"I hope you like chicken," Collin said as they reached the top of the stairs.
Heather looked at him quizzically. "I thought you knew that I'm a vegetarian."
"What?" A shock of panic went through his chest. "But–but you ordered a super chicken burrito when we went out for Mexican last Tuesday."
She let out a snort, the remnants of her earlier hesitation melting away. "Sorry, that was an asshole thing for me to say. I do like chicken... And I'm impressed with your memory!"
He probably deserved it after how he reacted before, when they were on the bridge. "Well," he said, "You hold my attention."
He gazed at her. In the dim light of the upstairs, her eyes were a rich brown interwoven with a streak of forest green and sprinkled with highlights of amber. Every time he looked into her eyes, he noticed something new, something different.
After a moment, a blush creeping up her cheeks, she turned away.
"Want a beer to start?" He turned towards the kitchen. "We still have plenty. And remember, it's the champagne of beers, so you know it's good."
"Sure, I'd love one." She followed him and leaned against the open archway.
After a moment, he handed her a beer poured into a ceramic Snoopy mug. "Sorry, we don't have many glasses and we're out of red solo cups." Then he lifted his mug–which boasted an NPR logo, a gift after donating to the local public radio–and said, "Cheers!"
"Cheers!" She took a sip.
"I was just putting the finishing touches on everything when you knocked. Sorry that dinner isn't quite plated yet." He took out tongs and placed a serving of spaghetti on each plate.
"I'm early." She took another sip. "Veronica was going up to campus, so I took the bus with her and hopped off at your stop."
"Evening class?"
"No, study group," she answered.
Collin nodded. He hadn't really thought of girls like Veronica as the study group-type, but he also never thought of girls like Heather as being able to fall–even a little–for a guy like him. So, maybe he didn't know as much about people as he thought he did.
"Does she know about..." He gestured his hand ambiguously between them.
"Yes," she said simply, without elaborating.
Collin finished by putting a chicken breast on each plate and then sprinkling some fresh parsley over them. He carried them to the table, put them down, and then pulled out the chair at the head of the table for Heather. He took the corner seat.
Heather cut into the chicken and took a bite. "Mmm," she chewed. "This is delicious."
Collin did the same and then swallowed his first bite. "Thanks. Yeah, it came out good."
"So..." she said as she swirled a forkful of spaghetti, "you said that it would be good for us to talk."
Collin puffed out his cheeks and let out a slow breath. "I said that, didn't I?"
"Hmm, mmm." She agreed, chewing.
"One second." He picked up his beer and tilted his head back, willing the carbonation to lighten up his thoughts and loosen his tongue. When he placed it down in front of him, it was half empty.
"That scary?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Not scary, just... I want to help you bridge the small river that prevents you from liking me the way I like you."
"You like me?" she asked with a coy smile.
"I mean, isn't it obvious?" He held out his hand palm-up.
She took a sip from her mug. "Maybe you don't realize how, well... how persistent some guys are."
She said "some guys," but he heard what was unspoken. She was talking about real men–biological men. And he wasn't that, no matter how much he went to the gym or worked on lowering his voice or injected hormones into his thigh.
"I was there when that creep Brandon tried to harass you in the park in the middle of the night." It was hard for him to keep the anger out of his voice, remembering, but he tried to sound neutral.
She visibly shuddered. "And I'm glad you were there... But that's not all I mean."
"Should I hire a sky-writer?" Collin asked. "Write 'Collin likes Heather' in two-story tall letters?"
Heather shook her head. "The flowers were romantic. And you're a good listener. You remember what I say. That's what is important to me."
"Of course I do." He brought a bite to his mouth.
"And you look at my eyes when I speak."
Collin almost choked. He grabbed his mug, took a sip, and swallowed hard. "Of course I do! You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen."
Her gaze darted down and then back to his.
Collin took a deep breath, and then let it all spill out, never breaking eye contact. "They flicker different colors–browns, greens, blues, golds–like river rocks on a sunny day, flashing and shining, always alive. They are deep and complex, like you. Keeping me on my toes. Drawing in my focus. Your eyes intrigue me. You intrigue me. I am fascinated and enamored, and all I want to do is learn more about you."
"Wow." She bit her lip. "You really aren't like any guy I've ever met before."
"But it's just a small river, right?" He was still lost in her eyes. Helpless. "Maybe the kind filled with beautiful river rocks?"
She looked away first and brought her mug to her lips. "You are a guy."
"I am," he agreed.
"And I'm straight."
"You are," he agreed again.
