I can’t do this anymore, I think to myself as I stare aimlessly out the window of the school bus, en route home.

I wipe the window with my sleeve over my hand, swiping away the condensation that has formed due to the humid rain pitter-pattering, a soft shh, outside.

I miss Adelia. I need her. She’s the one craving to my never-ending hunger.

But you like her. In a more-than-just-friends way. You can’t afford that. You have to cut her out of your life.

But I can’t.

“Is Elena on the bus?”

I snap out of my trance and look up. Mrs. Reitz, the bus driver, is currently looking up at the rearview mirror, trying to determine whether or not I’m on the bus.

“I am!” I reply loudly, standing up and swinging my backpack over my shoulders.

Walking down the aisle and down the steps of the bus, I say goodbye to Mrs. Reitz, and start my trek home.

By the time I make it to the front door of my house, I’m dripping wet, because I forgot to bring an umbrella to school today. Usually, I’m well-prepared, but these past few days I haven’t been. Not since…

An idea pops into my head.

Not a new idea, but one that I’ve droned over probably a million times in my head, trying to come up with excuses to not do it. But I think I have to follow through with it.

I have to talk to Adelia.

I book it to my bedroom as soon as I step foot into the house and take off my shoes.

Plopping on my bed, I pull my phone out of my pocket and immediately go to Adelia’s contact.

At first, I hesitate, trying to come up with yet another lame excuse to not text her, but I finally give in.

Hi I end up texting her.

Now I just have to wait and see.

Just as I put my phone down onto the bed, it buzzes. Adelia?

It was just a notification from Google Classroom about an assignment I need to complete.

Sighing, I put the phone back down.

After several false alarms, I finally get a response from Adelia: Hey.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard. I’m currently formulating what it is, exactly, that I’ll say to her.

At first, I end up typing out this long apology message, but quickly delete it. Apologizing over text isn’t as good as meeting up and apologizing in person.

So then I settle on this: Can we meet up sometime this weekend? I really have to talk to you about something.

Sure. Does tomorrow work for you? Tomorrow is Saturday. Adelia quickly replies back.

Yeah. Where do we meet? I question.

Hmm. Does my house work for you?

Sure. What time?

How about 12:00? You can have lunch at my place, my mom’s fine with it.

Okay. Sure.

We end our little exchange of texts there, and I go back to pondering about what this all means for me.

I know that there isn’t anything wrong with loving someone of the same gender, or just being queer, but my family thinks there is something wrong with it. That just adds extra pressure to my shoulders to fit their expectations. But I don’t think I can fit those expectations anymore.

I’ve fallen for a girl.

I don’t think I can deny it any longer.

Turning on my now-messed-up bed to face my wall, I bury my face in my hands and begin to sob.