The morning had broken with a solemn draw, something that lingered and pulsated under my skin. There were no jitters around the breakfast table. My body screamed rejection at everything we were about to do.
To the point of feeling sick.
Again.
Food was out of the question, but Henry slid a coffee cup across the table, one of his small acts of love and care.
Alice didn’t push or pull. She had her own battles to deal with.
“Let’s get you ready,” she sighed.
The mirror told my tale of utter rejection. Never had I been so disgusted by my reflection before. The gown sagged, too long, too big, too much fucking everything. But Alice pulled, pushed, pinned, and stretched it into…something.
A shroud, a fucking burial garment; David’s grave clothes.
The bitch of it all?
Three swoops, and Alice was dressed. Curves showing. Fucking legs showing. And to spite them all.
Her big boots and calves in fishnet stockings.
“Let’s do this.” She smirked, confident at riding the world like a whipped stallion.
Henry put his arm around my shoulder and walked me to the car. Alice trotted like she was going to the store, the bar, or kneeing someone in the groin.
***
I found my seat with the rest of the class. I desperately didn’t want to be there.
But she deserved my presence.
After everything I had put her through—not just these past few months, but all through high school—Alice deserved me to be agonizing through these final minutes of hell.
She was the only reason Mr. Stephens nodded silently, acknowledging my effort. I was no grade-A student, but I wasn’t the failure he had expected me to be.
Principal Edwards even held my hand slightly longer, her eyes shining with quiet pride as she handed me my diploma.
And now, at the end of everything, I wouldn’t miss Alice shine as only Alice could.
She walked gracefully across the podium, her smile confident in a way only Alice could pull off. Gasps broke out at her outfit, but Alice was beyond care.
And her words?
“Class of 2025. Whose brilliant idea was it to give me five minutes to speak freely?”
She paused. Confidently. Letting her eyes wander as if locking onto each and every person in the crowd and stopping at Principal Edwards, who shifted slightly in her seat.
“Valedictorian speech. That was never my goal or my aspiration. So many of you have worked so much harder to sit here today. And yet, so many have done so little to deserve it.”
Silence. Then, the collective inhale of prideful mothers—scattered, insecure laughter.
Principal Edwards drew her hand to her chin.
Alice? She didn’t flinch. She smirked.
“I could stand here and say the usual things. That we worked hard. That we made memories. That the best years of our lives are ahead of us. But let’s be real—some of you hated every second of this place. Some of you barely survived it. Some of you spent these years being told you weren’t enough. That you didn’t fit the mold. That you should just shrink yourself down, be quieter, be more adaptable.”
The gasps were more audible now. Principal Edwards shook her head at the whispered words from Inspector Argyle.
Alice? Her eyes didn’t wander. They scanned.
And for a brief moment, they found mine.
The fire softened, just a little. A flicker of something tender.
“I’ve seen the bullies. I’ve seen the struggles. And I’ve seen those of you who fought like hell to exist in a world that didn’t want to make room for you. And to you, I say: This is just the beginning. Or not even. Things will get better.
And to the bullies, to the ones who did nothing to build something better—you got here. Well done. It’s a beginning.”
Not a sound. If a pin dropped, it would have echoed like thunder.
The only thing that broke the silence was Alice drawing a slow, steady breath.
“The world is changing. We are changing. And you don’t have to stay the same just because it’s what’s expected. Or because that’s what you think is expected of you. We don’t have to fit into their neat little boxes. We can be better. We must be better.”
A slight pause, her voice deepening to deliver both a plea and a challenge.
“We get to evolve.”
Her voice was calm, like the touch of weed, yet burning like the desert sun.
She stood firm. Grounded. As only Alice could.
“So, to my fellow graduates: If you are still trying to find your place in the world, don’t settle. If you’ve ever felt like you don’t belong, keep going. And if anyone ever tells you that you can’t be exactly who you are, tell them to take it up with me.”