"I know it sounds stupid to say out loud. But, is it okay for a straight girl like me to like a guy like you? Why does it feel... different?"
"Maybe I am different. But different isn't always bad, is it? Sometimes different just means special." He held out his left hand. She took it, sending a jolt of electricity up his arm. "You seem pretty special to me."
They sat there for a long moment. Palms together. Thumbs brushing against wrists. Each small touch sending a rush of heat and anticipation across Collin's skin.
"I think what's most special about you," Heather whispered, "is that you seem interested in seeing all of me. You don't just see me as an object."
Collin kept looking at their hands. How nicely hers fit with his. He noticed a small scar between two of her knuckles and wondered if he would ever learn its story. Knowing someone really came down to learning their stories and then making new stories with them. Understanding how events shaped who they were.
"You know," he replied in a hushed tone, "I just want to make sure that you also see me as a whole person and not just as transgender. So, how can I help you build that bridge? What stories would you like to hear?"
"Collin." She squeezed his hand, and he looked up. "I do see you as a whole person. Honestly, I only know that you are trans because you are open about it. And..." her voice trailed off.
"It's okay," he reassured her. "I won't be offended. I promise." He held up his free hand. "I know the difference between questions rooted in curiosity and those rooted in hatred. Trust me."
"Are we going to need more beer for this?" she asked, bringing her mug to her lips.
"Well, if we do, we have plenty!"
"Okay, good." She smiled at him. "I just feel so stupid. Like, how did you know you were trans? And what does that mean now for how you identify? And what 'hatred'? How... hard is it?"
"It's not hard being myself. It was hard pretending to be something else. Trying to be a lesbian. Honestly, I really sucked at being a girl. Probably because I wasn't one. But being me? That's the most natural thing in the world. Plus," he paused and licked his bottom lip, "I'm a lot sexier now."
She giggled. Honest-to-God-giggled. Then she took her hand back and picked up her fork and knife and started cutting another bite of the chicken.
Then, as she continued her meal, he told her the rest. Or some version of the rest. Of the haircuts and the boy's clothes, the sports teams and the rough-housing. He told her a bit about highschool–skirting past any mention of Avery–and then ended with testosterone. "Every week I notice something new about my body. The shape of it is changing. It's texture. Smell. In some ways, it's super weird, but mostly it's very cool."
"Sounds like puberty." Her plate was empty, and Heather pushed it away and took a sip from her mug.
"It is puberty." Collin nodded. "The weirdest part, though, has been not knowing where I belong anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"Need a refill?" Collin stood, holding out his hand. She handed her mug to him and he went into the keg and poured more beer into each. Then he walked back and sat down. He took a long sip, not knowing how much to say, hoping the beer would make the choice for him. "What I mean is: I'm a man who dates women. Basically, do I need to leave 'gay-world' behind and live in 'straight-world' full time?"
"That is a quandary." Heather drank. "I sort of get it, though."
He doubted that, but he asked, "How so?"
"Maybe it's a bit of a stretch, but I'm the first person in my family to go to college. My dad's a truck driver, my mom's a cashier, and who knows what my older brother is doing. My sister likes school, but she just turned fourteen, so who knows? And I love it here, but I also feel like it's pulling me away from everything I've ever known. Am I going to turn into one of those BMW-driving assholes who we made fun of for speeding through town without stopping?"
He never would have made the connection between his experience and hers, but what she said rang true. There was no way for him to know if it was the beer, or something else, but he was feeling connected to her in a way that he never expected. "We're both transitioning, just in different ways, aren't we?"
"When you put it that way..." She laughed and took another drink.
The front door opened and closed. Footsteps came heavily on the stairs. Collin looked over his shoulder and swiveled in his seat, and saw Sam as she stepped onto the landing. "Hey," he greeted her.
Sam looked at the meal on the table and then between him and Heather. "Guess you didn't think about what I told you this morning?"
Heather cocked an eyebrow and Collin shook his head, first at Heather and then at Sam. "Why would I? What you said was a moot point."
Sam let out a loud puff of air. "Avery said you're not answering any of her calls."
Collin closed his eyes and silently counted to three. "And why would I?" He opened his eyes and shook his head again. More vehemently this time. "Sam, we're just finishing up dinner. There're leftovers if you'd like some. But, I am not–I repeat not–talking to you about this. Especially not right now."
Something seemed to settle in Sam, and she nodded. "Sorry. I get it. I'll grab a plate later; it smells good, thanks." Then she looked at Heather. "See you in yoga class." Then she turned and went down the stairs two at a time, leaving Collin and Heather in her wake.