Chapter One

Ashley Kingston sat in the bustling Davie Street cafe staring into his—Wait!

No.

Their cup. Their.

They had managed to misgender themself again, and honestly, it was getting old. Realizing they might not be a cis dude was like trying to find a bra that would fit their frame—sometimes it poked them in places not meant to be poked.

Speaking of bras, Ash had two new ones in their bag on the floor next to their feet. Normally, Ash wouldn’t have gone to a store to purchase clothes not meant for men, but their friend Bei Bei had gotten Ash’s measurements and pretended the bras were for her. One was a perfectly sensible beige number, but the other was fire-engine red, at Bei Bei’s insistence. Ash was nervous about trying them on, even when no one else was around, but what were they to do? Progress was progress.

They glanced over at their friend from the corner of their eye. Bei Bei was on her phone texting someone, running her hand through the short hair on one side of her head. Her undercut was brand spanking new.

Still not used to it? Ash frowned. The two of them were both trying something on for size. Bei Bei said she wanted to be the butchest of butch lesbians. She’d gone into the salon and had all of her long black hair cut off just that morning. Ash had watched as Bei Bei transformed before their eyes. What was it like to have long hair?

Ash ran a hand through their own dark-brown hair and sighed. Maybe one day.

“What are you moping for?” Bei Bei demanded. “We just had shopping therapy. I thought for sure you’d be happier now.”

“I’m not unhappy,” Ash started.

“But you are,” Bei Bei finished.

“I was just thinking—” Ash sighed again. “—what it might be like to have long hair, and I just…” They shrugged.

“Is that all?” Bei Bei said. “We can get you a wig.”

“I’m a starving student! As if I could afford a quality wig!”

“It doesn’t have to be expensive,” Bei Bei said. “I’ll help you find something nice but affordable online.”

“Okay,” Ash said, somewhat mollified. “I guess I was just blowing things out of proportion—again.”

“You really need to chill.” Bei Bei patted their arm. “I know, anxiety sucks.”

“At least my meds are somewhat stable. I have a mate back home who can hardly go outside some days.”

Bei Bei nodded sympathetically. The two sat in silence for a few moments, and Ash took a sip of their now-lukewarm London Fog. They licked a bit of foam off their lip. The world went on by outside the cafe window, and Ash watched from their place perched atop a bar-style stool, elbows resting on the counter running along the inside of the window.

“Ooh,” Bei Bei said. “She’s hot.”

A very tall Black girl with bantu knots and long legs walked by outside. Ash nodded. She was very attractive, and her barely there black shorts hugged her hips. Ash, who had known they were pansexual long before they figured out their gender, considered themself an equal-opportunity lover.

That is, when they even had a lover. Ash struggled to keep relationships, and they could never figure out why. It wasn’t a lack of attraction, and Ash enjoyed dating. But something always made the situation go sour.

The girl stopped for the traffic light on Davie and Granville, and Bei Bei and Ash looked on with interest. A loud group of tourists passed by the window, and when the group cleared, the girl looked back at them. Ash pretended to be very interested in the dregs of their drink.

Of course, Bei Bei kept on staring.

The girl turned and came towards them. Ash didn’t know what to do, so it was lucky their attention was on Bei Bei. The girl came into the cafe, making her way to where Ash and Bei Bei were sitting.

“Can I help you?” the Black girl asked.

Bei Bei’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve lost my phone. Do you mind calling it for me?”

The girl’s mouth twitched. “That the best you got?”

“Not by a long shot,” Bei Bei replied.

Bei Bei and the girl, who eventually introduced herself as Ouma, flirted away beside Ash. Ash pretended they had no idea who Bei Bei was, in spite of the fact she was sitting right there next to them.

Bei Bei kept running her hand through her newly shorn hair and biting her lip in obvious signs of attraction. Ouma was standing beside them with her hip cocked, head tilted. Ash looked at their phone and their Twitter page for a bit, waiting for Bei Bei and Ouma to finish with their flirting.

