KORIE
Holden’s car is already here when I pull up in front of my parents’ house for the barbecue. I’m not surprised. The guy hates being late.
Grabbing the gift bag from the passenger seat, I climb out.
I didn’t know what to get Mom for her birthday this year, so I aimed for comfort—a new blanket, some soft pink slippers, and a bottle of that jasmine lotion she loves from Sephora. A woman can never have too much comfort.
When I reach the front steps, I pause to adjust the straps of my sundress.
The guy at the department store got under my skin with his harsh stare and curt tone, and it’s made me a little self-conscious about the delicate fabrics.
You’d think after five years of living in my true identity, I’d be used to the judgment, but no.
Sometimes, people make me want to crawl into a hole.
Inside, I’m immediately bombarded with noise. I fight the urge to turn around and leave. I didn’t realize my parents were inviting so many people, but it makes sense since it’s Mom’s 65th birthday.
After shutting the door, I slip through the room, searching for the guest of honor. I see my oldest sister on the way by, but she’s too busy talking to our aunt, so I ignore her and continue on, waving at a few cousins and some of my parents’ friends.
When I find Mom talking to my grandmother at the dining table, I grin. “Hey, Mom.”
She perks up the moment she sees me. “Korie!”
She embraces me in a tight hug, eyes darting down the front of my body and back up. “Oh, you look lovely. What’s this?” She reaches for the silver sparrow pendant at my collarbone.
“Just some new jewelry,” I say, gesturing to the matching earrings.
She admires them for a moment before smiling. “Well, they’re beautiful.” Her warm tone soothes me. At least my family will always accept me when the world doesn’t.
“Thanks.” I hold out the gift bag. “Happy birthday.”
Mom slants her head in the universal you-didn’t-have-to gesture.
While she opens it, I bend to hug Grandma and wave at a few more people around the table.
Little arms curl around my leg, startling me. I look down to see my niece flashing a wide, toothy grin. Her dark curls are pulled into a ponytail.
Bending, I lift Jocelyn onto my hip. “Well, hello, sweetie. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”
The three-year-old wraps her arms around my neck, and I sway as I hug her tight. “Where’s your mother?”
Jocelyn points to the stairs.
I turn to my mom. “Do you mind if I go find Trista?”
“Oh, of course not.” She lifts the slippers. “Thank you for these.”
“Of course.”
I disappear in search of my sister, greeting more relatives on the way. The further I get from the noise, the more relaxed I feel. The crowd is already draining me, especially after a full shift.
Climbing the stairs, I look in each of the bedrooms until I find my sister.
Trista is playing the piano in the music room.
Her oldest child, Cooper, is on the bench next to her, hands hovering over the right side of the keyboard.
When he plays in harmony with his mother, my heart soars.
Trista has always had a gift—not only for playing, but for teaching others.
For a moment, I just listen. But then the child in my arms squirms. “Momma.”
They both stop and turn. My older sister greets me with a smile. “Oh, hey, Korie.”
Trista stands to pull me in for a hug. When she tries to take Jocelyn from my arms, the toddler—who had been reaching for her mother seconds ago—now adamantly shakes her head and presses closer against my chest.
I chuckle, kissing the top of her head.
“How are you?” my sister asks.
“Fine. I just got here, so I thought I’d say hi.”
She hugs me again, lingering like she always does.
We make our way downstairs together. Of all my siblings, Trista is the one who’s always seen me. She was the first person I came out to—first as gay at fifteen, and then later in college when things got… harder to name.
Because it wasn’t just my sexuality. It was… everything.
Some days I felt secure in my skin. Other days, I didn’t. I’d catch myself staring at dresses in the department store, wanting something softer or something different. Then months later, after thinking maybe I was trans, that desire faded like it had never been there at all.
It used to make me feel like something was wrong with me. Then Trista sent me an article one night with a simple message: This sounds like you.
And just like that, everything finally made sense.
I am not only male or female. I’m both.
Gender fluid.
Trista had been there when I broke the news to the family, but now she lives an hour away, so we don’t see each other as often as we’d like.
“Before I forget, there’s a package for you in my purse.”
I pause, surprised.
She grins. “Just a new eyeshadow palette I saw in the mall and thought you’d like.”
I go up on my toes. “You didn’t need to do that.”
She waves me off. “Oh please. You would do the same thing for me.”
It’s true. We share makeup almost as much as we share clothes. Or we used to, anyway, before they moved away. Trista bought me my first dress—a soft, red, knee-length thing with shiny buttons. I still have it, even if it doesn’t fit right.
After finally coaxing Jocelyn to the ground, I go to the kitchen to load a plate with a few snacks and go outside, in desperate need of some space and fresh air.
I find Holden talking to a group of men on the side of the yard.
One of them is his brother, Caleb. He looks identical to Holden, except with a little softer belly and darker hair that’s sprinkled with gray.
I imagine that’s what Holden will look like ten years from now, and it makes me smile. Still so handsome.
From this distance, something seems off about Caleb, though. His shoulders seem heavy and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but maybe he’s just tired. Holden did say he was going to get in late.
I sink into an Adirondack chair, and immediately lift my plate into the air when my parents’ Labrador comes over to see if I’ll give her any nibbles. “No, Grace.”
The dog tries again, but runs away when she sees my nephew walking around with a hot dog.
I pick at the snacks, if only to give my hands something to do. I had been looking forward to this barbecue all week, but now that I’m here… all I want to do is go home.
