"I want to give you all the love you deserve."
___
Hadley Carter has struggled with her sexuality ever since childhood. She keeps her feelings hidden out of fear of judgement and not being accepted by oth...
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The week progresses slowly.
I find it safe to assume Delaney has not yet sent the picture she took of me and Devon kissing to either of my parents, as they treat me no different than usual—at least, no differently than they have since the summer. Mom tries too hard to get me to talk to her, while I try my best to avoid her. I'm certain that if my mother had seen any incriminating photo of me and another female, she'd be losing her mind right now instead of making dinner.
However, things at school have definitely changed. I no longer hang out with Delaney and the girls, having replaced their significance in my life with Devon and her friends. I'm certain Delaney has told the girls about my relationship with Devon, as they shoot me dirty looks or glance at me in disgust whenever I run into them. Bianca ignores me in gym class and Grace hasn't spoken to me in a while. Delaney still tries to make my life hell from afar, though she hasn't released the photo or started any rumors. I'm clueless as to what she's planning, knowing she isn't going to just let me off the hook. Not after our argument last Friday. I try my best not to dwell on the torment I know is to come, instead enjoying the calm before the storm.
I spend an increasing amount of time with Devon and her friends. I'm almost always over at Devon's house or riding around town with her. Half the time we hang out we have a friend with us, and that's usually Mason. I love every second I spend with Devon, though I'm particularly fond of the time we get to share alone.
These thoughts pass through my mind as I sit at the kitchen table with my family, waiting for dinner to be done. I don't talk much, tuning in and out of the conversation flowing around me. Reagan asks a few questions now and then that I respond to, though I ultimately remain silent.
I return to reality as Mom takes a seat, joining us for dinner now that plates have been served. The four of us start our meal in silence, which I know won't last long. My mother has always tried to make our family seem as perfect as the fake families you'd see pictured in some Home Goods magazine. However, she has yet to succeed in doing so.
"So," Mom says, twirling pasta around her fork as her piercing blue-eyed gaze falls on me, "you've been hanging out with the girls a lot recently. What have you guys been up to, Hads?"
I cringe at my mother's use of my nickname, dreading having to respond. It takes all of the strength I can muster just to look at her after she sent me away to that horrid place over the summer. Flashbacks of our talk in the airport haunt me as I hold Mom's stare, quickly glancing away to rid myself of the memory.
I shrug, focusing my attention on the plate before me. "Things," I mumble. I shove a forkful of pasta into my mouth to avoid further conversation.
"What kind of things?" Mom prompts. I feel her eyes boring into me, no doubt turning a frostier shade of blue by the second. I know she's getting frustrated with me. Mom is always pushing me to open up, while I do the opposite and instead take steps backwards. In other words, she isn't getting through to me the way she wants to.