Then she smirked.
That smirk.
The one that usually meant danger. The one that usually precedes trouble.
“Congratulations, Class of 2025. Let’s make some trouble.”
No wild eruption of applause. No immediate cheers. Just a weighing silence.
Then, Principal Edwards rose.
She set down her purse.
And she clapped.
Firm. Deliberate.
The applause spread, hesitant at first, then fragmented murmurs twisted between the growing rhythm, colliding with voices rising in protest.
I got up.
Battling between endless pride and utter suffocation.
Alice just stood there, her curls catching the wind, her smirk unreadable.
“Damn, that Alice is different, huh?” I heard Tonya whisper to Allison.
“What a complete idiot,” the boys collectively agreed, leaning into their safety in numbers.
But Dwight stood still, looking at the tips of his shoes, before his gaze drifted towards the podium. His response felt half-hearted, “Yeah…what a moron…”
I started walking.
Mothers exchanged sharp glances, their whispers laced with venom. Fathers muttered in confusion, shifting in their seats, caught between disapproval and the unsettling feeling that maybe, just maybe, Alice had said something true.
But more importantly—the ones who had heard her.
The ones who sat still, her words sinking in like ink on wet paper, refusing to fade.
I kept walking.
And there he was. Henry. He shook my hand.
“I’m so fucking proud of you.”
I blinked. Me?
I turned. Alice was still on stage, her fire still burning in the air.
“That one, Henry.” I nodded toward her. “Go get her.”
And he did.
And I faded.
Slipped past the fences.
And David Shepherd never walked this earth again.
***
I walked home.
Home.
Fucking home.
I marched to the bedroom, grabbing everything his. Everything.
I watched the firepit devour everything he had ever been.
Stripped the gown.
Everything.
And watched his undoing.
I felt the sun and flames burn on my skin.
My skin.
The final artifacts.
A diploma with the wrong name.
An ID card with the wrong identity.
A birth certificate.
It was killing me not to.
Because the fuckery of legality was still in their hands.
I heard her boots rustle in the grass.
I felt her touch on my shoulders.
“Everything?” she asked, soft as plum pudding.
I gave her the documents.
“Dad’s got all the paperwork done; the two of you have a date at the courthouse tomorrow.”
She smirked and teased with her fishnet legs.
“Naked,” she sighed, “You should do it more often.”
Then, pulling out of the moment, “But tonight? We’re gonna burn this town to the ground.”
***
I sat on the edge of the bed, hugging my knees, my chin resting on them. My hair fell in front of my face, a welcome shield from Alice’s penetrating gaze. My chest felt tight, my thoughts swirling too fast to untangle.
“I just…” My voice broke, barely audible. “I just feel like we’ve moved forward so fast, Alice. You’re brilliant and fearless…you don’t need anyone holding you back. Especially not me.”
She froze in the middle of the room, curls framing her face like a wild, fiery halo. Her green eyes softened, but her expression was unreadable. When she spoke, her voice wavered with something raw and unguarded.
“Hold me back?” she repeated as the words had physically stung her. “Is that the last, final doubt we’re killing?”
I couldn’t look at her. Instead, I stared at the pattern on the comforter, my throat closing around the answer I didn’t want to give. “I’m afraid,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “I’m afraid you’ll wake up one day and realize I’m not enough.”
She didn’t say anything at first. I heard the soft rustle of fabric and the creak of the floorboards, and then she was in front of me, kneeling so close that her scent wrapped around me like a warm hug. She took my hands in hers, her grip firm but tender, grounding me when I felt like I might float away.
“Lose me?” she said, her voice shaking but steadying with each word. “What are you talking about? You are in my blood, babe. You’re the very air I breathe. I cannot separate my heart from my bloodstream.”
