I am probably the worst Cape Cod resident in the history of the world.
I hate seafood. I also hate tourists and the beach. All year long, thousands of people flock to our beaches, fresh ocean bounty and quaint villages. I grew up in one of those quaint villages—Oceanside. Our town is tiny, the kind of place where everyone knows each other and they’ve all got their noses in your business. I’d love to say that I’m anonymous around there, but the truth is: I’m kind of famous.
Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve felt like a boy instead of a girl. I came out of the closet as a gay transgender guy when I was a junior in high school, and it was big news. I came out because I couldn’t handle hiding it any more. I cut my hair, changed my name from Christina to Carter, and began wearing a binder, which flattens my breasts so I can have a more male-looking chest. Weekly injections of testosterone helped me develop more masculine traits such as facial hair and a deeper voice. What do you think of my fantastic attempt at a goatee, by the way? At the time, not many folks had any idea what the word “transgender” meant, and I had to do a hell of a lot of explaining. My parents were beyond confused—I had to work really hard to get them to understand. I’m sure some of you get that.
It’s really simple actually: I was labeled a girl at birth and I don’t feel as though that title fits. I feel like a man. My four-year-old sister Hannah understood when I told her, “I was born in a girl’s body, but I have a boy’s brain.”
If only everyone got it as well as she did. It’s been okay though; I was lucky and I wasn’t bullied very much—my school had a Zero Tolerance policy for bullying. Any kids dumb enough to start trouble with me soon found themselves in deep shit. Through all of the changes, my family and friends stood behind me one hundred percent. Sometimes, I felt kind of lonely though. There weren’t any other openly trans people in Oceanside. I wish I’d had another person who identified with me.
I never went out with anyone in high school. All of my friends paired up and did all of the usual things: dances, dating, hooking up and stuff like that. I never did, because I was keeping a secret.
I remember thinking that I should have been born a little boy when I was really young, but I never thought I could tell anyone—I thought I was crazy. How could I explain feeling the way I did? Growing up, I was more of a tomboy and looked pretty masculine naturally. When I was a young teenager, I thought that, because I looked more male, I must be a lesbian, even though I felt more like a boy who liked other boys. Yeah, that’s really not the most open-minded thinking—it’s more than a bit homophobic, but I was young and uninformed. So, I came out for the first time when I was thirteen—as a lesbian. Yeah, I know. Hard to imagine looking at me now, right?
Surprisingly, I was not the only out kid around. My friend, J.P. Allen came out at around the same time. J.P. is a really handsome guy with lovely green eyes. He’s also tall and muscular with a fantastic swimmer’s build. I had a huge crush on him and no idea how to explain it. I’d have intense dreams where he and I fell in love and got married. I settled on having him as my best friend instead. And before you ask, yes he’s single. No, I won’t give you his number.
Today, I can’t imagine anything romantic between us—he’s been such an amazing support all of these years. He’s more like a brother—one who sometimes drives me insane just the way a real brother would. He’s a sarcastic guy and loves to tease me.
Back then, we bonded over feeling different from all the other kids. My mom and dad drove us to Provincetown often so we could be exposed to the diversity there. If you haven’t heard of it, Provincetown is a small, seaside town at the tip of Cape Cod, and is the gay capital of Massachusetts. I loved sitting on a bench downtown and watching the crowds pass by. Gays, lesbians, bisexuals and straight people—a true rainbow of humanity all mingling in colorful, loud, groups.
Provincetown was where I first became aware that transgender people existed. Oliver’s Bookshop sat smack dab in the middle of Commercial Street, right on the main drag. I was always saving my money to buy new books, and one day a book with a shirtless man on the cover caught my eye. I stood on my tiptoes and pulled it down from the high shelf—Our Emerging Selves: Stories of Transformations and Truth. If you haven’t read it, I totally recommend it.
I sat down on a rickety chair in a corner and flipped through the book. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the pages of photos of young men, but that wasn’t the remarkable part. The pictures were accompanied by side-by-side comparisons of those young men as young women. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Girls who felt as if they were actually boys? People who are open and honest about who they really are? I was shocked. I thought, if they could change, could I change too? I finally had a name for what I was and I remember I was so relieved I almost started to cry.
I looked at the price tag on the book and gathered all my money—I had just enough. As the cashier rang it in, I felt a lump in my throat and my cheeks burning. I wasn’t ready to let anyone know my secret, but I was overjoyed knowing I wasn’t alone.
