Kenya McClain is so straight

SADE

Friday, 5:40 PM. Atlanta, Georgia.

“Amelia,” I hissed, speed walking toward her.

“Amelia!” Damn, she couldn’t hear me.

Of course, earphones.

I picked up the pace, but it wasn’t fast enough. I broke into a jog and finally caught up, tapping her shoulder hard enough to make her flinch. She turned, tugging one of the white cords from her ear.

“Wassam?”

“I been callin’ you, and you ain’t hearin’.”

“Been in earphones,” she said, like that explained everything.

Obviously.

I scratched the back of my neck, trying to play casual while working out how to restart a friendship that had fizzled months ago. Amelia and I had been cool since our first year in college, tight, actually but she stopped talking to me for no real reason come second semester. I wasn’t the type to chase people, so I let the fire die out. But today, necessity was rewriting the rules. I had exactly one damn dollar in my purse, not even enough for a taxi. I was broke, bored, and I hated walking alone. So call it what you want, but I needed company, and Amelia still took my same route home.

“Been a minute,” I offered.

She chuckled. “Yeah.”

“You headin’ home?” I raised a brow.

“Mmm, yeah. Why you ask tho?”

I bit my lip, hesitant. “We could, like… walk together. Like we used to. You mind?”

She glanced at me for a second, then smiled. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

I smiled back. We started walking in silence, and my thoughts immediately drifted to my empty wallet. I’d never been this broke. Couldn’t even afford a bus fare. University was exposing me to a level of financial struggle I was not emotionally prepared for. At home, you might be broke, but at least dinner came with it. Out here? You starve, plain and simple.

“I’m planning on movin’ into an apartment soon,” Amelia said, breaking into my thoughts.

“Why?” I looked at her.

She scoffed. “I wanna live alone and do whatever I want. Yeen never understand.”

“Nah, I do. But livin’ alone hard, bro. Especially with no job. I’m tellin’ you, I’m tryna figure out what to eat tonight. If I was at home like you… shit, life’d be easier.”

“So why don’t you go back home?” She stopped and stared at me.

“I’m 21 and in university. I had to grow up. You never really learn life for real till you leave your mama house.”

“Whatever. I’m still eatin’ dinner tonight and you ain’t.”

I didn’t respond. We walked in silence after that. Twenty minutes passed, and eventually she waved goodbye at her street corner.

Amelia and I were both 5’6”, same height. Her eyes were deep brown, like roasted coffee beans, and while I was full Black, her mom was white and her dad Black, which gave her skin that light café-au-lait tone. She wore a pink wig today, laid and glued, but no makeup, just gloss and lashes. Still, she looked cute. I waved back and turned toward my street, plugging in my earphones and letting my chaotic ass playlist carry me the rest of the way.

*****

“Yoo, Sade!”

Someone called my name behind me.

“Dude! Wait up!”

I turned around and saw Nate jogging up. My day instantly got better.

That was my dwang. Nate was this fine Black dude, always rocking cornrows or dreads, with a single ear piercing and tattoos running up both arms, his neck, chest, even his cheekbone. Every girl on the block loved him. Actually, loved might not even be strong enough. Their obsession made other dudes around the neighborhood heated, but Nate couldn’t have cared less. He was already up, money wise, status wise. Hate couldn’t touch him.

And I vibed with that energy.

I had my own piercings both ears and my nose, and tattoos too. Got my first nose ring at sixteen. Ma didn’t care, so I ran with it. I had a cupcake tatted on my chest, a snowflake on my stomach, and “self love” inked on my neck. Me and Nate? We shared one philosophy:

Just get the tattoo and piercing. Your parents already disappointed anyway.

I paused so he could catch up.

“Hey, Nate.”

“Girlfriend. I missed your fine ass. How’s lectures been?” He smiled that duchenne smile, the real kind, and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

God, I loved this man. Not in a romantic way, but deeply. He’d been my best friend for three years, and no one else showed up for me like he did. Dude would literally cover my rent if I was low. I needed his annoying ass forever.

“Boring. Hard,” I sighed. “This cannot be the same brain I used to read 850 page novels in three days back in middle school.”

“I feel you. But school’s over for the day. Let’s talk ’bout something else. You busy tonight?”

“Why?”

“Can’t I have a night out with my favorite lesbian?”

I rolled my eyes and slipped his arm off. “Told you not to call me that. I’m queer, dumb ass.”

“Same difference.”

“No.”

“Yeah.”

“Noooo.”

He sighed. “I really don’t get half the labels in the LGBTQ community.”

“You missed the Q+.”

“Okay… LGBTQA-Plus.” He raised a brow.

I rolled my eyes. “You always start this shit.”

“Like bisexuals. I’m still not convinced that’s real. How you gon’ like two people?”

“It’s real. It happens.”

“Nah. You love one person. Ain’t no way you love both. If my girl said she was bi?” Nate laughed. “Baby, you can be by your damn self.”

“You so invalid.”

“Thank you.” He grinned, like I’d just handed him a compliment.

