I lock my phone and slip it into my pocket, glancing toward Brian to make sure he’s not peeking over my shoulder. He leans forward in his seat and makes some dad joke about the retreating mountains, while the driver forces out a fake laugh as he guides us off the freeway. From the highway, I can almost pretend I’m still in Florida, but the second we take the exit, the looming mountains and greenery steal my breath. This tiny little car feels even smaller with trees and rock formations staring down at us.

Brian taps a hand against the back of the passenger seat, which is pulled all the way up, a tiny trash bag hung around the headrest. “I’m telling you, man, that play was the worst one I’d seen all season. Like, completely amateur.”

Ugh, is he talking about sports? Gross.

When we were kids, Brian and I were really close. We’ve only got a three-year age gap, and we used to share everything—toys, music, friends. Then he got a car and a booming social life, and soon I got out of his way so he could impress all his new friends. And really, it makes sense. He’s the athletic type, conventionally attractive, really personable. Straight. Cis.

He was the second person I came out to. I told him just before Christmas this past year, thinking it might be easier since he lived halfway across the country. And really, he took it rather well, albeit a bit . . . overzealously? He kept sending me links to books about trans people and trans actors getting roles and just about any article that vaguely related to transness at all. It was all kind of ridiculous, but I’d rather he be a bit too invested in my transition than outright reject it.

And in a way, I feel like things between us have gotten better than they were when we were kids. Maybe it’s just me. It kind of feels like everything’s better now that I’ve grown into who I am.

When the car stops in front of what looks like a frat house, Brian shoves open the door and hops out like he’s about to run a marathon even though he’s got a long metal tray in hand. I roll my eyes before sliding out after him.

I blink back against the overbearing sunlight, and Brian laughs, slapping a hand against my shoulder as he says, “Don’t worry. It’s just sun. It won’t kill you.”