SHE TASTED SWEET ON MY tongue.
My heart was pumping, fast and strong and steady, like I was running a race. I didn’t care what the repercussions might be for this moment; I was taking it.
We were taking it.
This moment was ours.
If there had been any doubt left in my mind about whether or not she really did like me, it vanished, like the space between us vanished as our lips slipped together. She brought our hands—the ones that were joined—down to the side of her waist, and left my mine there, while hers traveled up my arm, over my shoulder, around to the back of my neck. I let my fingers press through her shirt against the soft part where her waist and hip met.
I felt her breath catch.
We pulled each other closer at the same time.
Her other hand was touching my face, her fingers soft and searching as they passed over my cheekbone and jaw and chin and down the front of my neck and back again, like she was cataloguing their shapes in her memory.
We were breathing the same; my inhale was her exhale, her inhale my exhale. I felt our kisses through my whole body as they grew faster and deeper by the second. Her hands moved down to my hips, and she took a few small steps toward me, steering me backward with her hands. We passed through the bright white light of the headlights, and I opened my eyes to see our shadows moving against the brick wall. She was leading us around to the side of the car, still kissing me.
I pulled my mouth from hers for a moment, but she answered my question before I had a chance to ask: “I just want to be closer to you.”
I heard the click of the handle unlatching, and she swung the back door open. I got in first, and I held her hands while she slid in behind me.
I pulled her close, our chests pressed together, and when she tilted her head back, her breathing was just as ragged as mine. I could feel her throat swallowing against my lips as I kissed her neck. She brought her leg up and wrapped it around mine. My hand went to her thigh—I wished I could touch her face and her arms and hands and legs all at the same time.
She was slowly sliding down onto her back, pulling me against her so there was no space in between us. I was on top of her and I tried to hold myself up, but my arms were shaking. My shirt had pulled up a little, and our bare stomachs were touching. My leg was between her thighs, and as she raised her hips and pressed herself against me, I thought my heart was going to explode.
“Wait, is this okay?” I asked her, pulling out of our kiss to look at her.
She was nodding, saying, “Yes, yes. It is, I swear.”
Her hands were on my back, over my shirt. I knew she had to have been feeling my binder underneath, and I knew I needed to stop before it went any further, but god, I didn’t want to.
I leaned down and kissed her collarbone, then her neck again—her elegant neck—I’d been wanting to do that for so long. I felt her thighs squeeze against my sides. I had my mouth close to her ear. I was going to tell her, Maia, we should stop, but before I could, she moved her hands from the small of my back, where her fingertips were touching skin, to my waist, and just as I was going to catch her hand, not let it go any further, she took mine in hers instead and placed it, so gently, on her stomach, under her shirt, and guided my hand up and over her bra.
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against her shoulder for just a moment while I tried to gather my willpower.
“Is this really okay?” I asked again. Part of me hoped she’d say no, because I was scared.
“Yes,” she answered.
I felt her breathing hitch as my hand molded to the shape of her breast. She pulled her shirt up, slowly, over her head. We watched as she tossed it aside and it fell out of the open door onto the ground outside.
We looked at each other and laughed at the same time.
She bit down on her lip, and whispered, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “But are you sure you’re—”
“I am. I’m really okay,” she said, cutting me off. “I’m just a little embarrassed.”
“Why?” I whispered back.
“I’ve never done anything like this,” she said. “Like. Ever.”
I nodded. I understood. “You don’t need to feel embarrassed about anything.” I understood completely. “You are so amazing, and so kind, and smart, and so, so, so incredibly beautiful in every way possible.”
She held my face in her hands and kissed me, and I felt so comfortable under her touch that I almost forgot about the thing I could never quite forget about. She let her hands trail down my neck, over my shoulders, and everything felt so right. Until she placed her hands on my chest. I pulled back, recoiled—it was a reflex. She flinched. And almost right away, she moved her hands down to the sides of my waist. She was watching me too closely. I needed to look away, so I leaned down and kissed her shoulder.
“Chris?” She brought her hand under my chin, tipping my face forward, making me look at her. “Is this okay for you?”
I hesitated. She was asking me the question I really needed to be asked right now, only I didn’t know how to answer her. There were no simple yes or no answers to that question. I shifted my weight off her and sat up.
So did she.
“It’s okay,” she said, taking both of my hands in hers, “if it’s not okay.”
“I want this. I want all of this. I really do.” I paused. I wasn’t sure what was about to come out of my mouth. Part of me just wanted to hop out of the car and run away and just keep running forever, and never face her again. Not if telling the truth meant that everything was about to be ruined. I swallowed hard past the fear that was collecting around all the words that seemed eternally stuck in my throat.
“But I have to tell you something, Maia,” I forced myself to continue. “And I don’t know what will happen after I tell you. It might change everything for you. It might change everything between us, and that is terrifying to me because I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I’ve never even dreamed that it was possible to feel the way I feel right now.”
“Okay,” she said. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
I nodded, took a deep breath, and spoke the words I’d practiced saying out loud in the mirror earlier that night after she’d left:
“I’m transgender.” I let the words dangle there, feeling the rest of my life hinging on what would happen next. “I just—I needed you to know.”
I held my breath as I watched her face for some sign of recognition, some sign that told me she understood what I was telling her, but she just kept looking at me in the same way she had been. All open and soft and patient.
“Maia, please tell me what you’re thinking?”
I braced myself, but she reached for my hand and held it in hers with so much tenderness. Then brought my fingers to her lips and closed her eyes as she kissed them. “I’m thinking,” she began, looking at me once again, “it doesn’t change anything.”
“Are you—are you sure?” I asked.
“I’m sure,” she said.
She let go of my hands and moved close to me, wrapping her arms around my neck, my shoulders, and I could feel her breath moving in and out of her body. She tightened her grip until I placed my arms around her too.
My hands felt cool against the warm, bare skin of her back.
I felt her relax against me, and just like that, all of the tension I’d been holding on to for my entire life started draining out of my body. We stayed in each other’s arms—the door wide open, her shirt on the ground, headlights still shining against the wall—until daylight began creeping in through the night clouds.