“Bye,” Ouma said, flashing a wave as she walked out the door.

“Oh my god, you are incorrigible,” said Ash as soon as Ouma was out of earshot.

“Got her number though,” Bei Bei smirked.

Ash rolled their eyes.

“You’ve got game, girl.”

“You just need more confidence, Ash,” Bei Bei said. “You’re plenty attractive to those who like enbies.”

The real problem was that Ash didn’t look non-binary. They looked like a cis guy. That could cause them trouble in the long run.

“I guess?” Ash said with another shrug. “I’m mostly worried that… Well. I’m trans. It’s a thing that gets a lot of people killed in a lot of places, especially when it comes to dating and sex.”

“Truth bomb time, I guess.” Bei Bei scratched the side of her head. “It’s hard enough being an Asian lesbian. Being trans is a whole other thing.”

Ash just nodded, tried to take another drink, and grimaced when they found their cup empty.

“I’d date a trans lesbian,” Bei Bei continued. “I know it doesn’t really make me special or anything. But I know of a ton of TERF lesbians who wouldn’t.”

Ash made a face at the mention of TERFs. They had enough to deal with at university without having to listen to some transphobe calling herself a feminist saying that trans people were gross. They felt gross a lot of the time anyway, but it got worse when people started calling trans people trash. Ash’s anxiety always skyrocketed if they saw people arguing on social media about it.

“I just want to find a person who would accept me for being genderfluid,” Ash said. “I’m always worried that anyone I’m interested in will turn out to be one of those binary sex-pushing assholes.”

It happened sometimes on Twitter. Somebody with a cute profile pic turned out to be awful, and it always made Ash angry, but also ashamed in a strange way. They hated that they felt ashamed sometimes of something like their identity, but it was still there sometimes, throbbing in their chest.

“I get it,” Bei Bei said. “I know you gotta be careful. But don’t shut yourself off completely.”

“I guess,” Ash said. “It’s not like I’m even used to thinking of myself as non-binary in the first place.”

“You have to start somewhere,” Bei Bei said.

Ash acknowledged this with a nod. Bei Bei got up to get another iced caramel macchiato, and Ash stared out the window at the people going by. Things were tough right now, so Ash had to be tougher.

At fourteen, Ash knew they were pansexual. As a teen, they had dated males, females, and, they assumed, some people in-between. But trans people hadn’t been on their radar at all until university. Ash had always felt that something wasn’t quite right, but nothing ever made sense. Even coming out as queer at fifteen hadn’t made everything click.

Their teen years had been very confusing, years in which nothing seemed to match up exactly. Sometimes, instead of wanting to date a girl, Ash wanted to be a girl. But then, other times, they felt fine presenting as a guy. Their feelings fluctuated, so Ash could never pin down exactly what that meant. It had taken coming to university, thousands of miles from home, to understand what was going on.

Ash was not looking forward to having the second coming-out talk with their parents. They had handled pansexual with good enough grace, but non-binary was a whole other thing. People were so hung up on binary genders and seemed to really hate the idea that binary genders were an outdated concept. Surely people would think that was cool instead of being afraid and angry? Honestly, progress was so slow it felt like going backwards. Ash looked down at their drink and picked at the label morosely. They wanted another one, but their motivation was lacking.

“You’re moping again,” Bei Bei said, taking a sip of her drink.

The barista had written her number on the cup, along with a little smiley face.

Bei Bei had all the luck.

“I just want to find a nice partner to go on dates with and do sappy romantic things like walking along the sea wall at dusk holding hands or sitting on a patio downtown sharing appies and drinks,” Ash complained.

“You just wanna get laid,” Bei Bei said.

Ash flushed.

“That would not go amiss either,” they admitted. “How long has it been?”

“I think it was the redhead girl with the freckles,” said Bei Bei.

“No, I think I saw an Indian exchange student one night,” Ash said.

“No—” Bei Bei said.

“It was—” Ash suddenly remembered.

“Glass chilled-but-no-ice guy,” they both said together.

