“I need your submission too, but only if it’s real. If you’re really not feeling it, then don’t pretend. Make me earn it.”

“Trust is weird,” my mother said. “People give it too easily, most of the time. Because somebody is attractive, they expect him to be good or honest. Or like pushy salesmen—somebody who carefully makes you feel like you’re emotionally obligated to trust them. Like you’re the rude one if you don’t. Trust is really something that needs to be earned. Hard earned. If somebody every says, ‘Don’t you trust me?’ Just say, “No, as a matter of fact.”

“If it’s your song, I don’t need lyrics to know what you’re saying.”

“I laughed. “I don’t care if you’re nice or not. I just want you to be you. No more pretending. I think it’s time we all got to know the real Logan Lyke.”“What if I don’t know who the real me is?” he asked.“Then I guess you better find yourself,” I smiled.”

“I don’t know what you’re feeling. I won’t even pretend.”

“Not much makes me feel uncomfortable about sexuality. It’s the most natural thing in the world. I don’t really get why people make such a stink. It’s like being embarrassed of hunger or thirst.”