Flashback
I didn’t want to go to prom. But Tyler did.
We’d been together most of the school year already, and he seemed to be okay with my gender stuff.
In his words, “I mean, you still have the parts I’m attracted to, so it doesn’t change anything for me.
” It wasn’t exactly what I was hoping to hear, but it wasn’t a flat-out rejection, so I took it as a win.
Max and Celeste are boycotting the prom. I had planned to boycott in solidarity, but Tyler had other ideas.
“God, you look sexy as hell,” Tyler slurs in my ear. I can smell the cheap vodka on his breath from the flask he smuggled into prom, and his touches have gotten less appropriate by the minute. “I told you the dress was gonna be worth it.”
I glare down at the navy, skin-tight, sequin-covered monstrosity that Tyler is referring to. “It’s not like I had a choice,” I counter. “My parents were only willing to pay for a dress. No tuxes or suits for me.”
“I think it was for the best. This dress is driving me crazy.”
“And that’s not a bad thing?” I tease.
Tyler growls. “Not bad. It’s just harder to resist you in this. Fuck, I want you.”
Teenage hormones are a powerful drug. My infatuation with Tyler has made me do the most insane things, and can even make my gender dysphoria fade into background noise when I’m horny enough.
So far, I have been convinced to attend prom with Tyler despite knowing that my two closest friends will not be there.
I begrudgingly agreed to wear this ridiculously femme dress and get all dolled up for it.
And apparently, I went along with ditching prom early to join Tyler and his friends at a nearby hotel to do…
what exactly? Drink and have sex? What a cliche.
But even I have my limits.
“Tyler.”
“Hm?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I told you, don’t touch my chest.”
Tyler scoffs. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t like it. At least not like this.”
Tyler grunts. “Is this about your dysphemia?”
“It’s dysphoria, but yeah.”
“Babe, how many times do I have to tell you? I quite enjoy your tits.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t.”
Tyler throws his head back and groans. “So, I’m not allowed to enjoy them just because you feel weird about it?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“Oh, come on–”
“Tyler, I’m serious.”
“DEADNAME, please.”
I clench my teeth. “Jude. My name is Jude.”
“Sorry. Jude. Please.”
“No.”
“Jude, it’s the night of our senior prom. It only happens once.”
“I said no.”
Tyler sighs. “Don’t you think when you look back on this night ten years from now, you’ll regret it?”
“Regret what? Not losing my virginity to my drunk boyfriend while wearing a dress that makes me feel horrible about myself? I think I’ll get over it.”
Tyler snorts. “You’re not a virgin.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I was under the impression that hand stuff is still sex,” Tyler grumbles.
“Well, I was under the impression that you brought condoms,” I reply. “Which indicates to me that you were hoping for more than hand stuff tonight.”
Tyler’s eyes widen. “Wait, is that an option?”
“Not anymore!”
Something in Tyler’s expression shifts. It’s subtle, but I notice it. For a brief moment, his eyes grow darker. Colder.
But as quickly as it appears, it vanishes, and Tyler’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, Jude. You’re right. I’m being an asshole.”
I fold my arms across my uncomfortably exposed chest, unsure of how to proceed.
“Honestly, I’m just glad you decided to come out with me tonight,” he continues, placing a gentle hand on my knee.
“I know it was a tough decision to come without your crew, and I know how much wearing a dress icks you out. I can’t say I’ll ever understand the gender thing, but I know I’ve been kind of a dick about it, and I’m sorry. ”
My heart melts, and I immediately reciprocate his touch.
“I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too. I don’t mean to take out my dysphoria on you.
But it has been hard, and I really am ick-ed out about this dress.
Trust me, I wish I could be normal about it so we could enjoy a quintessential senior prom night like every other teenage couple in the country. But, alas. You’re stuck with…me.”
Tyler smiles. “I wouldn’t want to be stuck with anyone else,” he says softly, and my chest fizzles. He looks past me toward the dresser by the door. “How about we have one last glass of the crappy champagne Ethan got for us, change into our PJs, and head to bed?”
I follow his gaze to the cheap sparkling wine and two plastic flutes, and I grin. “That sounds perfect.”
Tyler caresses my cheek before hopping out of bed to pour our wine while I retrieve my cozy pajamas from my overnight bag.
Before I enter the bathroom to change, Tyler stops me. “A toast?”
I grin and accept the flute. “A toast.”
“To the senior prom night we didn’t think we wanted but didn’t know we needed.”
“Cheers to that,” I say, smiling widely.
“Cheers.”
We clink our plastic flutes and drink their contents. It’s a fairly small glass, so I swallow it all in one go like a shot. It’s absolutely disgusting and, to my stupid surprise, carbonated, so I erupt into a coughing fit. Tyler cracks up, then apologizes, but we end up laughing together.
Before I close the bathroom door, I pause to peer at Tyler again. “I love you.”
Tyler glances back up and smiles. “Love you, too.”
I gently shut the door, take a deep breath, and begin the de-feminization process.
I wash off the layers of makeup, peel off my dress, and happily slip into my pajamas.
The champagne hits my bloodstream as I brush my teeth, and my nervous system finally relaxes.
Taking one last look in the mirror, I let out a heavy sigh of relief when the person staring back finally looks like me again.
“God, I feel so much better,” I say aloud as I open the door. “In fact, I think I might be—”
I freeze. The room is empty.
“Tyler?”
There’s no response. I step out of the bathroom and scan the room, but I can’t find any sign of life.
“Ha, ha,” I laugh nervously. “Very funny. Okay, you got me.”
I hear nothing.
Panic threatens to take hold, but I push it aside. “Seriously, Tyler, the joke’s over now. Where are you hiding?”
I open the closet, peer under the bed, and even check behind the window curtains, but Tyler’s nowhere to be found.
Not only is Tyler missing, but his bag is too. His shoes. Even the champagne has disappeared from the dresser.
Desperately, I try to rationalize. Maybe he went to get ice. That’s a thing people do in hotels, right?
Heart racing, I scan every surface for the ice bucket. Shouldn’t it be next to where the champagne was? What about the bathroom? I practically sprint back into the bathroom to search for—
The ice bucket sits, empty and untouched, on the bathroom counter.
So, if he’s not getting ice, where did he go?
Tyler wouldn’t just…leave, would he? He wouldn’t abandon me in a hotel room on prom night.
He wouldn’t do that.
He loves me.
I slowly make my way out of the bathroom and sit at the foot of the bed. Surely I’m missing or forgetting something. This is simply a misunderstanding, and he’ll be right back.
He loves me.
I know he does.
He’ll be back.