“Wait!” I grabbed his forearm.
He stopped, putting his hand over mine. He looked very kissable—parted lips and a blush lingering on his cheeks.
“Before you disappear, can I have your number?”
He released a chuckle and fished out his phone. “Only if I can text you.”
“Anytime.”
He sat back down, and we exchanged numbers. I didn’t want to spook him again by asking if he was okay, but he was fidgeting in his seat.
“I’ve been thinking about your concert a lot, too.” He offered me a lollipop and when I refused, he popped it into his mouth. “Why do you play covers every month but not your original set? I don’t understand how it works.”
“Many factors go into that. It’s easier to get a paid gig as a cover band to play at a glorified disco. Living in Boston is pricey, as you’ve probably noticed. My job pays the rent and basics but the equipment is expensive. Don’t get me started on the cost of the studio to record our demo.” I drummed my fingers on the counter, my stomach cramping as I thought of how bleak the future of our band looked like now. “My parents paid for my transition and helped me a lot, but I need to do this on my own or it won’t feel mine. Does that make sense?”
Trent chewed on the lollipop and twirled the stick between his fingers. “Yeah it definitely does. You want to own your life and feel like your accomplishments are your own.”
“Exactly.” He got me on every level. Fuck, how I’d missed him.
“I don’t know how we can be so different—”
“But similar?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “Can I get a hug?”
“Of course.” We stood up and embraced—the simple contact like a comfort pillow. I inhaled his fruity cologne and released a long breath. “See you around, Cupcake.”
He stepped back, and I watched him go through the door and into the early afternoon sun.
That evening, I lay in bed, replaying our conversation in my head. He had no friends in the city, at least none he’d been comfortable enough sharing his awakening with. Had he shared his new discovery with me because he trusted me as a friend or because he was attracted to me? Either way, once he’d returned to my life, he occupied my thoughts non-stop.
I slid my hand down my underwear and took my t-dick between my two fingers. My mind supplied me with the image of Trent’s muscular arms and his sunshine smile, the same way it had over the past two weeks. Then I remembered I had his number.
Flopping over to my stomach, I reached for my phone. I lingered over the opened texting app for a minute, then sent a simple:Hello Cupcake.
Trent replied with a sticker of a pink grinning cupcake.
The three dots danced until another message arrived.
Trent: I should have figured out why I watched X-Men when I was a kid with my mom so many times. Now I want to be Cyclops. Imagine a sandwich with snarky Wolverine and sexy Jean Grey.
I laughed so hard I dropped my phone. Cupcake was bolder over text, and I could definitely work with that.
Charlie: Remember how we were obsessed with Mr. and Mrs. Smith? Running around my backyard and shooting at each other?
Trent: Then playing Uno in the tent until it was dark.
Charlie: We had a flashlight.
Trent: Yeah, but my dad would yell for me to come home. He bought me a phone just so he could stop doing that and call instead.
Charlie: The next day we’d start all over again and you’d tell me about the latest basketball game, including the stats. In scary details.
Trent: I don’t do that anymore.
Charlie: You’re not into basketball?
Trent: I am. But I don’t force anyone to listen to my stats rants.
