Page 32 of Pretty Dogs

Theback door always squeaks, soIhave to ease it open one bit at a time until it’s wide enough to slip through.WhenIpoint into the dark, balmy summer night,Dallaswrinkles his nose likeSeriously?and shoots a longing glance back toward his room.Iwave for him to get his butt moving, and he clomps outside with his dramatic sigh that always makes me smile.

AfterI’veinched the door shut again,Iturn around and watch him standing in the driveway with his arms wrapped around himself and a light breeze tugging at his hair.

“Whatthe hell–” he whispers, breaking off with a frustrated huff whenIhold up my finger.

“Ihaven’t talked yet.”

“Willyou just–”

Iput my hand over his mouth, and he shoots me the stink eye.Hisirises are pitch black in the dark, but this closeIcan see that he’s still a little teary and red-eyed, even as he struggles to be tough.Ilike both versions of him–the soft one and the one who would fight to the death no matter how impossible it is for him to win.Droppingmy hand,Iwipe it off on his chest.Ididn’t mean it to be sexual, but he swallows andIfeel my dick twitch.

Beforewe can start arguing again,Igrab the two plastic patio chairs from whoever lived here before us that left this place such a dump.Isling one over each shoulder and hike toward the slope at the back of the property, overlooking the river whereCalvinand his “friend” are squatting.Ifthey had a fire we could probably see it from here, but in aColoradosummer that would be a recipe for burning the whole state down.Dallashuffs and grumbles along behind me, his shoes crunching in the gravel.

Oncethe ground starts to drop,Iset the chairs down and throw myself into the one on the left, almost making it tip over.Dallaswatches me thoughtfully, like he always does, then sinks into the other seat with his hands folded in his lap, waiting for me to start my lecture.Aftera few minutes of nothing but the fresh air and an owl hooting in the distance, he settles back and folds one leg over the other.

“Look.”Ipoint up toward the western sky.It’slike a magic trick out here–if you watch the black expanse long enough, stars begin fading into reality.Thelonger you look, the more of them appear until it’s totally crowded up there.Dallas’ lips part as he stares, fascinated, his eyes darting from one to another like he’s trying to count them.

Afterwatching him for a while,Iglance down and fiddle with the worn fabric of my sweatpants, folding it around my fingers. “Inever went to any intervention meetings.”

Hedoesn’t say anything, or even look at me.Foronce,I’mthankful.

“Iwent into the lobby,”Icontinue slowly, trying to sort my thoughts out. “Ilistened to them talk about their mission, and the skills we could learn.Theysaid it was about changing your life one day at a time, andIgot really fucking scared.I’venever been anything but this, andIdon’t know what would happen to me ifIchanged.”Myhead is throbbing, and my eyes feel grainy. “Everytime you asked about it,Ilied to you.”

Themuscles in his jaw tighten as he stares out into the night.Ihave no idea what he’s thinking, butI’vespent the last two days learning how much he hates being lied to.Sothat’s great.

“Youcan talk now.”Ishrug miserably and sit back, tipping my face up to the sky.MaybeI’vefucked everything up worse. “I’mtrying to say thatIcan’t just change myself into what you need, either.Weboth have hang ups.Yourdick isn’t a dealbreaker for me, but if my issues are a dealbreaker for you,I’dget it.”Pullingin a shaky breath,Itry to keep my voice firm. “Idon’t know howI’dlive with you falling in love with some other guy, but if that’s what you truly wanted…”Nomatter how hardItry,Ican’t make myself finish the sentence.

“Um…”Hesniffs, his voice fragile, and tries to brush his hair out of his face.Hisbody tenses like he’s going to stand up, then stops, then tries again and stops again.Heglances guiltily toward the house. “Ijust…CanI?”

Inod when he points at me, even thoughIdon’t know what he’s asking.Hestruggles out of the wobbly chair, hesitates, then slings his leg over mine and sits on my lap, facing me.Hishands cup my face and we just study each other, both of us exhausted and hurting.Finally, he curls up and rests his head on my shoulder, his whole weight pressed against me in a way that soothes both the pain and the panic at once.

Oncehe’s settled,Iloop my arms around his waist and feel his body relax as he sighs into my neck.Ituck my nose into the familiar wildflower scent of his hair and watch the moon over the trees.Ifwe sat like this two days ago,Iwouldn’t have thought of it as anything besides normal cuddling.Tonight, every touch and breath feels different–more uncertain, more needy, more all consuming.

“I’mjust dirt.”Thewords burst out of me after a long time, because they’ve been sitting on the tip of my tongue for months andI’mfeeling too raw to hold them in anymore.EverytimeDallasor the guys asked me about the meetings,Iwanted to tell them this. “Imade peace with that, and you should too.There’sno point in all this rehabilitation crap.”

Heshifts, tightening his grip and angling his head soIcan hear him. “Everyoneis dirt,Beck,” he mumbles, mostly asleep.

Ismooth a hand over his hair, stroking it back, and kiss his forehead. “Notyou, pretty boy.You’respace dust.Allthe colors in the universe.”

11

DALLAS

Ishutmy eyes in the light of a billion stars, withBeck’st-shirt soft against my cheek and his fingers combing rhythmically through my hair with a sense of quiet ownership.WhenIopen them,I’min my own bed with sun pouring through the dented blinds.Theroom is too hot and quiet.I’malone, but whenIfumble around in the blanketIfind aBeck-shaped dent in my mattress.Hemust have carried me here in his arms last night.Ineed to stay logical, but that thought makes me swoon a little.Maybea lot.

Mylast sleep-addled thought asIsit up and push my hair out of my face is:HowamIgoing to tell my future partner thatBeckwill kill them if they try to touch my hair?

Ohgod.BeckandI…We…Thingshappened last night.Ifucking jacked off my best friend whereI’msitting right now.Andthe ornery turd won’t let me take it back.

Groaning,Iflop over with my face in my pillow.Becksaid he wanted us to think this through, butIknow him.Hefinished thinking after two seconds and now he’s waiting for my answer.Iknow deep down thatIcould trust him to do right by me and make me feel loved, because he already does those things.Andhe believes with his whole heart that my body won’t be an issue.

Unfortunately, it’s not that easy.Idon’t want someone who overlooks my body because they like my personality, or because they’re trying not to be transphobic.Idon’t want to be settled for.Everysingle person deserves to be desired, wholly and passionately, exactly as they are.Atleast, that’s my dream.Ijust don’t know if it’s a pretty fantasy, or something real.It’snot possible for me to know untilItake the leap and fall far enough thatI’llbe hurt again ifImade the wrong choice.

Whythe hell didIhave to meet this man?Iwas wrong whenIthought we were meant to find each other.Maybewe were born so differently because the universe wanted to keep us apart.Together, we’re too much for this world to contain.Thatsmile, the wild head of golden hair like late summer wheat, the utterly unapologetic soul…he’s already ruined me.

Ihad a happy little pansexual dream of a sensitive, intellectual partner who works as a chef and owns two golden retrievers and a blue bungalow.Wemeditate together, play chess, maybe join a book club.ButwheneverIretreat to that safe picture,Beckis standing outside the imaginary bungalow with his arms crossed, waiting for me.Herefuses to move, rain or shine, untilIclimb out of a window at night and go to him.IfIclose my eyes,Ican feel his hands everywhere as he pushes me against the white picket fence and rubs his scent all over me untilIpromiseI’llnever go back.

Myhead hurts.FirstIwatchBeckalmost get a bullet through his brain, thenIfind out he’s been lying for months, then we’re kissing frantically in the dark.I’mscared to leave my room.Godknows what will happen today.

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