Chapter Four

Charlie

I wandered into Randy’s every day during lunchtime and after work, lying to myself that it wasn’t because I was hoping to see Trent. Not at all. Thankfully, the Boston Hill Mail, the tiny local paper I worked at, was three blocks from the diner and I didn’t need an excuse to eat there.

Two weeks had passed since the concert, and not a day had gone by when I hadn’t thought of that kiss, of Trent’s soft lips tasting of strawberry candy… and the way he accepted me for who I was.

I wanted my friend back so badly, and I fucked up my chance the moment Trent handed it to me. I had to apologize, but I needed to find him first.

During my lunch break on a Tuesday, I sent my article about the raffle in the local youth center to editing and sprang out of my chair. A brisk walk later, I pushed open the door to Randy’s and my heart skipped a beat.

The booth I’d sat with Trent two weeks before was occupied by a big guy, hunched over a stack of dino pancakes.

“Trent,” I whispered, and automatically walked toward him. His short hair was disheveled as if he’d been pulling it, and the bags under his eyes aged him a year in the time since I’ve seen him last. “Can I sit?” I asked tentatively, fully prepared for a refusal.

His mouth full, Trent nodded, then scooted over.

This time I sat opposite him, far enough away not to beg for a hug I didn’t deserve.

“How have you been?” I didn’t ask if he was okay, because he clearly wasn’t and I had a sinking feeling it was my fault.

“I’ve been thinking.” He set the plate aside and downed half of his coffee in gulps. “Can I ask you insensitive questions?”

Oh shit. Here we go. Everyone asked those eventually. “Sure.”

“When did you know you were a man? A boy?” He took a napkin and another one, wringing them like hand-washed linen at a fountain in ancient Rome.

Okay, I admit I expected worse questions. “It was always at the back of my mind, as if I didn’t even fully grasp the idea of what being a girl entails. My family and other adults around me called me a tomboy, so I assumed it was some type of a boy and I was fine with that.” I sighed, recalling the time it really hit me. “Remember the dreadful sex ed lesson at school?”

Charlie nodded. “That was informative but uncomfortable to experience with the class.”

“Right. When they split us into boys and girls, I had to listen to the teacher tell us about the things coming my way that I did not want to happen to my body. I knew it was not me. I got upset that day and my parents picked me up. Everyone assumed it was triggered by the period talk as some girls freaked out. But for me, it was so much more. I pretended to be sick for the week after, but really I just didn’t feel like leaving the bed.”

Trent took my hand over the table and squeezed. “I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

I ran my thumb over his knuckles. “I couldn’t tell anyone at school. My parents took me to a therapist, and she said I had gender dysphoria. I still looked like a child, but something was off. So throughout that year before we moved out, I knew I couldn’t go on living in the body that would soon develop if I didn’t do anything about it. After we settled in Boston, puberty hit, and my body started changing.” I cupped my nonexistent boobs, then crossed my arms over them. “It was hell on wheels.”

Trent nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek. I motioned for him to continue asking questions. I’d answered the most intrusive question so many times, and all my friends heard my story. Trent deserved to know, too.

“But your parents helped you?”

“Yes.”

He sagged in his seat. “That’s good.”

“They moved mountains, taking me to appointments in different states, but I hit puberty before I got the medical care necessary. Now, I’m happy in my body.” His hand trembled in mine and I stroked it with my thumb. “Is that all you want to know?” I braced myself for a bottom surgery question.

Trent nodded and took his time to look up from the table to meet my gaze.

“You’re the first man I kissed.” His voice came out choked. “And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

Whoa. “In what way?”

“I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so much. And it felt so natural. I began questioning if that feeling was new or if I’ve always been attracted to men. Maybe—” He buried his face in his hands and I could see his ears go pink as he blushed.

“That’s okay, Cupcake, you can tell me.”

“I haven’t heard that name in a long time. I love hearing you say it again.” He repositioned in his seat. “So I’ve been doing some research online.” He swallowed. “And I’m a bit confused.”

A bit? I’d say.

“To me, people can be so hot, not only women. But I’ve never…” He sighed. “That kiss made me think. Sometimes I’d get a boner at the gym, but it might be because of a woman with a bouncy ass or a dude flexing his biceps. It was just me admiring someone in good shape. Everyone does that, right? All bodies are attractive, gender has nothing to do with that. And neither does sexual orientation. Or so I always thought.”

“Mm-hmm.” I tried not to grin. My sweet summer child, my Trent, was going through a major awakening.

