Thank you to my parents for always loving and accepting who I am and my dreams.

  Thank you to some of the best friends I could have asked for who keep me grounded on a regular basis. You know who you are.

  Thank you to my BookTok gang because, literally, without you, I would not be here writing this and writing any of these words without your encouragement.

  My readers, thank you for giving me a chance and trying on a story that is so close to my heart that it’s left a permanent imprint.

  Thank you to my sister who is just a rock solid human.

  Thank you to my two editors, Samantha and Sydney. I would literally be lost without both of you.

  Thank you to everyone else who worked on this book!

  Thank you to all the LGBTQIA+ community who has come before me and paved the way to make stories like this possible to be on bookshelves. Especially BIPOC and fat queer folks. I stand with you and support you and thank you for your tireless effort.

  Thank you to Bumble for making this story possible and genuinely sharing our story to the masses.

  Finally, thank you to my love, Logan. You made this story with me—literally—and thank you for letting me tell the tale of us. You are one in a million and the most beautiful human I know. I love you so very much.

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  This story is mostly true. It is based on my partner Logan and I. We really did meet on Bumble, and I really did let our match expire. Ugh. And we really did go through some of these hardships. So, this story is very close to my heart. Additionally, you can totally follow Logan on Instagram as well, @the_fabulous_jess.

  I wanted to normalize so many things in this book because being with Logan has helped me normalize so many things about myself, queerness, and healthy relationships. Do not settle, friends. The person who will love and support all of you is out there waiting to meet you.

  Transphobia is real and deadly. So is homophobia, racism, fatphobia, etc. I encourage and implore you to stand up for what you believe in. To influence your circle around you and be loud about what is right.

  Additionally, I wanted people to know that family can be hard. Being sexually active in a patriarchal society is hard. Being queer is hard. But you are beautiful and worthy and amazing exactly as you are.

  I wanted people to feel seen and heard in this book the way that I feel seen and heard in my relationship.

  Things are messy sometimes and not always perfect, but you do not have to fit into anyone’s box. You are queer enough exactly as you are, and your story is important.

  Thank you for reading my own personal retelling with some embellishments and some substitutes to keep the privacy of my partner and I.

  Trans joy and love is beautiful. Thank you for letting me share such a small piece of it.

  If you want to share your thoughts and feelings about Not Queer Enough, please share your review on Amazon and Goodreads. Reviews are so helpful for independent authors and truly help them find their audience. Additionally, feel free to send an email to info@madisonnicolebooks.com. I welcome all feedback and would love to hear from you!

  Check out my Etsy shop here for signed copies, bookish merch, apparel and more.

  To stay updated on all the new book things, you can see my updated shenanigans here:

  TikTok & Instagram: @madisonnicolebooks

  Website: http://www.madisonnicolebooks.com

  About The Author

  Madison Nicole is a 27-year-old new author who currently lives in Kansas City, Missouri where she teaches yoga and group fitness full time. You can catch Madi playing video games, reading fantasy romance books, and practicing aerial arts when she is not writing or working her day job. Her favorite indulgences include iced coffee, tequila, and dark chocolate. She is excited to continue to explore her writing career and bring more stories your way!

  Check out Madison Nicole’s other books, The Immortality Trials and Deathwalker. Turn the page to get a sneak peek of Deathwalker!

  DEATHWALKER

  CHAPTER One

  "How many people do you think actually use their college degree?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee. I turned to my best friend, Mara, expectantly. We were lounging on the large sectional in our apartment, spending a lazy Saturday morning watching a Harry Potter movie marathon on TV.

  “I mean . . . I don’t know. People change their minds about what they want to do all the time. Most degrees are relatively versatile, you know,” she said, shrugging her dark-brown shoulders. Her hazel eyes were still slightly sleep-deprived, considering she’d been out a lot of the night drinking with her new boy toy.

  “Thinking of switching your job again?” she asked, taking a long sip from her coffee mug.

  I let out a loud sigh, “I mean, maybe . . . .”

  I graduated college almost four years ago and basically get a new job every year. I am restless as hell. The pressure of having my shit figured out often works its way up my spine into my chest where it slowly suffocates me. It feels like my heart’s running marathons while my body’s completely immobilized. It seems to be getting worse as of late, which probably means I need to schedule an appointment with my therapist. Other people are absolutely fine not loving their jobs, without freaking out and quitting after a year. So why do I flee every job like I’ve committed some heinous crime in the office break room? Am I the weird one or is it everyone else? Sometimes, I just feel defective.

  “Talk to me, Lincoln,” Mara said, pulling her full attention to me and giving me a soft smile as she fiddled with her long dark braids.

  “I just don’t understand why I can’t be satisfied with anything. Like, I got a business degree to have options, you know? And every job I’ve tried, I feel like something goes wrong. I’m drowning! Why can’t I just be a normal fucking human being who works their miserable life away and gets drunk on the weekend and stays busy to cope?” I huffed out the words, clenching my hands in the blanket wrapped around me. I ground my teeth together and closed my eyes for a minute to re-collect my thoughts.

