He pulls back just enough for our eyes to meet, a hollow laugh slipping from his lips. “Oh. I told him that if he has a crush on Ethan, he should just ask him out.”
My lips part. “You think this is an extreme case of pulling someone’s ponytail on the playground?”
“Maybe.” His hand moves to my waist, as if he can’t help buttouch me. “If it’s not, the implication made him uncomfortable enough that he’ll never want anything to do with Ethan again.”
I let out a small laugh, though it’s more nerves than humor. He could be right. I wouldn’t put any of this past a sixteen-year-old. Hormones make you stupid.
“Rafael?”
“Yes?” His nose presses against my temple, my heart stuttering at the softness of his voice.
I bite my lip, hesitating before looking up. His eyes are on mine, watching carefully, waiting for me to unravel whatever’s running through my mind.
“Do you think…” My voice falters, but I press on, my fingers brushing against the collar of his T-shirt. “Do you think Ethan’s gay?”
His gaze is steady as he slowly nods. “Yes, I do, Detective.”
the breakthrough[trope]
the exhilarating moment when the protagonists uncover the crucial piece of evidence; expect a mix of gasps, dramatic reveals, and the classic “I’ve suspected you all along!” moment, culminating in the satisfaction of finally piecing together the mystery
“I just don’t get why he didn’t tell me,” I whine, the smell of coffee mingling with the sound of sizzling eggs. Rafael leans against the counter while I whisk a bowl of pancake batter. “He knows Paige is bi. He’s met Vanessa. Hehasto know I’m as LGBTQIA+ friendly as it gets. So does he not trust me?”
“It’s not about you, Freckles,” he says, lazily stirring a pot of oatmeal. We’ve been having the same conversation since last night, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Or convince myself that it’s not my fault. I should have created a safe space for him, made sure he’d feel comfortable talking to me about this.
“Then what is it?”
“I told you. He’s sixteen. He’s probably still figuring it out.”
“But why?” I insist, pouring a ladleful of batter into the pan and watching it spread. “He could figure it out with me. Why do it all alone?”
“Because he’s scared people will judge him.” He expects my next question and says, “Yes, even you.”
“But—”
“Scarlett.” He sets the spoon down with a soft clink. “His sexuality doesn’t matter to you or me, but this is a small community. Your grandparents’ world is even smaller. Ethan knows these thingsdomatter, unfortunately.”
I glance over my shoulder at the hallway, making sure he’s nowhere around. The pancake bubbles, so I flip it, lost in thought. “I just hate that he has to deal with this. That he even has toconsiderwhat other people think.”
He watches me closely with that intense gaze. “That I get. You have the right to be mad at the world for making him feel this way.”
I set the spatula down, the same thoughts buzzing through my mind in an endless loop. “How do you think the other kids found out?”
“They probably saw him kiss his boyfriend,” he says matter-of-factly.
I spin around. “Hiswhat?”
He arches a brow. “Come on. Really?”
“Wait—Jace?” I gasp. “Oh my God, Jace is his boyfriend. Of course!”
“Uh-huh.”
I run the timeline through my head. Ethan’s cryptic complaints about our grandparents—how they want him to be something he’snot, how they hate his new friend. “Our grandparents know. They know Ethan is gay, and they didn’t say a word.”
Rafael nods solemnly. “And my guess is they don’t approve. Which is why their solution to Ethan not fitting in is to send him away. They probably know at some point he’ll come out, and they don’t want him around for that.”
“Thoseanimals,” I hiss, slamming the spatula onto the counter. “What have they been saying to him? Oh, I’ll straighten them outimmediately. I’ll—”
