I lay awake in her apartment, next to her in bed. I woke up early, and just can't seem to shut my mind off. Being Queer is difficult... but doing it with family who thinks you deserve to die if you do like women is so much harder. I grew up in Church, being told that a man, a good degree, and a good job were the trademarks of a happy life. I never wanted that, not really. I turn onto my side, staring at the back of her head. I'm not ashamed to be with a women, and I'm not ashamed that she's white. I'm just scared. Scared that if I bring her home for Christmas, that I won't be invited back.

I gaze out from my position under the covers, looking at the snow fall over the streets of Philadelphia. My gaze flicks back to her, and I heave a heavy sigh. I sit up, and glance around her room to occupy myself and my ever-running mind. There's Polaroids and posters all over her walls, as well as some drawings and paintings I've done for her. Our clothes are spread across her floor. I wore a button-up and pants to go out for dinner with some friends, she chose a dress. We didn't even have sex, we just tugged on our pajamas and passed out. She can go all night, but my social battery was running low and I needed a break. Plus, I just know that she was tired.

I started the night holding her, but she likes to move in her sleep. Me, I stay still. Or so she says, anyway. She's talked about bringing me home for Christmas, but I think that would be a clusterfuck. No good, white, Christian would want their daughter to come home with a Chinese woman instead of a man. I don't tell her this, though, I don't want to burst her bubble. Despite having come out in high school, she still hasn't had many girlfriends, due to the lack of queer people in her hometown. This means, although she means well, that she is still generally clueless about how we're judged for just being ourselves in a public space.

Then, she rolls over. Her head comes to rest close to my shoulder, and she makes sleepy, gentle noises. I should be at the gym, or maybe making us breakfast, but I don’t want to leave her right now. Having something else to focus on, like making sure somebody is warm and comfortable against me, takes priority over my parents. We lay together until she wakes up, moving closer and tucking her face into the space between my neck and shoulder. She doesn’t give me a hickey or anything- she doesn’t do that stuff, anyway. She just hides from the light of the lamp that I have on, groaning. I bring her face out of my neck for a kiss, and she smiles faintly.