Emory wanted to get to know him? He wanted Cameron to open up about something real? Well, this was pretty real, wasn’t it? It wasn’t his only secret, not by a long shot, but it definitely wasn’t something most people knew about him.
Before he could reconsider, he marched out of the guest bedroom and straight into Emory’s room.
He found Emory sitting on the edge of his bed, still mostly dressed in his party clothes, having only discarded his tie and socks. He seemed lost in thought as he fidgeted with the button on his shirt sleeve. Cameron was just opening his mouth to speak when Emory lifted his eyes and spotted Cameron. His face was so open, so vulnerable, that Cameron lost his nerve and dropped his gaze to the floor.
The first thing his eyes caught on were Emory’s slightly overgrown toenails. Funny, he would have expected a CEO to be impeccably groomed. Instead, Emory, like his home, was imperfect and real. Piles of work strewn about, dirty dishes in the sink, exposed hairy toes, and all.
Cameron steeled himself before straightening up to his full height. “You said you didn’t feel like you knew much of importance about me, and I didn’t like that.” Emory stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to hide from you or run away from you. I want you to get to know me, and I want to get to know you. This is all just…hard for me.”
Emory nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Cameron’s. “It’s not easy for me either, Cameron. I’m severely out of practice with dating. I am, as always, underwater at work and unable to give you the time I should be able to and?—”
“Emory,” Cameron interrupted because he hadn’t meant to start a whole conversation about their shortcomings.
He desperately wanted to let Emory know he was serious about figuring out their relationship. His octopus shifted anxiously back and forth, and Cameron did the only thing he could think to do.
“I want you to get to know me.Allof me, and if that means showing you the more vulnerable parts of myself, the parts I don’t really share with anyone else, then I want to do that.”
With a bit of fumbling, he undid his belt and dropped his pants.
After nearly an hour of debate with his octopus in front of the mirror in his bedroom, he had chosen one of his favorite pairs of lacy panties, which perfectly matched his navy blue sweater. His octopus had been very happy with the decision, and Emory had actually complimented the color earlier. He hoped Emory would like it now, too.
“Cameron,” Emory breathed, his eyes straying down and then snapping back up. “You’re…absolutely breathtaking, honey, but?—”
“I like to wear lacy underwear,” Cameron interrupted, starting with the obvious first.
They stared at each other in silence, the way only two drunk people could. “I can see that,” Emory said slowly, allowing his gaze to drift down and then slowly back up. “They’re very beautiful, but?—”
“And I like to wear pretty things, and to…to feel pretty, which I know lots of guys do, but for me specifically, it’s because I’m a demiboy. I have been for a long time, I just don’t really talk about it a lot because…”
Cameron’s voice left him for a minute, and his octopus slapped his tentacles down on the ground. It was now or never. Well, realistically, he was pretty sure Emory would hear him out any day, any time, but he had come this far. Cameron’s octopus slapped the ground again, and Cameron straightened his shoulders.
“Because I had a–a shitty boyfriend in college who made me feel like I couldn’t be out, so I hid this part of myself away for a long time, but…I don’t want to hide it. From anyone, but especially not from you.”
Emory extended a hand, and Cameron gently placed his sweaty palm in his. “I’m not entirely familiar with the demiboy identity,” Emory said. “Does that mean you want me to use different pronouns for you?”
Cameron quickly shook his head. He didn’t think he had it in him right now to do a deep dive, but he also didn’t want Emory to worry. “No, he/him is completely fine. I am a boy–at least, somewhat of a boy. I think I lean a little more nonbinary, and feel most myself when I get to wear pretty things, and expressthe more feminine parts of myself, but still be identified as a boy. Just…a demiboy.”
Cameron realized with a bit of discomfort that his pants were still around his ankles. He wanted to kick them all the way off, but Emory looked like he was waiting for him to say more. “I, uh…am still sort of figuring out what my style is, and what makes me feel good, but…maybe we can talk about it more sometime soon?”
Emory squeezed his hand once. “I would love to hear about it.”
Silence settled between them, and Cameron’s octopus twitched anxiously until Emory squeezed his hand again. “As far as everything else you said, I have to admit, I have put the pieces together that your ex was bad news.”
Cameron flexed his fingers in Emory’s grip. The urge to cross his arms protectively over his chest was strong, but the need to be grounded was a little stronger.
“He was very bad news. To be blunt, he was abusive. It took me years to admit to myself that that’s what happened. I had abusive bio parents, and then somehow allowed myself to end up in an abusive relationship. It took me a really long time to get past what happened with my parents, and it took even longer to get past what happened with him. It messed me up for a while, and I think it really caused me to shove down some of these softer, more vulnerable parts of myself,” Cameron said as he gestured from his sweater down his bare legs.
Emory followed his gesture down to his lace-covered thighs and then snapped back up again. His octopus wiggled in a way that Cameron had always thought meant he was laughing. Poor Emory. He was trying so hard to be chivalrous. Not just trying, but succeeding, because he truly was a good guy.
Something like fondness, or maybe even a little more than that, ballooned in Cameron’s chest. It caused his words to comeout wobbly, but at least they still came out. “It also caused me to stop dating for a long time, and I wasn’t actively dating when you and I met, but here we are, and we’re dating.”
Emory grimaced. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through with your parents and then with your piece of shit ex. I know meeting me, being fated to me, was not part of your plan. I’m sorry if…if this is yet another hard thing you have to do.”
“No, no, you don’t get it,” Cameron said, shaking his head aggressively. The room spun a bit as he straightened his head back out, and he waited for the walls to stop moving before speaking again. “I thank the gods I was rescued from my parents before any of that came out. I have a few pretty distinct memories of the way my biological dad would talk about effeminate people and…it wouldn’t have gone well, trust me. And my ex? He made me feel horrible about wearing lacy things and liking soft, feminine fabrics and colors. I never told him I was a demiboy because he would have hated that, too.”
Perhaps because he’d never had to explain this to anyone, the dawning of understanding that Cameron had been hoping to see on Emory’s face was nowhere to be found. He was still staring intently, all of his focus clearly on Cameron, but his brow was furrowed in confusion. Cameron tried a different approach.
“We’re drunk,” Cameron said, and Emory nodded firmly, like this, at least, he understood. “We’re drunk, and…and I’m not afraid. To show you this. To share this with you. Because I know you’re not an asshole.”