“Ugh, what a git,” Ash said. “I’m so glad he was a one-night stand. I kind of wanted to tape his mouth shut by the end of the night.”

“Kinky.” Bei Bei laughed.

“Shut it,” Ash said.

The two bickered until it was time for Bei Bei to go to work. Bei Bei worked at a small translation company in the posh Yaletown area, and while she was only a part-timer, it paid decently. She was fluent in Mandarin, Cantonese, and English, so her skills were in high demand. Ash and their monolingual self relied on student loans, which they were not looking forward to paying back. At least they had more time to study. They might only speak English, but they were three years into a four-year English literature degree, so they hoped they spoke it well. Ash said goodbye to Bei Bei and headed to the bus stop. Time to head back to the UBC campus on Point Grey. The number four bus would undoubtedly be there soon, and it would wind its way south through Vancouver and then west through Kitsilano. The weekend was almost over, so many students would be heading back that way.

As expected, a lot of students waited for the bus. Ash fidgeted with the handles of the shopping bags. Being crushed between a load of people, especially when it was their turn to get off or on, kicked their anxiety into overdrive. That many students stuffed into a small space smelled all kinds of funky. The acrid mixture of sweat and cologne was repugnant.

Ash was one of the last ones on. The bus driver yelled at people to move further back so more people could fit on. They did, but barely. Ash was squashed between a row of people sitting down and a group of soccer players. Their cleats gave them away, as several of the men were carrying them or had them hanging off their gym bags. Ash really hoped they wouldn’t bang into them.

Just as they had that thought, the bus lurched wildly into traffic. One of the tall soccer players stumbled back and stepped directly on Ash’s foot. Ash winced as the guy realized what he’d done and apologized. The bus lurched again, and someone else’s elbow knocked Ash’s stomach. Ash tried to move away and was instead trapped between numerous bodies.

This was exactly the nightmare Ash wanted to avoid. They made themself as small as possible in order to avoid being accidentally pummelled. The bus driver audibly swore at someone cutting her off in traffic, and Ash grimaced as a second soccer player stepped on their foot.

A rush of anxiety filled their system. They didn’t want to have a panic attack on the bus. Should they get off to prevent that situation from occurring? Their heartbeat was already picking up. Ash took a deep, steadying breath and closed their eyes.

The bus swung around a corner and dumped Ash right into somebody’s lap. Ash’s eyes flew open and directly into eyes the colour of— What exactly was that precise colour blue? Ash wasn’t actually sure. Dark and jewel-toned, they glinted with amusement.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” Ash blurted out.

They struggled to get up, trying really hard to pretend the guy didn’t smell amazing. How did he manage that on the bus? Ash probably smelled like anxiety sweat and cheap laundry soap.

“Hey, it’s fine,” the man said. “The bus is pretty crowded right now.”

Ash was about to hide forever in mortification when the man laughed lightly in a mutual sort of amusement at the weird situation.

“Here,” the guy said. “Switch with me. I noticed you seemed uncomfortable earlier.”

“Oh, it’s fine—” Ash started.

“Sit,” the stranger demanded and shifted to deposit Ash into the seat.

The guy was tall and solidly built with golden-tawny hair that swept over his forehead. The guy was really very attractive—and was still looking at them with those bluer-than-blue eyes.

“Uh, thanks?” Ash rubbed a hand through their hair.

“It’s really no problem,” the guy said. “By the way, my name is Nolan. Are you a student?”

“Um, I’m Ash.” They looked down at their hands in confusion. “Yeah, I go to UBC.”

“British?” asked Nolan curiously.

“Um, dual citizenship,” they said. “My dad’s British. Mum is Canadian.”

“Oh, that’s probably good for tuition reasons.”

“Yeah.” Ash nodded. “But I did spend a great deal of time growing up in the UK.”

“Cool,” Nolan said. “What’s it like there? Different, I bet.”

