8. Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Ray
“ E verything alright in there, Ray?” Jordie knocks on their bathroom door.
My name on their lips still fills me with an unfamiliar warmth. It’s indescribably right. If they didn’t sound so exasperated, I might take more time to revel in that sensation. I’m already taking too long changing, and now I’m taking too long to answer, grunting as I struggle with the stiff spandex and nylon of the new binder Jordie helped me pick out.
“I’m all about being fashionably late, but Miss Donna will have words for us if we miss her set,” Jordie warns me.
“Yeah,” I squeak, nervous sweat prickling over my skin at the pressure to make a good impression on Jordie’s friends tonight. “I know. Guess I’m nervous.” I blow out a frustrated breath. I don’t want to be nervous, but it’s my first time. First time meeting most of Jordie’s friends. First time going out for real as Ray and wearing a binder and looking more like me off campus, stepping into what feels more like the real world.
We’ve been hanging out a lot since I fell into their lap in our intro to psych class. Jordie is the one who showed me the best dining halls to use my meal credits and get caffeinated for late night study sessions. They’ve taught me shortcuts across campus. Yesterday, for my birthday, they even gave me a tour of the campus gardens that the botany department maintains with all kinds of interesting plants. Not to mention our shopping expedition and taking me to the barber.
The best is still last night’s birthday stroll along the densely planted garden’s meandering paths. Stepping from one pool of pale yellow lighting to the next limned the entire evening with an ethereal air. It was like finding a magical oasis of calm in the bustle of campus. Jordie gave me exactly what I needed to ground me after how cut adrift my chat with my family left me.
I kept stealing glances at Jordie’s smiling face, only to find them watching me with just as much intent curiosity. As if my reaction to their special place mattered to them. It made my heart feel all fluttery and as light as the delicate moths flitting between the flowers. It was a perfect way to take my mind off being homesick and wishing someone saw the real me on my birthday. Jordie does.
Right now, though, they’re helping me decide what to wear for our big night out. It’s my first time inside their cramped little on campus apartment. The friends they live with, Pixel and Celeste, are already at the club for the show since Pixel needed to get ready to perform. So it’s just the two of us here now. Being alone in Jordie’s personal space has me thinking all kinds of ways about Jordie. Ways I shouldn’t be thinking about my only real friend here in Boston when I’m half-dressed, but I can’t help it.
“Need a hand?” Jordie eases the washroom door open by the barest crack.
I glance in the mirror, instinct telling me to cover up. Except the binder is a pain in the ass to put on alone and it feels tighter and stiffer after I washed it last night and left it to air dry all day in my room. I could use the help.
It wouldn’t be the first time a friend helped me change. Heck, it wouldn’t be the first time a friend I’m crushing on saw me semi-nude—bi guy problems. I tamp down the squirming in my gut at Jordie seeing me vulnerable as I push it open wide with my foot, both arms engaged with the binder; trying to wriggle it down over my head and into place really isn’t going well for me.
“Please?” I wriggle helplessly, no closer to getting the fabric untangled. It’s mostly covering my nipples, at least. I just sort of have my arms hopelessly tangled in it somehow.
Jordie steps in, biting their lip to stifle a laugh at my predicament. They tug the hem down over my chest, then help me pull my arms through the proper holes. They turn toward the outfit they picked for me, tactfully looking away as I adjust everything under the tight compression material to lie flat. I shove my nipples toward my pits, the way the instructions I’ve read online say to do. It’s weird, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it, considering how much more comfortable it is to look like me than to hide under my collection of oversized hoodies.
“There, now put this on.” Jordie hands me an undershirt, then a casual button-up—they swear by their layers. I get dressed obediently. My boxers are a little too roomy, but I like the men’s jeans that make my ass pop. Even if I am a little self-conscious about the front panel that I don’t fill out properly. This pair isn’t as tight as the first one Jordie clearly liked on me. It was tempting to pick them just for the heat in Jordie’s gaze on me, but I don’t have the guts to wear skinny boy jeans.
“What’s wrong?” Jordie notices me fussing.
“Nothing, just, it looks too flat?” I prod the excess fabric over my crotch, trying to make it look less weird.
“Hm, well, it’s short notice for anything that’s going to pass a squeeze test, but until we can get you an actual packer, I might have something that will work. Give me a minute.” Jordie ducks out of the washroom, leaving me to fuss with my outfit.
They return looking sheepish a moment later. “Here, this might help with the roominess?” They offer me a tightly balled up sock and a safety pin, then help me with positioning the faux bulge in my pants, lower than I’d have guessed.
“What do you think?”
I grimace. But my underwear no longer bunches when I move and the weird empty fold in my pants seems less obvious, so it’s an improvement. “Good, I guess?”
