Defying Expectations (Pride Parlor #1)

Prologue

Aspen

Well, that could have gone worse.

It also could have gone a hell of a lot better.

Aspen blinked to try and clear their eyes, and the street sign they’d been staring at for god knows how long came into focus.

They read the sign once, then again, before pulling out their phone.

With shaking fingers, they found Noah’s contact in their favorites, pressed call, and brought the phone to their ear.

He answered on the second ring, like he always did.

“Aspen?” he said, as if it really could be that easy.

“He signed the papers,” Aspen said, running a trembling hand back through their shoulder-length hair. “It’s over, I…I just… Please, Noah—”

“I’m coming. Are you at the house?”

“No, I started walking, and…I’m at an intersection. Corner of”—they glanced up because somehow, they’d already forgotten the name of the fucking road they were on—“Bellview and…” Of course it was an intersection, so they needed to give both roads. Why were they so stupid all the—

“Bellview and Cornwall? You’re about fifteen minutes from the house, maybe twenty from me,” Noah said, the familiar sound of his front door closing coming through the line. Aspen checked the crossroad just to make sure, but Noah had been right.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry you have to come all the way out—”

“Nope, we’re not doing that. I’m on my way. Stay right there, okay?”

“Okay,” Aspen whispered, clutching the phone to their ear well past when Noah hung up. Finally, the feeling of the screen against their damp cheek became unbearable, and they lowered their hand to their side.

Today had been an all-around shittastic day, but at least the street was peaceably empty, only two pigeons keeping Aspen company as they waited.

Aspen watched with only mild interest as the birds hopped over to an abandoned pizza crust. One of them was plump, with long tail feathers and a mullet going on up top.

The other was quite a bit taller and almost spindly, with neat feathers that it began to groom while the short one went to town on the crust.

A breath that was closer to a sob escaped from Aspen’s lips, and the birds startled, flapping their mottled grey and white wings before settling back down.

Aspen swallowed down whatever that had been and instead snapped a photo so they could show Noah the rats with wings that sort of looked like the two of them.

They’d met at sorority rush sophomore year of college, standing outside the Beta Psi house in the dead of winter, wearing nothing but their formal dresses and high heels.

Noah really hadn’t needed the added height.

He’d towered over Aspen, all willowy and awkward, like a baby foal not quite sure what to do with his legs yet.

He’d grown into himself shortly after that. At rush the following year, he’d worn pants, flats, and a flattering button-down, and by the time their final rush rolled around, he’d left the sorority on good terms to pursue “other interests.”

Aspen, on the other hand, had waited another seven years to figure out that for them, the problem went well past dresses, heels, and Greek letters. They actually still liked heels when the outfit depended on them, and they still owned a few dresses.

No, the clothes were fine, as was the sorority. The problem was actually them.

At least, that’s what Ethan had said earlier that afternoon.

Aspen’s foot began to tap, their usual pattern of three taps with their toes followed by four taps with their heel.

They had no idea when they’d started doing it.

For most of their life, math and numbers had been the bane of their existence, but they liked the numbers three and four.

They often had to break up larger numbers into three and four-counts, and over time, they’d begun to find comfort in them.

When they finished, they shifted their weight so they could do their other foot, but the nearly empty messenger bag they’d brought to hold all their paperwork slipped off their shoulder.

Thank everything that was holy, they managed to catch it right before it fell into a dank-looking puddle.

No longer trusting themself—wow, that was a statement they’d have to dig into later—they opted to clutch the bag desperately to their chest.

Because that was exactly what they fucking needed, to ruin the documents before they were submitted and have to go back to get Ethan’s signature once again.

They could just imagine having to ring the doorbell and anxiously wait for him to answer.

He’d probably leave Aspen there for a while as payback for them no longer having a key.

It wasn’t their fault, though, or at least not entirely.

After Ethan had slammed down the stupidly fancy pen he’d been using to sign the documents, Aspen had slapped down their house key and stormed out of the house.

It was a little like how they’d left their parents' house after delivering the news that their youngest child was, apparently, a massive disappointment for being–

The Bellview street sign began to blur, and Aspen forced themself to take a deep breath.