Turns out, I wouldn’t be ready for four more years, but I really figured out who I was just before I turned eighteen.
The summer before I started at Boston University, I got a job at a snack bar at the beach so I could save as much money as possible. Yep, the snack bar was on the beach. I mentioned that I hate the beach and tourists, right? Every day, I put on my “Dave’s Clam Shack” T-shirt and khaki shorts, walked across hot sand and worked behind the counter serving customers all manner of fried foods. The Shack (as we lovingly called it) was built in the fifties and was really run down—probably still is. The wooden building was originally covered in faded shingles; many of them blew away during our famous nor’easters. Even though it’s practically falling down, it’s still popular with tourists and locals.
I got to work with J.P., and my boss, Joe Cohen, was pretty cool, but by the third week of summer I was already over working with the public. I really looked forward to my days off. J.P. used to laugh at me and say, “You’re such a ball of sunshine, dude.”
A huge mix of people came through our lines, and we saw more than a few handsome college guys on a daily basis. J.P. and I had a secret code word for when a particularly hot guy came around—“Hot Dog.”
One day, J.P. called out, “Hey! Carter—hot dog at two. I need a hot dog at two o’clock.”
I followed his gaze and almost choked when I saw the guy. He was compact and trim and he wore swim trunks. He had wavy chestnut hair and striking blue eyes—trust me, this man was gorgeous. I figured he was a little older than me—maybe a junior or senior in college. Out of my league, definitely.
J.P. caught my eye and winked. He said, “Go take his order, hot stuff.”
I told J.P. to shut up, cleared my throat and managed to ask the guy what he wanted.
“What do you recommend?” he asked.
When I asked him what he was in the mood for he said, “Something seafood-y.”
Considering that I would rather eat cut glass than shrimp, scallops, clams or lobster—I said, “The burgers are pretty good.” I know, right? Super suave.
He ordered a cheeseburger and fries, and oh, my, God. His smile. It was one of the loveliest smiles I’d seen in a really long time and he was aiming it at me.
I wanted to drop to my knees and ask him to marry me, but instead I just gave him his total and accepted a crisp twenty-dollar bill from his (perfect, veiny and strong-looking) hand.
“Thanks… Carter,” he said, reading my nametag.
When I handed him his change all I could think to say was, “Have a good one.” Fantastic conversationalist, right? You know when you imagine yourself punching yourself in the face? Yeah, that was me.
As he walked away holding his platter of food, I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
J.P. smacked me on the back of the head. “Wake up, lover boy. We’ve got more people to make happy. You can dream about him later—I know I probably will.”
I rolled my eyes at him and sighed dramatically. I wished that Mr. Attractive would come back and sweep me off my feet but resigned myself to the idea that I’d never see him again.
As I pulled into my driveway that night, I saw that both Mom and Dad were home at the same time—a rare occurrence. I love my parents. They’re not perfect by any stretch, but they’ve always been loving and supportive, and I know I’m really lucky. Mom’s a teacher, and Dad is a pediatrician. You should see the two of them; they are so mismatched in appearance, it’s hilarious. My mom has really curly brunette hair and is tiny. She’s only about four foot eleven. My dad is super tall and lanky with stick-straight silver hair. He’s about six foot six, and when they walk together they make an entertaining pair.
I was an only child until I was thirteen, when my little sister Hannah was born. She’s the greatest little kid. Sure, she drove me crazy when she was really young and I was still getting used to not being the only child. Now, she amuses the hell out of me. I’m her favorite person. As I got out of the car, she flew out of the front door and shouted my name over and over. Her unruly chestnut hair escaped a loose pony tail and stuck out all over the place.
Hannah jumped up and wrapped her arms around my neck for a hug. I used to call her Hanna-Banana—still do sometimes, just to annoy her. I asked her about summer day camp and she said, “It was really, really, good! We made bracelets and I maked you one.”
“You did? What color is it?” I asked.
“Purple, your favorite,” she said.
I love when my Dad makes dinner. He’s obsessed with shows like Top Chef and Chopped and spends a lot of his spare time making up recipes and trying all sorts of new techniques. Most of the time he’s successful, but every blue moon he fails miserably—like the time he made brownies but put in salt instead of sugar. You should have seen Hannah’s face as she tasted them—I don’t think she’s fully recovered yet.