“Good. We’ll get you situated better when you’re ready. Don’t forget, store-bought is fine when you can’t grow your own.” They wink at me as they adjust their falsies in their bra to fill out their silky button-up blouse. I lick my lips, trying not to fantasize about how it would feel to cup their full chest through that silky material. That’s not what this is. We’re friends getting ready for a night out together. Tonight is not a date.
“Yeah. Um, maybe soon? One milestone at a time. I’ve got meeting your friends for the drag show tonight and my aunts are insisting on taking me out to Frisky’s for a drink to celebrate my birthday this weekend. They’re being weird about how I’m all grown up.” I roll my eyes, but I’m actually excited about the weekend trip to the queer tavern with my aunts.
Aunt Marie-Claire and Aunt Tammy insisted on planning a special birthday outing for me tomorrow night. It feels like an initiation into a more grownup world of queer culture, courtesy of my elders. A rite of passage similar to the drag show with the first friend I’m making as Ray. Going out with the first peers to know all of me means just as much, but I need both. A community all around me that isn’t reliant on any single other person.
“Fair. You let me know when you’re ready for that step. For now, can I help you with hair and makeup?” They gesture toward their cosmetics cluttering the countertop.
I nod hesitantly. Darren and Luke both wear a bit of eyeliner when they go out. It doesn’t have to be a girl thing. And coming from Jordie, it doesn’t feel like one. “Yeah, if you think it won’t make me look like a girl.”
“I’ve got you, babe. Look at me?” Jordie selects an eyeliner and tips up my chin to stencil it along my lids. They assess their work with pursed lips. I admire the flawless makeup they put on their own face earlier, smokey eye shadow that brings out the warm amber in their beautiful brown eyes. They grab a thing of hair gel and slick the floppy top part of my newly trimmed hair back for me. Their hands on me don’t help with getting my focus off the blood rushing to my groin. “Anyway, you have nothing to be nervous about, Ray. It’s going to be fine. You look fantastic.”
Jordie is full of all the confidence I lack as they take my arm and loop our elbows to drag me in front of the full-length mirror in their bedroom.
I keep my eyes averted as I tug self-consciously at the brand new binder. I’m not ready to see the full results of this new look. Jordie clucks and turns me to face the mirror. I shiver at their forceful fingers gently pressing along my jaw to make me take in my transformation.
My breath catches at the first glimpse of a boy staring back at me. He looks like a stranger I desperately want to know. And all I can do is stare at the surreal version of myself I’m not sure how to be.
“See? You look fine, Ray. My very own twinky ray of sunshine.” Jordie squeezes my shoulders in a friendly hug.
“Please, I’m not.” I roll my eyes at them, but I secretly love that nickname. I want to be their ray of sunshine for always. But their admiration gives me the courage to face the mirror again. And I can’t help the wide grin that splits my face when I see the lanky boy still gazing back at me. “Binder and a haircut, huh?”
“Yep. Does wonders for the confidence, right? Told you to trust in Jordie to show you a good time, didn’t I?” They jostle me playfully. It’s so easy to forget the ways they seem older than me despite a barely two-year age gap when they get silly like this. Jordie seems so secure in who they are and they’re in their final year of university applying to law school. So much further along a path that I’m just starting toward our respective dream careers.
“You did.” I smile at them.
“So, are you ready? Unless you want to see an angry drag queen?” They stuff their phone into their tiny golden clutch since their sparkly jeggings don’t have actual pockets.
“No, thanks. Let’s go.”
“Got your ID? You’ll need it with that cute baby face.” They pinch my cheek and I scowl.
Jordie shoots me a vaguely apologetic look for what feels like a dig about my face. I know they didn’t intend it that way. I’ve vented to them enough about my angst over appearing younger than I am. How I sometimes worry that I’ll never pass as a man, even though a big part of me recoils from even wanting that. They spent a solid hour of our study time earlier today assuring me that if that’s my goal, I can make it happen given enough time and patience.
“Not a comment on your age, just that you’re a cutie, but you still need ID if you want to get into the club,” Jordie assures me.
“I’ve got it, yeah.” I bat their hand away, then pat the wallet in my pocket.
My aunts took me to the DMV to get a US driver’s license after the first weekend I visited them now that I’m living here, to make life simpler. If only I’d dared to dress like this for the picture. It’s weird adjusting to the fact that here in Boston I’m only old enough to drink since my birthday last night. I’ve been legal drinking age for years back home in Montreal.
It’s also weird that I’m closer to Jordie’s age than most of the other first- and second-year students I have classes with. I’ve always been on the older side for my grade with my fall birthday. Now, after completing three years of CEGEP back home for my dual focus music and social sciences certification, that extra bit of maturity compared to my year-mates seems even more pronounced. The US is subtly weird in lots of little ways, but it’s still weird to wrap my head around how similar it is to home too.
