"Please!" I dropped to my knees in front of my parents, clasping my hands together.

"Stop being dramatic." Mom said, readjusting herself on the couch. She reached into the bowl of popcorn Dad held, tossing a few pieces into her mouth.

"I'll do anything." I said, moving to sit on the ottoman for the overstuffed chair.

Dad shook his head. "You're not getting the car back."

"Just for this one night. I'm taking Emmett on our first official date, and I want it to be special."

My parents shared a look. They'd gone out of their way to show support for my relationship with Emmett. Every time he came over, they invited him to stay for dinner. Mom even signed up for the PFLAG newsletter. I kept finding pamphlets around the house about accepting your sexuality, coming out, being a parent to a LGBTQIA+ youth, and how to be an ally. A week ago, I found a printout under my pillow about everything a young gay man should know about having a safe and healthy sex life. I couldn't look at her for two days after that. When I caught her shopping for Pride flags online, I put the kibosh on that, reminding her I wasn't fully out. People would be suspicious if we suddenly started flying a rainbow flag out front.

"What do you think?" Mom asked her husband.

"What if I prove I'm responsible?" I offered.

"How?" Dad sat forward, intrigued.

"What if I got a job? You can stop giving me an allowance. I'll even start paying rent if you want."

I could tell by their reactions that last part had been a step too far into drama queen territory, but I was desperate.

My parents looked at each other again. She raised her brows a fraction. He tilted his head. She pursed her lips. He shrugged. They had a whole conversation, barely saying a word.

Mom turned to me. "You can have the car back. For good."

"For real?" That shocked me. I was talking about one night. I never expected to get it back permanently.

She nodded. "But if you don't take this seriously, or you start slacking off in school, the car is getting sold."

I jumped up and rushed over to hug them both in turn. "I love y'all so much."

"Hold on," Dad said. "I'd rather you find a volunteer position, though, and we'll continue your allowance. I don't want you taking a job from someone who actually needs it."

"Totally. I'll start looking first thing in the morning."

I jumped up, ready to flee, but Mom grabbed my wrist. "I have another stipulation."

I worried what more she could ask for. "What? Do you need a kidney?"

My mother grimaced at me. "I want you to see a new therapist."

"Why?"

"You've been going through a lot of big changes lately, and that can trigger your anxiety."

"Things are good now. Emmett and I are together, and you guys know. It's all okay."

She shook her head. "This is nonnegotiable."

"Fine," I muttered.

"Good. Because you have an appointment Wednesday after school."

My mouth fell open. So, I had no choice one way or the other. "Are you serious?"

"Yep. I got his name from one of the ladies in my Southern Mothers of LGBTQ+ Teens Facebook group."

"We just had this discussion about that stupid flag. You can't join groups like that. I'm not ready for people to know."

"It's a private group. Only the other members know I'm in it, and you can only get in by invite."

"Who invited you?" Dad asked, with a nonchalant curiosity, crunching on a handful of popcorn.

"Barbara Noble."

I groaned. "Whatever."

I fled to my room before they could rethink their decision—or add more conditions—and started my search for a decent restaurant for tonight. I could find a job tomorrow. This was a bit more pressing.

About an hour later, with my plans all set, Emmett sent a photo of an outfit laid out on his bed—dark gray trousers, a black dress shirt and a blue blazer with a splattered paint print. I could never pull off a look like that. Nor would I ever dream of trying.

I know you said fancy, but is this too much?

I chewed on my lip, picturing Emmett in the ensemble.

You're gonna be so hot in that.

😘

I frowned, looking over his outfit again. I had nothing to compare to that. I had planned to wear a nice shirt and a tie with the slacks I got for my cousin's wedding last year.

"Hey, Mom!" I jumped off the bed and jogged into the living room. My parents still sat on the sofa, cuddled up.

"Mom," I repeated.

She paused their movie and looked up. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I need to go shopping."

"Okay," she said, absentmindedly. "I'll take you tomorrow. We'll make a day of it."

I shook my head. "I need to go right now. I need something to wear for my date." I pulled up the image Emmett sent and showed her. "I can't be so basic with him wearing this."