My dad likes to give me a hard time. When I asked him what we were having for dinner he said, “Hello, Father. How was your day? Did you have a good one? Why, yes, son, I did.”
I called him a wiseass.
When Dad asked me about my day, I decided to be honest with him. I know some of you can’t do that with your folks, so I’ll tell you how that went.
I said, “I met the most handsome man in the entire world at work.”
“The most handsome?” my dad asked.
When I told him the mystery guy should win an award for “most attractive,” my dad laughed and said, “Should he be in the paper?”
Then I laughed because our town paper, The Enterprise, is often called “The Emptyprise” due to the supreme lack of interesting things happening in Oceanside.
“He’d definitely earn a place on the front page,” I told him. “I keep hoping against hope he’ll come back to The Shack, but I don’t think he’s going to. I guess our love affair was not meant to be.”
Dad made a sympathetic face and then called everyone for dinner.
I know families can drive you crazy sometimes, but I am so lucky, mine is pretty great. I felt better just by hanging out with them. After dinner I read Hannah Where the Wild Things Are—a book I read to her approximately a million times. When I checked my phone, I noticed J.P. had called nine times. Nine. Times.
I called him back immediately. “What’s wrong, man?” I asked.
J.P. said, “I’ve got intel on your mystery man. Apparently, he’s here for the summer.”
My heart jumped. Suddenly I had a million questions. “What? What else do you know? What’s his name? How old is he? Is he gay?”
He said, “Here’s the problem: all I know is, his family rented a house up in the Heights. My friend Sara Fieldman lives next door, and when I told her you were all obsessed about Mr. Hotpants, she told me the house next door was rented and she’d seen a guy who could possibly be the one we’re looking for hanging out in the back yard.”
And my heart sank.
I said, “You’re telling me that the only so-called information we’ve got is that he looks like a guy some girl has seen hanging out in the yard next to hers? That is ten kinds of not very helpful, J.P.”
“Dude, it’s more than you knew before—be grateful,” he grumbled.
J.P. had a point.
“Okay… I’ll take it, thanks,” I said
The next day at work, I prayed that my gloriously handsome friend would come back, but he didn’t. All week long, I scanned the lines for him, hoping he’d be there. J.P. thought that was the funniest thing he’d ever seen, and kept poking fun at me.
He said, “You’ve got it hard for this nameless guy, huh? You’re at least going to have to know his name before riding off into the sunset.”
Joe wasn’t as amused. I was distracted and kept screwing up orders and forgetting the most basic things. Customers were also not very enthusiastic. I tried to pay attention, but visions of my dream guy clouded my head.
At the end of that week, I had the worst day yet. I messed up so much that Joe threatened to make me pay for all the food that I wasted. I burned my hand on the grill, accidentally made a little girl cry and was rude to a customer, who then demanded to speak to the manager.
After thinking about it long and hard, I finally decided to stop looking for my guy. It had been over a week, and there was no sign of him. I figured I wasn’t going to see him again. I don’t know what I was hoping for anyway, it’s not as though we would start a relationship or anything, right? It was just fun pretending. I was used to being alone.
After the end of the day cleanup, J.P. grabbed my arm and said, “Remember, tonight. I’ll come by and get you at nine—we’re taking my car. I’m not about to drive around in your shitbox.”
“Thanks, friend,” I said.
J.P. said, “You know your car is a falling-apart piece of crap, Carter.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, knowing full well that he was right. My 1992 Toyota Camry had seen better days, but it worked nicely getting me around town. I knew it didn’t have much more life in it though, and every time I put the key in the ignition, I crossed my fingers that it would start.
We were going to an LGBT dance at a youth center a couple of towns away. Because I’d spent so long hiding who I really was, I’d never danced with anyone—let alone another boy. I was hoping to change that. It was so difficult explaining to people how it was possible to be a gay trans guy. It took me a long time to figure out that gender identity and sexual identity were separate, so I could see why others might not understand right away either.
I dressed in my nicest pants, a button down shirt, T-shirt and binder. I debated wearing a tie, but that that was probably overkill.
At nine exactly, J.P. pulled into the driveway and honked his horn. J.P.’s boyfriend, Nathan Graham, waved at me from the passenger seat. He’s this free-spirited punk rocker with multiple tattoos. He dyes his hair, and that night it was an interesting light blue. Social justice and vegetarianism are two of his favorite topics, and he’s known on campus as an activist. J.P. is more conservative, but I think the two of them work really well as a couple; they balance each other nicely.
