I roll out of bed on Saturday morning a little after ten. That’s pretty late for me especially now that we’re back in school, but I think I deserve it after this week. It’s only been five days, but already I feel like I’ve run a marathon with the amount of stress I’ve had to handle. The worst part? It’s only week one of many to come. Great sodding joy.

I typically sleep in sweats and a baggy T-shirt because it’s enough to disguise my shape and comfortable enough to let me relax. I know, like you, I’d love to slither into bed in something silky and feminine but hey, that’s for the pages of fiction, right? The big problem there is that I can’t exactly lock my bedroom at night, as much as I would like to. My parents are concerned for our ‘safety’ and pesky things like ‘fires’. Ok, that is admittedly a very valid thing for parents to worry about, but what teen really wants to admit that though?

Crawling out of my pit, I shuffle into the bathroom and brush my teeth before making my way downstairs in search of morning sustenance. This isn’t some bright beautiful fictional world where my parents have a delicious cooked breakfast prepared every morning. Like many, they have lives too and I’m pretty sure at this point they’re off doing something far more important than waiting on their offspring hand and foot. Weekend or not, at ten am I’m most certainly on my own when it comes to feeding time.

I do however smell coffee in the kitchen, so my senses are elevated slightly above neutral by the time I enter the room.

“Morning squirt,” Rob mutters from the kitchen island, his own cup in hand. My brother looks up and catches sight of me and shakes his head. “Jeez, you’re a fucking sight.”

I glare at him and make a stupid face before heading straight for the coffee machine without speaking a word. Anything I say now will be pure insult and that isn’t sporting behavior for family members who put the machine on in the first place.

Filling my cup, I add a generous helping of milk and sugar before immediately sipping my steaming brew. Slowly, very slowly the caffeine begins to permeate my brain and I grin lazily to myself as I slip onto one of the stools at the island.

Rob shakes his head. “I think you’re worse than Mom without coffee.”

“Mhmm.”

“Glad you came to the game last night, it means a lot to me. I know you’re not a huge fan, but it really does.”

I eye my brother warily. It’s far too early for me to resist treachery. “you’re….welcome?”

For once, Rob looks surprisingly genuine. This seems like an opportunity.to build some bridges. I smile, “I don’t mind watching the sport, but i really don’t want to play. Plus it matters a lot more when there’s someone I care about in it.”

He raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Bullshit aside squirt, I appreciate it. Gives me a reason to dig deeper when I know family is watching me.”

My eyes start to itch and I want to cry because it’s a lovely sentiment and I’m far too tired to resist the urge. To deflect it, I drain my coffee cup in one and hurry off to grab some pop-tarts to throw in the toaster. Phew, disaster averted, I can’t allow emotion to show in front of boys.

Rob looks at me funny for a second as I’m stood by the toaster. “When the hell did you have so much hair dude?”

“Huh?”

“You,” Rob gestures vaguely at my head.. “Look at you, it’s like someone dragged a horse through a hedge backward.”

I run my hands through my hair defensively trying to tame it back into something approaching masculine decency. I was a little too sleepy to find a tie before I came downstairs and I’m suddenly quite embarrassed that I let my guard down.

“No wonder some of the guys thought Chrissie was back home last night,” Rob chuckles between bites of toast.

“Um, what? No, I don’t.” I mutter intelligently.

Rob raises an eyebrow. “Not sure you’ve seen a mirror recently bro but you kinda do.”

Brain broke, not sure what to say… getting called out and being barely awake isn’t the best time to mount a comprehensive legal defense. My solution? Clam up and turn red. It’s that kind of blush where you can literally feel the heat radiating off your skin and you almost expect to start sweating.

“Sorry,” Rob mumbles seeing the state I’m now in. “It’s probably just you hanging around with those girls constantly. Tell me you’re at least dating one of them?”

I shake my head slowly, “No, they’re my friends.”

Rob sighs and pushes his now empty plate aside and reaches over to give me a friendly fist bump on the shoulder. “Alex, look, I know you get a lot of shit and I’m sorry for adding to it. You know I got your back at school. If I’m saying anything now, it’s to help you, ok?”

“I dunno how it helps,” I mutter, not able to look at him. “Not like I can do anything about it.”