"I've got plenty of sport coats if you want to borrow one."

I suspected Dad's coats would be too big on me. I was much thinner than him. But I didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I said, "I want something special that'll really wow him."

It wasn't a lie. I wanted to impress Emmett. I'd never given much thought to what I would wear on a daily basis, but since getting into a relationship with Emmett, I found myself wanting to always look good for him. To make him take notice of me.

Mom groaned as she stood up, stretching her arms out wide, rolling her neck. "Alright." She pulled the band out of her sandy hair, slipping it over her wrist before she shook her hand through her hair.

I ran back to my room and opened the lockbox coin bank on my desk, pulling out all the extra allowance and birthday money I had saved up. Determined to find something great. I didn't care about the cost. Emmett was worth it.

When I returned to the living room, Rachel came loping down the stairs. "Where are you going?" she asked, seeing our mom with her purse hanging on her arm.

Mom explained what was going on.

"I want to come. Give me two seconds." Rachel turned and raced back upstairs.

"Hurry up!" I yelled after her. "I only have a couple hours to do this."

__________

____

We ended up at the strip mall on the posh side of town. It had a giant fountain in the center of the roundabout at the entrance. Sculpted shrubbery and an array of multicolored flowers lined the pristine sidewalks. Beneath the covered walkway, each store had a fancy placard hanging above the entrance.

In the first store, I felt very out of place in my jogging shorts and t-shirt. My mother and Rachel didn't seem concerned. They chatted about what colors looked best on me. Not bothering to ask my opinion.

"He can't clash, though," Rachel said when Mom suggested a red shirt.

Mom nodded. "Good point. Let's stick to cooler colors." She pointed to a rack of gray shirts.

I wandered around, brushing my fingertips along the luxurious materials.

"Ew! No paisley," Rachel said, too loudly, from the other side of the store.

I stumbled upon a section of printed suit jackets. I suspected Emmett would like these. I couldn't pull off the more audacious prints, like the one on Emmett's blazer, but I kind of liked the simple ones. I flipped through a rack of gray coats with pale pinstripe lines that intersected to make a basic check pattern. It was subtle from afar, but interesting up close.

A beautiful twenty-something blonde woman appeared on the other side of the rack, boasting a gold-plated name tag declaring her Alessandra, Assistant Manager. She wore her hair in a severe bun that probably caused her headaches.

"Can I help you?" She sounded pleasant, offering a smile.

"I don't know my size," I said, pointing to the jackets.

"We can fix that." She produced a roll of measuring tape from the pocket of her black blazer. She gave me instructions on how to stretch my arms and how to stand to get the proper measurements of my chest and waist. "Trust me, you don't want to suck in on this part. You'll end up with a jacket that's too tight and you might pop a button."

I laughed as she moved over to search the jackets for my size. "So, is this a special occasion?"

"It's a first date," I said.

"Fancy first date."

"He's worth it." I hadn't meant to say that out loud. My eyes jumped up to Alessandra's face, searching for any sign of distaste. She was more concerned with finding the jacket. Her dark berry red lips pursed in concentration.

She removed a jacket from the hanger and held it up for me. "Try this."

I slipped my arms through the sleeves. The lining was silky and cool against my skin. She brushed the shoulders down and tugged on the back. She moved around to button the front. "How does that feel?"

I twisted, taking a few deep breaths to make sure it wasn't too tight. "It's nice. The arms are kinda long though." I raised my arm to show the sleeves hanging past my wrist. I wondered if I had short arms, or if they made the sleeves too long on purpose so they could force people to get alterations so it fit properly.

She nodded. "That's an easy fix."

I walked over to a corner with a three-way mirror to check the look. I liked it. "It's for tonight."

"We have one-hour alterations for an additional fee."

I huffed smugly. Of course, it was on purpose. Why pass up any chance to bilk some rich folks out of a few extra bucks?

"How much?" I asked.

"Since it looks like it's just the sleeves, it shouldn't be more than fifty."

Mirror Clay's eyes bugged out. "Dollars?"

