I devour my food before organizing more donations, and before I know it, the afternoon has passed, and Jason and I are helping the other volunteers pack it all up. We load the stuff into Jason's truck so he can drive it to the teen center.

I smile to myself as I head back to Poli House. It's always a high to help those in need. It's times like these that I'm grateful to have landed on my major, even if some of the classwork is boring. I considered social work as an option too, but I'm more interested in helping communities from a policy standpoint.

My cell buzzes with a call from Mom. I push the button to answer. "Hi there."

"Hi yourself. What are you up to?"

"I just finished helping out with a fundraiser."

"Have I told you how proud you make me?"

"Thanks." Even though I've heard it before, my cheeks burn. "You realize you had a lot to do with teaching me how hard it can be for some people."

"By making all the wrong decisions?" I can hear the anguish in her voice. "I'm sorry for?—"

"Mom, stop. You've apologized a hundred times. I don't regret any of those experiences. They made me who I am."

I want to avoid any conversation where she spirals into self-doubt and disappointment over my dad. Sometimes, it's like she lives in the past. If only she'd remained in therapy instead of walking out on a counselor who seemed to be getting somewhere with her…

"But now you're gun-shy about relationships, and I'm sure it has to do with?—"

"You can't help that Dad left us." The last time I laid eyes on my father was when I was twelve years old. "And don't even say that you could've done something differently to make him stay. He chose to cheat and become a deadbeat dad."

He could've helped with child support so we didn't struggle so hard, but he disappeared from our lives. If I ever get the opportunity to be face-to-face with him again, I might not be able to resist letting my words fly. Maybe even my fists.

"You're right," Mom replies. "But I'm to blame too."

Mom was eighteen when she had me, so in a way, we grew up together. She'd been so heartbroken when Dad abandoned us that she'd sworn off all men. But that hadn't lasted long. It's as if she feels that being in a relationship will fill a part of her that's remained empty from Dad walking out. No amount of heart-to-hearts ever seems to change that thinking. But it's certainly shaped my worldview.

Mom finally found a steady job as a customer-service rep and was promoted to shift manager last year. That gives her some much-needed confidence, except when it comes to awful men who treat her like crap. Some have been married, others should never walk down the aisle with anyone, and every time another relationship ends, Mom blames herself most of all. That's half the problem. She can't see how she chooses the same kind of men who don't treat her with the respect she deserves. Suppose what the therapist told her was true—that she has to find some respect for herself first. Instead of dropping out of counseling, she should be fleeing these fucked-up relationships.

"But this time," she says, "I think I finally found the one." I recognize that upward swing in pitch, and I inwardly groan.

"Let me guess." I try to temper my tone. "Someone you met on a dating site?"

She giggles like a young girl. "His name is Tim."

I squeeze my eyes shut. "After the last guy, you agreed to find more friends to spend time with." Most of her friends are from her job, but she recently joined an exercise class, so I'd hoped she'd meet new people.

It's like she doesn't even hear me when she blurts excitedly, "He says he wants to marry me."

I scrub a hand over my face. "Lots of men have said that to you."

"But I think he means it. He even brought me flowers and chocolate."

I perk up at this. It might be a first. Or he's just a good con man. "That's nice. I'll hope for the best."

Back at Poli House, I shower, change, and pace around the room, deciding on what to wear. I'm never like this with hookups, but I somehow switch into serious-dater mode when it comes to Austin.

"Plans tonight?" Milo asks.

"Yep, with Austin."

He nods, and I'm glad there's no retort about us dating.

"Where to?"

"An LGBTQ+ mixer at the Love Shack."

"Sounds fun." There's a wistfulness in his tone, and I wonder if he's missing his ex-girlfriend, who attends college across the country. He only briefly mentioned that they broke up, but he does scroll through his photos app a lot, not that I'd call him on it.

"It should be." I don't mention the color-coded thing because the whole top/bottom discussion outside of the community can sometimes turn uncomfortable. Besides, I have no idea if that's even on the agenda tonight. "How about you?"

He hitches a shoulder. "Might just hang around here."

I feel guilty but not enough to cancel on Austin. No doubt a few of the other housemates will be around tonight, and there are enough video consoles and television sets to keep everyone occupied if they're searching for distractions.

I head toward the door. "See you later."

I walk downstairs to wait for Austin. Ian is in the living room, playing some sort of survival game, which proves my point.

"You had a great turnout today," Ian says, referring to the fundraiser.

"We did. Bet they were surprised how much stuff we dropped off."

Ian is pretty charitable himself, so he gets how fulfilling it can be. "And grateful."

I smile. "True."

A knock startles me, despite knowing it's Austin.

"Hey there!" I say as I swing open the door.

What I didn't expect was for him to be holding a Bean Necessities cup. "Thought I'd bring you a coffee. After a day like today, you could probably use it."

I notice the red heart on the sleeve as he hands it to me. It's a coffee shop promotion, but it still warms my stomach.

"God, thank you." I sip the coffee, not realizing how much I've been craving some caffeine. "First food, and now a drink? Best. Friend. Ever."

He beams. "And don't you forget it."

Austin has his hair styled away from his forehead, which makes his freckles more prominent, but I won't tell him that since I know he's not fond of them. He has on a different shirt than on our last date, and I notice the pulse point at his neck, which tells me how nervous he is.

"I like the heart," I say, pointing to the cup.

"Didn't, I…I mean…I didn't mean anything by it."

"I'm hurt," I tease. "You don't love me?"

"Ugh, you suck." He stares at his shoes. "You know I do."

"Aw, thanks. I love you too."

Our eyes meet and hold for one awkward second.

Austin breaks the tension by throwing out a ridiculous fact. "Did you know those coffee sleeves are called zarfs?"

"Excuse me? Did you just pass gas?"

He belts out a laugh, and it's contagious.

Austin follows me out the door as we create ridiculous sentences with the new word.

"You just cut the zarf."

"Oh, zarf off."

So far, our second fake date is off to a good start.