Her words hit me like a wave, knocking the tears I’d held back loose. She reached up, her hands cradling my face, tilting it so our eyes met. Hers were glistening, but her gaze was steady, unwavering.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” she whispered, her voice trembling with an intensity I wasn’t ready for. “I love you. Not just how you laugh or how stunning you are when you walk into a room, but every part of you—even the ones you try to hide from me.”
I blinked, the tears spilling freely now, and she smiled—soft, warm, and utterly Alice.
“You’re not holding me back,” she said, her thumbs brushing my cheeks. “You’re the reason I’m moving forward. We’re doing this together. Always.”
A shaky laugh, half a sob, escaped me as I let her pull me into her arms. Her warmth, smell, and strength enveloped me, anchoring me to her undeniably.
“Always?” I asked, my voice muffled against her shoulder.
“Always,” she whispered, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on my back. “So, stop doubting it. Stop doubting us. You’re my queen, and nothing—nothing—will change that.”
***
She wore the dress I had gotten for her like it was molded onto her. Green and sparkly, catching her eyes perfectly. Too short for the occasion, too long for her comfort. In my opinion—perfectly her.
She glided down the stairs and hugged Henry.
“Thank you, Dad,” she said, sparkling like a gem.
Fuck how I’d rehearsed for this moment. Descending the stairs, heels sharp and tall. My dress hugged my bum in all the right places, but my chest?
Fuck me.
And planted between them, a blue, sparkling butterfly.
I was cat-like, smooth as fucking silk. And she didn’t even try to hide her pride…fuck it, her lust.
I finally landed beside her, and she tucked a rose behind my ear.
Henry just stared, but a tear pooled at the corner of his eye.
“You’re gorgeous, Ron.”
Ron. He’d fucking given me a nickname. And I loved it.
I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you…Dad. For this…for everything.”
Want to see an old man cry?
I could barely turn to face her.
My heart skipped a beat.
My everything.
And I was her queen.
And we kissed and jumped, like millions of other high school girls had done before us.
And the heavy knock on the door was right on cue.
Henry pressed by us and opened the door.
His gaze froze at the uniformed men.
“We have a warrant for a Miss Alice Caldwell?”
The world stopped cold for a minute.
Alice was always pale behind her freckles, but this?
Henry was caught between refusal and despair.
I lingered.
“Alice,” I said, “Meet Adam, our designated driver for the night.”
I nearly died laughing.
“And the bull behind him is Anthony. And before you get any ideas? Queer as fuck. Both of them.”
Alice just stared at me.
I had beaten her at her own game.
She fucking sighed as we were handcuffed to each other and led to the car.
And Henry?
Caught scratching his head.
Sipping his coffee.
***
Tony’s father was good for something. Throwing extravagant parties. And when his investment plan graduated, he used the big drum.
“Anthony…let’s bring out the firecrackers,” Adam chuckled as we rounded the corner up to Hillcrest Estates.
Anthony didn’t hesitate. Sirens. Flashing lights. The full package.
And in the backseat. Alice Caldwell, taking it all in as if it had always been her childhood dream.
Every limousine and vintage car yielded to the uniform, crashing the party.
Confused faces, raised voices, commotion.
Adam ushered us out of the car, handcuffed to each other.
Anthony towering like the hand of doom.
They uncuffed us.
Alice’s eyes lingered on them, first the cuffs, then Adam.
His eyes smiled as he handed them to her.
She giggled.
“Thank you, officer.”
Then, she took my hand and marched inside.
A choir of whispers.
“Is that Alice?”
“Is that her date?”
“Who’s the blonde?”
“Alice? Queer?”
And she danced our way to the table in the center of the room, sat us down, and kissed me.
“Let me get us something to drink, babe,” she said, her voice light but edged with the confidence she wore so effortlessly. She soaked in the attention around us, but her eyes remained fixed on me.
Instinctively, I grabbed her hand. “What, you gonna leave me here alone?”
