Chapter Nine
Grayson
“Are you ready to hear every detail?” I asked. “Because I am dying to tell someone.”
Alyssa stood in her doorway, a red apron hanging over her shoulders and a spatula in hand. “I have a million very personal questions ready,” she joked. “Just don’t forget that I asked you here early to help get ready.”
Her house was already arranged for brunch, with some extra chairs out and a bouquet of summer flowers on the kitchen table. I lifted the casserole dish of breakfast potatoes I had brought, baked with a little cheese and some peppers. “Where should this go?”
Alyssa quickly directed me to work, and I started mixing up the batter for some French toast while she set up plates and poured orange juice into a couple of pitchers. She had some 90s rock music on the radio, and the windows were open onto her large garden out back, where some extra settings waited at a picnic table.
“How many people are going to come to your brunch?” I asked.
Alyssa shrugged. “Claire and I have both lived in the city our entire lives. We each have our own friend group.” She adjusted her glasses, then smiled. “It’s nice. I love it when our friends get to meet each other.”
I nodded and tried to ignore the thoughts that were gnawing at the back of my brain—that I didn’t really have a group of friends, while Demir and Marco had a large number of very intimidating people around them.
“You’ll see,” she continued. “And Claire should be here soon. But I know you’ve got other things on your mind.” She lifted the carafe of coffee, then poured herself another splash. “Dish. Before the crowd shows up and I miss my chance.”
And right there, with Weezer on the radio, I gave Alyssa the biggest gossip download I had ever given another person. I told her about the slick, sweaty group jerkoff, when I had lost track of whose cock I was touching and who was touching me. I told her about the dark hair on Demir’s chest, and the way it felt to take Marco’s lips in mine, like I was slowly claiming him.
I waved the spatula in the air and flipped the French toast, and I poured every steamy detail I could remember out on the brunch table.
“Holy shit,” Alyssa said when I finished. “Grayson, you’ve got to tell me you’re going to see them again.”
“Definitely,” I agreed. “They have some big event at the club on Friday, the official afterparty for a concert or something.”
Alyssa snorted a laugh. “You’re so cute. Of course you don’t care who the celebrity is. You never pay attention to that kind of thing.”
I laughed, then held my palms up toward the ceiling. “Just so long as they don’t mind that I’m clueless. Anyway, they won’t be free until next week. They said I was welcome to stop by the club, but they’ll probably just be working all weekend anyway.”
I heard the door open at the front of the house, and an unfamiliar voice called out. “Claire,” Alyssa said, a smile bubbling up on her face. “In here, honey!”
Claire was beautiful in a way that reminded me of Alyssa’s beauty, soft and understated but still somehow striking. She threw her arms around her girlfriend with a kiss, and I saw they were each wearing the same pair of plain black tennis shoes. I introduced myself, but as soon as we got done with our hellos, the door opened again, and a few younger men I took to be friends strolled in.
The morning hit a steady pace after. Everyone brought a dish to share, from the women with silver curls and tight jeans who dropped a cherry pie on the table to the bubbly trans guy who arrived alone, but with a massive pot of cooked greens in his hands. A couple of families even showed up with kids, jolting me with an unpleasant reminder of the family plans I used to make with Zoe. As the house filled, I dipped in and out of conversations, filled my belly with bites of different dishes and too much coffee, and then found my way to the picnic table, where Claire and a few friends were digging forks into the sweet potato pie.
“Grayson,” Claire said, gesturing me over. “Try this pie!”
I slid in at the table, then tried to remember the names of everyone there. The three women, all with curly silver hair, sat on one side of the table, Samantha and Isobel and Yvonne. On the other, I joined Claire and Zach, another trans guy who looked to be in his thirties, with a full beard and a pair of suspenders over his T-shirt.
“Delicious,” I said after taking a bite of the pie and letting the cherry filling melt in my mouth.
“Can you weigh in on something for us, Grayson?” Claire asked. “We were just talking about our dating lives—”
“Which is basically the only thing we talk about,” Isobel added, getting a friendly laugh from the table.
“Are you the kind of person who likes to know everything your sweetheart does?” Claire asked. “Or would you rather keep some mystery?”
Zach leaned across the table to take the fork. “My new boyfriend wants me to have all this privacy,” he said. “But my ex always wanted me to share every single plan and detail! The space is really throwing me off.”
“And I’m the opposite,” Claire jumped back in. “You know Alyssa. Once she decides to love somebody like she loves you, she’ll share every secret she has with them. But I keep feeling guilty that she’s telling me things my last girlfriend never would have shared with me! I’m so used to having relationships where everyone keeps a little bit of privacy and space.”
I sat there, a little stunned with all eyes on me. My head had started to tingle with pleasant recognition when I realized Zach was another gay trans man, and when Claire casually mentioned that Alyssa felt love for me, it was like little flowers bloomed in my chest.
“Wow,” I said, rubbing the back of my head. “I guess when I imagine my ideal, everyone has a little bit of space and privacy, but that only works when you truly trust each other.”
“That’s what I said.” Isobel perked up from across the table. “I’ve been in relationships where every person has a lot of personal space, but sometimes, that’s ended with a girlfriend breaking my trust.” She grabbed the fork from Yvonne, then gestured with it. “That’s one way I know things are really so good with my girlfriends. I trust them enough that I don’t feel like I ever need to pry.”