Ash realized two things: first, Nolan was using his body as a barrier between Ash and the rest of the crowded bus, making a refuge of sorts, and second, he was talking about inane things to try to calm Ash’s anxiety. Ash flushed and bit their lip, looking down at where their hands clutched their bag.

Nolan gazed at them.

“Oh.” He’d asked a question. Ash blushed as they remembered what he’d said. “Yeah, it’s interesting. Not as much crazy nature stuff and more big cities.”

“Where are you from?” asked Nolan. “I’m just from here, Vancouverite born and bred, basically.”

“Manchester,” Ash said. “More north than London. I considered going to Manchester Metropolitan, but I didn’t want to stay with my parents all the time I was in uni.”

“That’s totally fair,” Nolan said. “I moved into dorms just to avoid that situation.”

“Oh, I’m in dorms too,” Ash said.

“I kind of guessed.” Nolan grinned.

Oh geez, his teeth were all straight and white, and this was bad. Ash needed to not be near this guy. He was just too damn charming. Had Ash mentioned attractive?

“Do you like Canada?” asked Nolan.

“Yeah…” Ash said slowly. “I do. It’s very green here. Lots of mountains and ocean and nature all in one place.”

“I like it too,” Nolan said. “I’ve never been to the UK. Farthest I’ve been is Cancun—which is still pretty cool. I mostly visit places in Canada.”

“Oh! Have you been to PEI?” asked Ash. “I want to go.”

“I have, actually,” Nolan said. “It’s very quiet compared to Vancouver. I like Charlottetown, and Cow’s Ice Cream is definitely something you need to try. I ate my weight in ice cream while I was there.”

“That sounds cool,” said Ash, glancing at Nolan’s face and then away again.

“It’s great!” Nolan said. “And me and my friend Dave went kayaking on the ocean. We got totally sunburned, but it was worth it.”

Ash tried to imagine all that golden skin getting sunburned and couldn’t.

“Um, what are you studying?” Ash asked.

“I’m a biochem major,” said Nolan.

Ash’s heart sank. Not that they really had any expectations about seeing this guy again, but if he were a science major, the likelihood of running into him again dropped dramatically.

Wait, why did they want to run into him again? Nolan was way out of their league.

Instead of voicing any of this, Ash turned back to the conversation at hand.

“That sounds super tough,” Ash replied. “Everyone I know is in the humanities or social sciences.”

Bei Bei was a psych major, and a lot of Ash’s other friends were in anthropology or fellow English majors. Ash had met Bei Bei because they were both in the same first-year English class, and although Ash was an introvert at the best of times and an anxious mess at the worst, somehow they had managed to make a fair number of friends.

“I mostly know scientists.” Nolan shrugged. “I guess that’s why we’ve never met.”

“Probably,” Ash said carefully. As a science major, Nolan wouldn’t even be interested in a humanities major.

Was Nolan one of those science majors who thought that humanities majors were less smart than them? Occasionally, they met someone who thought that Ash wasn’t “smart enough” to be a biologist or something, but the truth was science just didn’t interest them.

“I’m taking a few humanities and social sciences classes for breadth requirements,” Nolan said. “They seem interesting. Tougher than I thought they’d be, but I should have realized that nothing would be easy in university.”

“That’s true,” Ash said with a laugh. “I’m taking exactly one earth science course for breadth requirements, and it has me lost most of the time.”

It was extremely easy to talk to this guy. Why was that? Ash was generally suspicious of anyone who was insanely attractive, but Nolan had a very disarming attitude.

Not that Nolan was hitting on them. It seemed like he was a genuinely kind person just being friendly. He was helping Ash get back to campus without having a panic attack, which was really more than Ash would expect, especially since they’d literally fallen in the guy’s lap.

Anyway, Nolan was too good to be true. He was probably straight, and that was that. Besides, they would probably never see the guy again. Classes in undergrad were massive, so Nolan was unlikely to ever spot them again among the masses of students at UBC.

Also, it was not as if Ash was a catch. They were presenting as masculine right now, but who knew what would happen if Ash mentioned they were genderqueer? Or even queer at all?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Nolan sounded amused.

