It hit me like a lightning bolt – the fact that my life was spiraling into a storm that no one else could possibly brave. Right now, I was holed up in Nea's bathroom, wrestling with my makeup and my own reflection. You see, girls like me, we've got this unspoken quest for happiness, this relentless drive to sync our true selves with the faces we sometimes put on. We'd go to insane lengths to bridge that gap, to patch up the fragments of who we are – whether it meant taping, gluing, or stapling them together. We'd practically MacGyver our way to authenticity.
It's like this secret language, this cryptic code that only we insiders can decipher. A code that's way beyond the grasp of cis people living their straightforward lives. Our world's a whirlwind of unpredictability – one moment, it's sunshine and rainbows, the next it's storm clouds and chaos.
I mean, it can even venture into the realm of the surreal, where danger's lurking around corners, ready to pounce. This life? Trust me, it's a puzzle that's missing half the pieces, and I wouldn't dare wish it on my worst enemy.
I met my reflection in the mirror with a determined stare. This face held stories that you'd need a lifetime to unravel. And of course, there was lipstick, my secret weapon.
With a confident smack of my lips, I was ready to take on whatever chaos the world had in store for me. It was time to stride out, unapologetically embrace the chaos, and show everyone that a girl like me wasn't just surviving – she was thriving.
"Ari, need a hand with curling your hair or sticking with the straight look?" Nea's voice echoed from her room as she rummaged through her clothes.
"I'm going for the sleek straight vibe tonight," I called back from the bathroom, where we were both prepping ourselves for the evening ahead. "Gotta keep it sharp, ready to cut off anyone trying to mess with us," I added, my tone carrying a mix of determination and attitude.
Nea emerged from her room, showing off a cute white mini dress, with a flannel button-down draped over it, almost like she was using it as a shield against the world. I made my way over, raising an eyebrow in playful judgment.
"It's 2023, darling. We're not hiding those curves anymore," I teased, taking the flannel from her and setting it aside. "And white? Are you sure?"
Nea looked a bit uncertain, her arms crossed defensively. "Alright, maybe I'll go with this cute short jean jacket instead. It's like my security blanket," she admitted, forcing a smile. "But I still think white's kinda cute."
I shot her a skeptical look. "No drinks? No worries about someone being careless and ruining your outfit?"
She chuckled. "I don't think this party's gonna get that wild. Bryan's parents are letting him host it, and he's not exactly known for throwing wild bashes."
I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in response, and Nea's expression shifted from defense to conceding. "Okay, fine, maybe I'll reconsider. But still, white's kinda cute, right?"
"You're right, white is cute. Just looking out for you," I reassured her.
She turned her attention to my outfit. "Girl, you're rocking that look! And those heels – where did you find them?"
I grinned, showing off my oversized tan shirt adorned with camouflage designs. Dark green knee-high heels added an unexpected twist, and a thick black choker added an edge to the ensemble.
"Thanks! Thrift store finds are like little hidden gems waiting to be discovered," I responded with a wink. "Your mom's still at work, right?"
"Yeah, she's pulling a graveyard shift at the hospital tonight." Nea's grin was infectious as she chimed in, "I've got the 'all-clear' from my dad too. Home alone and ready to responsibly party the night away. What about you?"
Nea's smile seemed genuine, but I could sense a lingering shadow of emotions tied to her parents' divorce. I decided to give her space, not delving into it right now. Maybe she saw Bryan's house party as a temporary escape from the weight of reality for the night, a chance to let loose and forget the troubles that sometimes clung to her.
As her friend, I'd be there for her whenever she was ready to open up, but for now, I respected her unspoken choice to focus on the present moment and the upcoming party. '
Sometimes, a night of fun could be the best medicine for a heavy heart.
My turn to share came with a grin of my own. "My mom's all-in favor of trusting me to roam free during summer nights, as long as she's got that virtual leash on me through location-sharing." I checked my watch, confirming the hour. "Look at that, it's 10pm now, and his party? That ship sailed an hour ago." We exchanged a laugh, our shared understanding making it even better. "You know, 'fashionably late' is practically our motto," I added, punctuating my words with a playful hair flip and a wink, like we were living in a movie scene of our own making.
