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"Mx. Reynolds?" Johnathon called out. My head snapped up from my phone, a smile instantly on my face when I saw him. Quickly shoving my phone in my pocket, I stood up to follow him into his office.

Other than writing, nothing was better than my weekly meetings with Dr. Johnathon Myers. Yeah, he was a psychiatrist, but he was the best damn one I could ask for. He was familiar with my family, as he was the marriage counselor that helped my parents sperate in good terms. I was never more thankful for him, as he was able to help the atrocity to end. A horrible marriage was broken up because of him.

Because he worked with my parents, he seemed to know my family pretty well. He understood the difficulties I faced with my parents. Sure, I saw the world differently than they saw it, but he got a feel for all of our personalities, so he knew how we mixed. Because of that, my mom and I were able to get on better terms due to his help.

He understood that I was agender. He had no problem with it. It was my mother who did, as she claimed that "she felt the same way when she was a kid" and that "I would one day know that I was a woman." For all she knew, she was agender like me, not feeling as though she was either male nor female. I was just me, a piece of existence.

Thankfully, he supported me for being transgender. It was never more relieving to hear. He used the proper pronouns, despite how he would slip up sometimes. But no matter what, he always corrected himself and called me Mx. as well as Spencer instead of my dead name. He was the best therapist I could have asked for.

"Good to see you again. Where are you at today?" he questioned.

"Negative five," I grumbled.

"Bad week, or just a little worse than you would have like it?"

"Well, another idea of mine was shot down," I pouted as I slumped further into the couch.

"The one with the mistress and child?" he clarified, and I nodded. "Damn, I liked that one."

"Me too. She didn't find it to be appealing enough or realistic. It basically sucked. She even told me I needed to find a partner if I was going to write about romance because it would help to have experience under my belt," I grumbled.

"Do you want to have a relationship?"

"With where I'm at in life, I'm pretty content not having one at all," I explained. "Romance isn't at the top of my mind. I see those pictures on Tumblr about how if someone kisses you this way or that and you think of someone, it means you're in love with them. For me, all I can think of is how it could be portrayed on one of my characters."

"Do you think just reading about it is enough?"

"I do wonder if it will help to actually date someone. I am planning to make this boy in my acting class ask me out."

If he were drinking water, I was sure that I would be soaked. His jaw dropped to the ground, surprised to say the least. It wasn't as though I had ever talked to him about people I had a crush on, since I never had a crush on anyone. If I were in his shoes, there was no doubt I would lose my cool as well. In a way, I was too.

"Why him?" he finally asked, writing it down.

I shrugged. "I think he likes me. It could be good for writing experience. You know, get the whole dating thing out there so I can write it realistically."

"So, you don't like him?"

"I don't hate the idea of getting to know him, if that's what you mean. I wouldn't mind getting to know him, see where things go. Who knows, a romance could blossom," I sarcastically answered. "But in all seriousness, he seems chill. He's bisexual like me."

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