“Right now, I’m not set on a label but pansexual feels right. I’m definitely not straight.” He released a nervous chuckle. “I’ve considered myself an ally, and that’s why the homophobic gym culture rubbed me the wrong way. Then I came here to work construction, and it was even worse. I had sex with beautiful women and I loved it every time, so I never questioned being anything else but straight. But after that kiss, my mind reeled and my imagination went far beyond what I’ve done with those girls. The trip through the internet helped me work out some things. And now I think I’ve always been…” He shrugged, then looked down. “Curious.”

I wanted to hug him, but giving him space to figure out how he chose to proceed was the smart thing to do.

With a finger under his chin, I lifted his head up. “About?”

He looked at my lips, met my gaze, and swallowed hard. Then he shook his head. “I need to go back to work.” He stood up, rattling the table, sending the utensils clattering against the plate.

“Wait!” I grabbed his forearm.

He stopped, putting his hand over mine. He looked very kissable—parted lips and a blush lingering on his cheeks.

“Before you disappear, can I have your number?”

He released a chuckle and fished out his phone. “Only if I can text you.”

“Anytime.”

He sat back down, and we exchanged numbers. I didn’t want to spook him again by asking if he was okay, but he was fidgeting in his seat.

“I’ve been thinking about your concert a lot, too.” He offered me a lollipop and when I refused, he popped it into his mouth. “Why do you play covers every month but not your original set? I don’t understand how it works.”

“Many factors go into that. It’s easier to get a paid gig as a cover band to play at a glorified disco. Living in Boston is pricey, as you’ve probably noticed. My job pays the rent and basics but the equipment is expensive. Don’t get me started on the cost of the studio to record our demo.” I drummed my fingers on the counter, my stomach cramping as I thought of how bleak the future of our band looked like now. “My parents paid for my transition and helped me a lot, but I need to do this on my own or it won’t feel mine. Does that make sense?”

Trent chewed on the lollipop and twirled the stick between his fingers. “Yeah it definitely does. You want to own your life and feel like your accomplishments are your own.”

“Exactly.” He got me on every level. Fuck, how I’d missed him.

“I don’t know how we can be so different—”

“But similar?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Can I get a hug?”

“Of course.” We stood up and embraced—the simple contact like a comfort pillow. I inhaled his fruity cologne and released a long breath. “See you around, Cupcake.”

He stepped back, and I watched him go through the door and into the early afternoon sun.

That evening, I lay in bed, replaying our conversation in my head. He had no friends in the city, at least none he’d been comfortable enough sharing his awakening with. Had he shared his new discovery with me because he trusted me as a friend or because he was attracted to me? Either way, once he’d returned to my life, he occupied my thoughts non-stop.

I slid my hand down my underwear and took my t-dick between my two fingers. My mind supplied me with the image of Trent’s muscular arms and his sunshine smile, the same way it had over the past two weeks. Then I remembered I had his number.

Flopping over to my stomach, I reached for my phone. I lingered over the opened texting app for a minute, then sent a simple: Hello Cupcake.

Trent replied with a sticker of a pink grinning cupcake.

The three dots danced until another message arrived.

Trent: I should have figured out why I watched X-Men when I was a kid with my mom so many times. Now I want to be Cyclops. Imagine a sandwich with snarky Wolverine and sexy Jean Grey.

I laughed so hard I dropped my phone. Cupcake was bolder over text, and I could definitely work with that.

Charlie: Remember how we were obsessed with Mr. and Mrs. Smith? Running around my backyard and shooting at each other?

Trent: Then playing Uno in the tent until it was dark.

Charlie: We had a flashlight.

Trent: Yeah, but my dad would yell for me to come home. He bought me a phone just so he could stop doing that and call instead.

Charlie: The next day we’d start all over again and you’d tell me about the latest basketball game, including the stats. In scary details.

Trent: I don’t do that anymore.

Charlie: You’re not into basketball?

Trent: I am. But I don’t force anyone to listen to my stats rants.

Charlie: I’ll listen.

A few minutes passed, then Trent sent a picture of two tickets.

Trent: They’re not the best seats, but my friend can’t come with me. Would you go with me?

I looked at the message and recalled the boy in the tent, showing me cards of tall men I knew nothing about. Despite that, I loved hearing Trent be so excited about them.

Charlie: I’d love to go.

I fell asleep with my phone on my chest and dreamed it was Trent’s heavy hand resting there as we napped in a tent in my parent’s backyard. But this time, we were adults and my parents weren’t home.