Cover

Dedication

FOR EVERY TRANS PERSON
WHO EVER BELIEVED THEY
WERE TOO COMPLICATED FOR
A LOVE STORY

Thursday: April 14

“I love you,” he says.

The sirens in my head start going off. At first I wonder if I’ve heard him right, between the heavy breathing, the sound of our kissing, the soft music he’s got playing. In fact, I’m sure I heard him wrong. Maybe it was a line from the song instead?

But then I pull away from Josh, and he’s staring up at me with those big brown eyes of his, like he’s expecting some kind of answer from me.

That’s when I realize I’m truly in trouble.

And here I thought this was going to be a nice visit, some making out, maybe fooling around before afternoon classes.

But no.

Instead, he’s said those three little words, and he’s waiting for me to say them back. Then we’ll kiss and fall back onto the bed and probably miss class, but it won’t matter because we’re in love! And everything is perfect!

Except it isn’t.

And now I have to have this conversation. So annoying.

“Neil?” He’s still looking at me.

“Okay.”

His face sinks, the smile gone in an instant. “Okay?” he repeats.

“That’s what I said.” I want to get off his lap, but his hands are still on my waist.

“I said ‘I love you,’ ” he says again. Like I didn’t hear him.

“And I said ‘okay.’ ” I huff, pulling myself away from him, his hands retreating. He’s always loved touching me, and usually I don’t mind. A hand around my waist or up the back of my shirt, faintly scratching my back while we watch movies. He always gets frustrated because I fall asleep before the movie’s over, but I can also tell he thinks it’s cute. Movie night’s the most we’ve ever allowed this arrangement to veer toward anything resembling us being boyfriends, and that’s only because I get a nice back scratch out of it, or him playing with my hair.

Josh and I laid down the rules firmly when this entire thing started. It was just a bit of stress relief, and that’s all it was ever supposed to be.

We’d both agreed to that.

“What else do you want me to say?” I ask him.

Josh still looks like he’s in shock. “I’d like it if you’d say something besides ‘okay.’ ”

“Thank you?” It comes out as more of a question than I mean it to.

All I can do is stand there awkwardly while he processes whatever is going on in that head of his. There’s disappointment on his face, anger, sadness, pity—a whole range of emotions he’s forcing himself through over three little words.