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Trinity creeps toward her bedroom window with her sneakers dangling from one hand, checking behind her before unlatching it, and sliding it open, wincing at the groan of the wood echoing in the quiet house. She waits, but doesn’t hear the creak of a door or footsteps on the floor, so she slips through the window, heart pounding in exhilaration and fear. Her boyfriend’s waiting on a side street in his car, she just has to stick to the shadows and walk the few yards to get there, and avoid the motion sensor lights in front of her house. Her dads will kill her if she’s caught, which is why she doesn’t intend to be, but she can’t suppress the slight anxiety in her chest at sneaking out like this.
The night is dark and cool, the grass dewy on her ankles as she slips her sneakers on, untied. She knows the motion sensors are closer to the front door, so she skirts the edges of their lawn hoping that the distance is enough to stop the light from flooding the yard and waking up her dads. The lights don’t trigger as she sneaks by, glancing around every few seconds to make sure she’s alone, and Trinity’s exhilarated by the rebellion. She’s freshly seventeen, and yet, Robby still insists on coddling her and treating her like a kid. She tells herself she wouldn’t have to sneak out if they would just trust her, she’s an adult now, for gods sake.
Shaking off worries about her parents, Trinity quickly makes her way to the side street where Dean is waiting, in a beat up blue chevy. Dean is good looking, cool, and charming. He's a good kisser, a relatively good boyfriend, though Trinity doesn't have anyone to compare him to. She doesn't know why she doesn't feel butterflies when they kiss, not like other girls talk about, she feels nothing, really. It's nice to kiss him, and they're an attractive couple, everyone at school is always oogling them enviously, so she doesn't understand why she likes him, but can't seem to fall for him. She doesn't look at him the way he does her, and she doesn't get jealous or possessive the way he does. She likes spending time with him, likes the aesthetic of it, having someone to hold hands with in the halls and go on dates with on the weekends. But half the time she's shying away from his lingering touches instinctively, and when he wants to go further than making out, she always panics and has to come up with an excuse as to why she can't.
Dean is waiting for her with a big grin and a joint, windows cracked with r&b music breaking up the eerie silence of night. She smiles back, getting in the passenger seat and kissing him hello, tasting weed and smoke. She lets him hold the joint when she takes a hit, and exhales slowly, feeling herself relax. He drives them to the skate park, citing it as a cool place to hang out, and they sit atop one of the larger ramps, overlooking the lake next to the park, and sharing a second joint under the stars. Everything was going fine until Dean started getting handsy. At first, Trinity let him kiss her neck, forcing her muscles not to tense under his chapped lips, closing her eyes and trying to get lost in the touch as the world swims around her. But then, he's groping her ass and boobs, his hands trailing all over her, and she can't suppress the disgust that erupts from her, even through the floaty feeling of the high, she can't suppress the shudder of her body in his hands. Suddenly, she hates the touch, hates her boyfriend, hates herself for not being normal, and rips herself away from his clawing hands.
Dean doesn't take it well. He calls her a bitch when she says she doesn't want this, not with him, not tonight. He calls her a tease for never letting them go further, for daring to date him without promising sex. Trinity nearly shoves him off the ramp, just to get him to shut up and leave her alone, suddenly feeling his imposing presence, realizing that they're completely alone, and he could hurt her. But, he drove her here, and she has no way of getting home without busting herself for sneaking out, so she tries to diffuse the fight instead, to tell him they can talk about this later, but right now, she'd like to go home. Dean ignores her, calls her more unsavory words, red faced and spitting mad, and he leaves her stranded on the top of the ramp under the stars, pulling his car out of the parking lot and speeding away.
Trinity wraps her arms around herself and tries not to cry, still feeling the ghosts of his hands all over her skin. The night is slightly chilly, and she watches raccoons raid a dumpster through bleary eyes as she tries to think of what to do next. She feels used, Dean got her high and took her here to hook up, and stranded her when she resisted, like an asshole. She can't stop thinking about how his hands felt on her, and unwillingly, her mind wanders to the girl in her class that sits in front of her with soft looking, curly hair that bounces, and a crooked smirk that makes Trinity's stomach flip. They've barely interacted and Trinity feels more sparks with her than she ever did with Dean, and it makes her want to cry. She thinks about the time the girl, whose name Trinity learned was Yolanda by sneaking a glance at her paper, lent Trinity a pen, and how their fingers brushed for a breath, making Trinity feel electrified.
She shivers as a breeze floats by, realizing with a sinking stomach what she has to do. She raises her phone to her ear, taking a deep breath as the line rings out, once, twice, three times, then, a groggy, "Trinity? Y'okay?"
"Dad," She chokes out, "I need you to pick me up."
"Pick you—" There's shuffling on the end, and cursing, before Robby says, "Pick you up from where? Where the hell are you, and why aren't you in your bed?!"
There's more shuffling, more murmured curses, and then she hears Abbot’s voice over the phone, calmer but still stern, "Where are you, sweetheart?"
"The skate park on Mulberry. I— Dean took me, but then— Can you just come get me, please?"