♡♡♡
Time had slipped away from us, and suddenly we found ourselves parked outside Bryan's house, still cocooned within the cozy confines of Nea's car. Nea reached for a cute unicorn-shaped cannabis bowl, a playful and unexpected accessory that spoke volumes about her unique style.
With a flick of her wrist, she ignited her lighter and took a puff, the soft glow of the flame momentarily illuminating her face in the darkness. The air was thick with excitement, and the prospect of the night ahead hung tantalizingly in the air.
"Want a hit?" Nea's voice carried a hint of mischief as she coughed lightly. "I've got to get in the zone somehow."
Leaning in, ready to join the mini-celebration, my attention suddenly veered like a car swerving off course – Paul had materialized. My eyes darted between Nea and Paul, my skepticism etched on my face. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Isn't that the girl we saw him hugging that night?" Nea's voice broke through the air, her tone a mix of surprise and curiosity. Paul's new toy had her arm casually looped around his waist, the two of them heading towards the front door together.
My gaze locked onto the scene, my brows furrowing as I processed the sight.
"Yeah," I said, recollecting myself and taking a hit. My fingers grasped my clutch bag, a quick glance at the rearview mirror confirming my appearance was on point. A swift swipe of lip oil was the finishing touch. But then, an unexpected knock on the car window diverted our focus to Andre and his group. Nea rolled down her window.
"Hey," Andre's greeting was accompanied by a lingering look in my direction, sparking a fleeting connection between us.
For a brief second, it felt like there was something more in that gaze, but I swiftly looked away, returning his greeting with a casual, "Hey, Andre!" After all, we were both caught up in the same crazy whirlwind spun by the same guy.
Nea's enthusiasm couldn't be contained as she hopped out of the car, her door swinging wide. Her embrace with Andre held the excitement of a long-awaited reunion. The rhythmic bass from Bryan's house seemed to pulse through the night air, adding to the anticipation.
Bryan's residence was nestled in Cherry Creek, a swanky part of Colorado, boasting space and grandeur that seemed tailor-made for a pastor's son. I rolled my eyes, feeling already over the night before it had even properly begun.
Stepping out of the car, I walked toward the entrance of the house, Nea's voice trailing behind me. Yet, my focus was locked onto Paul and his mysterious new girl. Determination surged within me – I was going to unravel the truth of what was going on with him.
Stepping into the house was like stepping onto a stage, your mind going blank in front of a crowd, blinking while everyone waited for your next move. The feeling lasted just a second, then the chatter and the clinking of mysterious, multi-colored drinks resumed.
I headed to the kitchen to mix my own concoction, the air buzzing with excitement and a touch of mystery. As I focused on my drink, a tap on my shoulder made me spin around, narrowly avoiding spilling my drink all over a guy's chest.
It was Trey – a football player who used to constantly invade my DMs back in middle school and throughout the years of high school. A typical light-skinned fella with his nose piercing and his bright white teeth as he towered over me, pulling me into a hug.
"Hey, what's up?" I smiled, taking a sip from my drink.
"Damn, girl, give me a 360," he said with a mischievous grin, rubbing his hands together.
I obliged with a grin and a twirl. "You're a mess, Trey." Our laughter filled the air.
"I didn't think you'd actually show up to this," Trey admitted, his tone curious.
I shrugged, my eyes darting toward Paul who was now walking with his new companion. Our gazes met, but he quickly averted his eyes, pretending I wasn't even there at the same party.
My attention shifted back to Trey, a spark of curiosity ignited within me. "Why's that?" I inquired, intrigued by his doubt about my attendance. My eyes involuntarily darted toward Paul, but before I could linger on the thought, Bryan burst onto the scene, the music and his voice rising above the crowd. Lindsay joined him, dancing to the rhythm, seemingly lost in the moment.
Nea made her entrance alongside Andre and his friends, their group making their way to the backyard where the pool awaited.
