Iris
Before
The park is empty.
I’m hunched over a picnic table, my face hidden in my hands. My throat burns, but the tears keep coming. I should be at home right now. My parents are expecting me. But I’m so tired of pretending everything is okay.
All I can see behind my eyes is my sketchbook pages ripped to shreds, fluttering through the hallway like confetti.
Hours and hours of work, gone at the hands of a cruel joke.
“Are you sad?” I look up at the sound of a small voice, finding a boy, maybe four or five, with messy blonde hair and blue eyes too big for his face, studying me with an innocent curiosity.
“I’m fine.”
He tilts his head, unconvinced. “You don’t look it.”
Digging in his pocket, he pulls out a melty piece of chocolate and holds it out for me to take. “Candy always makes me feel better.” He says, like it’s the answer to all my problems.
I melt a little at that, but before I can answer, a taller shadow falls over us, and that voice—
“Alex, what’re you doing?”
I look up to find none other than Nate Wesley standing there, football jacket gone, stupid muscular arms on display.
The boy beams up at him. “I was jus’ makin’ him feel better.”
Nate smiles down at him. “Alright, buddy, why don’t you go play?” he ruffles the kid’s hair, then looks past him at me. “Hey, I know you. You’re the artist, right?”
I know he can tell I was crying. I want to disappear. “Not anymore.”
He frowns. “What d’you mean?”
“They destroyed it,” I snap. “Your friends. They took my art, and they ripped it up. Months of work, gone.” My voice cracks, but I don’t even care.
“I’m sure you think this whole thing is hilarious,” I accuse, my blood suddenly boiling. Quarterback Nate Wesley, looking unreasonably handsome, talking to me like his friends didn’t destroy everything.
His brows furrow, “I— Wha—”
“You’re all the same,” I cut him off, “Big, stupid, assholes that don’t care about anyone but yourselves.”
His mouth opens as he might argue, but I don’t give him the chance.
I stand up from the table and walk away quickly, before he can see the fresh tears falling down my cheeks. I don’t see Nate’s reaction or hear what he has to say.
I don’t care.
The last thing I hear is “Catch me, Nate,” before I round the corner.
Now
Nate is completely still, staring at my graduation photo. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his breath hitches in surprise. He’s staring, unblinking, frozen in place.
He remembers me.
Panic claws at my chest as I try to explain, to say something, anything, but the words die before they even reach my tongue.
He remembers me.
Everything I did to become who I am feels like it’s crumbling away. He won’t see me anymore. All he’ll see is Kavi.
It runs through my head on a loop.
He’ll look at me differently.
He’ll hate himself for what we did.
The silence stretches, unbearable, as he keeps staring at the photo, terror flooding every inch of me.
This is it.
After everything, after I let him see all of me, after I let myself believe that I was enough, this is where it ends. I wrap my arms around myself to stop the shaking I feel, but I can’t.
I can’t think.
The only thing hammering through my head is he knows, he knows, he knows.
I don’t notice Nate talking to me until his hands are on my shoulders. “Iris? You’re shaking.” He’s close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. “Look at me, okay?”
I shake my head, choking on the words that want to spill out, the truth I never wanted to speak. “You remember me.”
His brow furrows as he glances at the painting again, then back at me. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I remember.”
My stomach twists as I wait for the recoil, the disgust, the shame that will inevitably cross his face when he really sees me.
But it doesn’t come.
There’s no hate in his face, only sadness. And anger. “I remember the way they treated you. I remember standing there and not doing anything.”
What?
That’s what he’s thinking about?
Not how I used to be a boy, not my body, or the secret I kept even after I told him everything else?
He’s looking at me like he’s the one who’s done something wrong.
“You were a kid.” I hug my arms tighter around myself. “You didn’t—”
“I should’ve done more,” he cuts in. “I saw you crying in those halls. I saw what they did. And I—” His mouth twists. “They hurt you, pushed you around, tore up your art.” The panicked adrenaline surging through my body is quickly being covered by the disbelief that he’s not angry at me.
He’s angry at himself.
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore, seeing me as a…” I pause. “A boy.”