Her nose twitched, and that glint of mischief danced in her green eyes. “You got this, babe.” Her words lingered like a kiss on my cheek as she slipped away, her curls bouncing behind her, parting the crowd as if it moved for her.
The room felt tighter without her by my side, the space closing in like a pulse. My gaze followed Alice, marveling at how she carried herself—unapologetic, magnetic. I barely noticed how people whispered, their heads turning as she passed. But when the crowd closed behind her, my attention shifted. The pulse of the room changed, and there he was.
Dwight.
He wasn’t just standing there. He was looming like he’d been waiting for the right moment to strike. His broad shoulders strained against his suit jacket, the clean lines of his jaw and cheekbones perfectly sculpted. The heat of his presence was almost suffocating, a mix of confidence and dominance that hit me in a way I didn’t quite understand.
“Hi there,” he said, his voice smooth and low as he leaned casually on the table.
He brushed a hand through his dark hair, and in that moment, the boy I had once loathed and feared—the one who had made me feel small and insignificant—faded. Now, the way his shirt stretched across his chest and his lips curved into a crooked, confident smile made my stomach flutter. I hated the feeling. And I loved it.
“I’m Dwight. I don’t think I’ve seen your pretty face before.”
The words hit me like a spark, and I couldn’t stop the slight curve of my lips. There was something about the way he looked at me—something I’d yet to grow accustomed to.
Desire. And it left me dizzy.
“You got this, babe.”
“That’s because my pretty face chooses its company,” I replied, smooth and deliberate.
“Ouch,” he said, feigning a wince. “I’ll pretend that doesn’t sting. Seriously, though, let me take you out sometime. Show you around.”
My eyes drifted over him, the way his muscles moved beneath the fabric of his suit. My pulse quickened, and I hated the way my body reacted. I thought of Alice’s voice, her playful smirk as she’d said, “Group three: the guys you want to fuck.” Was this what she meant? That deep, aching pull in my belly that I couldn’t quite define?
His entourage lingered a few steps away, their laughter barely muffled. And then there was Vicky Beck, her glare cutting through me like a knife. She didn’t even try to hide her jealousy. Her arms were crossed, her posture rigid.
The scorned date.
But I only had eyes for him.
He leaned in closer, his smile widening as he placed his hands on the table. “What do you say?”
My heart raced as I met his gaze, and for a moment, I let myself wonder—what if? What if he swept me off my feet? What if I let him take me to some secluded corner, let him touch me, kiss me, consume me? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt longing and defiance swell in my chest.
I caught his eyes as they darted, just for a split second, down the neckline of my dress. I stepped forward, my hand resting on his chest. He stiffened under my touch, but I saw the flicker of excitement in his eyes. Slowly, I traced my fingers up his neck, stopping just beneath his chin. His breath hitched as I tilted his head, forcing his gaze to meet mine.
“Up here, handsome,” I said, my voice dripping with honey. “Up here.”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to regain his composure. “Sorry,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Your eyes…they’re so stunningly beautiful, I didn’t dare get lost in them.”
I laughed, soft and deliberate, letting the sound wrap around him like a spell. “Impressive,” I said, tilting my head slightly. “Did your mother teach you that line?”
His confidence faltered momentarily, and I caught the glance he shot back at his friends. But then he straightened, his hands clasped behind his back, his chest puffing out slightly. The move was instinctive and primal, and I felt my body react before I could stop it.
“Let’s start over,” he said, his voice steadier now. “You’re Alice’s date?”
“Sure am,” I replied, flashing a coy smile. “I’m Veronica, from Oblivion next State. Alice needed a date, and I begged her to take me.”
His brow lifted, intrigue flickering in his eyes. “So…you guys…”
“Are you asking if we’re dating?” I interrupted, my voice light and teasing. “You need to articulate these things, Dwight. Speak your mind.”
“OK,” he said, his confidence returning. “I’ll speak my mind. Go out with me. Just one date—I’ll make it worth your time.”
