I shift in my seat at how that sounds… But no, notthatkind of stealing innocence. Though, if we’re being honest, the trauma definitely stunted me in that department too.
I’ve never had a girlfriend… or a boyfriend. Last year, I lost my virginity to a girl from school, just to get it over with. See what all the fuss was about. I didn’t hate it, but I also didn’t find myself at all devoted to the experience.
I’d assumed it was because I’m gay. But then I kissed a boy, and it didn’t quite feel right either. It feltbetter, sure. Even so, us pawing at each other in the back of his car brought me only the shell of blissful satisfaction that Iknowis supposed to come from losing yourself in someone else physically.
I don’t know that it has anything to do with them; the people I’ve tried it with. It’sme.
I’m broken.
Hebroke me.
My emotional state is taking a nosedive when something catches in my peripheral. A girl just sat down at the next table, and she looks… vaguely familiar. She has auburn hair, this deep sort of red, with a blonde streak going down the front, like Rogue from the X-Men. She’s very pretty, looks to be around my age, maybe a little older. But there’s just something about her…
Discreetly watching her, I’m fighting to place where I might have seen her. Obviously I’m not from here, and I don’t think I’ve ever met her in real life.
Is she a celebrity or something? An influencer? Maybe I scrolled past her on TikTok or Instagram dancing or doing makeup tutorials…?
No, she doesn’t seem like the type. And yes, you can totally tellthattype just from looking at them. But this girl has a vibe about her. I can’t quite put my finger on it but something inside me recognizes something in her… A kinship.
She’s alone too.
Distracted, I forget my training in how to watch people without them realizing you’re doing it, and she glances up, locking stormy blue eyes on mine. And then they widen.
As if she’s recognizing me too.
It’s weird. But now that she’s seen me, she’s kind of gawking. It’s stirring up my insecurities. Physically, I know I’ve been blessed with good looks, but I don’t let it inflate my ego or anything. Because if they could see what’s inside, they’d run screaming.
Pretty, broken thing.
Knowing I need to do something, I produce a charming smile on the fly. “Is that good?” Her brow furrows and I nod at the baked good in front of her. “The Nutella banana bread, right? I was trying to talk myself out of it…”
She chuckles, a softly welcoming sound, though her guard is visibly up.
She seems wary of me, and I’m unsure why. You certainly wouldn’tassumeI’m threatening from looking at me.
“I won’t be any help with that because it’s absolutely delicious,” she says. “I come here all the time. And I’d probably be ten pounds lighter if I didn’t.”
“Life’s too short not to eat carbs, right?” I grin, and her smile grows less forced.
But then her forehead lines. “I’m sorry, do I know you from somewhere? You look… crazy familiar for some reason, but I just can’t place it.”
I turn to face her in my seat. “Oh my God, I was thinking the same thing about you!”
She laughs. It’s a great sound. Actually, her voice is very soothing to the ear. Sort of raspy, yet sweetly melodious.She’d make a great podcaster.
“Are you from around here?” She asks, then frowns. “Sorry, that sounded pick-upy.” We both chuckle. “I just mean, like, maybe I’ve seen you around…?”
I shake my head. “I’m new in town. Barely a week… You?”
“I’ve moved around a bit, but yea, I’ve been in the city for years,” she tells me.
I pause the investigation when I remember my conversation with Gary Cupman on the plane.
“So you’d consider yourself a New Yorker?” I ask, curious.
“Well, I wasn’t born here…” She gets a bit shifty, breaking eye contact. “But I do love it. If I’m not a New Yorker yet, I hope to be one day.”
This response only verifies Gary’s thing about it being astate of mind.