Ash realized they had stopped talking abruptly to think, and they flushed.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about homework for that earth science class,” Ash lied. “It’s kind of stressful.”

“I get it,” Nolan said, nodding. “Hey, if you ever need help, you should definitely reach out to someone about it. I realized that some of those humanities courses are tougher than I thought and that I needed some tutoring.”

“Oh, yeah, I will,” Ash said. “Sometimes if I don’t get it, I’ll ask the prof in office hours.”

The two of them chatted all the way back to campus. Nolan was completely unperturbed about being stepped on or run into whenever the bus went around a corner or stopped suddenly. What was it like to not feel anxious about being in crowded spaces? Ash sighed. No point wondering—their anxiety wasn’t going anywhere.

The bus finally rolled into campus and started emptying of students faster and faster. Ash was thankful for the less cramped conditions. The bus stopped a final time at the main bus loop. Ash breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” they said. “Thanks for doing that. You…didn’t have to.”

“It’s really no problem.” Nolan rubbed the back of his head. “I think you’re cool.”

“Oh.” The doors opened, and the two of them got off the bus.

They started walking in the same direction. Were they both in the same building?

“Are you…?” Ash paused, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“This way? Oh, yeah.” Nolan nodded.

They walked together for a bit. Ash was quiet, not sure if Nolan wanted to talk or not. Their awkwardness made it hard to figure out whether someone wanted to talk or not. But Nolan didn’t try to outpace Ash, and the two walked back to the dorms in what felt like companionable silence.

They were in the same building but on different floors. As Ash got off the elevator on their floor, Nolan waved and grinned.

“See you around,” he said as the doors closed.

Ash waved back. Unlikely as it seemed, they really wished they would meet again.

*

Ash hit refresh yet again. It was almost spring, and they were waiting for the stores to release their spring fashion lines. They liked to look at all the clothes. Admittedly, mostly the women’s clothes, even though they hadn’t had the courage to wear any yet.

They particularly liked swishy skirts. They also liked colourful scarves and cute shoes, even though their feet were masculine-looking and hairy. Ash sighed as they scrolled through kitten-heel strappy numbers and wedge heels that would leave them a little taller than the average girl.

Ash was five foot nine, and although that wasn’t overly tall for a guy, it was straying into above average for a woman. How frustrating—being neither of those things and still expected to adhere to some sort of gender-related height standard? Ash was tired of trying to fit into gender norms. None of them made much sense anyway.

Ash drooled over a black fluted skirt and a flowy cornflower blue blouse. If only they dared to wear these clothes. Presenting as a cis guy most of the time was easier because the intersections of misogyny and transphobia could be deadly. Being white made it easier for them than a lot of other trans folks, but wondering if they would get groped and then punched was still not fun.

They slumped, sagging back in their chair. The dorm room barely fit a bed and a desk. The kitchen was smooshed in somehow, and the whole place was probably less than 150 square feet. At least they didn’t have to share.

Ash’s phone pinged.

BEI BEI: Heyyyy what’s up?

ASH: Not much, hbu?

BEI BEI: Just chilling at Tavern. Met up with Ouma <3

Tavern was a bar in Yaletown, fairly close to where Bei Bei worked. It was usually crowded this time of night.

ASH: Wow, that was fast.

BEI BEI: Shut up, Ash.

ASH: Lol.

BEI BEI: If you met someone cute, you’d be all over that.

Ash paused. They had met someone cute just this afternoon. But, unlike Bei Bei’s claim, they would probably never see Nolan again. Ever. Such was their life.

ASH: There was this guy on the bus.

BEI BEI: What??? We both found a cutie on the same day? A likely story!

ASH: Well, the guy told me his name, but no number to go with it :(

BEI BEI: I knew it was too good to be true.

It really was too good to be true. Nolan might have been super nice, and he might have thought Ash was “cool,” but that was all. Ash frowned. When was the last time they had gone on a date that had gone right? None came to mind.