I stepped closer, feeling the heat radiating off him as I leaned in. My hand slid to the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair as I let my lips brush just below his ear.
“You’ll sweep me off my feet,” I whispered, my voice low and sultry. “Then you’ll take me somewhere secluded, where you’ll…” I let the words hang, his sharp intake of breath filling the space between us, “…pound me into second heaven and leave me begging for more, more, more.” My breath was a deep moan as if I felt my words.
He stiffened, his pulse hammering against my fingertips. And then, just as he began to stammer a response, I felt her.
Alice.
Her presence was magnetic, her scent unmistakable as she appeared at my side.
“That sounds intriguing, Dwight,” I said. “Really, it does. But Alice can do that just by doing this.”
I turned, letting go of Dwight as I faced her. Our eyes met, and the world seemed to fall away. In one swift motion, I cupped her face and kissed her, full and unapologetic. Her lips met mine with equal hunger, her hands finding my waist as she pulled me closer. Just for show, I moaned deeply and lifted my leg behind me.
When we finally broke apart, Alice’s smirk widened as she glanced over my shoulder at Dwight, whose face was a mix of disbelief and something else—envy, perhaps?
“Sorry, Dwight,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “She’s spoken for.”
And with that, we walked away, leaving him rooted to the spot as the whispers erupted like wildfire.
I didn’t even hear them; all I heard was my heart pounding and her giggles bubbling to the surface.
And I gave zero fucks. I met their stares and felt them linger on my ass as we passed them. I watched the awe in their eyes as they looked upon Alice, and slowly, we melted into the crowd.
“Fucking great speech, Alice,” Devonne shrieked as she hugged her.
“Whiskey?” Alice whispered, “Where’d you find that, gorgeous?”
“Tony opened the back room for a few of us a few hours ago,” she smiled.
“Tony thinks he can have a private party?” Alice smirked, “Oh, this shit just got real.”
Then she stopped for just one second and looked at Devonne.
“You’re hot as fuck. If you ever want to test the other side… call us, yeah?”
Then, she was gone to wreck Tony’s private party.
Devonne looked at me, giggling shyly.
“So,” she tested, “I’m Devonne. How long have Alice and you…”
I smiled, and I knew I was beautiful.
“For as long as I’ve existed.”
Devonne smiled. Lingered.
“She turned you queer?”
It sounded like a possibility—a suggestion.
“No,” I laughed, “She just…put a mirror in front of me.”
“Oh,” she said and drifted into the crowd.
I spun to the music and let myself be drawn into the night. Alice was probably serving the entire class of 2025 by now. Somewhere. Tony was perhaps trying to devise a story to tell his dad about the empty bar in his back room.
And I had zero fucks to offer him.
Then I saw her. Alone at her table.
Allison.
Her eyes lingered on the dance floor.
Tonya.
Enough already. The clock was winding down.
I strolled over, and she didn’t even notice me.
“Hey there,” I honeyed.
She looked at me.
“You’re…Alice’s girlfriend? Date. Sorry, date.”
“We fuck,” I nodded.
She blushed. Her eyes darted to the table.
“You okay if I sit?” I pleaded, dripping with sweetness.
She nodded, “Sure. Yeah. Sure.”
I took her hand, and she looked at me.
“The heart’s desires,” I whispered, tracing her hand, “They gnaw, don’t they?”
She flinched. Her breath hitched.
“The hardest regret isn’t the mistakes you made,” I said, “It’s the things you didn’t allow yourself to lose.”
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you? What…”
I shifted my gaze to the dance floor. Tonya was burning and flirting, but every other second, her gaze shifted towards our table.
And now, seeing me being too intimate with her desire, she slowed, she looked.
She approached.
Tonya had fire, passion, looks, and guts. She just lacked the final pull.
“You’re Alice’s…thing,” she said. Not hot, not angry.
Dismissive.
“Thing?” I said, “Her carpet cleaner? Her bitch? Her lust and queen? Yes. I’m Veronica.”
