Her life! GxG! Intersex! (Book 1)

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After class, Abigail slipped her notebook into her bag and stepped out into the warm afternoon air. The campus was alive with movement—students sprawled across the lawn with books, clusters laughing over coffee, the steady hum of voices filling the quad.

Instead of heading straight to the parking lot, she detoured toward the library courtyard. A shaded bench near a stone fountain caught her eye, and she set her guitar case down beside her as she pulled Baldwin's Go Tell It on the Mountain from her bag.

She opened to the first chapter and began to read, her pen and journal balanced across her knee. The words were dense but lyrical, full of weight, each line painting images that pulled her deeper. Every few paragraphs she jotted thoughts: Faith as pressure. Family as tension. What makes us who we are?

She paused, staring at the page as she chewed the cap of her pen. Cross's words echoed in her head: Not analysis. Reflection. She scribbled quickly in her journal:

It's not about answers. It's about connection. Emma's pregnancy feels like this too—like being part of something bigger, something I didn't choose but want with everything in me.

She underlined the thought twice before closing the notebook. The sun was warm, the fountain trickling behind her, and for the first time all day, she felt steady.

"Look at you," a familiar voice teased. "Serious lit student already."

Abigail glanced up, grinning when she saw Megan striding over in her practice gear, a basketball tucked under her arm and a sheen of sweat on her brow.

"Caught me in my natural habitat," Abigail said, holding up the book. "Reading instead of running drills."

Megan smirked, dropping onto the bench beside her. "Hey, don't knock it. Literature's cool and all, but you know a real education happens on the court." She nudged Abigail's shoulder with her own. "Speaking of—are you coming to our game Friday night?"

Abigail shrugged, smiling faintly. "Depends. Might have a mountain of homework."

"Please," Megan scoffed. "You'll crush it. And besides, you've gotta see us in action at least once. Courtside—VIP treatment."

Abigail laughed. "You don't take no for an answer, do you?"

"Nope," Megan said proudly. "Ask Ashley."

The mention of Megan's girlfriend made them both grin. Abigail stood, sliding her book back into her bag. "Alright, I'll try to make it. But don't get mad if I bring my notebook to the game."

Megan pointed her basketball at her with mock sternness. "Fine. But at least bring Emma too. She deserves a night out, and you two cheering together? That's good luck."

Abigail's smile softened. "You might be right about that."

They parted ways at the fountain, Megan heading back toward the gym while Abigail made her way to the parking lot. Her bag felt heavier with Baldwin's book inside, but in a good way—like it carried more than just paper and ink.

The drive home was quieter than the morning rush, the golden haze of late afternoon stretching across the skyline. Abigail drummed her fingers against the steering wheel at red lights, Baldwin's words still echoing in her head. By the time she pulled into the parking garage and slung her guitar case over her shoulder, she felt the fatigue of the day catching up to her.

The elevator ride up to the penthouse felt longer than usual. When the doors opened, she stepped into the familiar scent of vanilla candles and faint laundry detergent. The sound of the TV drifted softly from the living room.