People had used beautiful with me, plenty of times, until it almost became this conciliatory, meaningless thing, this unnecessary reassurance that fat can be beautiful. Like a sunset is beautiful, or a Christmas tree, or a rainbow. Generic and safe. A different kind of safe than Moonie’s safe: safe as a means of hiding messier truths.

Somehow, though, pretty sent shivers down my spine. Pretty felt specific to my skin.

And want reflected everything filling up my gut, using the strength of my body to push Sam up against this wall outside of Moonie’s. I never wanted to back away from this wall, because I feared that once I did, once we stepped into a car and drove away from this place, the spell would be broken. I would go back to quiet, ordinary Lily. But here, with Sam’s tongue in my mouth and their hands on my body, I was made of want. And I felt like a queen.

And so I made my decision. As long as Sam’s body was touching mine, it would be like the magic of Moonie’s was still watching over us. I could still be the person Sam thought I was, for a bit longer, until the dawn broke.

And I would make it worth my while.

I tore my lips away to pull in a few ragged breaths. The light from the huge white sign out front, shouting The Moonlight Café into the middle of nowhere, as if you could miss it—the only other things out here were train tracks and dusty excavators—cast a pale glow on Sam’s face. Their eyes looked dark, heavy lidded. My bright red lipstick was smudged all over their mouth. I didn’t have the kind of excess cash on my receptionist salary for high quality lipstick, but at the moment, I was grateful for it. It made Sam look sexy as fuck. Heat pooled between my legs, between my lungs, in the pulse of my fingertips, and I desperately wanted Sam to feel as sexy as they had made me feel all night. But I wanted to do it right.

“Honest question,” I said, brushing a curl off their forehead. “If I am thinking really filthy thoughts about your body—say, your dick in particular—is that a form of misgendering you? Because I’ll stop if so.”

Sam closed their eyes for a moment, a shudder passing over their shoulders.

“It’s...complicated,” they said. “For other people, yes. Probably. I don’t know. For me, almost all of my fucked up feelings about gender are…” they waved their hand in circles in front of their face, and then their chest. Their heart. “Here.”

And then, almost a whisper: “I want to turn you on. My body is yours, Lily.”

I put a hand there, over their heart. Felt its strong, steady rhythm.