Tonya sat. Shifting her gaze between Allison and me.
“Let them linger,” I said, “On her.”
She hesitated, then looked at Allison.
“Allison,” I said, “All you need to do is ask. Either she walks or she stays. But you’ll know.”
Allison stuttered and searched for words.
“Tonya? I…”
She looked at me. I knew she was afraid her world was about to end.
“How did you know my name,” she whispered.
“You don’t see it, do you?” I smiled.
Because in perfection? You smile.
“I’ve known you for four years, Allison. You’ve never really known me, not until…perhaps too late. And you still don’t see it.”
“What’s going on,” Tonya whispered, leaning in.
I looked at them.
I smiled at them.
“Just ask,” I said.
“I’m afraid to,” Allison whispered, “Who are you? Those eyes?”
“I’m not even important. I’m just…someone drifting through. The two of you? Now? Tomorrow? Next year?”
I took Tonya’s hand and gave her Allison’s.
“This is the moment. The last seconds on the clock. Don’t waste it.”
I sat back.
“Just ask.”
It was so fragile. So tender.
“Tonya,” Allison whispered, “I…don’t even know. The way you move. I…”
She caught her breath.
“I’m not like you. I haven’t even…you know…done it. Not because…that stuff in the Bible…”
She dared meet Tonya’s eyes and found welcome.
“I’ve never even felt tempted. Because…it’s always been you. I’m not asking for much. A kiss, perhaps? What it feels like.”
She lost her nerve.
Tonya squeezed her hands and pulled her in.
“Don’t…stop…”
A deep breath.
“Tomorrow is too late…I…stupid…sorry.”
The moment was slipping. It wasn’t mine to dictate anymore.
“Just say it,” Tonya pleaded.
Allison squeezed, and her squeeze was returned.
“I…would you even consider…making me yours?”
“Allison,” Tonya whispered, “I’ve always only been yours.”
“Even tomorrow?”
Tonya softened, sighed, and melted.
“I don’t know, but I’m dying to find out.”
They leaned in…foreheads meeting in unspoken words. Lips softening. Parting in the slightest whisper before melting together.
I stood.
They grabbed my hand.
“Who are you?”
Two voices whispered as one.
“Someone who saw you,” I smiled.
“Those hands…” Allison muttered, “David?”
“No,” I confirmed, “Not anymore.”
Silence.
An agreement.
“You…” Tonya whispered.
“Me,” I said, drifting out of their lives.
Drifting further into the night.
Feeling…like I should be sharing the night with my girlfriend.
Feeling the need to pee.
The X or Y doors.
I smelled her as soon as I entered. The faint haze hanging over the third stall signaled her location as clearly as a neon sign. I glanced around the bathroom—empty, thankfully—before stepping closer and knocking lightly on the stall door.
“Alice?” I whispered.
The lock clicked, and the door cracked open just enough to reveal her perched inside. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees, and her wild curls framed her face in a chaotic halo. A puff of smoke escaped her lips as she giggled, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” she whispered, her voice low and warm, like the smoke curling between us. She held out the joint, still smoldering between her fingers. “Want to join me for a little celebration?”
I laughed softly, shaking my head as I glanced nervously at the door. “In here?”
“Why not?” she teased, leaning back against the stall wall. “What are they going to do? Expel us?” Her nose twitched as her grin widened, and she pulled me in like it was the most natural invitation in the world.
“Alice,” I hissed, trying to sound scandalized, but I wanted to. I wanted to sit with her in that ridiculous little stall, to let her ease away my nerves the way only she could. I hesitated a moment longer before slipping inside and locking the door behind me. Her giggle was pure delight as she put her feet down, invited me into her lap, and passed me the joint with a conspiratorial wink.
She sat silent, looking up at my face. Her green eyes shone with something, and her face swam in the crimson lake of her hair.
