Chapter 15
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Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapters 8&9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14
Chapter 15
“Vee, showing up now, meeting on Bumble—this feels like destiny, like fate.” I don’t say hopena. That would be a step too far. Plus, I’d have to tell all about Nelson and his tutu and this just isn’t the moment.
We’ve been walking and talking along this beach for hours. Right now, we’re sitting in the sand. I’m as close to her as I can manage, but I already miss her touch.
She always used to joke that she was flat as a pancake, bony and boring, breastless and chestless. But to me, she is all soft curves and sexy as sin. I love her perky tits, the dip of her waist, her perfect little ass. She’s all of five-foot four-inches and her proportions are divine to me. It frustrates me to no end that so many girls think that because they don’t have a model’s body, they don’t have the right body. There is no right body—there is only her body. I ache to put my hands on her. But now is still not the time. Holding her hand was a treat. And now that we’re seated, there’s no excuse to reach over.
Well, that, and she is still really pissed. Or maybe pissed off all over again?
“How could we have spent four years dating, and you never told me who you are?”
I sit on the warm sand, staring out at the endless expanse of blue water in front of me. The sound of the waves rolling onto the shore is soothing, and the salty ocean breeze carries the comforting smell of sea and sand to my nostrils. This amazing woman by my side eclipses all those things. I hate that she’s hurting.
Obviously, she feels betrayed. But I did not set out to deceive her—I had been betraying myself since adolescence. Maybe she would have loved me through my realization, my transition. Maybe she would have held my hand through it all. But I had to go it alone. For the first time in my twenty years, I had to put myself first.
The closer we got to graduation, the more I knew I couldn’t keep going down the same path. I was exhausted—physically and emotionally wiped out—and my mental health was suffering. My parents were amazingly supportive (thank God for them) and I was in weekly therapy with a counselor about an hour away from school. (Ivy thought Oliver was a physical therapist and offered to go with me several times. Sweet girlfriend that she was.) For the first time in my life, I had to prioritize me, even if it meant turning my back on everyone I loved. Well, on the one person I truly loved.
Breaking up with Ivy that weekend after the celebratory dinner with her parents left me feeling vulnerable and exposed. But despite my fears, I knew that I had to do what was best for me.
Sitting here next to Vee, it’s hard to imagine who I was and how we got here. I’ve changed so much—not just the observable masculine changes, my beard and build and hairy belly and cock I’m so fucking proud of—but the confidence and joy that comes with being myself. I am stronger, more resilient. And though I missed Ivy with a gnawing, searing ache, I knew I was making the right choice.
The sun is starting to set, casting a warm glow over the water and the sand. Leaving her question unanswered, I stand, take a deep breath, and offer her my hand to help her up. She takes it and rises to stand next to me (so she’s not too mad to let me near—that’s good, right?).
“Ivy, I never meant to lie to you. I understand a lie of omission is as hurtful as a blatant deception.” She nods, more to indicate she’s listening than agreeing. I get it. “You and I are haunted by a ghost. Ali was never me. I have always been this man before you.” I put my hands on her hips and draw her close to me. In the golden glow of the sunset, she has never looked more beautiful to me. “And I have always loved you.”
Before she can withdraw from me, my arms are around her, as sure and hard as any time I’ve ever held her. I think of that first kiss in my dorm room and how unsure she and I both felt then. Now, I feel her sinking into me, yielding, almost limp in my strong arms. I move so close to her she has to angle her head to exactly where I want her—our height difference making her feel deliciously delicate in my arms—and I kiss her, softly at first, and then my libido takes over and I am increasingly intense and she fists her delicate fingers into my shirt, clinging to me. I am ravenously insistent against her shaking lips, afraid that if I hesitate, I might lose my chance. Just as I start to overthink this and lose my confidence, she responds with equal fervor, kissing me back. Hallel-fucking-lujah. She is kissing me back.
This feels like forgiveness. Maybe I’m jumping the gun… but this feels like a fresh start. An immense sense of relief washes over me. It's as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, and I can finally breathe again. Breathe in Ivy. Breathe out the past. I feel myself letting go of the guilt I hadn’t even realized I was carrying. To have Ivy forgive me? This means everything.
The easing in my chest triggers something buried deep in my psyche. I’m kissing Ivy and a single tear escapes my tight control on my grief and guilt. Because I realize I might be ready to forgive myself as well. I have been holding onto the past for far too long and it's time to let it go. I have never felt worthy of forgiveness, but this woman, this exquisite beauty kissing me on a beach in Hawaii with the sun sinking below the horizon, she makes me feel like I might be worthy. If not of complete exoneration of my sins, maybe at least I am worthy, this time, of her love.
This kiss makes me feel like anything is possible. I slide my hands from around her back into her hair at her nape. I ease up my ferocious devouring of her lips. We tilt our foreheads together and take tiny sips of each other for a few minutes more. It doesn’t feel like an ending to the kiss. It feels like moving forward. Like a new beginning.