“I’m ready.”
“Perfect.” Jordie steps into a pair of sky-high heels that I’m sure a pop diva would be envious of, like it’s nothing to go dancing on stilts. I’m enamored of their grace, just like I am about everything else Jordie-related.
I tug on my worn pair of rainbow-checkered Vans. Just as we’re about to leave the safe bubble of their apartment, Jordie turns to me. In the narrow entryway, our faces are inches apart, even with our height difference exaggerated by their shoes. My breath hitches. Jordie’s eyes search my face. I lean in, lips parted, hoping. Is this the moment where Jordie sees me as relationship material?
“Time to let the world see you shine, Ray.” Jordie kisses me, a soft—platonic—peck on the cheek. Right where they pinched me earlier, and I’m half tempted to pull them closer, turn my face and kiss their lips. Smudge their carefully applied lipstick and skip the club altogether. But Jordie grabs my hand and pulls me out the door, locking it behind us and leading me toward the edge of campus.
We hop a bus and get out at a stop a few blocks away. Even though I feel completely different in my binder and with my new hair, no one gives me a second glance. They’re all too wrapped up in their own lives or their phones to pay us any mind. I breathe easier once it seems clear no one is going to bother us.
Until I have to show my ID and the bouncer looks between me and the picture of a long-haired girl for an agonizingly endless moment. Am I imagining his sneer? Probably. This is a queer club with drag queens and everything.
I let out a relieved breath when he stamps our hands and lets us enter the dimly lit club. It’s loud inside. Raucous music, a thumping beat. Colored lights strobe to the beat. I can feel the anxiety creeping in on me, but Jordie wraps an arm around my shoulders and steers me to their friends. Six students sit crowded around a table that’s barely big enough for all of them. They turn to face us when Jordie greets them. Four of them are white like Jordie and me, the other two are a big Black man and a willowy Latina. They all somehow shift around to make room for us to join them.
“Listen up, this is Ray, and he’s our brand new baby queer. So you’re all going to make him feel at home tonight, right?” Jordie levels their serious look at their friends as they propel me toward the crowded table.
“Hey, baby!” The woman closest to me waves and pushes out a chair next to her with one stiletto heel. She taps her fingers on the backrest with a welcoming flourish. I can’t help noticing the long, teal lacquered nails on all but two of their elegant tawny-skinned fingers. When the probable reasons for that nail configuration occur to me, I have to duck my head to hide my embarrassed flush. “Jordie told us they were bringing us a new baby gay. Sit and tell us about you. I’m Celeste, she/her. This guy next to me is Abe; he’s Bella’s boyfriend. Our Jords told you we’re here to watch Bella Donna’s stage debut tonight, right?”
Abe is the burly Black guy in a tight Northeastern t-shirt under a denim jacket that strains against his bulk when he lifts a hand to wave at me.
“Yeah. She’s a drag queen, right?” I nod and wave back at Abe.
“That’s right. And when Queen Donna is out of drag, he goes by Keith.” Celeste smiles at me. “My girlfriend, Pixel, is performing tonight too, but it’s not her first rodeo.”
I sit hesitantly. Jordie stands behind me, their hands on my shoulders while Celeste goes around the rest of the circle making introductions. Jordie’s touch is reassuring. I’m not sure that I wouldn’t head for the hills at the onslaught of unfamiliar names and faces if they weren’t pinning me to my seat.
Jacob is the pale emo rockstar type with the movie star smile. Kale is the lanky blonde with the nerdy glasses who keeps giving Jacob puppy dog eyes. Sheila is pretty and curvy and a little tipsy already. She keeps pawing at Lio, the shortest of the group, who keeps gently redirecting Sheila’s hands off their lap and back to her glass of water. I’m not sure if that’s a lack of interest on Lio’s part or an abundance of concern for their tipsy friend. They don’t seem put off by the touching either way.
“Jords, you didn’t tell us he’s so cute! I could eat that scrumptious little morsel right up.” Jacob, dressed in shades of black from his shoes to his shoulder-length hair, gives me an appreciative once over.
Even though Jordie warned me he’s a flirt, Jacob’s obvious interest sends a thrill down my spine. He’s devouring me with his eyes. He extends a hand toward me across the table, more like he’s showing off his own tidily manicured nails—painted black, of course—than like he wants to shake.
“Um, hi?” I say as I tentatively take his hand.
“Jacob. Charmed to meet you, dear heart,” he introduces himself, even though Celeste already did that.
