“For what?” I wondered,
“Forallowingit; I didn’t raise you to sit there and take it,” Beck declared.
“You didn’t raise me; we kind of have parents—” I almost protested but she gave me that scary older sister look that insinuated that I shouldn’t argue with her. “Nevermind.”
“Whatever,” she muttered, taking Jax’s drink from him and downing it all in one go. “Tequila? And you were the one calling my little brother a bitch. Ridiculous.”
I forced a laugh, joining in with them even though I felt a tightness in my chest, wishing for once that someone wouldsee me the way I wanted to be seen—just me, without all the expectations, without all the labels. But they were already joking about something else, lost in their own world. And I sat there, staring into the fire, feeling like I was somewhere far away.
Just then my gaze met that of the last person I expected to see there that day, Yesoh—she had this way of appearing at the most inconvenient times. Just then, I remembered that there was alcohol at that party, and that if her brother knew she was there he’d lose it on her. I slowly backed away, and did my best not to be noticed, approaching the younger girl by the mixing table.
“Didn’t your brother tell you to stay home?” I asked, ushering her away from the scene before she could order anything she’d regret.
She wore a pink camisole and white linen pants, her long curls wild and free at her shoulders, a hibiscus claw clip in her hair. She glittered under the clear moonlit dusk.
“Since when do I do what I’m told, Kwon? You’ve got the wrong girl if you’re seeking any kind of obedience outside of the ballet studio.” She snorted a laugh,
“I just don’t think it’s safe for you here.”
“But Beck’s here. Why don’t you focus on dragging her home?” she argued in a way that elicited indescribable frustration out of me.
“Beck is eighteen,” I reminded her, “she does as she pleases; God help anyone who attempts to interfere.”
“Ditto.” She nodded, attempting to head back to the drinks table, but I held her back by the necklace around her neck. “Hey—”
“Wait,” I insisted, trying to deflect. “I uh, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Can’t it wait? A sex on the beach sounds pretty good right about now,” she mused.
“You aren’t even old enough to know what that wordmeans.” I chucked. “And no it can’t.”
“Okay, fine, we can talk by the fire, it’s chilly here,” she suggested, leading the way, grabbing me by my hand, and I couldn’t believe I was being manhandled by a fourteen-year-old girl.
We sat down by the flames, hues of orange dancing in her brown eyes. The fire crackled and popped, sending sparks into the night sky like fireflies dancing away from their glowing hearth. The warmth enveloped us, creating a cocoon of comfort on the chilly beach. I sat on a driftwood log, legs crossed, watching the flames dance as shadows played across Yesoh’s face, illuminating her features in soft, flickering light.
“So again, can I ask you something?” I broke my silence.
“I’m already being held against my will so you might as well!”
“Do you think I look like a guy?” I asked suddenly, the question slipping out before I could stop it.
Yesoh looked at me, her brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice gentle and curious, as if she were peeling back the layers of my thoughts to find the core.
“I mean, do I look like a guy to you?” I reiterated, my heart racing with the vulnerability of the question. “Like, when you think of guys, do I fit the picture?”
“What the…” she wondered
“Forget it, it’s rather stupid,” I responded quietly, glancing away from both the burn of the fire and my own embarrassment.
I had no business asking Yesoh that, but I needed answers from someone I knew was unbiased and wouldn’t use it against me.
She studied me for a moment, her dark eyes reflecting the firelight, a flicker of surprise dancing in them. “Wynter, last I checked you’re definitely a guy. You’ve got the height, the build,and the way you carry yourself. You’re just you. There’s no ‘one way’ to be a guy.”
“But do you think I’m…too soft?” I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper as I played with the hem of my shirt. “I mean, I’ve been teased about it. Sometimes I feel like I’m not tough enough, not what people expect. Maybe it’s the sport I practice.”
Yesoh shook her head, her expression serious. “That doesn’t matter. You don’t have to be tough to be a guy. Look at how you treat people, how you listen, and how you care. Those are qualities that make you strong.”
“It’s a harsh realization that I don’t think I will ever really be one of the boys, as they say here in the US,” I explained to her. “I feel that exclusion constantly.”