The yard is busy with cornhole and bocce ball competitions.
Any other day and I would’ve dragged Trista or Holden in for a match, but I don’t have the energy tonight.
I’d blame my shift or the guy at the department store for my low mood, but the truth is, I woke up this way.
I’m just… off. I have been since that day on the water. Aching for something I can’t name.
A chair appears beside me only a second before Holden sinks into it. He flashes me a smile before snagging a Cheeto from my plate. “Didn’t see you come in.”
“Just got here a little bit ago.”
“Why so late?”
It’s a fair question. The barbecue started a couple of hours ago. Most of the food is already picked over.
“I got off work late,” I explain. And had to run by the department store for a card. Nothing like always forgetting things at the last minute. At least I bought the gifts beforehand. That counts, right?
I tip my head toward Caleb. “How’s your brother?”
Holden’s gaze darts across the yard, expression unreadable. “I don’t know, honestly. He hasn’t said much.”
My concern for him grows. Has Holden picked up on his mood, or am I reading too much into things? I don’t know Caleb as well as Holden does.
After a moment, Holden steals a few more chips from my plate. Uninterested, I offer the entire plate to him. His mouth falls open in shock.
“Seriously?”
I shrug. “I ate at work.” It’s a lie. I’ve hardly eaten today.
He accepts the plate, then quickly leans to one side to pull his phone from his pocket. After skimming a text, he replies using one hand and shoves it away. The smile he had been wearing fades a little.
“Everything okay?”
He whips his head toward me. “Huh? Oh. Yeah. That was Gage. He’s confirming plans for tomorrow night.”
“Still going out?”
“Yeah. We’re meeting there, though, since I’ll be coming from work.”
I stop myself from asking for more details. I can only handle listening about Holden’s constantly rotating dates when I’m in a good mood.
“I’m kind of nervous,” Holden admits quietly. “Is that weird?”
“For you? A little.” I throw him a wry smile.
He laughs softly, then drops his head back on the chair. His blond hair is lighter than usual in the sun. It’s a long time before he speaks. “I don’t know, Kor. I think I’m getting tired of this.”
“What?”
“Dating. It’s getting old.”
I nudge him with my foot. “No, don’t do that. Don’t get a bad attitude before you go. You’ll doom it before it even begins.”
“I’m not. I just—I don’t know.” He sighs and snags another chip, but doesn’t eat it. Instead, he rolls it between his fingers, lost in thought.
“Seriously. You need to go, for both our sake,” I say.
Hattie pulls up a chair next to us. “Go where?”
“Go on the date with Gage,” I say.
Holden barely hears her, eyes narrowed at me. “What does that mean? For both our sake?”
I shrug. “I just mean that if you stop dating, you’ll eventually start avoiding it like I do, and then we’ll both be in trouble.”
His bright blue eyes narrow even further.
I quickly look away. Holden knows about my lack of dating life—he’s commented on it more than once—but he clearly hadn’t figured out that I’m avoiding it.
I pick at the hem of my dress, wishing I had chosen something else.
“Why are you avoiding it?” Hattie asks, twisting her hair into a messy bun.
I shift in my seat, regretting ever saying anything at all. “I just… don’t enjoy it. That’s all.” For reasons neither of you would understand. “Besides, I don’t have time. You know how weird my schedule is.”
“So? Mine is weird too,” Holden says, still scrutinizing me.
“Well, good for you. It’s exactly why you should keep going. I hope it goes well.” I swap legs, crossing one over the other. Hopefully, my tone can bring an end to this dreadful conversation. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Not today, not ever.
It’s exhausting.
The issue isn’t the people I’ve gone on dates with. It’s… me, no matter how much I try to deny it. The more comfortable I’ve gotten in my own skin—the way I dress, the way I exist, the way I am—the more uncomfortable other people seem to be around me.
It starts with a hesitation before touching me, or a glance that lingers too long on my outfit, like they’re trying to figure me out.
And then comes the way they pull back. Subtly, of course, so as not to be rude.
And let’s not talk about the fucking polite smile that doesn’t quite reach their eyes. God, I hate that smile.
But that’s not as bad as the final stage: the exit. The way some evenings turned into this unspoken game of who could get out of the commitment first without being the obvious jerk.
It’s not all the time, of course. Most people are genuinely kind, so we part ways without issue. And I’ve had some exceptional nights that left me breathless for more. But finding someone I don’t have to explain everything to is just… tiring.
It’s easier not to date. No expectations. No awkward conversations. No confusing will-we-have-chemistry-or-won’t-we, or trying to decide if I should tone something down or dress differently or be… less.
Because I don’t want to be less.
Not for anyone.
And the only one who seems to be okay with that is the one person who would never look at me as more than a friend—not that I see him that way either.
The very idea of Holden asking me on a date makes me want to keel over with laughter.
It would never happen. We’re too… different. Too us. Too set in our ways.
But still. I wish someone would accept me the way Holden and Hattie do. I’d love to actually have someone care for me the way my parents care for each other.
I tug at the hem of my dress again when I catch Holden still watching me. As close as we are, there are some things Holden can never understand.
Dad pokes his head out from the back door and yells, “It’s time for cake!”
I get up quickly, wincing at the shriek of laughter coming from a nearby table. It jostles that ache inside me.
Hopefully, I can get through cake without incident. Then I’ll go home and crawl into my bed where it’s safe.