I blink, stunned for a second. Daniel doesn’t usually play the righteous defender—he’s more of a ‘laugh it off and move on’ kind of guy—but he’s standing his ground like it’s personal.
My mom clutches her napkin. “We only want what’s best for him.”
“Then maybe start by askinghimwhat that looks like,” Daniel replies. “Instead of assuming your version of salvation is the only one that counts.”
Daniel glances at me, the edge in his voice softening. “Luke’s one of the most loyal, brilliant people I know. He walks into every room like he owns it, but he still makes space for everyone else. He feels everything a little too much but pretends he doesn’t. And somehow, after everything, he’s still kind. He still has love in his heart for his friends.”
My throat closes.
He shrugs, leaning back. “But sure. Keep worrying about his clothes, make-up, and who he loves.”
Silence.
Thick and heavy and choking.
My parents blink like they’ve just been slapped. My mom’s fork pauses halfway to her mouth. My dad clears his throat as if he’s going to say something, but no words come out.
Daniel doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look away. “You know,” he says lightly, “my parents believe in God too. Only their God loves all of His creations… including the gay ones.”
Another beat of silence.
Then he smiles, slow and unapologetic. “You should try it sometime.”
Daniel pushes back from the table and stands. The legs of his chair scrape against the floor, loud in the heavy silence. He offers his hand to me without a word.
His palm is steady.
“C’mon,” he says, voice calm but final. “Let’s get my boyfriend out of here before I commit a very real crime.”
I stare at him for a second. Then I slide my hand into his and let him pull me up.
We don’t say goodbye. We don’t look back.
We just walk out.
FIFTEEN
LUKE
The car is quiet,the kind of quiet that holds something heavy in its chest. Daniel drives one-handed, the other tapping a restless rhythm on the steering wheel. I sit stiffly in the passenger seat, hands in my lap, replaying everything in my head. Every comment. Every tight-lipped smile. Every time I bit my tongue when I wanted to bite back.
But mostly, I’m thinking about what Daniel said.
Still kind. He still has love in his heart for his friends.
That part keeps echoing.
Eventually, I exhale and glance over at him. “Hey.”
He flicks his eyes toward me, then back to the road. “Yeah?”
“Thanks,” I say softly. “For that. For all of it.”
Daniel’s mouth curves just a little. “Anytime, glitter boy.”
I huff a breath that’s almost a laugh and look out the window. It doesn’t fix everything. But it feels like something.
Daniel pulls up in front of our building, the car idlingquietly as the sun starts dipping below the skyline. It casts the world in gold, but I still feel gray on the inside.