I can feel him quietly watching me. He doesn't actually say anything but I can feel how awkward this moment is. Before you wonder if I’m about to come out to my big brother you are dead wrong. I may have broken my vow of silence to Meg and accidentally now Kara, but this isn’t some cutesy moment where Big Bro realizes I’m actually little sis. No way… not now.

Rob sighs and leans over and lifts my head up till I’m looking right at him. “Look, Alex, I could tell you to cut your hair off or go lift weights, but I’m gonna give you some better advice; just be you. It sounds washy and stupid but fuck that; just be yourself. Whoever that is, own it. You’re sixteen; you’re not a little kid anymore. I spent too much time trying to be who I thought others wanted me to be and who I thought Dad wanted me to be. I’m none of them, I’m just me; my own man.

You’re a lot more like mom, you’re thoughtful and you care about others. You want to be a doctor for Christ’s sake Alex, that’s awesome. Be that person; don’t change any one part of it to try and fit in.”

This is profound with a capital fucking P. I am seeing my brother in an entirely new light. We might squabble and argue and act like brats towards each other sometimes, but god damn if he isn’t being a textbook big brother right now. I want to cry and hug him, but I know that’s the wrong answer in our current relationship. I want to tell him how much I love him but I think that might ruin the mood.

“Thanks, dude.” I offer as a masculine consolation.

Rob smiles and ruffles my hair, undoing what taming operations I had managed to accomplish. “Go get the fuck out of here and do something useful with the day huh. Go touch some grass.”

He pauses and checks his phone. “Actually, don’t do something useful. I’m heading down to the mall later to meet up with Face and RJ. You, my dude, are coming with me. We’re going to have some bro time.”

Oh god, no thanks.

“I don’t want to cramp your style Rob, but thanks anyway.” I offer, hoping he takes the hint.

Rob shakes his head and grins. “Oh no, not gonna happen. You’re coming with and we’re going to bond and do bro shit and earn you some cool points so people don’t try to kick your midget ass this semester.”

Fuck shit fuck shit damnit. Why do things have this unwavering tendency to go from bad, to good, to fucking worse?

 

 

An hour later, we are driving down the road in Rob’s car and I’m not entirely happy about it. I would far rather have spent my Saturday lounging around playing video games or reading, but no, I’m on the way to the mall to go hang with ‘the dewds’; lucky me!

Look, I can appreciate the sentiment behind the whole thing; my brother is trying to be a good guy, a proper big brother. He wants to help me feel better. To him, hanging out with his teammates is a surefire way to earn me respect and social status that will solve all my worldly ills. I’ve no doubt they’ll be chill considering they like my brother, but I don’t know if I really feel prepared for the impending level of machismo.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Rob observes over the obnoxious hip-hop he’s listening to on the stereo. “I’ll take you home if you really didn’t want to come.”

I shake my head, “No, it’s fine. I just worry I’ll cramp your style or have nothing in common with them.” Both are accurate statements.

“Eh, football aside, they’re just regular guys.” Rob shrugs. “We’re just going to chill, play some games and vibe, nothing fancy. Anyway, you’re my bro, that's the only in you need.”

God, I really want to tell him how wrong he is, to point out that I’m his sister but I can’t. The truth is, I really want nothing to do with his bro time, but I do want him. As much as the idea is not my favorite, I love the fact he thought of me. At the very least the sentiment was worth it Rob.

I love that he cares and that’s really the crux of the matter, isn’t it? I’ll come today because he asked me to, nothing else. He’s my brother and that matters more to me than suffering his goon squad for a while. Hell, maybe it will help, and hanging out with the manliest men will get people to see me more as a guy for the time being. Guilty by association, right?

Fifteen minutes later we pull into the lot at our destination, the Three Pines Shopping Mall. It’s the shopping and social networking mecca for the local teen population in our city. You know how these places operate; come the weekend it's overrun with kids that parents want out from underfoot. Here, like the African plains, the circle of life occurs… breeding, hunting and even grazing.

Yeah, like you, I’d love to be here as a girl hanging out with my besties and browsing the lingerie stores, trying on shoes, and drinking smoothies but that shit isn’t going to happen. At least not for a few years yet. I sure hope you’ll be able to curb your enthusiasm a little for now.

