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Hedrops my hand and catches my chin in his fingers. “Woah.Breathe, baby.Thisisn’t about us.”
“Thankfuck.Don’tscare me like that.”Ithrow my arms around him without thinking and bury my face in his chest.
Hehesitates, then wraps me in his strong arms and tugs me against him.We’vedone this a million times, but he’s never rubbed his face into the crook of my neck and inhaled slowly, sending a shiver down my spine.Hislips graze the soft skin under my ear, then he pulls away and steps back.Hiseyes look glassy as he shakes his head with an unusually shy smile. “Thatoutfit is dangerous, pretty boy.Ican’t stay away from you.”
Aswe start walking again,Islip my hand into his even though the guys might see. “Whatdid you want to talk about?”Heshoots me another cautious look, like he’s worried about my reaction. “You’refreaking me out,Beck.”
“I…”Hefrowns, his thumb brushing back and forth across the back of my hand. “WhenIwas wrestling withCalvin, his big-ass hoodie kept slipping around.I’mnot totally sure, except…no, fuck that.I’mpositive he was wearing a sports bra.Isaw the straps.”
Mymind refuses to process his words into something helpful.Iwalk slower and slower, diverting brain power from my body to my head, untilI’mjust standing there staring at the ground. “Thereare a million reasons…”Myvoice fades out.
Heraises an eyebrow at me. “Thereare million reasons a twelve-year-old boy would be wearing a sports bra?”
“Jesus.”Imassage the bridge of my nose. “Thatdoesn’t mean he’s trans.Ifhe is assigned female at birth, maybe he’s dressing as a boy for safety while they travel.”
“Maybe.”Hestuffs his hands in his pockets and waits expectantly.Everyinteraction we’ve had withCalvincomes back to me.It’sdangerous to assume someone’s identity, butIcan’t get past his proud confidence in his male name and appearance, his pure joy at befriending and hanging out with older boys, andTheo’sfrantic, homicidal level of protectiveness.IfIhad figured out my true gender sooner,Iwould have been exactly likeCalvinat his age.
Mychest feels like it’s being squeezed in a giant fist. “Um, okay.Idon’t know what to do about it.”
“Youcould talk to him,”Beckprompts, like the answer is so obvious in his head.
Adeep sense of helplessnessIhaven’t felt in a long time rises up to choke me.Thekid has no access to care, no resources, and he’s about to go through a puberty that will shatter his sense of self and make his life hell.Ican’t fix any of it. “I’mnot some kind of role model,Beck.Idon’t even have my own dysphoria under control, andIwas so privileged to get hormones and surgery early.I’venever been a homeless trans child.Youcan’t just expect me to go back there and give him a life-changing blessing likeI’mtheMother-Fucking-Theresaof men without dicks.”
Thistime he takes my face in both hands, his thumbs gently holding my head still soIhave to look at him. “Noone’s asking you to do any of that shit, okay?”
“Youjust did,”Iprotest in a small, pathetic voice.
Hegives a quiet snort. “Youhear a lot of things no one actually says.”
“Yeah.Callit a gift,”Imurmur ruefully.
“Ijust think…”Oneof his hands slides down to rest comfortingly at the base of my neck, fingers brushing along my skin.Ican’t look away from the earnest light in his eyes that gives away just how much he bonded with the kid. “Ithink it would make his day to realize one of the four coolest guys in town is just like him.Ifyou andIbrainstorm, we could think of some ways to support him.Butwe don’t have to do any of that today.”
Hedoesn’t demand an answer, just reluctantly lets go of me and slips an arm around my shoulder, keeping me close to him as we start walking again.
“Speakingof things no one actually says,”Icomment finally, “we are not the four coolest guys in town.”
Myfriend smiles to himself without answering.I’mpretty sure he’s lost in his own head, dreaming up ways to make a little trans kid feel all the love and supportBecknever experienced.Ican’t tear my eyes away from his face as we walk, because it’s one of the purest thingsI’veever seen.
12
BECK
Pissingin a hot shower is better than sex.
Iclose my eyes and let the water flow through my hair and down over my sore shoulders, while basking in the total relief of an empty bladder.Showersare me-time, whereIcan do and think about anythingIwant.Iwantto jack off thinking aboutDallas, but that seems like a sick thing to do when he hasn’t agreed to a physical relationship yet.Soinstead,Irock out toTheKillerson my phone.Whenit hits a chorus,Istrum chords on my wet abs and headbang along, flinging droplets all over the walls.
AsIdance around the shower,Ican’t stop thinking aboutCalvin.Iwanted to hate him for attackingDallas, butIcan’t stay mad when his sweet, smart, ornery nature reminds me so much of my favorite person in the world.Dallasdoesn’t need to have all the answers, butIknow first-hand how much it can matter for a lost boy to meet a strong older guy who understands what he’s going through.PascalandAlexpulled me into gang life, butIwouldn’t have lived through my teens if they hadn’t been my two big brothers who loved me the best they could and kicked my ass into line whenImessed up.Dallashad to go to work when we got back from the river, soI’mtrying to figure out how to explain all this when he comes home.
Inever heard the bathroom door, but my music cuts off right in the middle of the last chorus, leaving nothing but the sound of dripping water.Beforemy brain can react, the shower curtain flings open.Dallasis panting and flushed, like he just ran from somewhere.Hestands there holding the curtain open, staring at my fully naked self and trying to catch his breath.
“Uh, hi?”Iscrunch my face up and wipe the last remnants of shampoo out of my eyes. “You’reletting in the cold.”Thelonger he waits, the more droplets bounce out of the tub, spraying a wet pattern on his gray chinos.
Heblinks, like he’s waking up, and gives me a strange, reckless look.Insteadof shutting the curtain, he climbs into the tub on bare feet and pulls it closed behind him.Iwatch blankly, my mouth half open, as water starts to darken and drench the fabric of his clothes. “Dallas?”
Hisnostrils flare as he tips his chin up firmly and takes another step toward me.Thespray soaks through his lavender button down until it’s plastered to the shape of his body and so transparentIcan see every detail of his scars.IfDalever steps in a puddle or splashes dishwater on himself, he whines and yowls like a fussy little cat.Tonight, he doesn’t even react when water drops scatter across his face, making his eyelashes flutter and his light brown skin sparkle.
Whenhe pulls in a deep breath,Iwait for a rush of words.Theynever come.Hejust stumbles forward two slippery steps and crashes into me.Myback hits the dirty tub surround as his hands catch the sides of my face, then slide up to fist in my wet hair.Imake a drowning noise when he lunges up on his toes and kisses me hard, his teeth digging into my lower lip.
