Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
This was a big deal to him. He let me into the most private and sacred part of his life.
I cleared my throat before I did something unthinkable, like choke up, then said, “We better get in. They might fire you if you’re late.”
He grinned and squeezed my hand, seeming to understand the subtext for the sappy excitement over the invitation that it was, even if I worried I’d embarrass the hell out of him by crashing and burning with the kids.
Ryder pulled open the heavy door and gestured for me to enter before him. When I narrowed my eyes, he laughed, then whispered, “You got me. I’m not just a polite boy. Sue me for wanting an extra peek of your ass.”
My eyes widened, and I elbowed him as I passed—that devil. Now, I was going to be walking into a youth center fighting an erection. Perfect.
I stepped in, and a rush of warmth spilled over me like a rolling wave. The air smelled faintly of vanilla and fresh paint. A low hum of laughter, music, and muffled conversations blended, creating a gentle atmosphere of controlled chaos.
A mural stretched along the main wall—another radiant rainbow stretching across a clear blue sky dotted with plush white clouds. Bold, encouraging affirmations decorated the wall above and below the arc of the rainbow.
You are loved.
Your voice matters.
Be proud.
There were at least a dozen other mantras to empower the kids in a way I never had been. Sure, I was damn lucky my mom never gave me grief about my sexuality, but that was more because her days were consumed with her illness. I didn’t begrudge her that, and I’d take mild apathy over belittlement from a parent any day, but it would have been amazing to hear some of these declarations as a confused teenage boy.
Cushioned benches lined the walls of the open space. Some were scattered with mismatched but plush pillows in every color imaginable. Teens and tweens clustered around a wide, low coffee table in the center of the room, playing an intense game of Uno while another group leaned over a half-finished jigsaw puzzle, and another group sat at a table, completing what appeared to be homework. On the far side of the room, a rainbow flag draped across a doorframe led to a cozy lounge area, where a few kids curled up with books or tapped away at their phones.
A bulletin board covered in flyers stood by the front desk with announcements for art classes, movie nights, basketball games, and support groups. Above it, a banner in shimmering gold letters read, Welcome Home.
I imagined this place literally saved lives.
My shoulders relaxed almost immediately. The anxious knot in my stomach began to unwind. If this center was a safe place for these kids, it could be for me as well.
A volunteer, a young woman with a shaved head and pierced lip sat behind the desk, mouthing along to the overhead song as she typed something into her dinosaur of a computer. She wore a royal-blue polo shirt with a rainbow and the center’s name over her heart. An enamel pin reading, Here For You, dangled from the collar of her polo.
Somehow, we caught her attention, and she glanced our way only to have a radiant smile break out across her face. “Ryder!” she practically shouted. “Micky mentioned you were coming today.”
The second Ryder’s name left her lips, heads popped up all over the room. Two seconds after that, screeches, whoops, and shouts of “Ryder’s here!” went up throughout the center. Then, before I had a chance to process the incoming tsunami of teenagers, Ryder’s hand ripped from mine as a gaggle of gangly arms and legs wrapped around him from all angles.
He sent me a rueful grin that I waved away right before turning his attention to the kids.
“Micky! What’s up, my man? Hey, Kimber, love the new hair color. TJ, can’t wait to hear how your school debate went,” and so on until I was beyond impressed with his memory and recall of each child and something personal from their lives.
My cold heart melted a fraction while I watched him display a monumental amount of patience as the teens and tweens began to pull him in all directions. “Ryder, you owe me a basketball game. Ryder, will you play Minecraft with me? Ryder, I need help with my math homework.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He lifted his hands in surrender. “Did they give you each ten sugar packets when you walked in the door today? Let me introduce you guys to someone before we do anything else.”
What felt like a million curious young gazes turned my way.
“Hey.” I lifted a hand for an awkward wave like the social superstar I was.
“Guys, this is Alex. He’s a pretty special dude, so go easy on him and don’t tell him any bad stories about me, okay?”