She seemed amused. "Of course."

"And how much is the jacket?"

She walked over to check the price on one of the identical coats on the rack. "Oh, it's on sale! Only one-twenty-five." She acted like that was a humongous bargain.

Only one hundred and twenty-five dollars. What a steal, I thought bitterly. I couldn't afford the jacket and the tailoring. I had just shy of $150 from my lockbox, unless I dipped into the money I'd already set aside for the date, which I refused to do. I'd rather borrow an ill-fitting coat from Dad than buy something expensive and have to cheap out on Emmett.

Mom appeared in the mirror behind me. "Honey, that looks great."

"It really does," Rachel added, tilting her head as she looked me over. "I can't believe you picked something that isn't totally boring."

"I'll give you a moment," Alessandra said, stepping away.

Rachel hung an arm over my shoulder, which must have been uncomfortable given how much shorter she was than me. "Maybe being gay really does improve your fashion sense."

I glared at my sister's reflection. Not only was she stereotyping gay people again, she'd just outed me in public—though Alessandra was too far away to hear unless she had the place bugged. If I hadn't already unwittingly done that, I'd be furious with my sister.

I recited the price to my mom and the cost to have it tailored for tonight. "I love it, but I can't afford it."

"I'll cover it," Mom said, brushing her hand over my shoulder as she circled around to stand in front of me, appraising the coat.

"I can't let you do that. You already gave me back my car. It's too much."

"Don't worry about it." She cupped my cheek. "We'll call it an early birthday gift."

"My birthday is over a month from now."

She tapped my cheek before dropping her hand. "That's why I said early, smartass."

I removed the jacket and folded it over my arm. I suspected this was another attempt for Mom to prove how much she supported my relationship. Which was fine by me. If she wanted to pay for it, I wasn't about to stop her.

Alessandra returned with a crisp white shirt. "I thought I'd suggest this, if you need a shirt. It's your size."

So that's why she measured my neck. I should've guessed.

"He also needs pants," Mom said.

"This blazer has a matching trouser," Alessandra said.

"Ooh, we'd like to see those," Mom said, taking the shirt.

"We would?" I asked. "Won't that be a bit much to have pants and a jacket in this pattern?"

"I think you can pull it off," Alessandra said, giving me a wink. I knew what she was doing. This wasn't real flirting. She was building up my ego to get me to purchase more so she could get a bigger commission.

Before I could protest, Alessandra flitted away. She returned with the matching trousers in my size. "We also have a vest, if you're interested."

"No!" I said. A suit was already much more than I intended to buy. I wasn't wearing a vest, too.

"Do you have somewhere he can try those on?" Mom asked.

"Of course." Alessandra beckoned me to follow her.

The fitting room wasn't like the ones I was used to, with slatted doors that didn't even reach the floor. It was a full room with a settee and a small table with a lamp and a bowl of overpowering citrus potpourri. A full-length gilt-framed mirror hung on one wall to offer me a look at myself, without having to leave the room. The pants actually fit great, except for the pooling around my feet. I walked out to show them off.

They all complimented me.

"We can have those hemmed when we alter the jacket," Alessandra said.

"That sounds great," Mom said.

While Mom went to pay for everything, a young man—Russell, according to his name tag—came to pin my hem. I tried not to stare at him. He had a boyish look about him, though he was definitely in his twenties. He had beautiful brown skin and thick, wavy dark hair parted to the side. I had the urge to run my fingers through it. But I refrained. He reminded me so much of someone else, but it wouldn't come to me.

After a few minutes of unabashedly staring at him, the answer finally struck. He reminded me of the boy who was a counselor at the summer camp I attended when I was younger. Jacob. I hadn't thought about him in years. Not since that last summer at camp right before eighth grade started.

I admired Jacob so much. He was the coolest guy I'd ever met. I followed him everywhere all summer. I did whatever I could to spend extra time with him, always volunteering to help with equipment, setting up activities, and cleaning up afterwards. If Jacob ever wanted help motivating the other campers into playing games or doing activities, he would turn to me for help. Every time he praised me, I got a thrill. Jacob's approval meant everything to me.