"We're on our way. Stay on the phone with us, till we get there, got it?" Robby orders, his voice tight.
“Okay,” She says, trying to keep her voice steady.
Robby hears the waver in it anyway, his voice softening when he asks, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine,” She sniffles, looking out at the empty park and feeling so small.
It's only a matter of minutes before headlights turn into the darkened parking lot, only illuminated by a few dim streetlights. She slides down the ramp as both of her dads come sprinting toward her from the car, leaving the doors open and the car running. In seconds, their imposing frames are surrounding her on all sides, looking her over with the sharp eyes of doctors, despite their appearances, clearly having stumbled out of bed, but Trinity breathes a sigh of relief, finally feeling safer with her dads there.
Abbot wrinkles his nose, tipping her head up with a hand under her chin to look into her pupils, "Are you high?"
Trinity grimaces, and shrugs because she doesn't think she could deny the smell and look of her, not from them.
"Jesus Christ," Robby says, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You sneak out, get high, and get stranded in a random park in the middle of the night."
"That's a lot of rules broken in one night, sweetheart." Abbot comments, taking off his jacket when he sees her shiver, zipping it up for her.
Trinity takes a breath, barely able to look them in the eyes, "I know. I'm sorry."
Robby shakes his head, "Let's get you home first, then we'll talk."
When they make it home, Abbot sits on the couch with her while Robby bustles around the kitchen for a minute, bringing her a sandwich and a bottle of water. He points to the spread, and says firmly, "Sober up. We're not having a serious conversation when you're high out of your mind."
"I'm not out of my mind," Trinity mumbles, "It was one joint." (It was two but they don't need to know that).
"You must be out of your mind if you thought it was a good idea to sneak out like this. In what world did you think that was a good idea?" Robby snaps, then shakes his head hard, "Just eat your sandwich and drink your water."
They sit in tense, relative silence while Trinity works on her meal, taking small sips of water and swallowing against the nausea that rises whenever she thinks about Dean, or Yolanda, or hands groping her. Robby paces while Trinity eats, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, and Abbot, ever the cool headed one, just sits next to her, rubbing her back, though by the tightening of his jaw, she can tell he's not happy with her either.
The second she finishes the last bite of her sandwich, Robby turns on her, sitting down in front of her, hands clasped between his knees as he says, "Okay, spill it. What happened?"
Trinity messes with the label on her water bottle, trying to decide how much to share, her mind racing.
Abbot must be able to tell, because he warns, "Trinity.."
She blows out a breath, "I think I'm gay."
Both Robby and Abbot look at each other, bewilderment on their faces.
"What.. does that have to do with happened tonight?" Robby asks carefully.
"Everything," Trinity whispers, her eyes filling with tears again.
"Start from the beginning," Abbot says gently, "Tell us everything."
Trinity does, in stops and starts, pulling her dad's jacket around her tighter as if she can still feel the wind blowing through her. When she gets to the part about Dean kissing her, and wanting more, demanding more, and calling her names when she refused, her voice cracks, and tears finally fall. Robby starts pacing again, and Abbot rubs her back firmer, both of their faces tight with anger.
"I'll kill him," Abbot says simply, and Robby gives him a look that he shrugs at, saying, "I'll make it look like an accident, obviously."
Trinity lets out a wet, humorless laugh. Robby sits in front of her again, leaning in and taking the water bottle from her hands so he can hold them. "I'm gonna ask again, baby, did he hurt you at all?" She shakes her head vehemently. Robby nods, sighing.
"And the part about you being gay?" Abbot reminds her.
Trinity sighs wetly, "I don't know, there's a girl in my class, and— I don't know, when he was touching me, I realized I hated it. But when it's her, it's different. It's like what everyone talks about with the butterflies and sparks, but I don't want that. I wanted to be normal."
Abbot's eyebrows draw together, "Sweetheart, you know it's okay to be gay, right? I hope?" He says, gesturing to him and Robby.
Trinity nods, "Yeah, no, I know, I just. I didn't want to be different. I liked being part of the most popular couple in school, and I liked the way everyone looked at us. But if I'm gay then— then everyone will think I'm a freak instead."
"Do you think we're freaks?" Robby asks, kinder than Trinity feels she deserves, embarrassed at the way she's spilling her guts to them.
"No, of course not! But, it's different."
"You're not a freak, sweetheart, and it's okay to like whoever you want, regardless of other people." Abbot says, squeezing the nape of her neck lightly, "We can't care so much about other people that we forget to live for ourselves."
Trinity nods, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her dad's jacket, "Can I just go to bed?"
Robby checks his watch, sighing, "Yes. But, you're grounded indefinitely, and we'll talk more about everything tomorrow."
Abbot moves hair out of her face to kiss her temple, "We love you, Trin."
Robby squeezes her knee, "We really do. Like, a sickening amount. Go on to bed."
She nods, giving each of them a hug and a kiss on the cheek, because she really is so grateful for her dads, no matter how confusing her feelings are. She knows they'll always come for her when she needs them, and that's enough for tonight.