The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(72)

Bo leans her head on my shoulder, and I want to melt into the grass under me. Because she’s not afraid of making me uncomfortable anymore. Because she’s comfortable like this. Because her parents are right here with us and it’s not weird. I respond by leaning my head on hers, so she knows I’m not being weird. And because I want to. Because I’m comfortable, too.

Even though I like her, it’s not about that at all right now. I’m just happy to be this close with someone.

It’s not long before Bo’s parents start packing up.

“What? We’re going home already?” Bo whines.

“No, we’re going home already,” Bo’s mom says. “We’re old, honey. You two enjoy the fireworks.”

I don’t need to hide my relief. This feels too intimate, and I don’t want to ruin it by going back. Bo and I stay lying out on the grass.

“Is it weird if we cuddle?” Bo asks. Thank God, too, because I’m cold and gay.

“Not weird. It’s cold.” I throw the blanket Bo’s parents left over both of us and hug Bo’s arm like a body pillow. I can feel her shivering.

I hope she doesn’t catch on to how badly I’ve been wanting to snuggle up to her ever since I dreamed about cuddling her after the homecoming party. But this is way better. We don’t talk for a while. I used to think silence could only be awkward, but it’s not. I’m just watching the fireworks and enjoying her company. No music necessary.

When the fireworks slow down a bit, I sit up to watch their sparkling reflections in the lake. I like how the reflection distorts the lights just enough that it feels like a dream.

“Yamilet. Have I ever told you how much I like that name?”

“You do?” I feel my cheeks darken, and I hope she thinks it’s from the cold.

“Yeah. It’s really pretty.”

“Well, I really like your name, too.”

She turns her head fast and gives me a skeptical look.

“What? Why’s that hard to believe?” I ask.

“Because it’s a weird name. It sounds like a dog name.”

“Well, I like it. I’m allowed to like it, okay? It’s cute. We both have weird names, but good names. I love my name. I just wish more people would say it right.”

“Oh, shit, am I saying it wrong?” she asks.

“No, actually. A lot of people don’t even try. It’s not even that hard a name to pronounce, but people are always getting it wrong.”

“That sucks. Everyone thinks Bo is a nickname, but no, it’s my real name. At least no one ever mispronounces it.” She laughs.

“What does it mean?” I ask.

“You first.” She’s blushing, for some reason.

“Uh, one second.” I don’t actually know what my name means, so I pull out my phone to look it up.

“Apparently it’s the Spanish equivalent of Jamila. Which means ‘beautiful.’”

“You’re shitting me!” Bo slaps her hands on the ground. “That’s what my name means!”

“Quit lying! Seriously?”

“YES! Technically it’s misspelled French, but yeah.”

I giggle. Bo. Bo-nita.

“It’s fitting.” I smile. This is the closest I can get to admitting how I feel. A coded message that I think she’s beautiful.

She blushes again. “All right, we both have good names.”

We’re both quiet for a while. Every time I find out something new about Bo, it makes it harder to deny how into her I am. I’ll admit it. Even if only to myself. I like her so much.

I think I’m more comfortable in the silence than she is, because she speaks up again after a few minutes.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure. But I get to ask you one, too.” I smile.

“Okay, you first.”

I like the question game. I hear it’s prime flirting material, but I just want to get to know Bo better. The first questions that come to mind are about Bo’s coming-out process. Were her parents always this supportive? Were her friends? The next thing I want to ask about is her girlfriend. Is she happy? How serious are they? But then, it’s probably best to stay away from gay stuff, in case it comes back to me somehow. I ask a safer question.

“What’s your New Year’s resolution?”

“To take things less personally.” She answers quickly enough that it’s obvious she’s already thought about it. “What about you?”

“To get rich.”

“No, seriously!” Bo laughs. “What’s something you really want to do better?”

I was being serious, though, even if it’s an exaggeration. I need to get rich enough to be financially independent. But I don’t know if Bo would understand that, since she’s already rich. Still, I look up at the sky and think. There are plenty of things I want to be better at besides making money.

“I guess I want to be more brave,” I say. Brave like Bo.

“Okay. I’ll work on taking things less personally, and you”— Bo holds out her pinky to me, and I take it—“will be brave.”

Her eyes are so reflective in the moonlight that I can see myself in them. I could tell her how I feel right now. I could kiss her under the fireworks.