Page 103 of Sparks Fly

My inbox was a wall of unread emails, and my to-do list felt less like priorities and more like suggestions. Aspirational at best. I sat at my desk with my shoulders tight and my jaw clenched while I scanned a contract for typos, I didn’t have the time or patience to fix.

My phone buzzed beside my keyboard at first I ignored it, assuming it was a client or Cassidy or someone else who needed something from me. Something tugged anyway, small and instinctive, and I finally glanced down.

Sawyer.

Sawyer: Hey baby. I know you’ve got a wild week, but… my best friend’s birthday is Friday. It’s nothing fancy. Just drinks, Topgolf, and a ride. Would love for you to come if you’re up for it.

My stomach did that familiar flutter-dip whenever Sawyer texted, comfort tangled with nerves and want.

This wasn’t just checking in. It was an invitation.

Not to something private or hidden, but to something open and real. Drinks. A ride. Her best friend’s birthday.

Sawyer was inviting me into her life.

She wasn’t asking me to hide or protecting me from being seen. She was simply holding the door open, like she already expected me to walk through it.

Like there was a place for me beside her.

The scary part wasn’t whether her friends would accept me.

It was how badly I wanted them to.

What if I showed up smiling politely, and found myself surrounded by people who knew how to take up space without apology? People who belonged in Sawyer’s world in ways I didn’t yet know how to?

I wasn’t afraid they would judge me for loving a woman. I was afraid they would see how careful I still was.

Too polished. Too practiced. Too shaped by a world that rewarded conformity.

I wanted to stand beside Sawyer without monitoring my posture, my laugh, or the way I held her hand.

I wanted to belong there.

I just didn’t know if I knew how yet.

I stared at the message for another moment before setting my phone face down on my desk.

“Don’t make me regret this,” I muttered.

Cassidy walked in a moment later holding two iced lattes like she’d personally rescued them from a burning building. Her white platform sneakers squeaked softly against the floor as she crossed the room.

“You looked like you needed this,” she said while setting one in front of me.

“You’re a goddess,” I murmured as I grabbed the cup like it was the first good thing that had happened all day.

“I added a shot,” Cassidy told me.

I stared at her. “This is going to be my fourth coffee.”

“Then maybe you’ll finally achieve omniscience.” She laughed. “Also, your noon showing rescheduled to three. You get a tiny breather. Emphasis on tiny.”

I groaned and tipped my head back in my chair. “I’ll take it.”

She grinned and disappeared down the hall while answering a call.

I leaned back and took a long sip of the latte while staring up at the ceiling, but my thoughts stayed stubbornly fixed on the text. On Friday. In Sawyer’s world. On how different it felt from my own.

Because the truth—the part I rarely said out loud—was that I was hiding Sawyer from my people.