As I slid into the backseat I told Nathan I was nervous and he said, “You’re going to be fine. We’re going to find you a cute boy and you are going to dance the night away.”
“Yeah, right. I’m sure. I’m such a catch,” I said.
“Stop talking shit about yourself, Nathan said. “You’re really cute. I’d do you.”
I burst out laughing. J.P. turned up the radio and we all sang along to his collection of 80’s British new wave mixes as we drove to the dance. When we arrived, the party was in full swing—a lot of dancing in couples and in small groups. Everything was fun and festive, with balloons and streamers all over the place. Whoever had decorated had really gone all out: a giant disco ball rotated over the dance floor.
Of course, I made a beeline for the refreshment table. J.P. and Nathan gave me a “get out here, you loser” look and went out to the dance floor holding hands.
I contemplated the array of food in front of me and grabbed a plate. Chips and salsa seemed like a pretty safe bet—snacks couldn’t reject you the way people could. I wasn’t the only person lurking near the table—a good number of people had the same idea. As I turned to get a cup of soda, I smacked into someone.
I apologized and then…
“No worries, I didn’t even spill my drink. Hey! Carter, right?”
It was him. Him. I could barely breathe, let alone think.
I said, “I, um, yeah. Carter. I’m Carter,” but all the time I was thinking, I am the biggest dork in the entire world.
“Alex,” he said and held out his hand. As I shook it, I silently prayed that my hand wasn’t too clammy. I truly believed I might have a heart attack.
We made small talk about seafood, and he laughed because I hate it and work at The Shack. You know when you can’t stop smiling? That was me. Fortunately, Alex smiled back. Then he said, “Would you like to dance?”
My stomach flipped and my mouth went dry. I didn’t know what to say. He looked so amazing in the low light, tanned and smiling.
I said, “I can’t dance.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Alex asked.
“I don’t know how. I’ve never…”
“Danced with another boy?”
“Uh, yeah. Never danced with another boy. I’m not sure I know how to either,” I said, as heat flooded my face.
Alex laughed. “Wanna try?”
I don’t know what came over me. I tossed my plate into the trash and, before I could think it through, grabbed his hand and dragged him out onto the dance floor. He looked so at ease, dressed in a polo shirt and crisp khakis. I prayed that I didn’t look too awkward or have food stuck in my teeth or anything embarrassing like that. Loud dance music pumped out of speakers and I was relieved to know the song. Alex began to sway back and forth, and I started to copy him. I really hoped that I didn’t look as absolutely stupid as I felt.
Alex grinned at me.
“You look good,” he half-shouted over the music.
“You’re crazy—you’re the one who looks good,” I shouted back.
I couldn’t believe it—I was actually having fun. If you had told me before that night that I’d ever dance with another man, I’d tell you that you were nuts.
Another song came on, and Alex made no attempt to stop. We kept dancing. At one point, I spotted J.P. and Nathan across the room and they both shot me thumbs up. Two songs became five and then we started to get tired. As the latest Lady Gaga song came to an end, Alex motioned for us to leave the dance floor. We made our way back to the snack table where we could talk easily.
“That was fun,” Alex said.
“Thanks for a great first time,” I replied and blushed when I realized what I’d said.
I’d never had a first kiss, and I couldn’t stop imagining us making out. Alex didn’t seem to notice my nervousness, thankfully. Somehow, he wasn’t sweaty or out of breath from dancing—he still seemed so perfect. I was entranced.
Then Alex asked me if I wanted to go outside and talk. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do more. When we told J.P. and Nathan where we were going, J.P.’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God.” he mouthed to me
“I know,” I mouthed back.
I introduced everyone and they all shook hands and said hello. Alex smiled the whole time and seemed to charm the socks off of my friends. When we left, J.P. said, “Have fuuuuuun.” I was pretty sure that I might try to kill him at a later date.
We found a large stone bench right near the front entrance. The almost choking humidity of the afternoon had gone, and there was a nippy breeze. Alex motioned for me to sit first, then he sat down beside me.
He said, “So, Carter, I only know your name. Tell me another fact about yourself? It can be really random.”
I said, “I play the piano and I’m really good at burping the alphabet. It amuses my little sister endlessly.”
Alex laughed. It was a glorious sound. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of hearing it. I had expected the conversation to be awkward, but instead we had this really easy back-and-forth going. It went like this:
“Okay, now I know three new facts. Piano, sister, burping. Interesting.”