What am I wearing? Oh yes, that’s important, isn’t it? Regular old tan cargo pants, Rans sneakers, and a baggy vintage Blitzkrieg Flop sweatshirt. It’s bulky and comfortable; just the way my dysphoria likes it. My stupid hair which caused so much trouble this morning is neatly tamed into a low ponytail to keep it out of the way. This is my boymode; it’s not much, but It’s mine. It’s stood me in good stead, but even now I can see Meg’s point; it’s leaning hard to neutral and isn’t going to work for much longer without harsher steps.

Who are the mysterious Face and RJ we are meeting? Ah yes, I remember you asking that a while back. These wonderful nicknames belong to Kyle ‘Face’ Johnson and Ricardo ‘RJ‘ Sanchez. They’re two of Rob’s teammates and part of the defensive line alongside him. This means they’re hulking monsters of teen boy meat and, unlike Rob, are on the more median end of the brain cell bonanza.

We step through the doors and I’m hit immediately by a wall of human noise. The cavernous space is absolutely packed with human flotsam and it’s not even lunchtime yet. Rob knows where he’s going and he’s recounting last night’s plays to me while we walk. I say walk, but compared to his long loping stride I’m practically trotting just to keep up. Side benefit, however; he manages to part the human tide in ways I never possibly could.

We arrive outside one of the arcades and I spot Rob’s friends waiting for us. (Yes, this is 2004, our mall still has arcades ok?)

“Yo Iceman, how’s it hangin’?” RJ bellows clasping Rob’s hand in some bro-shake.

‘Iceman’? Oh boy, that’s ammo for later.

“Sup dude, the others here yet?”

“Gettin’ food man. We’re gonna head there now and get lunch early.”

“Oh, yeah, this is Alex, my little bro, remember?” Rob adds gesturing at me.

“You a Freshie kid?” Face asks, tossing me a casual bro-nod.

“Uh, Junior.”

Face’s… well, face is a picture. “You’re… a junior?”

“Face…” Rob warns, sensing a problem.

“Nah man it’s cool,” Face shrugs and eyes me a little suspiciously. “Hey dude.”

It’s going to be a long, fucking, day.

We’re walking to the food court when my phone vibrates. Now you have to understand, that this isn’t some modern smartphone, this is 2004. This brick is my baby, the Nokia 3210. This thing barely texts and you’re limited in characters, so for speed and to get your point across everyone uses text speech. Autocorrect? What’s that? Try typing with your number pad zoomers!

Meg B - ‘hru wyd?’

Yes, Megan is a strong proponent of text speak, and she can be quite confusing sometimes. I fire off a reply.

Alex W - ‘@ mall w R, nb chce :(‘

Stuffing my phone back in my pocket I try to keep up with the three varsity football players. Just picture the difference here; I’m 5’6 and skinny, and these three are all over six feet tall defensive players. If I’m not jogging to keep up, I’m lost in their wake.

The guys look through a few shops as we make our way towards the food court. They're not in any particular hurry and they’d far rather eye the flocks of girls that populate the mall on weekends like this. Thankfully, we reach our destination before anything too embarrassing occurs. My phone vibrates again.

Meg B - ‘sad, u hng l8r?’

Alex W - ‘Ys, l8r.’

I put my phone away, at least I can use that as an excuse later on to dip off and avoid any further plans. I appreciate my brother, but if I can dip out of Bro-fest without looking ungrateful I’ll be happy. That is if I can manage to get through lunch with the ‘guys’. I love Rob, and I love what he’s trying to do here, but I have very little in common with these guys. It’s going to be very difficult to relate, I’m sure they’re lovely people, really, I am. I just don’t know how to relate to them this way.

Everyone grabs food and drinks from the various vendors. Mostly a broad selection of burgers, chicken, and other fried foods. Me? I’m not exactly going to get away with a salad, am I? Instead, I settle for a shake and some fries. It’s not exactly hours since breakfast and I’m not eating to power a football team like this lot. When we make it to the table I realize to my great regret that I should have attempted to excuse myself far sooner.

Rick, my ever-present shadow is sitting right there in the booth in front of me. Ordinarily not a huge issue, but now I realize what he might be thinking it’s a lot weirder. He’s chowing down on a burger and chatting to three of the other team guys. Worse yet? He spots me before I can think of an excuse to run off.

“Hey! I didn’t think I’d see you today,” he grins sliding along to make space. My only other choices are to sit with Face and two of the guys I don’t know or in an entirely different booth and be antisocial. Reluctantly, I slide in beside Rick and get bookended by Rob’s hulking form.

