Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
“Ant…” I start, but he holds up his hand, silencing me as he stares down my favorite barista.
Zoya takes a deep breath and sends Ant an understanding look.
“Welp. Guess I can’t charge you for this now,” she says, quickly adding a couple of croissants to our tray.
He snatches the chocolate croissant and steps back before taking a bite. “Thank you.”
I turn to her to pay for my coffee, and she waves me off. We share a longer look.
“Shit, I stepped in that one,” she whispers as Ant wanders off.
“Yeah, but it was fun to see somebody put you in your place for once.”
“Shut up.”
She glances back over at Ant, worrying her bottom lip.
“Hey. You didn’t know. I didn’t either.”
Blowing out a gust of air, she responds, “Yeah, but I’m usually the one getting onto others about making assumptions. Lesson learned. Think I should apologize again?”
“Knowing Ant, probably not. But next time we come in, make sure to give him shit. He’ll appreciate it.”
“Thatismy specialty.”
I leave her a tip for the full value of the order and fill my ridiculous travel mug, adding more cream and sugar than reasonable. We get out to the truck, and I check in with him.
“You okay?”
He shifts his jaw, pulling off a piece of croissant and eating it before he answers.
“I’m okay. I didn’t mean to snap at her like that.”
“I think you just made sure she knew what was what.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I am a little surprised though. You’ve never talked about what happened to you.”
He shrugs. “I’m tired of people thinking they know me just from looking at me. Like I’m weak or something. But I’m not, and if they knew what was in my head…well. They wouldn’t think that anymore.”
“Yeah?”
“Put it to you this way. I’ve beenworkingsince I was eleven, and this is the only job I’ve ever had that allows me to keep my gender and my clothes.”
I clench my fists, taking a few deep breaths.
He continues as though having opened a spigot on a truth he’s been holding inside him for too long, “My grandfather sold me to traffickers. I sorta…went numb for a bunch of years, I guess. Got passed around a lot. Never even dreamed of what a different life could be like.”
“Shit, Ant.”
I fucking hate people sometimes.
Staring out the window as people go in and out of the coffee shop, he explains, “Charlie and Erik pulled me out of a hotel room in downtown Austin. So this whole thing with Charlie getting married and not telling me makes me feel, like, disposable all over again.”
“Ant,” I say, reaching across the console for an awkward hug. “He doesn’t view you that way, man. Super promise.”