“Your turn. At least one thing—go.”
“Um, I’m nineteen, I go to Boston University and I think bologna smells like feet.”
“What? That’s amazing! I’m going to BU in the fall! How cool is that?” I gushed. “Bologna smells like feet?”
“Yep, total gross feet. And, it is cool that you’re going to BU in the fall. I’ll have to show you all around campus and stuff. I’m taking applications for new friends,” Alex joked.
“Is there a paper application or can I apply online?”
Alex grinned. “You’re applying right now.”
“Oh, sneaky. Jerk,” I teased.
Somehow, we ended up with our thighs touching, and I couldn’t get over the feeling of the heat of his body pressed up against me. It was the closest to another boy I’d ever been, and my heart fluttered. Suddenly, the sea air didn’t seem so chilly.
Then Alex said, “Carter? Would it be too forward of me to tell you that after I met you that one afternoon, I hoped I would be able to see you again? I’ve been up in Boston doing campus tours all week, but I was planning on going back to the Clam Shack tomorrow just to see if you’d be there.”
I stared at him, watching light from the full moon dance across his face.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.
“Why?”
“It’s just… just… I’ve never had anyone seek me out before. I’ve never dated anyone. I’ve never done… anything.”
“Carter, you’re very cute—it’s absurd that nobody’s ever told you that. It’s a shame you’ve never dated,” Alex said. “I’m not exactly the most experienced guy around, but I do know a thing or two. You are definitely someone worth chasing.”
I just shook my head at him. Alex didn’t know my secret. He had no idea that I was transgender. He thought I was a cis-male, a guy biologically male and labeled so at birth. I gulped. Did I need to come out to him? What the hell should I say? I watched a group of laughing teenagers head for the parking lot and contemplated my choices.
“Thanks.” I responded quietly. “You are too. I told my dad that I met the most handsome man in the world the other day, to be honest.”
Alex snorted and laughed out loud. “Me? Stop it.”
“No, really. I did.”
I couldn’t believe what was coming out of my mouth. Had I been secretly abducted by aliens and replaced with a confident robot version of myself?
Alex said, “Okay, so we’ve established that we each find the other attractive. What do we do next? I propose that we find somewhere to get coffee and go to the beach to talk more. I’ll give you a ride home—if that’s good for you?”
I texted J.P. to tell him where were going, and we went to the parking lot. For some reason, I’d assumed that he’d have a really nice, fancy car—but it wasn’t at all. In fact, it gave my crappy Camry a run for its money. The blue Prizm had to be at least fifteen years old and it was covered in bumper stickers and large patches of rust.
“I saved up for two summers to buy this car.” Alex said. “It’s not the nicest, but it gets me where I need to go.”
I told Alex about my beater car as we drove to Starbucks. As he turned out of the parking lot, I could barely sit still knowing that the boy I liked was driving me around. It felt like a Technicolor dream—one I never wanted to wake up from. I tried not to fidget too much and clasped my hands in my lap. We chatted as we drove, and I learned that Alex was on the Cape for the summer with his family and that he was from Cambridge, about an hour and a half away from Oceanside.
At Starbucks, he opened my door for me.
“How chivalrous of you,” I said.
“You know what they said about chivalry not being dead and all.”
We placed our drink orders and talked as we waited for them to be made. Alex asked me a few questions about growing up in Oceanside and what I want to be when I grow up. He was so easy to talk to—I was surprised to find my answers coming quickly and my words flowing well. I don’t like being the center of attention—I prefer hanging around on the sidelines, listening.
After we left the coffee shop, I came clean about my disdain for beaches and Alex asked me why I disliked them.
“Sand. It gets everywhere—in your hair, ears, under your bathing suit. I hate it.” I replied. “Plus tourists. They drive me crazy…”
Alex was a tourist. I had really put my foot in it.
“Er, not all tourists are bad, I mean, you are a cool tourist,” I said.
Alex just laughed and pulled into a parking lot. “Let’s go hang out by the water. I’ve got a blanket in the trunk. I promise it won’t be too bad. I’ll try and protect you from the big, bad, sand.”
I smiled and got out of the car. I was willing to follow him anywhere—sand or no sand. Alex grabbed the blanket and began to make his way down to the beach. The water was calm, and it was just warm enough to be comfortable in a T-shirt. A slight breeze ruffled the rushes in the dunes near the road. I pulled off my shoes and socks. My sensitive feet protested as I made my way over the rocky foreshore.
