I don’t leave.
I’m at a loss for words, to be honest. Of all the reasons I expected her to be upset…thatwas not it.
We have more in common than I ever could have imagined. Our situations and experiences aren’t exactly the same, but damnit, the end result is so similar that it’s enough to make me believe in fate.
All those tests, some painful and invasive… The embarrassing, isolating strain of watching my peers turn into men while I remained a boy… The humiliation, the loneliness… Perhaps it was all leading to this.
To her.
I lie down next to her, facing her as she starts to drift. Somehow, impossibly, this gorgeous firecracker has the same thoughts as me, the same sense of having to be alone forever, desperately wishing it wasn’t so, but feeling like there isn’t a choice.
I place my fingers a hair’s breadth from hers, not touching, but feeling that crackle of near-contact like a livewire.
“You call me your superhero,” I say quietly, “but the truth is…”Come on. She’s been honest with you. It’s time to come clean. You can do this.“The truth is, the only place I’m the superhero of is Smallville.” My stomach plummets as I anticipate her reaction to my own little secret.
Her eyes open sleepily. “Tom Welling was sexy inLucifer.”
“Was he?”
“Mmhmm,” she hums softly, closing her eyes again.
I roll onto my back and look up at her ceiling. She has some glow in the dark stars stuck up there, but the light’s on so we’re not getting the full effect of them.
“I have Kallmann Syndrome,” I say quietly, ripping the band aid off. I clear my throat nervously. “It’s, er, it’s why I have hearing impairment, and why I can’t smell your perfume, and why I can’t see red and green, but…I seeyou.”Sappy bastard.
“Hmmm,” she sighs, rolling over and resting her head in the crook of my shoulder. “I could’ve told you you had Cool Man Syndrome.”
I chuckle. “Thanks, but it’sKallmannSyndrome.” She snuggles in a little closer and relaxes. “And part of it is…” This is actually tough. I’ve spent so long not wanting people to know that voluntarily telling someone feels really weird. “Extremely delayed puberty,” I manage. “And…well, I’m not exactly the most…”
Faith snores softly.
I smile to myself, and stay still. We can talk about this later, with clearer heads. I’m not scared of her knowing anymore.
I match my breathing with hers, and pretty soon, I’m asleep too.
Faith
Iwake up to the worst morning breath I’ve ever had. It tastes like I slept with a toad covered in chilli powder in my mouth, and everything is too bright. Blech.
My head is not resting on a pillow. It’s on something that’s moving gently up and down. I’m sideways on my bed still, and wearing last night’s clothes, including my sparkly DMs. I turn my head and…
Wow, how does Damon manage to look so biteable even when he’s fast asleep? His dark hair is all mussed up, and his lips look so soft, and I want to kiss them, and WAIT A MINUTE, OH MY GOD, I DID.
I kissed him last night. Like a psycho fiend.
And I had a nervous breakdown at him when he pushed me away, and…
OHMYFUCKINGGODNOPLEASENO…
I slap my forehead with my palm. Did I really compare my vagina to a contact lens? Bloody hell. I’m gonna have to resign and probably move away clear to the other end of the UK to boot.
I think my groan is louder than I intended, because his eyes open, and he smiles at me. “Morning,” he whispers.
I leap off the bed, wincing as well-earned pain slams through my skull, and dash away to my ensuite. “I have morning breath!” I throw over my shoulder, and shut the door. My knees are shaking a little. Oh, Christ, I’ve really done it this time. There’s no coming back from this.
He knows everything.
I pull my clothes off so I can freshen up with a quick basin wash and brush my teeth, gargling with mouthwash for as long as I can stand the minty burn, and wriggling back into my dress, concealing my pants in my dress’s pocket, before peering out the door. Damon’s now sat up on my bed, running his hand over his face, and smiling at me like I’mnotthe biggest oversharing inappropriate loser he’s ever met.