ASH: At least this one didn’t dump wine down the front of my shirt.

BEI BEI: We knew chilled-no-ice guy was awful from the beginning. He had nothing good about him, remember? He hated talking about literature except to condemn the Oxford comma, listens to songs by that guy who beat up his gf, and on top of that, likes olives.

ASH: Olives aren’t a huge deal.

BEI BEI: Rude to serving staff. Had a weird moustache, wore too much cologne, spelled ‘cologne’ as ‘colon,’ and insisted that IPAs are the only good beer.

ASH: IPAs aren’t too bad. I just wish he’d let me order my own beer. Or whatever.

BEI BEI: Also he was a total chaser. Super creepy.

ASH: He dates trans people. Doesn’t mean he’s a chaser.

BEI BEI: You defend people you think are gross too much. He was a jackass. Seriously.

ASH: He was. How do I know the guy I just met isn’t exactly like that other dude?

That really bugged Ash. They had only just met Nolan. No point in getting carried away. Never mind his bluer-than-blue eyes and his golden-tawny windswept hair. Or his broad shoulders and steady hands. A guy could be hot and a total asshole at the same time—in fact, being attractive meant it was more likely they were terrible.

BEI BEI: You don’t yet.

ASH: So helpful.

BEI BEI: You have to talk to him more and find out.

ASH: I don’t even have his number! I know his name and that he’s a student. That’s it.

BEI BEI: Don’t give up just yet.

ASH: There’s only like tens of thousands of students on campus.

BEI BEI: It’s not as if he’s from Mars or something. You’re such a drama queen.

ASH: Am not.

BEI BEI: Just don’t give up right away. What will you do if you see him again?

ASH: Um.

BEI BEI: Um—what? You have to get his number! Duh.

ASH: I can’t just ask him for his number!

BEI BEI: Uh, yeah you can, hun.

ASH: Just cause you get girls’ numbers like nothing else doesn’t mean I can just come out and ask for a guy’s number!

BEI BEI: Sure it does.

Ash put their phone down and threw their hands up in the air.

ASH: I can’t.

BEI BEI: Why not? There’s not a law or anything lol.

ASH: Because I suck, that’s why.

BEI BEI: Lol

ASH: That’s not what I meant, asshole.

BEI BEI: Damn it, Ash, just ask for his number. It’s not that hard.

Ash leaned back in their chair and ran their hands through their hair. Not hard? More like impossible, actually.

ASH: What if he doesn’t like me?

BEI BEI: Then he’ll say no.

ASH: But what if he’s homophobic?

BEI BEI: He’ll be an asshole about it, I guess. I’ve had girls be mean about it. Not too big a deal, just move on with life.

ASH: It’s different when a guy is homophobic. He might hit me?

BEI BEI: True. I had a girl throw her iced coffee on me once?

ASH: Being queer sucks sometimes.

BEI BEI: Yep, fun times.

ASH: What if he’s transphobic? I might actually die.

BEI BEI: That’s also true. Being trans ain’t easy at all. I’m sorry, hun. Not much I can really say to belie that.

Ash knew that. All the platitudes in the world wouldn’t change that being trans was dangerous sometimes. Especially if transphobic cis guys found you attractive even if you had a penis. That seemed to make them really angry.

Ash just wanted to date someone who liked them for who they were. That’s generally what most alloromantics wanted, but it was a bit different for Ash. That person had to like them, including the fact that they were non-binary. And not in a weird fetishizing way. Which was a hard thing to figure out on a first meeting.

BEI BEI: Going to bed. Don’t stay up too late, hun. Class tomorrow morning!

They both had class the next day at ten, which wasn’t too bad by university standards. Ash, a true night owl, struggled to wake up on time.

ASH: Night.

Ash turned back to the laptop screen.

Women’s fashion models stared back at them. Ash wished they could wear anything they wanted and it wouldn’t matter to anyone but them. They wanted to wear that swishy skirt and have someone tell them they liked it or that it looked good on them. Instead, it was more likely that people would stare and whisper while taking pictures. Or worse—be outright hostile.