“Uh, hi,” I reply intelligently, “Rob’s idea that I came along.”

“Glad you did,” he offers as he eyes my meager lunch. “Not hungry?”

I shrug. “It’s early and we did only just have breakfast so… yeah.”

Rick nods seriously. “Good idea, avoid the fish eh?”

“I… yeah, good point.” I grin sheepishly.

Face leans across the table interrupting our conversation and points at Rick and then me before talking directly to Rob.

“You’re telling me those two are in the same grade?”

Rob rolls his eyes. “You know you don’t gotta be the same height to be the same age dumbass.”

Face seems to consider this then grins like he suddenly gets it. Rob catches my eye and just smirks at me.

“When is your birthday?” Rick asks.

“February 6th,” I admit between fries. “You?”

“Damn, you’re older than me.” he grins, “May.”

“See Face?” I call over to the brain trust. “I’m actually older than him.”

This seems to undo all of Rob’s hard work. “Huh? But you’re so little,” he replies scratching his head.

Rob shakes his head. “Leave him alone Alex, you’re hurting his brain cell.”

Several of the guys chuckle and I feel like I inadvertently earned points.

Lunch isn’t really that bad honestly. I kinda keep to myself after making a point with Face and generally avoid being involved in the more boisterous conversation topics. I don’t have anything against any of these guys but they really aren’t my people. Conversations about girlfriends or girls they want as their girlfriends, sports, and sports teams are rolling over my head as I focus on my fries. Lunch drags on for half an hour or so as the guys alternate between stuffing their faces and watching girls around us in the food court.

Once we’re done, there’s a general exodus back in the direction of the arcade where we met Face and RJ. Rick decides to stay with me to talk, much to my chagrin.

“You do much on the weekend usually?” Rick asks as im finishing off my shake.

I shrug. “No, usually just play some games, read, relax.”

“My dad would kill me if I wasn’t up with the birds to get chores done early,” he smirks ruefully. “We live out on a cattle ranch so I’ve got responsibilities before school and they don’t stop on weekends.”

Our city is right on the edge of a more rural part of the state, so it’s not that unlikely.

“So you’re a cowboy huh?”

“No, but I do gotta feed the horses and a bunch of other stuff. At weekends I just help out where I’m needed when I’ve not got stuff on.”

“I guess I feel lazy now for sleeping in and feeling put out that Rob dragged me along.”

Rick smiles, “I’m glad he did. You’re cool Alex, look, I know we don’t exactly mix in the same circles but I’d like to be friends… if you want to be, that is.”

Danger Will Robinson, Danger.

“I guess,” I offer. “I don’t know why though?”

“You’ve got hidden depths.” he points out, hitting FAR closer to that given nerve than I’d like. “It’s like at school; you seem to keep yourself so controlled and contained. I remember thinking you were pretty funny last year, you always seemed to have the right thing to say at the right time. This year though, it's like you shut down and just buried it all.”

“It’s only been a week.” I point out.

“I know, but I stand by my point.”

He’s not wrong. I have locked myself down and put serious controls on what people see since I started hormones. It’s difficult and apparently not unnoticed, but at least the real reason has remained secret.

“I’m just a private person.”

“Lonely,” Rick suggests more accurately than I’m prepared to hear.

“So what is it?” I cask with a little more fire than I probably should have. “So I’m just a charity friendship; the Jock befriends the nerd to make him feel better for his social standing? Either it’s a misguided act of honor or you’re planning to draw me in to make fun of me later. Either case, I don’t want it.”

Perhaps I went a little too far, Rick looks hurt by my remarks. He stops walking by one of the railings that overlooks the lower floor of the mall and watches the sea of human traffic passing below us. He’s silent for a few minutes, leaning against the railing before he speaks without looking at me.

“When I was in middle school I got bullied a lot by the other kids. I was pretty small and considered the token farmboy who didn’t belong at a school for the rich and powerful. They loved to target me,” he admits, not looking over in my direction. “I got my ass kicked and called names almost daily. When I came to high school, I told myself I wouldn’t be that guy again. I worked out, I got into sports and I became popular. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy football, but it started as a means to an end.”