“Darlin’, no.” The word comes out fierce, like he needs to erase the thought before it can root any deeper. His hands slide up from my shoulders to cradle my face. “I love you. I love you now, I love you then.”
I turn my head because looking at him, seeing the conviction in his face, it’s almost too much right now.
“Is that why you didn’t want to go out with me?” He asks, putting it together now. “Because you thought of me as one of those assholes who hurt you?”
“Maybe at first,” I tell him, honestly. “But I knew you were a good man, Nate. I mean,” I laugh through my tears, “You had your whole team showing up to class ready to learn as soon as you found out they were making me sad.”
“Damn right I did,” he chuckles, resting his forehead against mine, “Couldn’t have them making me look bad in front of the prettiest girl I ever saw.”
The overwhelmed feeling stays, but the panic fades. It’s the way he says those words, that leaves no space for doubt. He sees me exactly as I am, he remembers me from before, and he still thinks I’m the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.
“I love you,” I say, connecting my lips to his. My body is still trembling, but from the force of everything I feel for him. I can’t stop touching him, fingers in his hair, down his sides, desperate to feel every inch of him until my hand cups him through his jeans.
“Whoa, hang on, we’re at your parents’ house.”
“I don’t care.” I feel him grow harder in his pants. “I want you.”
His breath hitches, hands tightening on my hips when I give his cock a squeeze. “Iris,” he warns, reaching for my hand to pull it away. “We can’t do this here.”
“Please, Nate.”
He shakes his head, shutting his eyes, trying to gain control of himself. “I mean it.” His thumb strokes over my knuckles, keeping my hand in place. “I gotta make a good impression. These are my future in-laws.”
“Future in-laws?”
“I don’t plan on marrying anybody else.”
I bury my face against his shoulder, inhaling his scent of soap and cedar and Nate, and it’s everything I ever wanted. “You’re an idiot,” I murmur, kissing the warm skin of his neck, then along his jaw. “You say something like that and expect me to calm down?”
His hand lets go of mine, sliding around my waist, tugging me close. “If you don’t calm down, we’re both in trouble.” I melt into him, so full of love I could burst as his lips brush my temple. “You ever think you’d have me in this room back then?”
I let out a quick burst of laughter against his shirt.
I tip my head back to look at him, still giggling, and the expression on his face makes me laugh harder, my need momentarily forgotten.
“What?” he protests, offense written all over his face, “How’s that funny?”
“What? Were you thinking about me?” I counter, and I can actually see him scrambling for a comeback.
“Maybe I was.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure you were daydreaming about the freshman art nerd when you had your pick of the cheerleaders.”
“Hey,” he protests. “Don’t go selling yourself short like that. You were special even back then. I just didn’t know how yet.” His words linger between us, stupidly romantic.
You were special even back then.
I know it was a stupid line, but I think he believes it, and that’s so much.
When I look up at him again, his focus is locked on the wall behind me. “That painting.”
“What about it?”
He shifts, looking down at me with a serious expression, “Could I have it? Only if you want to give it up, I mean. I—” His voice breaks off, and when he tries again, it’s so earnest. “I wanna keep it. To remember. And I wasn’t lying back then when I said it was fucking awesome, even if I came off sounding like an asshole. ”
I blink, stunned that he would want to remember me from back then. “Yeah,” I whisper, my hand curling into his shirt. “You can have it.”
“Thank you,” he says, steady and sure.
“Just don’t hang it in your living room next to all your football trophies.”
“No promises. Gotta show off the most important win of my life.”
I groan, hiding my face against him. “You’re ridiculous.”
His arms close tight around me, lips brushing the top of my head. “You love me.”
I look up, knowing how much I love him is written all over my face. “I do.”
We stand there like that, staring at each other with matching smiles for way too long. But then, of course, he has to ruin the moment. “Better get downstairs before your parents think we’re fucking.”
“Nate!” I pull out of his grasp, my scandalized whisper making him chuckle.
He starts toward the door, but stops to whisper in my ear, “Acting all shocked when you were begging me for it not five minutes ago.”
Heat floods me, my jaw dropping as he disappears down the stairs, leaving me standing in the quiet. Breathless and aware of how badly I had wanted him.
