The soft music playing overhead switched to a piano cover of a song the Beta Psi sisters had listened to on repeat. Aspen closed their eyes and was transported back to an evening in their spring semester of sophomore year. They’d been sitting on Noah’s bed, trying to study for their English midterm, when the girls downstairs had started blasting the album on repeat. Noah had grabbed their textbooks, taken Aspen’s hand, and led them down the back staircase. They passed by the picnic tables and beach volleyball court, which were situated between their house and Delta Delta, and Aspen had been surprised when Noah led them up to the top of the hill overlooking Sorority Row. It was a bit of a trek, and Aspen had been disappointed to find there was nothing there except grass and hydrangea bushes. The bushes hadn’t even been in bloom.
Noah had a plan, though, as he always did. There had been just enough foliage on the bushes for them to lie down behind them and not be seen. It was like their own little world, away from inconsiderate housemates and the intrusive eyes of others. That first night, they stayed out studying, joking, and sharing secrets until the mosquitoes came out. They went back there countless times, always under the guise of wanting a quiet place to study, even if the sound of their laughter was anything but quiet.
Not once during any of their trips up the hill had Aspen considered kissing Noah. The one time Noah had laid his head on Aspen’s stomach, Aspen had felt like the most cherished person in the world, but it had always been this soft, warm little thing between them.
It was still there today, fluttering behind Aspen’s rib cage and tapping against their heart. It was sort of like Blair had said, a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, bigger and brighter than before.
If Noah were to take Aspen’s hand again and lead them to a small grassy nook, where they could hide away from the world, Aspen would absolutely think about kissing him. They’d also think about threading their hands through his soft hair and pressing their bodies together, even though they were so different from the way they’d been back then.
Aspen felt this deep yearning, all the way down to the marrow of their bones. They wanted to know what it felt like to be with someone who had never once gotten their pronouns wrong. They wanted to trace Noah’s scars, not to check how they’d healed after all these years, but to celebrate with him the magnificent body he’d fought so hard for. They wanted to find out if he tasted as good as he smelled, and if his hands felt like home when they were touching more than just Aspen’s hand or back.
“Aspen?” Blair called, for what was clearly not the first time.
“Yeah?” they said, blinking back to themself, to find what was left of their hair hanging wet across their forehead and covering the top half of their ear.
Blair combed her fingers through the bangs, scratching at their scalp a few times before resting her hand on their shoulder. “Wow, you were deep under.”
“Sorry, you…got me thinking.”
“About Noah?”
Aspen’s blush betrayed them.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, and she did sound genuinely pleased. “But what do you think about the bangs? Maybe a little sharper of an angle?”
The way their hair was cut now, they could see the black crystal stud and small silver hoop on the bottom of their right ear. They had an industrial bar, another silver hoop in their daith, and a pink crystal helix piercing that wasn’t visible.
“Yeah, a bit more of an angle, and can we bring it above my ear?”
“You got it. It’ll just take a sec, then we can get the bleach started,” she said before flicking Aspen on the other ear. This one only had four piercings, and they wondered if maybe they should go get another one today. “Don’t zone out again until the bleach starts to process.”
Aspen stuck their tongue out at her, but she didn’t retaliate. Instead, she stroked her fingers through their hair again. “I know, hon, you’re being so patient. It’ll just be a few more minutes.”
Blair had always seemed to know how to handle Aspen’s flighty brain, big energy, and loud mouth. She’d never once made Aspen feel like they were “too much.” The few times they forgot something or messed up at work, she was quick to assure them that accidents happened and they could always fix whatever went wrong.
As she applied the last stripe of bleach to their hair, they reached a hand back and squeezed her hip. She pressed forward into their hand, stripping off her gloves and throwing them and the bowl in the trash before taking Aspen’s hand.
“It’s going to be amazing, hon. Just wait and see. Everything’s going to turn out great.”
After another hour, everything had in fact turned out great, at least as far as their hair was concerned. They’d never been the type to stop and admire their own reflection. Now, though, they couldn’t stop staring. It wasn’t like they were an entirely different person. It was more like they were finally who they’d always been meant to be. Blair and the other two stylists showered Aspen with compliments, but Aspen really only cared what one person thought.
Well, aside from themself, of course. They couldn’t help but admire their hair in the mirror behind the register. Thelength was perfect, and the color was vibrant and eye-catching. Unfortunately, both of those features meant it would require a fair amount of maintenance moving forward. They scheduled an appointment next month with Blair and tipped her two twenties since the salon covered the supplies and stylist’s fees for all their staff to get their hair done once a month. Aspen hadn’t taken advantage of that perk much, only getting the occasional long, femme haircut. They reveled in being able to do whatever they wanted with their hair without worrying about how their spouse’s family, friends, and colleagues would respond.
If Aspen was being fair, which they felt more able to do as time passed, Ethan never had a problem with Aspen’s hair color…when they were in the house. It was only an issue when they went out into the world, where Ethan felt he had to impress and woo every person he met. That was when Aspen’s colorful locks, loud clothes, and most importantly, their fluctuating gender, were unacceptable.
Feeling buoyed by their new look and hopeful about the future, Aspen turned left out of the salon doors instead of right towards home. They’d go for a little wander and visit their favorite coffee shop to kill time before Noah got off work. The shop owners were about the same age as they were, and Aspen loved chatting with them about whatever new recipes and coffees they had that week.
As Aspen strolled down the street, they couldn’t help but run their hand through their hair, fluffing it up like they were preparing to enter a catwalk. They experimentally swung their hips with each step, and straightened their spine, inadvertently pressing their chest into the soft fabric of their shirt. They glanced in a shop window, unfocusing their eyes so instead of looking at that season’s hottest fashion, they were looking at themself.
They grimaced at the bleach stain and made a mental note to try splatter painting the pants. Other than that minor hiccup, they liked the way their hair caught the sun, showing the even distribution of dye, and the layers Blair had painstakingly cut into their fringe. After taking in the vibrant blue, their eyes seemed to almost skim down their body, skipping over their curves and landing instead on their bright purple jeans. It was like they were a color sandwich, and everything in between was just a bonus.
Bonus curves to go with bonus parts.
Aspen grinned and turned to skip down the sidewalk. They’d once read that if you forced yourself to smile, your brain would slowly get with the program and release happy chemicals, and then the smile wouldn’t be fake anymore. That was sort of the same strategy they applied to skipping. It was impossible to skip and cry–or at least, it was impossible without feeling utterly ridiculous–and it got the blood pumping in a way that wasn’t fueled by indignant rage or spiraling anxiety over things they couldn’t control.
Aspen didn’t want to dwell on things they couldn’t control. Not today. They could worry about parts and what to name them and do with them later. Just because Blair had reminded them that they had no experience with non-heteronormative sex didn’t mean they had to worry about that today. Today was for new beginnings and showing Noah their new and improved look.
Or…showingeveryonetheir new and improved look. That sounded better.
