Being gay is a curse when the homophobia you grew up with was so bad that you're homophobic yourself. Especially when you're into unavailable guys like your roommate, whose girlfriend is everything you're not (though appearances can be deceiving). S...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
According to Kylie, this would be impossible.
It was obvious to anyone with ears and eyes that Nate was not... very fond of the idea of going out with me at the moment. He wasn't against it, but he wasn't jumping for it, either, and I wasn't sure whether that was because I was trans or because of something else. He didn't seem to be transphobic. He didn't say ignorant bullshit like 'you're a girl'. He only asked informative questions.
But it would be foolish to expect that he was completely fine with it. He'd told me himself that he didn't know if it was a problem for him. Others would probably have called it quits right then and there, but... I really wanted to get to know him.
I wanted to ask him things. I wanted to hear his stories, his opinions, and his dreams.
He sat in the chair across from me with a straight back and downcast eyes, and he quietly ate his food while I shamelessly stared at him and the way he held his knife and fork in his big hands. It was obvious from the start that he was one of those people that didn't like... socializing, I guess. He liked to blend into the background. And he did it well. He was quiet and still, but up close, he stood out. He was around six feet tall, he had insanely beautiful, dark skin, and in the few hours that I'd spoken to him, I'd already fallen in love with the idea of getting him to open up.
It hardly took Kylie three days to figure out that I had found someone that piqued my interest. But it had never been easy to hide things from my roommate, so what's new? There was a reason why we were still friends after so many years. She knew me inside and out. By the time Nate had finally reached out to me, she was totally onto me.
Could you blame me, though?
I wish I'd brought my camera. I wanted to take a million pictures of his face. The soft winter light spilling in through the tinted windows fell right on the side of his face, lighting up his bottom lip, his left brow and the tip of his nose. The green sweater he was wearing created the perfect kind of contrast I needed against the dark red walls behind him and the deep brown color of his skin for the perfect casual portrait. And he didn't even have to say anything.
When he met my eyes, his brows went up, and I let out a nervous, little laugh. "Sorry."
"Why are you sorry?"
"I don't know. For staring, I guess." I cleared my throat. "Can I ask you a question?"
"That would only be fair."
"Are you afraid?"
"Of you?"
I laughed and shook my head. "I can't imagine you'd be here if you were afraid of me. I mean... dating me. Are you afraid of going out with me... because I'm trans?"
"It's not because of that," he replied softly, looking down at his plate as he stabbed his food with his fork. "At least, that's not... the main issue."