  “Linc, it’s okay that you don’t have things figured out . . . we are literally only twenty-five . . . ,” she said, reaching over and giving my hand a squeeze. Mara knows the good, bad, and ugly about me. We have been inseparable since we were young, and she is very familiar with my ongoing existential crisis.

  “Have you talked to Isaac about it? I mean, since you guys are engaged now, maybe he’ll help fund an Eat, Pray, Love moment for you,” she said, winking, tucking her feet underneath her and snuggling deeper into the couch.

  “Yeah, he said he would support whatever I do . . . ,” I said, smiling slightly.

  “See, problem solved,” she said playfully, pushing my shoulder.

  I looked down at the diamond on my hand and sighed. It’s a pretty spectacular ring since I designed it myself: a rose gold band with a large emerald cut diamond, and small black stones on the side. No need to make him play guessing games about what I wanted. I simply created it myself.

  Issac proposed just two months ago, and we are already in the throes of wedding planning. It almost freaks me out more than my job. I feel like a mess, financially and emotionally. It didn’t seem like the best way to start a marriage, but there would never be a perfect time. “Perfect” just didn’t exist, and we both fully accepted one another for who we are.

  Isaac has his shit together as a mechanical engineer who makes good money and has a regular job. I’m the one going wild trying to find something that matches the constant restlessness inside my body. And he knows all this. We’re incredibly transparent and honest about our feelings. But sometimes it’s hard for me to rely on other people. I want to be a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need no man. Even though I want to be with Isaac, I just don’t want to need him.

  Isaac and I have been dating on and off again for almost ten years. We met when we were in high school and fell in love hard and fast. We had some ups and downs, and periods of finding ourselves where we didn’t speak for a couple of years. But for the most part, he just got me in a way no one else did. I always thought of him even when we weren’t technically together.

  I love him with my whole freaking heart, and I’m ready for that part of my life to fall into place, even though it’s scary. At least one part of my life will be grounded, and everything’s easier with someone constant and reliable by my side. I had talked to him about it, to which he said he would financially support us as I tried to navigate what the hell I wanted to do. Right now, I’m working for several companies doing freelance social media marketing, and it’s fine. However, I’m exhausted and bored with it. I need something else, some other purpose to drive me.

  I tried corporate marketing and that sucked balls, not to mention my manager was actually the spawn of Satan herself. Then I tried event planning for a local company and found out that working every single weekend also sucked some major balls. After that, I tried working at a coffee shop, but the money really wasn’t good enough, and there was no way in hell I was living with my parents, so I started running businesses’ social media pages. There was a lot of Googling and YouTubing involved on how to make the best social media decisions, but part of that came with the job. It was easy work compared to being emotionally spat on every day, but it wasn’t fulfilling in the way I needed it to be.

  “You love your job . . . you make nice money AND you have a good work-life balance . . . ,” I said, staring at Mara accusingly, like she had the answer I was desperately looking for, and she was just refusing to share. “What’s the secret, my precious?”

  “Ew, please keep your Lord of the Rings references to yourself. There is no secret, babe. I just found it. It’s not like I knew being a pharmacist was going to be exactly what I wanted to do. Plus, you found a long-term committed relationship first so, like, we are one for one here on the expectations society puts on twenty-five-year-olds, okay? I mean, neither of us has a house or children, so we’re a little behind on a few other things, but, hey, we can’t do it all,” she said, laughing loudly at her own joke and downing her coffee.

  “Yeah, except a man can’t make you feel purposeful and fulfilled in your own life, no matter what Disney promised us when we were younger,” I mumbled. “Don’t even speak to me about the other things you mentioned either. I can only handle one thing at a time,” I said, throwing my head back to stare at the ceiling.

  “You and me both . . . ,” Mara chuckled.

  I didn’t like feeling lost. I was the one who normally had my shit together. I was the one with the five-year plan my entire life until I graduated college. Then I realized that I didn’t have a single clue what I was supposed to do for the rest of my life. I felt like I was having a midlife crisis all the time, and it was getting really old, really fast.

  “Linc, you’ll figure it out. Give yourself some grace and empathy here. You don’t have to have it figured out all the time,” she said, getting up and moving toward the kitchen.

  “Tell that to my steady stream of anxiety,” I said. I set my coffee aside and lay down on the couch, hoping it would just swallow me whole. My phone buzzed on the wooden coffee table, and Issac’s name popped up. Smiling, I reached for it.

  Isaac: Hey babe! I want to talk to you about something. Can we grab dinner at your place tonight? I’ll bring pad Thai.

  I don’t know why but whenever someone says they want to talk to me about something, my stomach immediately drops to my ass. But this is Isaac. We tell each other everything. He’s my fiancé, and my best friend.

  Me: Okay! Is it bad? Should I be scared? ;)

  His reply came a few seconds later.

  Isaac: Haha not necessarily! I’ll be there around 6:30pm.

  Okayyy, weird.

  Me: Cool, sounds good. I love you!

  Isaac: Love you too.