He looks over at me and I see this honest pain on his face. “You remind me a lot of myself in middle school, but… I don’t know, like you gave up? I see how they are killing your spirit and I see it pushing you back inside yourself and bottling your personality up tight where nobody can hurt you. I’m not trying to be friends because it’s charity but rather, because I’ve been there, and you look like you could do with one.”

Who knew that someone could be so sensitive to your troubles and yet you don’t even know their name until a week ago… my god, I feel like such an asshole.

“I’m sorry.” I offer weakly, not quite sure how to respond. “Please, forgive me?”

Rick smiles, he has a nice smile. I mentally shake myself and focus. “Yeah Alex, of course. I know you’re kinda on the defensive all the time.”

“Do you blame me? Out of nowhere, a popular jock decides he wants to be best buds with the dweeb of Junior year. You’d be suspicious too in my shoes.”

Rick laughs and shrugs. “I get it, I know I would be too. You gonna calm down now and actually act like a human being or are you going to keep acting like I’m about to punk you?”

Oh boy, he has no idea why I’m reluctant to let my guard down around him, for more than one reason.

We resume walking, although slightly slower now because we’re not trying to keep up with the others. Rick’s story yanked at my heartstrings something rotten. I had made a snap judgment about him simply because he was a jock. I’ve severely sold him short and that was uncool of me. One thing I’ve realized over time is that trans crap can make you really introspective and ignorant of other people’s struggles.

How do I befriend someone that I can’t even tell the whole truth to? How do I let him in but keep him at arm's length? Dear god, what a position I keep putting myself in. It’s worse now because I’ve seen through the exterior he presents; he’s a good guy. We have so much in common yet we’re so different. Why does life have to be complicated?

“I can’t let you in,” I admit, feeling a sudden desire to be honest but not too honest. “Not all the way, but I can try.”

Rick glances over and smiles, “I can work with that.”

We talk about nothing in particular as we walk towards the arcade. It’s actually nice now that I’ve let my guard down a little. I’ve got to work to maintain my mask of course, but what’s new there? Why is it that when I finally start transitioning and becoming my true self, I start to actually make friends but I have to hide it from you? Life sucks.

We catch a little stick for turning up later when we finally arrive at the arcade but it's clearly only meant in a friendly way. I’m able to relax a little and just enjoy some gaming; after all, we’re in my domain now. These guys might be the football gods, but my thumbs are faster. I’ll give him credit where it’s due though, Rick, as it turns out, isn't too bad himself. This guy can play some mean Dino Disaster.

“You’ve got to change how you hold the ball.” Rick laughs as he watches me fuck up this basketball hoop shooting game for the fifth time in a row. “Here, watch.” He pops another quarter in the machine and takes my spot in front of the contraption.

“The game is rigged,” I huff, my arms crossed in frustration.

“Nah, watch.” He proceeds to flick the ball up and straight into the hoop. The machine whistles and flashes to further rub his success in. “Come on, stand in front of the machine” he offers pointing to the spot he was just in with the ball.

I take his spot and wait. “What now?”

“Right, look at the hoop.”

“I am, it's not going anywhere.”

“Look at the hoop and throw.”

I hold the ball like he was and aim exactly where he tells me. I release the ball and it goes flying off the backboard, bounces back, and ricochets off the mesh screen preventing it from coming back to get me.

I shriek and flinch to protect myself from the ball that never arrives. Rick? He’s laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny,” I whine. “I thought it was going to hit me.”

“God you throw like a girl.”

Gurk.

“Nah, girls throw better than Alex does, even their team doesn’t want him.” Rob offers from behind us. I hadn’t even noticed him arrive, but then again it's dark and loud in the arcade.

(Note from future Holly: Rob, you were wrong. The girls' team absolutely wanted me.)

“Perhaps.” Rick agrees. “I’m trying to help, but I’m pretty sure he’s a lost cause.”

“I am here you know,” I complain. “Playing sports games doesn’t mean you can recover from the ass-whupping you got on Plumber Kart.”

“Point.” Rick laughs.

Rob wanders back off to join the others leaving the pair of us alone at the dumb basketball machine.

“One last go, I’m positive you can do it.” Rick offers. “I’ll even help. If you score a basket then drinks are on me.”

“What if I don’t?”

He looks thoughtful. “Not going to happen, I’m amazing. However in the unlikely outcome that you do somehow miss, you’re buying.”

