• Luke •
Wow. I was actually going round Macy Littlewood's house. I was walking down her road after she'd texted me the address when it hit me how quickly she'd accepted me for my interest in fashion and Vogue magazine. It was as if she didn't see that I was a boy who liked dresses. She had accepted me more than I accepted myself.
Before I knew it she had answered the door, dressed in more casual clothes: scarlet jeans and a subtle grey top with specks of blue which was simple but effective.
"Hey Luke," she smiled at me and I grinned back at her, suddenly not feeling at all awkward around her as she pulled me in for a hug. i graciously hugged her back and she gripped my wrist to pull me into her house.
Macy took me upstairs to her room and I was immediately awestruck by what my eyes were met with. There were mannequins and on those mannequins were lots and lots of pretty dresses and garments, tape measures and scissors strewn around the room making it clear that she had made them herself because of the pattern pieces and drawings on the desk.
"Wow," was all I could say as I walked over to the first dress that caught my eye and ran my fingers along the fabric.
"Can I admit something, Luke?" Macy asked, sitting down on her bed.
"Um..." I said with a shrug.
"I've seen the way you look at the girls dresses at school. I've seen you in the library with a Vogue magazine disguised as a book. I've seen how you're not interested in football for shit," Macy chuckled. Macy Littlewood had noticed me? She knew?
"H-how..." I choked.
"I can't make you accept yourself, Luke," Macy sighed, "but it's okay. You can be yourself around me."
I had no idea that Macy even knew I existed before today. I wouldn't be able to be completely comfortable with her yet... at least not comfortable to actually come out to her, I mean.. was that what she meant by the whole 'being myself' thing? I hadn't even come out to my family yet. No one knew but me.
It was last year that I'd given up fighting the thoughts that I was different to everyone else. I didn't exactly accept myself, I just let my natural feelings in and didn't fight it anymore. That was when I realised I liked boys.
"Okay," I nodded in response to Macy's statement, "th-thank you." I whispered.
"Hey, look," she said excitedly, pulling something out from under the bed, "it's my most recent, half finished creation." Macy held out a skirt with individually sewn on daisies.
She handed it to me and I stroked the fabric and embroidery, completely awe-struck by it. I stood up and held the skirt to my hips, biting my lip and smiling at how it looked.
"It's beautiful," I gaped, "how long did it take you?"
"A month, and it's not finished," she sighed, "I have to sew the top part on, it's going to be a dress. A special kind of dress."
"What's going to be special about it?" I asked curiously, reluctantly handing the half finished garment back to her.
"That's a secret," she tapped her nose.