Jacob grips my fingers and squeezes. He holds eye contact and tugs my hand toward him until I hitch up against the table. It seems like he was considering planting a gallantly over-the-top kiss on the back of my hand until the table got in the way. I laugh as I pull my hand back. No wonder Jordie warned me about him coming on too strong. It comes off as playfully smarmy, and Jacob winks at me as Jordie loops a protective arm around my shoulders.
“Behave, Jacob,” Jordie chides their friend. Then they lean in closer to me, their arm a comforting warmth around me. I like how much that anchoring touch makes me feel like I belong here with their other friends. “Will you be okay if I leave you here for a second to grab us some drinks before the show starts?”
“Um, sure.” I glance up at them, my eyes pleading for them not to leave me alone even as my mouth betrays me.
“Perfect, what’s your poison?” Jordie is so cute when they smile, it distracts me from the question.
“Huh?” I stare at them, mind racing with all the possible hidden meanings my answer could reveal about me. My cousin back home has all kinds of theories about what it means when you ask someone to get you a drink. She’s turned the art of being bought drinks into a well-rehearsed spiel. And come to that, is Jordie offering to buy my drink? Is this a flirty gesture, or is it more of them looking out for me like my fairy-god-queer?
“Rum and coke?” I ask, because it’s easy and the sweet soda will mostly cover the taste of booze. I’m overthinking what my drink choice says about me. Drink orders aren’t actually some convoluted Cosmo quiz with the power to reveal my entire fate with Jordie, right?
“Coming right up, sunshine.” Jordie kisses my cheek and gives my shoulders one last reassuring squeeze. Then they head to the bar, shimmying through the throng. I watch them go, trying not to lust after the way my friend’s sparkly leggings frame their sexy ass. They’re my first and only friend here. I shouldn’t complicate things with a crush. Jacob interrupts my poorly concealed ogling with a snort.
“Don’t go getting ideas. They’re nice to everyone, sunshine ,” Jacob teases. His tone on the nickname I’ve been treasuring isn’t mean, but it’s not nice either.
“Knock it off, Jacob.” Celeste gestures sharply with her long pointy nails. Jacob rolls his eyes, but he sips from his pink cocktail and turns toward the stage, clearly not looking to pick a fight.
“Jordie’s nice to everyone because they’re a genuinely nice person. You could crush on worse.” Celeste cuts her eyes toward Jacob and Kale mercilessly as she pats the back of my hand. Kale—who has been watching Jacob with the same naked longing that gave away my interest in Jordie—hunches his shoulders and grumbles something I can’t quite hear into his beer. So I guess I’m not the only one here with an unrequited crush on someone else at the table.
“Is this show starting soon, or what?” Jacob gestures toward the stage with his cup. Like he’s hoping the performance will save him from having to confront whatever is going on—or not going on—between him and Kale.
Celeste shakes her head disparagingly at the two of them.
I get the idea that Celeste is only mostly joking about Jacob being a worse target for my puppy love crush. She’s so matter-of-fact about my crush on Jordie, it’s less mortifying to be so transparent about it that everyone here noticed I’m into Jordie within five seconds of meeting me. Except presumably Jordie.
Unless Jordie can tell too and is ignoring it to let us both save face. That’s a bucket of cold water over all my warm fuzzies about tonight. I sigh. It doesn’t matter since there’s no way I’m acting on my attraction.
The show should start soon, but I’m surprised when it turns out they actually stick to the schedule at this venue. I’m used to delayed starts back home. Darren’s ex always jokes that you can’t rush royalty. The last notes of a Baelfire song that’s been hovering in the top 100 all summer fade from the speakers, replaces by an emcee.
They announce the lineup of drag artists who are about to take the stage as Jordie makes their way back through the throng of dancers with our drinks. They set both cups on the table in front of me, then Celeste pulls them down onto her lap to watch the show.
Celeste notices me staring and winks at me. “Our Jordie is a cuddler and we’re out of seats.”
I watch Jordie settle into sitting comfortably in their friend’s lap and wish it was me they were spending the show cuddled up with. It’s just as well that the drag show is starting. I need something to distract me from watching the way Jordie’s smile lights up their entire face when a song they like plays. I’m enraptured with the performance, but I can’t help stealing glances at Jordie. I love how uninhibited they are as they tip their head back to whoop and cheer for Pixel along with Celeste. The spitfire of a drag artist takes the stage. Pixel steals the show with a commanding song and dance routine, but Bella Donna is good too.
The both work the crowd expertly. I get swept up in the excitement, roaring the chorus back to them when they hold the mic out to us on their suggestive closing number. It’s a great show, and a perfect way to get to know new friends without too much pressure. I have an amazing time, and for once, I don’t feel lonely and alone in a crowd. It’s like a glimpse of who I can be when there is nothing left to hide.