GRAYSON
The last two weeks have been the most frustrating and painful weeks of my life.
I hate how much I want to talk to Ivy. I feel like I can't stop myself from running to her, so Kyrie has been staying over practically all hours of the day to make sure I don't contact her.
I suppose one good thing comes out of all this misery—I get to have a super long sleepover with Ky just like when we were little. And Boman is nowhere near invited.
Kyrie and I sit on the couch eating Frosted Flakes in our hoodies and watching the TV. He takes a giant spoonful of cereal and furrows his eyebrows. "So, this show has been on for nine seasons already?" He nods towards the screen.
"Yep. Nine seasons plus three seasons of All Stars."
He nods slowly and takes another bite of his cereal. "I have to admit, it is kind of addicting. I'm amazed by the transformations like...how do they get the wigs to look like their natural hair? And how are they so good at makeup? And like...where do they put it?"
I laugh quietly and shake my head at him. "All valid questions. Ivy told me that—"
"Uh-uh! We don't speak that name. We don't know her." He raises a finger at me and I nod. Since he's been here, he's been trying to erase her completely.
I don't think it's working.
"Oh, right. Um, the girl I used to see told me that they pull it back between their legs and duct tape it to keep it down."
Kyrie's face twists in disgust. "Good god, that sounds incredibly painful. My dick hurts just thinking about it. But I'll admit, they all look fucking fierce." He adds a snap onto the end and I smile at him. I've always appreciated Kyrie's fluidity and his security in his gender because it means he doesn't mind coming over and watching RuPaul with me. He's never cared about what is societally appropriate for our gender, and he's about as masculine as they come. I tend to adopt more effeminate interests and features and that's never once bothered him.
"Ky, can I ask you something?" I mumble through my mouthful of Frosted Flakes.
"Always."
"You remember that day in middle school when I came to school with my nails painted and I had mascara on?"
He smiles at the memory. "How could I forget? I almost killed someone that day."
"True. I was legitimately concerned that you weren't gonna let him go."
"You've been my best friend practically since I said my first word. I wasn't about to sit back and let that asshole call you names because you decided to raid your mom's bathroom drawer." He states as though it's obvious.
"And you weren't embarrassed of me? I mean, you were so popular because you played basketball and I was kind of just the popular kid's weird, gay-looking friend. I wasn't cramping your style?"
"Oh, no you definitely were. You were cramping it all over the place, it just didn't bother me. Frankly, you could've shown up to school in a dress and I still would've walked side by side with you to class. I guess with my brother coming out at such a young age, I grew up seeing and accepting effeminate men as a normality. So, I was always confused when people came for you about it. I didn't realize that they didn't have the same idea of masculinity that existed in my house."
My heart warms. I really do have the best friend in the world.
"Are you surprised I'm not gay?"
Kyrie purses his lips and considers the question, tilting his head side to side in consideration. "I guess I was, a little bit. Especially because you didn't have any girlfriends after Melanie in high school, or even mentioned being into a girl, and now Mel's come out as lesbian anyway. I thought you might be gay, but I didn't want to pry. You said you were straight, so I believed you."