I shrug and grab the next ball from the holder and line up. Rick steps in behind me and takes my arms and positions them so the ball is held just below my sightline.

“Right, just rock back and look just above the hoop then release.”

I take a breath before doing as he asks and suddenly smell what I’m convinced is his aftershave or cologne. Whatever it is, it’s musky and not an entirely unpleasant scent. At the exact moment I’m about to release the ball I realize that a boy is standing really close with his arms around me. I’m close enough to smell his scent and my pubescent girl brain skips a gear and goes into reverse. I miss the entire basket despite it being barely ten feet away and bounce the ball wildly off the side of the cage.

I duck out from under his arm and grin sheepishly. “Oh, whoops, look’s like I owe you a drink uh, dude, yeah.”

Rick raises an eyebrow and beacons me back. “Nah, one more go, come on.”

I hesitate, frozen to the spot with a stupid grin on my face. Why am I letting this happen? What am I letting happen? He’s just being friendly right? What signals am I putting out? How much is the fish?

I return to the shooting spot reluctantly and wait for Rick to take up his position. I’m now deliberately taking tiny breaths through my mouth to avoid smelling him. I’m aware of this warm presence behind me as I grab the ball and wait. I don’t know what it is, but I feel this flutter in my chest that I cannot explain. It isn’t anything I’ve felt before and it isn’t unpleasant.

“Now relax, jeez, you’re like a ball of wire. Just loosen up ok?” Rick’s voice rumbles behind me. He grips my shoulders and kneads them in something I’m pretty sure he thinks is a massage. It’s probably not, but it didn’t feel horrible. I can only manage to quietly eep to myself as I stand there in a busy arcade being touched by this guy, this guy that I learned only the day before seems to be ‘into’ me. Gulp.

Rick takes the ball and holds it out while he waits for me to grip it in the correct position. I close my eyes and exhale and do exactly as he directed and release the ball, my eyes fixed just above the metal hoop on the back of the machine. It feels like an eternity as the ball sails through the air before landing slap-bang in the middle of the hoop.

I’ll admit, I’m pretty bloody awful at sports. This isn’t some boy loser-to-girl jock transformation. I suck as any sex.. This one is entirely on Rick, and I’m not shy to admit it. And no, this isn’t the moment where I lose myself in the moment and happily bounce and hug him… no.

I slip away from Rick’s proximity and smile awkwardly. “You were right maestro. I concede the point.”

“I told you you could do it,” he grins proudly.

“That was more you than me.” I point out, “But who am I to turn down a free drink?”

Rick seems amused by my reaction but says nothing. Instead, he walks across to the concessions counter and returns a few moments later with a pair of tall cokes. Handing one to me, he offers me a symbolic toast.

“Deal’s a deal, you did score a basket. I didn’t specify how.”

“Thanks,” I concede, “You know, you’re not an awful teacher.”

“Thanks, I help coach at a basketball camp during the summer.”

“How old?”

“Middleschool.”

I roll my eyes. “That made me feel a lot worse.”

Rick shrugs and grins. “Some people just aren’t cut out for sports. There’s nothing wrong with that. Heck, you can beat the pants off me at most of those games.”

He has a point. But then again, having no friends means you do play a lot of games. It’s an unfair advantage most nerds have. Before we can talk more, the rest of the guys return and we’re rolled up in the tide of broventure. I’m glad for the distraction honestly, things were getting far too real with Rick. This allows me to slip back in with my brother and stop thinking about the scent of Rick’s aftershave.

I don’t know what the hell that was with the basketball game, but none of that felt like two boys hanging at the arcade. There’s every possibility that I’m reading into things but I’m not convinced it’s that simple. I’m going to have to try and police myself around Rick: This cannot happen, not now, not ever. In the best-case scenario, he gets weirded out and runs away telling everyone about the freak kid. The worst, he beats the crap out of me when he realizes what’s going on.

I tell you what this is; a terrible idea for my continued living. There are more chances of this getting my ass kicked and humiliated. And yet somehow people in this world think we transition for benefits, for an easier life; what a joke! I have to keep myself focused on what matters here; surviving high school.

Rick, as much as I don’t want him to be, is a gorgeously distracting speed bump in the way of a life of happiness. I have to ignore him, I have to play the boy. Why do I feel like Viola falling for the Duke Orsino?

Damnit Shakespeare, why did you have to be such a downer?

 

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!