Pride

2

My mom is super supportive. And even though my dad likes to pretend that he doesn't know
much about the whole thing, he is very supportive in his own way too. That's doesn't automatically make me this super confident person. I really wish it did. Then I could simply walk up to Nolan and ask him what I've been wanting to ask him for so long.

My mom had the habit of keeping all different kinds of calendars around the house. I think she was slightly obsessed with them. The one hanging in the kitchen was covered in the most gaudy pictures of cats I had ever seen. It was awful, and dad and I both hated it. We hated most of mom's calendars.

But one thing that usually warmed my heart, about all of these calendars, was the rainbow she had drawn on the date of the pride parade. The date was circled at least twenty times, and my mom's slopping handwriting reminded me that I had less than two weeks to get my act together. Today, instead of bringing a smile to my face, like it normally would, it caused me to groan in frustration.

"What's the matter, dear?"

It seemed that my mom always just magically appeared when I had a problem. Really awesome some times, but kind of weird.

"Nothing." I sighed again, looking at the calendar one more time just to make sure the date was right. I had thirteen days left.

"Nervous about the parade?" I turned to see her already busy by the stove, starting what looked like pancakes. She had half her attention focused on that, but her head tilted back towards me, waiting for my answer.

"Not about the parade..."

"What is it then? Is it about what you're going to wear?" She started whisking the batter, brushing back a long strand of her hair as she looked back at me.

"Well, it's not really that—"

"Because I really think you should just drape the flag on your back and not worry about it. Is it about not really being out to your whole school yet?"

"That wasn't why I sighed originally, but thank you for reminding me of that. I bet there are going to be tons of people around there who aren't supporters, and what if—"

"Don't you sit by your friend Chris at school?" My mom cut me off, and I blinked in surprise at the question.

"Yes."

"He's kind of the type you imagine when you hear gay. I know that's stereotyping, but I can't help it." She added when I began to protest. "All I'm saying is that I don't think anyone will be surprised to see you there."

"I guess not." Something told me not to bring up Nolan. Knowing my mom, she'd probably instantly fall I love with him and invite him for me if I wasn't brave enough to.

I don't think I'm that desperate. Yet.

——————

So I was trying to avoid Nolan. Because apparently that's a good way to ask someone to come to the parade with you.

It didn't help that Chris was going everything he could make us run in to each other. Even going so far as to call Nolan over to look at something in his locker, and then pretending like he forgot it at home.

My locker was right next to Chris', so Nolan was standing between us, his tall frame leaning on Chris' now closed locker.

"Oh I left something in class! I'll be right back!" Chris ran off, leaving me alone with Nolan.

"Hi." He smiled warmly at me, and I think I managed what looked like a smile before opening my locker and pretending to look for something in it.

"Do you have a problem with me?" I started at the sound of his voice so near to me, and looked up to see him leaning on the top of my locker, looking down at me.

"Well, you're really tall." There. A complete sentence with no pauses freezing up. Chris would be proud.

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Well, you're pretty short, you know."

"Really? That must have escaped my notice all these years." I turned my attention back to the contents of my locker, but not before I saw his hands come up in surrender.

"Anything else?" He was still smiling, and I let myself make eye contact with him for a split second.

"And you have green eyes! Who are you? Harry Styles?"

"I wish! Should I grow my hair out like him?" He ran his hand through his close cropped hair, and my gaze automatically followed it.

"I don't think so. Your hair is nice."

"Thanks. But really, there isn't anything wrong with your height, or your brown eyes. In fact, I think they are much nicer than mine." He leaned in closer, and I felt myself turning red.

"Yes, well, I...I need to get to class." I grabbed my book of out my locker, pulling it shut so quickly he has to jump back to get his arms off the top of it in time. I hurried off before he could say anything else to me.

Chris was waiting for my at the door to put next class, and expectant smile on his face.

"Well?"

"Well what?" I snapped.

"Did you ask him?"

"No! I couldn't...he got so close, and I..." Chris' perfect eyebrows lifted higher and higher as I spoke, his smiled getting even bigger. "I didn't ask him."

"Well, there's always next time. And I have a feeling you won't be able to hold out much longer."