The chubby pigeon cooed softly, and Aspen wondered if maybe, now that they weren’t constrained by Ethan’s limited preferences, they could get a pet. Something weird and wonderful, like a komodo dragon or a parrot. Would their apartment allow that?

Their hands were a little steadier than before as they searched through their files until they found their lease. It took only a few moments of scrolling to find that fun pets were, unfortunately, not allowed.

Maybe Aspen should move. Not just to a new apartment, but maybe to a new town altogether.

They’d originally come to the city to go to college, but then they’d met Ethan right after graduation, and never left.

They hadn’t ever lived anywhere but here and in their small suburban home with their parents and three siblings, all of whom were now spread out across the country.

After coming out and all the fallout that ensued, their older sister, Dani, was the only one Aspen still talked to.

She lived in the pacific northwest and seemed to love it.

Aspen was sure she’d be thrilled to have Aspen move out there.

She’d offered to host Aspen numerous times and had hinted that the salon she went to was always looking for talented young stylists.

Aspen had only been styling hair for a few years, but they loved it. Just like they loved their sister, and would probably love living so close to the beach, and maybe even owning a fun pet.

But Noah wouldn’t be there.

Noah, with his beat-up jeep, which sped around the corner, came to an abrupt stop in front of Aspen, and scared away their fowl friends.

Seemingly unable to control themself today, Aspen lunged for the door, like there was any chance Noah hadn’t already thrown the car into park. He’d probably even pulled the emergency brake to make sure Aspen could get in safely.

It took Aspen a few tries to get a solid grip on the door handle, but when they did, they yanked it open and threw themself into the car. Proving that Aspen did, in fact, know their best friend, Noah leaned across the raised emergency brake handle to pull Aspen into a crushing side hug.

“You did it,” he said, and the stupid Bellview sign began to blur through the windshield again.

“I did it,” they said, holding up the messenger bag as proof.

“Was it… okay?” Noah asked, running his hand up Aspen’s spine to rest against the back of their head.

“Well, if you can look past all the condescension, misgendering, and inability to use my name, it was pretty heartbreaking because he still looks like… Ethan. My Ethan.”

Noah didn’t say it because he didn’t have to. Aspen amended the “ex” onto Ethan’s name all on their own, and the sign blurred into a streak of blue they could no longer read.

For a while, Aspen had thought of Ethan as the before-Aspen-came-out-Ethan and the after-Ethan. Because that’s how it felt. Like he was two different people. Aspen had held on for as long as they could, almost six full months, hoping that the before-Ethan, their Ethan, would come back.

Aspen couldn’t keep waiting, though. That’s why they’d taken the bus halfway across town to hand-deliver the divorce papers to their old house.

The worst part had been that for just a second, right as he picked up the pen to sign, it was like a flash of before-Ethan came through.

His eyes had filled with tears, and he’d asked Aspen one last time if they were sure this was what they wanted.

Of course, signing divorce papers on an overcast Tuesday afternoon was not what Aspen wanted. All they’d wanted was to be their authentic self. To be happy.

Apparently, that wasn’t possible with their ex, Ethan. He’d proven that the second the papers were signed, handing them over with a disappointed shake of his head and Aspen’s dead name on his lips.

“Oh, Asp… I’m so sorry it ended like this.”

Noah was the only person Aspen allowed to shorten their new name. They’d spent too damn long picking it out to have other people shorten it for them. When Noah did it, though, it felt okay.

Actually, it felt more than okay. It felt like his hug, familiar, comforting, and private. Something shared only between them.

“Do you want to go to your lawyer’s office now? Are they still open?”

Aspen blinked several times until the numbers on Noah’s dashboard clock came into focus. “They should be open for another hour, but you don’t have–”

“We’re going,” Noah said, giving Aspen one more squeeze before pulling back and reaching for the parking brake. “Put your seatbelt on.”

Aspen did as instructed, then watched in amusement as Noah looked both ways somewhere around six times before pulling out onto the empty road to head back towards town.