But I do.

I know that I do.

And I can’t stand the idea of these thoughts being alone in my head.

But who can I tell? Who can I talk to about this?

Not Wyatt, duh. Maybe Lindsay? But she’d judge me so hard. Not that it wouldn’t be warranted.

Not Josh.

There is one person who might not judge me.

Well, he’ll certainly judge me, but he’ll probably be more sympathetic.

A five-foot-two strawberry-blond trans boy currently in New York.

Never have I been more grateful that Samuel is such a nocturnal creature.

He picks up the FaceTime call after a few rings.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Clearly his phone is propped up against something, because both of Samuel’s hands are occupied on this premium Xbox controller with all kinds of extra buttons that Samuel got specifically so he could, and I quote, “map my hotkeys more efficiently.”

“I can call later,” I tell him. There’s a reflection in his glasses that shows off a blurry image of his screen.

“No way, I can talk and game. Where have you been?”

“It’s been a busy few days.”

“I can imagine.” Samuel doesn’t even look at my screen; he’s entirely plugged in.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s a raid, and my team fucking sucks so hard. You sure you don’t want to get back into this? I could use a decent healer.”

“I’m good.”

“I could even teach you!” Samuel says. “They added catboys last year. You can be a magical catboy.”

“Once again, I’m good.”

Samuel smiles. “Your loss.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“So, what’s up? Why’d you call?”

“I needed to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah? Your mom freaking out again? Or did Michael back out of the wedding?”

“No, nothing to do with the wedding, really.”

“Okayyy,” he sings. “Are you going to stop beating around the bush?”

“I …” I open my mouth, but the words are lost again. How do I talk to him about this? How do I ask him these questions without giving myself away? “How do you … ?”

“How do you what?”

“Give me time,” I say. “I have to think about how I’m going to ask this.”

“Are you coming out to me? Neil, if you’re going to tell me that you’re gay, I already know that.”

“I’m going to murder you.” I have to remember to keep my voice low. I’m assuming Wyatt’s asleep by now, but I don’t know that for sure.

“You’re the one being dramatic.”

“Okay, so … how do you know when you’re getting feelings for someone?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you start to like someone, romantically … how do you know? You’ve had boyfriends and girlfriends before. You have a crush on Hoon.”

“I’ve had exactly one of each,” he says. “Who do you have feelings for? Aren’t you dating Wyatt?”

“That’s the thing …”

“You’re going to dump Wyatt too?”

“No.” I swallow. “Wyatt’s the one I have feelings for.”