“It’s so gorgeous here,” he said, as he spread out the wooly blanket on fine sand closer to the water. He plopped down in an ungainly heap and motioned for me to join him. I sat down more carefully to avoid getting sand all over the place.
“It is pretty,” I said.
Alex leaned back on his elbows. “So, you don’t like seafood, the beach or tourists. What do you like Carter?”
I told myself: Be brave, Carter.
“You.”
Alex was silent for a moment before he sat up and reached over to me, putting his hands on my face.
“I like you, too,” he said. Time seemed to stop as he moved his face closer to me. Suddenly, his lips met mine. Everything was muted and loud at the same time. Alex opened his mouth slightly and his tongue made its way into my mouth. I kept thinking, I’m kissing a boy. Me. Kissing a boy. I kissed him back and dared to move my tongue against his. Goosebumps ran up and down my arms. I never wanted it to end, but eventually, Alex pulled away.
“That was amazing—you’re really good at that,” he said.
I stared at him. “I’ve never done that before.”
“Well, you’re a quick study.”
I sat back and wrapped my arms around my knees. I was going to have to tell him about being trans, especially if things like kissing were going to happen.
Alex looked concerned. “Hey? You okay? Was that too soon?”
“No, it just took me by surprise. It was great.”
“Then why do you look so bummed out?” Alex asked.
Shit, shit, shit. I had to reveal my secret—I had to just be brave and blurt it out. I feared that Alex would run away, thinking I was a freak or something. Even though most people know I’m trans in Oceanside, when I meet new people I have to come out all over again. It’s frustrating and difficult. Alex was more than just some random person. How he responded really mattered.
I took a deep breath and said, “Alex, I have to tell you something.”
He slid over next to me, his side against mine, and asked, “What is it, Carter? I won’t judge, no matter what it is.”
“I… I, um, I’m transgender,” I said quietly.
Alex was silent for a moment—kind of like all of you right now! I figured he was about to get angry or upset. I didn’t know if he even knew what the word transgender meant—sometimes people don’t.
“It means that I was assigned female at birth…”
“And you don’t feel like that fits,” he finished for me. “I know what transgender means, Carter.”
I stared at him.
“Are you upset with me?”
“No, I’m just a little surprised is all. I had no idea,” Alex said. “Give me a second to process?”
“Sure.”
We both just sat silently. I stared out into the waves and wondered what he was thinking. I thought about the transgender men pictured in the book at Oliver’s Bookshop. Did they find love? What happened when they put themselves out there and told the truth to someone who was interested in them? Were they scared? Were they rejected?
Then Alex said, “I’ve only been with guys, Carter. Shit, I’m not trying to say you’re not a guy. This isn’t coming out the way I mean it to—I’m just… this is new for me. I am really attracted to you, and the fact that you have different, um, bits, is just making me feel a little bit weird.”
“Alex, you can just take me home or whatever—I’d understand.”
Disappointment hit me like a truck. I had always known I’d have to disclose my trans status to potential boyfriends—but I didn’t think I’d have a boyfriend for a long time. I didn’t think it would be that night.
Alex reached for my hand. “Carter, I don’t want to take you home. I want to be here with you.”
That was not where I thought things were going to go. My stomach swooped.
“You sure?” I asked.
“Absolutely. I want to get to know you. I want to hear your stories and find out what makes you tick. I don’t know enough random facts about you yet.”
Alex squeezed my hand, and turned to me. “C’mere,” Alex murmured, bringing his lips to mine.
His lips were so soft. I moaned softly. Delicious sensations gave me goose bumps as I pressed my mouth to his. Tingles and heat bloomed in my belly.
Alex moved his hands up and cupped my face as we kissed. I put my arms around his waist and leaned into him. Alex moaned too—making me feel less awkward.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily.
“That was the best five minutes of my life,” I said.
Alex smiled broadly. “I’d have to agree with you—they were most excellent minutes.”
Alex turned and lay on his back. I flopped down and rolled onto my back. Alex grabbed my hand.
“Let’s lie here and stare at the stars for a few minutes; we can ponder the mysteries of the universe together,” Alex said.
I laughed. “Ponder the mysteries, eh?”
So we did. Quiet moments ticked by, and I thought about all that had happened in the last few hours. My mystery man was a mystery no longer. I was still just as intrigued however, and couldn’t wait to know more. I’d come out to him and he hadn’t run.
