“How you doing tonight?”
“You always this quiet or you just don’t like me?”
“Both,” I joked as we both chuckled.
Still, I never gave him much. A nod here. A hum there. Some one-word responses if I was feeling generous. I didn’t dislike him but I couldn’t figure him out. In my world if I couldn’t figure you out, I didn’t trust you.
That simple.
There were only two possibilities in my mind for his behavior. Either—he wanted Lena and I was in the way. Or he wanted me and I was about to become another secret. Another “you’re perfect but…” situation. Another man who could admire me in private but wouldn’t dare stand beside me in public.
So I kept my distance. I was always polite, though I remained unreadable and guarded. Calil didn’t retreat; he adjusted. He didn’t chase or force his way into my space, but I could see him mentally taking notes and waiting patiently. Honestly, that almost irritated me more.
It was a game night at Ajaih’s place. Everyone was loud, happy, and chaotic. Drinks flowing. Maverick and Knox arguing about something ridiculous. Calla laughing too hard at her brothers and their goofiness. Lena glowing like she always did when she was surrounded by people she loved.
I slipped into the kitchen for a moment of quiet. Needing a breather and space. I was pouring myself another drink when I felt it. That presence. His presence.
Again.
“Running from us?” Calil’s voice came from the doorway.
I didn’t turn right away. “Getting a drink,” I replied.
“Mm,” he hummed, stepping inside. “You always look like you you don’t wanna be around our crazy asses.”
I rolled my eyes slightly as a smile formed on my face. Still focused on my glass. “Quite the contrary. I love a good game night with y’all.”
“Bet. I’m glad to know that,” he said.
I could feel him closer now but not invading.
Just… there.
“You look good as shit tonight. Where you headed when you leave here?” he asked casually.
That’s when I turned. Because now I needed to see his face. Needed to read his body language and demeanor. Needed to know what lane he was trying to swerve into. He wasn’t smirking. Wasn’t scanning me like I was a body to assess.
He just… meant it.
That made me uncomfortable. So I did what I always do when I feel off balance. I went on offense.
“You know I’m trans, right?” I blurted.
His brow lifted slightly.
I kept going, because once I start, I don’t half-step. “And I still got all my original parts.”
There it was. Let’s see what you do with that, I thought to myself.
Most men falter and get all weird like every transwoman is on the prowl. Some get curious in ways that feel invasive. Some backtrack like they accidentally walked into the wrong room.
Calil?
He laughed. Not loud. Not disrespectful but in amusement.
“Okay,” he said, nodding once. “That’s what’s up.”
I blinked. That wasn’t the script I planned for. He stepped a little closer, just enough for his voice to drop. “I’m still complimenting a beautiful woman.”