  “Hey! Isaac and I are talking about something important tonight. Could we have the apartment to ourselves?” I said, peeking over the back of the couch to stare into our kitchen, where Mara was rubbing her eyes and refilling her mug.

  “Oooh, sounds serious. Yeah, I think I’m going to see that guy again tonight! Is it wedding-related? You know, as your best friend and maid of honor, I should be privy to this shit . . . ,” she said, shuffling around, sipping on her third cup of coffee.

  “Yeah, he is being kinda vague about it, but maybe? Who knows? Want to go to a yoga class, and then we can both get ready for our hot dates?” I said, grabbing my phone again to look at the time.

  “Yesss! I need to sweat out some of this liquor,” Mara said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

  “Cool. I just need to chill the fuck out,” I said, standing up and stretching my legs. I headed toward my room and sighed, wondering what Isaac wanted to talk about.

  “Hi,” I said, snatching up the food from Isaac’s tanned hands and leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. Isaac’s such a hottie. He’s tall, dark, and handsome down to a tee. He smiled, flashing his perfectly straight teeth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You seem nervous . . . ,” I said. “Everything okay?”

  He swallowed and nodded, “Of course.” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He was wearing a dark-red sweater that complemented his tan skin, which shouldn’t have been tan at all considering no one was tanning in this freezing weather, but he could thank his Latin heritage for that. His dark hair had little snowflakes in it, and I resisted the urge to brush them away. He wore black jeans that hugged his muscular thighs and brown boots that were covered in slush.

  My heart squeezed at the sight of him. I wanted to wrap my hands around his broad shoulders and drag him to bed, but also . . . food. I really wanted this delicious pad Thai, and I was starting to get nervous about whatever he wanted to talk about. With the takeout containers in hand, I headed over to the couch, ready to dig into the noodles. Isaac sat on the other side of the couch with a tall spine and didn’t reach for the container I had set out for him.

  “Linc . . . ,” he started as I put a whole forkful of the delicious-smelling noodles in my mouth. “I don’t want to get married.”

  I started choking on my food and coughing as my eyes bugged out of my head.

  Did I seriously just hear that right?

  What. The. Hell!

  “Oh my god, are you okay?” Isaac asked, suddenly worried and frantically getting water as I recovered from nearly being choked to death by our dinner.

  I nodded my head and took a huge swig from the glass in front of me. I just stared at him, waiting for him to say he was kidding, that I was getting Punk’d. Do people still say that? Or do that?

  He said the conversation wasn’t bad. I was confused at how any of what just came out of his mouth wasn’t considered “bad.” Was this a joke? It had to be a joke. But who would make a joke about something like that? Why would Isaac make a joke about that? My thoughts raced through my head, and anxiety started to wrap its way around my throat. A pit I didn’t know existed in my stomach started to open up with no bottom in sight. The ability to speak seemed to have left my body.

  “Did you hear what I said?” Isaac’s dark-brown eyes scanned my face, and he started chewing his bottom lip. Silence hung in the air, and I suddenly had no desire to eat anything at all.

  “This is what you wanted to talk about . . . ,” I said slowly. My stomach turned into knots, and my whole body tensed up like I was getting ready to jump out of a fucking plane. He nodded and opened his mouth to start again, then closed it, running his hands through his dark hair and casting his eyes down.

  “What the fuck?!” I was finally able to find words for what was happening inside me. Anger and hurt swelled in my belly from the depths of someplace I didn’t even know existed. Isaac’s face paled, and he took that opportunity to start babbling like a complete and utter idiot.

  “I just don’t think I’m ready for this. I want us to be together, but what if we just put a pause on the wedding, you know? Like, I don’t even know if I believe in marriage. I’ve never known a happily married couple, and my parents were shit at it. My dad’s been married three times now. Like, what does marriage even mean?”

  I blinked at him stupidly, not knowing how to respond to anything that was coming out of his mouth. His gaze kept bouncing around the room like he could barely stand to look at me.

  “And I just feel like I need to figure some stuff out on my own, and I still want to be together. I just don’t want the wedding or marriage part. I’ve been feeling this way for a while, and I just can’t do it anymore with the impending wedding. I am freaking out, and we’ve been kind of distant and disconnected which definitely means we shouldn’t be getting married . . . .” He continued to prattle on with a number of reasons and excuses to justify himself, and I felt like time was standing still.

  I wanted to scream. To cry. To fling this goddamn pad Thai at the wall. But I sat still, letting him talk himself to death until finally, he trailed off. His eyes finally found mine, and he looked at me expectantly.

  “Why did you propose then?” I said, trying to find the right questions to ask and make sense of the literal bomb that just went off in my life. I scrambled to pick up anything that made sense. My thoughts and feelings were fractured like broken glass and every time I tried to pick up a piece, it sliced straight into my heart.

  “You wanted me to . . . ,” he said, like that was a full, complete thought and not some utter bullshit, like I had forced him into a proposal. As if he hadn’t been an active participant in the whole thing.

  Tears stung the backs of my eyes and I felt like I couldn’t get enough oxygen to my brain. My hands started to shake with rage, and my whole body felt ready to combust in a million little pieces.