She crosses the room and hands me the glass. That’s when I realize I’ve been staring.
She notices too.
Her mouth curves into a slow, knowing smirk as she raises a brow. “You good?”
I take the water, forcing my gaze back to her eyes. “I am,” I say honestly. “Just adjusting.”
She chuckles softly and settles into the couch, tucking one leg beneath her. The room hums with something new now, something deliberate.
And I realize, standing there in her space, water cold in my hand, that whatever this is, it’s already moved past curiosity.
The question now isn’t whether I want her.
It’s whether I can keep pretending I don’t.
“Do you mind if I sit,” I ask, gesturing toward the couch.
She lifts a shoulder. “Sure. Make yourself comfortable.”
I do.
I sink into the cushion, legs spreading naturally, posture relaxed, grounded. I take a slow drink of water, letting the cool settle me. When I glance back up, I catch her staring.
Not casual.
Not guarded.
Focused.
Her face is freshly washed, skin glowing soft under the lights. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun high on her head, curls escaping at the nape of her neck. No armor. No performance. Just her.
She doesn’t ease into it. Zaria never does.
“Calil,” she says plainly, “What games are you trying to play here?”
I hold her gaze.
“Because from what I’ve gathered,” she continues, voice steady but edged, “You’ve never been with a transwoman in any capacity. And I’m not about to be a dirty little secret for you to get your rocks off.”
The room is still.
I don’t shift. Don’t rush. I let her say it all.
My voice is calm when I speak. Filled with certainty.
“I’m not asking you to be,” I say. “You’re right. I’ve never been with a transwoman. But I know how to love and adore women.” I pause. “And you’re a woman, correct?”
Her brows lift just slightly. Surprise flickers across her face. Warmth immediately following. Hunger. I clock it.
I keep going.
“The trans portion of your identity doesn’t prevent me from treating you like the beautiful and driven woman you are. I’m a grown ass man, Z. I’ve never answered to another mothafucka about my desires or who I love. I damn sure don’t seek approval on who I lay with. And I’m not about to start now.”
Her breath changes. Subtle but I hear it.
“I want to get to know you the way I know Lena,” I continue, honest and unflinching. “Protect you the way I protect Lena. Learn you. Respect you. Care for you.” My voice lowers, not threatening, just real. “And yes, learn how to please you, the same way I learn any partner. But none of that comes without consent, clarity, or care.”
Her chest rises, falls. I don’t look away.