“So, what happens now?” I asked.
Alex turned and looked at me. “We stay here for a little while longer, tell each other more stuff about ourselves and maybe kiss some more?”
I had to hand it to him—he sure was a charming guy. I was definitely under his spell. I squeezed his hand.
“So, this plan works for you?” Alex asked.
I grinned at him. “Yeah, it absolutely does—especially the part about maybe kissing some more.”
“Well, you’d better get over here then.”
I moved into his arms and couldn’t remember ever feeling so safe and secure. It was so weird, I’d only just met Alex, but I already could trust him implicitly. As we kissed, the world melted away, and nothing else mattered—it was just the two of us, together.
Unfortunately, reality came crashing down when my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. I grabbed it and checked the screen—five missed messages, two from J.P. and three from my parents, all of them wondering where I was. I checked the time and was amazed to find that it was almost one in the morning. My parents were pretty relaxed about a curfew, but one was pushing it, especially since I had to work the next morning.
“Alex, I’ve got to go home. I’m sorry, but I’ve got work early tomorrow,” I told him, feeling more disappointed than I had in a long time.
Alex hugged me gently and kissed the top of my head.
“Ok, I get it. It is getting late. C’mon Mr. ‘Hates The Beach,’ let’s go.”
We shook the blanket free of sand and made for the car. I stopped at the curb to brush off my feet and put my shoes back on.
When I got into the car, Alex was fiddling with the radio. “What’s your favorite kind of music?” he asked. “I’m trying to find something good for us to listen to on the way to your house, but I’m not sure what kind of music you like.”
“I love me some top forty, but I’m also really into—don’t laugh, musicals.”
“I will completely not laugh. As a matter of fact, not only do I also love them, but I drive my family nuts singing show tunes in the shower ” Alex said.
“I did a ton of singing in school; I made all-state for chorus my senior year.”
“Well, let’s see what we can find on the radio to sing along with.”
Alex found a brand-new Adele song, and soon we were singing at the tops of our voices. More songs came on that we both knew, and it was great belting them out with him. I stopped singing only to give him directions. When we pulled into my driveway, I noticed the living room light was on—meaning at least one of my parents was up waiting for me to get home.
The dashboard clock read almost two a.m.
“Can we talk tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yep, assuming you’re going to give me your cell phone number,” Alex said, smiling.
God, his smile. I could just stare at it for hours. But, I had to break the spell. We exchanged numbers.
“I’m going to call you after work tomorrow, okay?”
“Definitely,” Alex said. “You’d better.”
I so didn’t want to leave his car. It took all my willpower to open the door.
“Thanks for an awesome night,” I said.
“You too.”
As I slid out of the car, Alex grabbed my hand and kissed it.
“Thanks for being so honest, Carter—it means a lot. I hope my reaction was okay?”
His reaction couldn’t have been better. “No, you were great, Alex—thanks so much for listening and being so accepting.”
He blushed. “I’m glad you feel at ease.”
I did. It was amazing to know that I didn’t have to come out to him—I’d already done it. That he was sticking around even though I’m trans blew me away. I almost cried. For such a long time, dating had been an impossible dream. I’ve always been proud of who I am, but at that moment, I was even more proud. I had told him the truth, exposed my big secret and things had worked out in my favor. I was no longer too different and weird, I was a person worthy of care and love. I finally got to experience sweaty palms, racing heartbeats, nervousness, first kisses—all the normal teenage stuff.
The front porch light flicked on and off. “Okay, really have to go now.”
“Right—that light means business. Just know that I’d be kissing you right now if parents weren’t looming.”
“Excellent,” I said and turned to make way into the house. “Goodnight, my friend.”
“Goodnight,” Alex called softly.
As Alex pulled out of the driveway, I stared after his car as he drove away, then sighed deeply as I opened the front door.
Mom and Dad were up. Super. Mom was on the couch with her feet up and Dad was sitting in the reclining chair.
“Hello, Mister. It’s two in the morning,” Mom said.
“I know, Mother. I’m sorry it’s so late.”
“Mother?” she said.
“Well, Mister is so formal,” I replied.
“Hardee-har-har,” she said.
“What’s up with the lateness, Carter?” Dad asked. “You’re usually so much better about texting or calling when you’re going to be so late.”
“I’m sorry, guys. I just… I just had the best night of in the history of nights”
They both stared at me.