"Ari?" Trey's voice pulled me back to the conversation, and I realized I had been drifting. Maybe I'd entertain this chase for a little longer.
"Sorry, what?" I refocused on Trey, giving him my attention.
"I was saying, why don't you ever open my snaps? You're always leaving me on delivered, girl."
I waved my hand dismissively. "Trey, I'm not going to play this game with you. You're only after one thing." I offered a slightly awkward smile.
Trey's grip tightened as he held onto my hand, and despite my slick maneuvering, he managed to catch me off guard. I extricated myself from his grasp, but he reached for me again.
"Okay, Trey, seriously, stop." I began to walk away, shaking my head.
"Where do you think you're going?" Trey's voice was both assertive and challenging. He pulled me back, his grip unwavering. I shot him a glare, frustration bubbling within me. "You know, I kind of like how you're playing hard to get, acting like you're not interested when deep down, you want me too."
I opened my mouth to retort, but just then, Andre stepped between us. Trey's glare shifted to Andre, and in a flash, their interaction escalated into a brief scuffle. I moved in, attempting to diffuse the situation. "Guys, come on, it's not worth it." My words fell on strained ears as I stood between them, the tension slowly ebbing away.
I stepped away, my intent to find Nea momentarily interrupted as Bryan, clearly under the influence, approached, offering me a friendly dap. He pulled Andre into the welcoming hug, "welcome to the joint you guys, hope you're having a good time, did ya'll find the keg yet?"
There was a silence between us three, like, crazy how we ended up here, in this situation with Bryan. Andre sighed and said, "Ari, are you okay?"
"Yeah, thanks." I said, watching Andre wriggle himself out of Bryan's hold, and fading into the crowd.
I raised my eyes to meet Bryan's, my worry evident. "Hey, are you alright? Looks like you've had more than your fair share of fun," I said, trying to inject a hint of humor as I motioned toward his cup.
Bryan's face scrunched up, his words carrying a defensive edge. "You really telling me what to do at my own bash?"
I quickly backpedaled with a sheepish smile. "Never mind, my bad."
A flicker of remorse crossed Bryan's features. "I'm sorry, Ari."
I furrowed my brows, puzzled. "For what?"
It was as though we both knew there was an unspoken undertone to this conversation. We found our way to a nearby couch, the chatter and music forming a backdrop to our hushed exchange.
I adjusted my hair and set my drink aside, feeling the energy of the room swirling around us. Bryan turned to face me, his lips parting as he wrestled to express himself coherently, though the alcohol clearly had other plans for his words.
"I... Ari, I just..." His voice trailed off, the struggle evident. Despite his less-than-sober state, his intention seemed to hang in the air.
A flutter of unease tingled in my chest, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. The world around us seemed to hush, the music fading into the background and the lights dimming, casting an almost ethereal glow.
It was like I was suspended in a dream, or perhaps a nightmare, intensified by the effects of that hit I'd taken earlier. Dizziness started to creep in, and I sensed the situation was about to take a nosedive. Words slipped out before I could hold them back, "Why?"
Bryan's gaze darted briefly to Lindsay, who was making her way over, before returning to me. "Bro, I'm not gay." He said, laughing.
All at once, the world seemed to slow down. The music muffled, the lights softened, and the spotlight turned to us. It felt like an alternate reality, whether from the hit I'd taken or the heightened emotions of the moment. The room seemed to sway, like everything was spinning out of control. I couldn't quite grasp the words that slipped out, "What?"
Bryan's eyes shifted between me and Lindsay, then settled on me. His words hit like a punch, the weight of them settling heavily. "Dude, you're a guy, I'm not gay."
A heavy weight settled in my chest, suffocating me under the spotlight of attention. Nea's presence nearby was a comforting anchor amidst the chaos, her expression mirroring my disbelief.
Words stumbled out of my mouth; my voice uncertain as I tried to process the situation. "I...I seriously have no idea what you're talking about," I managed, my attempt at a smile coming across more awkward than reassuring. Glancing around at the faces fixed on me, a mix of curiosity and judgment in their eyes, I felt like a deer caught in headlights.