Near the end of that summer, Jacob started spending all of his time with one of the female counselors, taking away from his time with me. I got so angry after that; I punched one of my bunkmates for something stupid that I couldn't even remember anymore. They banned me from the final week's activities, which were always the most fun part of camp. When Jacob came into the cabin to check on me during the bonfire on the last night, I was so upset I wanted to cry. He tried to get me to talk about it, even suggesting he would hang out with me for a bit. I said something about that girl missing him, then I laid down and turned my back to him. I bawled my eyes out after he left. I never went back to camp. I couldn't face Jacob after being such a brat.

I wondered where I had been storing that memory. I'd always remembered camp, and I knew I had such a miserable time my last summer there that I never wanted to go back, but I somehow repressed the reason.

Back then, I assumed Jacob fascinated me because he was in high school, whereas I had only just finished seventh grade. Thinking about it now, I'm pretty sure I had been in love with him. Or at least the thirteen-year-old boy's version of love, which was basically just infatuation.

I guess Emmett wasn't the first boy I'd ever had a crush on. How could I forget that?

Looking at the tailor, I realized he didn't look that much like Jacob at all. Their faces were totally different, and Jacob always had a shaved head. Jacob's skin was also darker. I didn't know why Russell had brought back that memory. Was it just because I thought he was attractive?

Maybe admitting my feelings for Emmett allowed me to acknowledge my attraction to other guys. Perhaps it triggered that dormant part of my brain that kept Jacob a secret until I was ready to process it.

I was suddenly curious what ever happened to Jacob. Would he remember me if we met again? What would he think if I told him how much he meant to me back then? Would he be flattered or repulsed?

It was questions like that which made me understand why I blocked out that part of myself for so long. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe I did need a therapist.

"This is an awesome suit," Russell said.

"Uh-huh."

When Russell stood up to mark the jacket sleeve length, I got a whiff of his woodsy cologne. He smelled delicious.

Russell helped me out of the jacket. "And I need the pants. Just be careful of the pins."

I stepped into the dressing room to exchange the pants for my shorts, offering them to him. I hurried out to find my mom and Rachel.

"We'll call when the alterations are finished." Alessandra flashed a brilliant smile. She was probably thinking about the huge commission coming her way.

"Thank you for all your help," Mom said.

"My pleasure." Alessandra turned her eyes to me. "Whoever he is, he's going to love it."

So she definitely heard me earlier. Either that, or my theory about listening devices wasn't so far-fetched.

I smiled. "Thanks."

"What are we going to do for an hour?" Mom asked, checking her watch as we exited the store.

I looked around the plaza at the other shops. Most of them were clothing and jewelry stores, and I already had everything I needed. We certainly didn't need to go shopping for overpriced home decor or furniture.

Rachel tugged on my sleeve. When I looked at her, she casually gestured toward a salon. She whispered, "If you really want to change your hair, now would be a good time to ask, while she's feeling generous."

That day at breakfast after the accident, when I learned I wouldn't be getting my car back, I decided to put off dying my hair. I didn't want to risk losing my visitation time with Emmett for the sake of a few highlights. Maybe now was the time.

"Hey, Mom," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Can I get my hair dyed?"

"Dyed?" Her forehead creased. "What color?"

"I was thinking just maybe some blue highlights."

"Really?" She sounded confused. Probably because I'd never expressed an interest in anything of this sort before.

I nodded. I had an idea to push her over the edge of acceptance. "I'm just trying to express my genuine self. I think this would help." I got that "genuine self" thing out of one of her pamphlets. It might be a bit manipulative, but I really wanted this. And it was true.

She glanced at Rachel, probably recalling her freak-out over the pink dye job. She sighed. "Do you want to get yours done, too, Bean?"

Rachel's lips spread so wide I could see her molars. "Oh my God! Yes!"

Rachel hugged me as we walked toward the salon. "You being gay is the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Rachel!" Mom scolded.

I just laughed, putting an arm around my sister. It was the best thing that ever happened to me, too.