I groaned. I’d had this debate with him too many times, and I was over it. Still, he wrapped his arm around me again like we hadn’t been arguing seconds ago.

“Let me take you out to dinner at some beautiful restaurant tonight.”

“Or,” I teased, “we could go to a gay club.”

“You’re on your own, kiddo.”

“Come on.” I nudged him. “Don’t act like you don’t watch lesbian porn.”

He smirked. “Dude…”

“I’m serious. Let’s go. I wanna see how a gay club looks, and I need more queer friends.”

I meant that. I needed a queer friend who got it. Who knew what it felt like to be labeled ‘abnormal.’ Who I could talk to about bitches I liked and dumb ass straight folks. And let’s be honest, I needed a girlfriend.

Like, bad.

“When you come out as not straight, watch how all the gays find you. You really don’t have enough?”

“Never enough.”

“I got a full blown lesbian in my contacts.”

“No shit?”

“For real. Let’s get to your crib, and I’ll tell you about this un-straight girl in my inbox.”

“Cool.”

*****

At my apartment, I unlocked the door, flicked on the lights, and let Nate step in behind me.

It wasn’t huge, just one bedroom, a small living room, kitchen, bathroom, and a cute balcony that overlooked the city.

“I’m happy to announce I’m on the market. I’m not taken,” Nate declared.

“Good for you,” I said, heading to the kitchen and peeking in my fridge. All I had was chicken.

“Yo, Nate… I seriously need a job,” I yelled from the kitchen while I tossed the chicken in the microwave.

“You could be my wife,” he called back.

“Stink.”

He walked in, leaning against the wall.

“It’s still a job. I pay you for existing and being beautiful.”

“Don’t be shy, put some more,” I joked.

He smiled. “You’re beautiful, Sade. Anyone’d be lucky to have you.”

“It’s okay to just say I remind you of the sun every second of the day.”

“Stink.”

We both laughed.

The microwave beeped. I pulled out the chicken, but damn, I couldn’t even bring myself to eat it. Embarrassed to say I was broke, even though I knew Nate wouldn’t judge me.

“Why don’t you go get yourself cute so I can take you out for dinner?” he said.

Jeez. How the hell did he always read my mind?

“You don’t have to,” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

He came over and wrapped me in a hug.

“Shawty, you my bestie. Now go get that face made up so we can eat.”

I lightly punched his chest and broke the hug.

“Fine. Ten minutes.”

“I’m waitin’.”

Makeup was light, just mascara, liner, and gloss. I was already bad, no need for extra.

I threw on a long chess patterned skirt, a cropped cyber white top I got from a custom thrift shop on IG, and chunky boots. When I stepped out, Nate looked up from his phone.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He was used to my baddie energy. We hopped a taxi since he didn’t bring his car, and ended up at this vibey little restaurant. We ordered, cheeseburger and Coke for me, beef noodles and Fanta for him.

As we waited, I people watched. Laughter, clinking forks, a couple holding hands under the table, the guy staring at his girl like she was made of stars. Damn. I wanted that. I wanted someone’s daughter looking at me like that.

Nate raised a brow. “You look disgusted.”

“I’m good.”

“So… you still want the number?”

“Huh?”

He laughed. “Of the full blown lesbian I told you about earlier.”

“Ohhh. I forgot. Yeah. Tell me.”

“She cute. Got stud vibes. I know you’ll like her.”

A stud? I perked up.

I always wanted to date a stud. Always ended up with fems though, and I was one too. I needed something different. Studs just had this vibe. They were fine as hell.

“Tell me more,” I said, smirking.

“She got the Afro cut. Sexy as hell. Just take the number and see.”

I grabbed his phone.

“Keisha?”

“Yup.”

“She got an iPhone?”

“Of course.”

“She white?”

“You prefer white pussy?”

“Boy, I love me some dark chocolate.”

He grinned. “So no white pussy?”

“I ain’t say that. I just prefer my Black queens.”

“You know you sound real racist right now?”

“I thought Black people couldn’t be racist.”

“They can. And you sound like one.”

I glared. “How you gon’ say—”

“I’m kidding, damn.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“She’s Black,” he said.

I rolled my eyes, typing the number in my phone and saving it as Keisha✨🌈.

Our food came. We ate mostly in silence. I finished and wiped my mouth.

“Thanks for dinner.”

“No problem.” Nate smiled, then pulled out his wallet.

He handed me a crisp $200.

“This’ll hold you for the weekend.”

“Nate… you don’t have to.”

I hated how he kept taking care of me like I was his kid. I was grown. I needed a damn job.

“It’s cool.”

I sighed, took the money. “Thanks. I owe you.”

Back at my apartment,

In bed, fresh out the shower, bonnet on and skin still warm, I scrolled through my contacts until my eyes landed on Keisha✨🌈.

Should I text her?

Didn’t take long before I typed:

Hey.

Delivered.

And just like that… I was nervous. For no damn reason.

Three minutes passed.

A message came through:

Hi

Who is this?