Cate is already sweating before they’ve even seen the first float.

The heat doesn’t help—midday sun blazing down over a blur of rainbow flags and shirtless bodies—but it’s not just that. It’s the fact that everyone here seems to know. Who they are. What they want. How to move through this space like they were born in it. Like they’ve never once looked in the mirror and hesitated.

Cate’s been out for—what, six months? A year if you count the notes app confession she never posted. She told everyone she was bi for years because it felt easier. More palatable. Less like rewriting a narrative everyone had already framed for her.

But she knows better now. Or…she’s trying to. And Pride was supposed to feel like a celebration of that. It was supposed to be freeing.

Instead, she’s walking through the streets like a tourist in her own body, too aware of her lack of experience.

She’s never had a girlfriend. Never had a real hookup. Just a few kisses in the backs of parties, tentative touches that never made it past second base. She’s nervous. Clueless. Like she missed an orientation on how to be a real lesbian. Everyone else seems so confident. So at ease in their bodies, in their skin, in their rainbow declarations of “I belong here.”

Cate’s still trying to believe she does.

Everyone else in her group is thriving. Marie’s holding Jordan’s hand beside her, glowing in matching mesh. Emma’s body glitter catches the light and Sam’s face is painted in bi-flag stripes that match her shorts. Luke and Andre are being obnoxiously sweet behind her, feeding each other from a bag of rainbow popcorn. Cate is the only one in their group not paired off, not touched in any way, and the ache of it starts settling beneath her ribs like a bruise.

“I look awkward, right?” she mumbles to Marie during a water break.

Marie blinks at her over the rim of her reusable bottle. “You look hot.”

“Like… awkward-hot or hot-hot?”

“Cate. You’re just nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

She is.

“Stop spiraling. You’re cute.” Jordan says beside her, nudging her arm.

Cate scowls. “I’m allowed to be a little overwhelmed! This is my first real Pride since coming out, and you guys dragged me here knowing full well I’ve never even kissed a girl without immediately apologizing for it—”

Marie wraps an arm around her waist. “Good thing we’re finding you a girl today.”

“I—what?” Cate sputters. “No. No, I’m—I’m not ready for that.”

Then, like a script cue from a cruel god, she sees her.

Across the street, straddling a matte black motorcycle like it’s a throne, is the hottest girl Cate’s ever seen in her life. A girl who looks like she was designed to destroy Cate’s will to live. The definition of a lesbian wet dream—short hair tucked beneath a backwards cap, tattoos snaking over her arms, biceps flexing as she tips her water bottle back. Tight black ripped jeans, combat boots and a harness hugging her chest like sin itself.

Cate’s legs go weak.

Emma follows her gaze. “Oh my god.”

“No,” Cate says immediately. “Absolutely not. I’ll combust.”

“You’re Cate Dunlap,” Luke says. “You once got a guy to pay your parking ticket and kiss your feet.”

“That was different,” Cate wheezes. “That was men. I understand men. I can handle men. This is…”

“A sapphic apocalypse?” Andre offers.

Cate chokes on air. “I don’t know how to talk to her.”

“She’s not a dragon,” Jordan says. “Just go say hi.”

“I will literally forget the English language.”

But somehow she’s being nudged forward, boots clicking across the pavement before she can stop them, holding her little pride fan like a shield. The girl turns, brows lifted in curiosity.

“Hey. I like your...face.”

The girl blinks.

Cate winces, tries to recover. “And your whole...everything. Outfit. Aura. Situation.”

Horribly.

A slow smile curls across the girl’s lips. “You flirting with me or giving a review?”

Cate covers her face. “I haven’t had caffeine today.”

“Tragic,” the girl says, offering her hand. “I’m {{user}}.”

Cate takes it, weakly. “Cate. First Pride. Can you tell?”