Lindsay, her arms crossed and a triumphant smirk on her lips, leaned casually against Bryan's lap. "Don't even bother pretending, okay? You really thought you could get away with it?" Her tone dripped with a mixture of mockery and satisfaction. "My dad's connected to the PTA, and guess what? I got my hands on the list for the homeroom back-to-school night. And there it was, plain as day: Michael Martin." She spoke with a self-assuredness that sent a shiver down my spine.
Trying to hold myself together, I countered with a shaky smile, attempting to hide my inner turmoil. "Honestly, I'm not sure what you're talking about," I insisted, my unease creeping into my voice. Standing up, I contemplated making a swift exit to escape this rapidly unfolding embarrassment.
Lindsay's gaze remained fixed on me, a calculated blend of triumph and spite in her eyes. "Don't be so quick to dash away," she drawled, standing and forcefully pushing me back onto the couch. I felt like a puppet in her hands, helpless against her determination. "We're far from finished here."
Nea's voice was a faint echo of reason in the chaos. "Lindsay, come on, this is crossing a line."
A dismissive wave of Lindsay's hand silenced Nea. "Shut up," she retorted with an icy edge, her gaze never wavering from me. The room seemed to close in, amplifying the weight of her words. "That name, Michael? It triggered a memory from middle school—a guy with a high-pitched voice, a life in shambles, in and out of shelters because mommy couldn't get her shit together. He went by Mikey, and he stole my pictures online, all while he was drowning in his own misery."
Paul's figure materialized from the crowd, his presence adding to the intensity of the moment. Andre watched from a distance, his expression a mix of concern and intrigue.
Lindsay's narrative continued, a blend of scorn and accusation in her words. "Mikey vanished from school as his lies began to unravel. Never thought I'd see him again—until now." Her gaze bore into me, dripping with disdain. "And now here you are, embodying all that deception and desperation. Thinking you stood a chance with a straight guy."
Amidst the growing tension, Nea's attempt to lighten the mood felt like a much-needed lifeline. I took a sip of my drink, trying to regain my composure as Lindsay pushed the drink towards me, splattering it all over my outfit.
The room erupted in laughter, but as I stood up, the laughter died down, replaced by a palpable hush.
My voice wavered, a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "Yeah, I stole your pictures," I admitted, meeting Lindsay's piercing gaze head-on. "But I woke up to the fact that it was wrong, and I stopped. Years ago."
Lindsay's words dripped with disdain, her eyes narrowing. "You're a creep, Michael. You'll never be a real girl."
"It's Ariah." I pressed on, my voice stronger now. "I was struggling with my identity, lost in confusion, and I used your pictures as a crutch. I was wrong, and I'll own up to it." The crowd around us held their breath, eyes fixed on the unfolding drama.
But I wasn't going to let this moment define me solely by my past mistakes. With a steadying breath, I faced Lindsay with unwavering resolve. "Thank you, Lindsay," I said, my voice clear and unshaken. "Thanks for pushing me to confront my own journey. Yeah, I was born a dude, but I'm not ashamed of who I am now. I faced my truth and accepted it. I know that hurts you, because you're life probably isn't that great, and you're hiding behind daddy's money."
A hush fell, the weight of my words hanging in the air. "And you, Lindsay, waving your Christian banner while using someone's personal struggle as some twisted form of entertainment. Judge me all you want but listen up: I've survived a world where judgment was the norm, tackled the challenges of being true to myself, and come out on the other side stronger. I won't apologize for my journey, even if it once led me to use someone else's identity to escape – something you, with your cookie-cutter view of things, hetero normative, dry ass mind, could never truly grasp." My gaze pierced through her gaped mouth.
I threw my hands out, pointing toward the sea of phones that were capturing the intense scene. In that very instant, a surge of newfound strength coursed through me. Defiance burned bright in my eyes as I turned away from the spectacle, my chin held high against the prying gazes.
With resolute steps, I walked away from Bryan's house, feeling the rush of liberation washing over me like a tidal wave. This was my moment of unapologetic truth, a declaration of who I was always meant to be.