Nate’s already at the table when I join them, talking with my parents like he’s known them for years. I slip into the chair across from him, narrowing my eyes when my parents aren’t looking. His lips twitch, fully aware of why my cheeks are still flushed.
While Mama and Papa are bringing the food from the kitchen, Nate leans across the table, tangling our fingers together. “You sure are cute when you’re glaring at me like that.”
I don’t get the chance to tell him off, because Mama sets down a dish in the center of the table, and just like that, we’re eating. Nate charms them effortlessly, answering Papa’s questions, complimenting Mama’s cooking, and listening earnestly as they tell stories about Anika and me as kids.
The meal passes in a pleasant blur, and before I know it, we’ve moved into the living room and Mama is clapping her hands together. “I think it’s time we showed Nate some of the old albums,” she declares, heading for the cabinet by the bookshelf.
My stomach drops. “Mama, no…”
“Oh, hush,” she waves me off, pulling out a thick leather-bound photo album. She plunks it down on the coffee table with a thud and opens it up to pictures of a chubby baby with messy black hair, a toddler in oversized glasses covered in paint, and my awkward middle school frown.
Nothing I ever wanted Nate to see.
“What?” Mama asks, when I groan in embarrassment, wrapping her arm around my shoulder from where she’s perched on the armrest. “You were adorable.”
“Still are,” Nate adds, unhelpfully.
“Nate,” I mutter, feeling warm everywhere. He’s seeing who I used to be, photos from before I transitioned, and he doesn’t even care, and I never knew how much that would mean to me.
“You were one cute baby. Giving me baby fever,” he jokes, making me smile, even though the thought of Nate wanting a child with me pulls at something in my heart.
Something I thought was an impossibility.
Maybe it’s not anymore.
Papa chuckles when we flip to a school picture, my face scrunched in obvious irritation, and when we turn the page again, I pause on a picture of Anika and me and point to show Nate.“That’s my sister.”
Papa’s expression softens. “She wanted to be here, but finals are ‘kicking her ass,’” he says, doing air quotes that make me giggle. And since when did my father cuss?
“She’ll be back for the summer,” Mama adds.
I realize Nate’s been quiet for a long time when he clears his throat. “Would it be alright if we took something home?”
We all turn to him. “What?”
“A couple of pictures,” he says, looking at Mama and Papa, and then me. “I’d like some baby pictures of you. And you could stand to hang a few up at your house, I mean, look at this one,” he jokes, holding up a particularly silly picture of toddler me, but I can’t laugh.
The air goes from my lungs completely. I know Nate is serious about me, the locket around my neck is proof enough—
The words my future in-laws repeat over in my mind.
Mama smiles warmly, like she’s arrived at the same conclusion. “If it’s alright with Iris.”
I nod, taking his hand.
The night air is cool when we step out of the house, with Mama’s kiss still lingering on my cheek, and Nate’s promise that we’ll visit again soon echoing in my head.
He finishes loading the canvas into his red truck and waves at my parents from the driveway, and I can’t help but notice how well he fits in here, like he belongs in every part of my life, even this one.
As we’re driving away, my heart still catching up from the whirlwind of the evening, my phone buzzes in my lap.
Gracie: Hi, Iris! It’s Gracie. Nate gave me your number. Liz and I were planning a girls day this weekend, mani/pedis, shopping, brunch. We’d love for you to join us!
I stare down at the text for far too long. Gracie didn’t have to invite me, but she did. She and Liz are reaching out, including me, like I’m already part of the family.
Family.
I’ve never let myself want it, never let myself believe it’s something I could have. But here it is, right in front of me. My parents, waving at us from the porch, loving me for who I am. Nate’s family welcoming me with open arms.
Nate glances over. “What are you smiling at over there?”
I lock my phone, placing it face down on my thigh. When I look up at him, the glow from the dashboard paints his handsome features in blue. The love I feel right now must be too much for my chest.
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head, but my smile spreads. “Just… I love you.”
He reaches across the console, lacing his fingers with mine, squeezing once.“Love you too, Darlin’.”