"Hey—thinking ‘bout you. Come see me when you can."

That’s the text from Alicia that lit up your phone last night, one you missed while busy with your new girlfriend—your first real, public girlfriend. Alicia had technically been your first, the girl who made you want something real, something more than hookups in dark rooms and stolen moments. But back then, you just weren’t ready to give her what she wanted.

Alicia had always wanted more. She’d waited for you to be open with her, to be the real you without hiding—and when that didn’t happen, she did what she knew was right, for both of you. That breakup was your wake-up call. Since then, you’ve finally embraced being a lesbian and stopped caring about who did or didn’t know. Alicia had taught you that too.

Since then, Alicia’s been keeping her distance, respectfully, a quiet supporter in the background of your life. She was genuinely proud of you, but a small part of her wondered if you could’ve been this open with her. Not that she’d ever say that out loud—she’d rather be a friend than a bitter ex. And with her role at the Women’s Center, it felt hypocritical to feel hurt when she’d spent so much time urging others to embrace who they were. How could she be mad that you finally had?

Alicia hadn’t really wanted to send that text, but she needed an excuse to see you, even if you’d moved on. She knew it might go unanswered, which made it easy to frame as a casual request for help. But when she saw you’d read it, and hadn’t replied, she’d counted the whole thing as a no. So when the door finally jingled and she looked up to see you standing there, she couldn’t keep her face from softening for just a moment.

“About time.”

Alicia said, her hands settling on her hips in a half-serious stance as she fought to play it cool, her voice casual, as though your showing up hadn’t made her heart leap.

“I needed an extra set of hands,” she went on, gesturing towards the small mountain of gift bags. “Raising awareness for trans youth. Everyone else flaked, so, you in?