“I’m never washing my hand or my lips ever again. I don’t care—never again,” I said. “Dad, remember I told you about the most handsome man in the world? Well, his name is Alex. He’s a sophomore at BU and he likes me. He like likes me. Oh, my God, I can’t believe it.”
Dad and Mom both grinned.
“So, there was kissing involved, I’m guessing.” Dad said.
“Yep. Kissing more than one time.”
“Oh, Carter, I’m very glad for you,” Mom said.
“I met him at the dance; we went out for coffee and then hung out on the beach and talked and… stuff,” I said. “I came out to him, too. He was a little taken aback, but he mostly took it in stride. Honestly, he was pretty great about it. I was so freaked out thinking he was going to freak out.”
“Is he staying down here long?” Dad asked.
“For the whole summer.”
“Carter, that’s just great!” Dad exclaimed.
I floated up the stairs to my bedroom. I still couldn’t believe the amazing night. My mystery man was real—and he wanted to really know me. That was awesome. Even though I had to get up in just a few short hours, I lay in my bed, unable to sleep.
The next morning when I showed up to work, J.P. came rushing over to me.
“Oh. My. God. Carter Stone, you need to tell me everything. Everything.”
Joe appeared around the corner. “You can tell him everything after you get over here and help this line of customers.” Joe really knew how to ruin a party.
All day long, the lines wouldn’t stop—and I didn’t have time to tell J.P. anything at all. It was torture waiting to tell my best friend my stories. Finally, a late afternoon thunderstorm drove everyone from the beach and we had a chance to talk.
“So?” J.P. said, sitting on the counter.
“So?”
“Stop it! If you don’t spill it, I’m going to kill you,” he said, holding up his fists.
I beamed.
“I came out to him! I told him I’m trans. He only took a couple of minutes to get used to the idea. You’ve listened to me worry about this stuff for forever, and I finally had to just take a deep breath and do it. I thought I was gonna die, but I didn’t. He really likes me for me, you know? We kissed more than once. He’s great at it!”
J.P. smiled his biggest smile.
“He smells really good, his hands are really soft, his hair is perfect, he held my car door open for me, his laugh is awesome and I still can’t believe that he likes me. Man, thank you so much for always listening to me. You’re the best friend a guy could have.”
“Carter, I’ve been telling you how great you are for years. Can you maybe believe me just a little bit?”
For the first time, I actually did—it was amazing.
I barely remember driving home. I knew that I would talk to Alex soon and I could hardly contain my excitement. I hurried through the kitchen, telling Mom and Dad that I couldn’t talk—I needed to make an important phone call. Mom gave me a knowing glance, and Dad gave me a quick high-five.
I sat down on my bed and looked at my phone; my hands were shaking. My stomach flip-flopped. Just as I was going to enter his number, my phone rang. Of course, it was Alex.
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” Alex said. “How was your day? I know you didn’t get much rest last night. Sorry I got you home so late.”
“Oh, don’t even worry about that, it was so worth losing sleep.”
“I thought about you all day, just so you know.”
I was so relieved to hear that he wasn’t the only one.
“Me too,” I said and warmth flooded my cheeks. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either.”
Alex laughed softly. “Glad to know I’m not alone.”
“Alex? I want to know everything about you.”
“I want to learn everything about you too, Carter. Where should we start?”
We talked for hours—through dinner, Hannah’s bedtime and all the way into the wee hours of the morning. We laughed a lot and cried a couple of times as we shared our stories. We—oh wait. I see Doctor Martinez giving me a one-minute warning so I’ll try to wrap things up.
“My First Love” is a great topic and it’s been a lot of fun talking to you all today. That terribly lonely and confused fourteen-year old sitting in a rickety chair in Oliver’s Bookshop would never believe that, in a few short years, he’d be an out and proud transgender man speaking in front of a group like this one. Look around, there are so many faces in this room—and we all know what it’s like being LGBT. I love being a part of this community. I’m not the only trans person around anymore. Life here at BU has been a whirlwind of changes, but I’m enjoying every minute of them.
Speaking of changes, you may be wondering how my summer love story ended? Well, it’s not over yet. Our story is just beginning. The slightly shy young man lurking by the door? That’s my guy, Alex.
As I sat in our apartment wondering what I should say today, a certain someone came up behind me, hugged me tightly and told me that I should just “go with my heart.” And so I have.