People thought being misgendered was the worst thing. It did suck. But being worried someone might kill them? That was definitely worse. What if they wore a dress and some sexually insecure guy decided Ash’s gender identity meant they had to die? Trans feminine people, especially trans women, risked violence. It was a fact everyone knew.

Ash wasn’t exactly the most outspoken person, but that didn’t mean they were okay with it. Presenting as a trans feminine person wasn’t an invitation to harass them. What was wrong about liking swishy skirts? It didn’t affect anyone else but them.

Ash yearned to look in the mirror and like what they saw. Half the time, they really didn’t—they felt uncomfortable or restricted. Sometimes, they saw a girl in boy’s clothes. They still most often presented as a guy. Ash felt like they were coming apart at the seams.

Ash picked up the mouse and scrolled through all the feminine-looking clothes, wishing they could just try some on. They wanted to see how it would fit them, how it made them look.

Ash wrinkled their nose at their reflection in the computer screen. They had a rather pointy nose, sharp cheekbones, and a harsh jawline. Could they even look feminine? They might not be that tall, and their build wasn’t exactly hulking, but they weren’t exactly delicate either.

Then again, Ash was thinking like a gender essentialist when they thought that a bulky body couldn’t be feminine. They needed to wash that rubbish out of their head. Ash stopped at a beautiful fluted skirt in a soft bluish-purple colour. “Wow.” They wanted it so badly that their insides hurt. It could be theirs if they weren’t such a coward.

Ash looked at their bag on the floor, the one that had the bras in it. Maybe they should try them on. No one was here to stare or laugh at them, after all.

They felt like they were committing some sort of crime by laying the bras out on the bed. Ash shucked their band tee and held the beige bra up to their flat chest. How was this going to help?

Ash extended the straps on the bra and, feeling a little bit foolish, slipped it over their shoulders. They expected it to be easy to get a bra on—it was easy enough to get them off another person, after all—and found that they couldn’t find the hooks to get the thing done up properly.

They tried again but failed dismally.

After about twenty minutes, they googled “how to put on a bra.” Google, in its supreme wisdom, instructed Ash to fasten the bra in front and then to twist it around so that the clasp faced the back after it was done up. That seemed to work, but after all that annoyance, they were red in the face.

The bra was an A cup with a little padding. It would only add a little definition to their chest. That seemed okay. It was fine.

They decided to try on the other one.

The bright red looked amazing. Once it was on, it actually looked pretty good. They turned this way and that in front of the long mirror and admired it from all angles. It felt…right, somehow. Like it was supposed to be like this. This was them.

Is this how it was supposed to feel, wearing what you actually wanted?

After a while, they took the bra off and stored it with the other one. Even now, though, they wanted to put it back on and wear it underneath their clothing. More, they wanted proper feminine-looking clothing to wear overtop of it.

The skirt they had been looking at earlier was still on the screen. If only.

BEI BEI: You awake still?

ASH: Yeah. Can’t sleep?

BEI BEI: Nope. You still thinking about your guy?

ASH: No, moved on. Thinking about going shopping.

BEI BEI: For?

ASH: Skirts.

BEI BEI: We can do that. I’ll go with you, and if anyone says anything, I’ll have a few choice words for them.

ASH: Thanks.

Seeing five-foot-four Bei Bei calling someone out for their assholery would certainly be worth seeing.

BEI BEI: No problem. Anytime.

ASH: Want to go this weekend, then?

BEI BEI: Sure.

ASH: I might not get anything. I just want to look.

BEI BEI: Nothing wrong with looking. Or buying. You do you, hun.

Not for the first time, Ash felt extremely relieved and thankful to have such a supportive friend.

ASH: See you in class.

This weekend, they vowed. This weekend, they would go and see what choices there were. They just needed to see. Maybe the skirt would look awful. Maybe not.

Maybe not.