“You have no idea how proud I am of you,” she whispered.
“It’s all you,” I whispered.
“No. This is all you. I merely nudged you in the right direction.”
I watched her take another deep drag of her joint, exhale, and be completely Alice. She was beautiful.
Her hand traced my shoulder; the tips of her fingers were feather-light but purposeful, sending a ripple of awareness through me. She hooked her finger under the strap of my dress, sliding it down with a deliberate slowness. The fabric dragged against my skin, its whispery touch amplifying every nerve as if my body had been tuned to a higher frequency.
Her palm settled over the soft swell of my breast, and I gasped at the sheer intensity of it. The warmth of her hand seeped into my skin, spreading outward in a wave of sensation that made me feel raw and exposed. My breasts—small, new, and undeniably mine—ached with an unfamiliar yearning under her touch as though they had been waiting for this exact moment. Her thumb grazed my nipple, and I gasped again—sharp, unbidden, a sound that startled even me.
She leaned closer, her breath warm and damp against my collarbone. It was an intoxicating mix of her familiar lavender and the earthy hint of smoke, wrapping around me like a second skin. Each exhale sent shivers racing down my spine, her lips hovering close enough that I could feel the faintest pull of air against my hypersensitive skin.
“Did you mean it?” I whimpered.
Her nose twitched, but only faintly. “Always. All of it. All the time,” she smiled.
“I love you too,” I gasped at her soft pinch to my nipple.
“I know,” she sighed as she pulled my dress back on, “Just starters. I’m savoring you for later.”
“Tease,” I moaned as I kissed her.
“Let’s kill this fucking night, babe. You and I.”
She flushed the remnants of the joint, and we stumbled out of the stall, giving zero fucks to the stares.
They knew what we’d been up to, the haze of weed, the flushed faces, but deep down, they only envied us.
I took it all in—the room’s buzz, the clinking of glasses, and the laughter that spilled over like rippling waves. My former classmates, people who had once passed me in the hallways without a second glance—or worse—now met me for the first time. Not with disdain or indifference but with smiles, warmth, and even admiration. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once, like stepping into a dream where I wasn’t sure of the ending.
They didn’t know. They couldn’t know. To them, I wasn’t David. I was Veronica. And for the first time, that realization felt like both a triumph and a weight.
In the center of it all was her—Alice. Sparkling, magnetic, undeniable. She stood with a confidence that seemed otherworldly, her dress flowing like it had been stitched to her very essence. Her hair, pulled back into something far too restrained for its wild nature, whispered rebellion with every escaping curl. Her green eyes sparkled under the dim lights, catching me in their gravity, and her cute little nose—my favorite twitching oracle—had stilled as if to say, Let it happen. Let it all unfold.
It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was… too much.
“I’ll be right back,” I whispered, stepping closer to her.
She turned to me immediately, her gaze softening. “You okay?”
“I… I just need to breathe a little,” I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended.
“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked, the question gentle, like a lifeline she was ready to throw. Her hand hovered just slightly, an offer without demand.
It would have been so easy to say yes, to let her pull me away, grounding me like she always did. I wanted her there—I always wanted her there—but not tonight. Not now. I needed to stand in this moment alone, to let it all settle, to process what it meant to be me.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, trying to summon the confidence she saw in me. “I’ve got this.”
Her eyes faltered for a fleeting moment, and I felt the weight of her emotions pressing against mine. Then, as if catching herself, she looked up, her tears brimming but her smile unwavering.
“Yes, babe,” she said, her voice breaking slightly before steadying again. “You’ve got this.”
I found the hallway dark, only the lights stretching through the window at the end, giving it a faint glow. I closed the door behind me, shutting out the music, the chatter, the looks, and the laughter, and found myself. Being just me. Perfectly me. All the sensations scrambled through my body: acceptance, inclusion, awe…desire, and on top of that, Alice’s hand on my breast, setting my entire being on fire. It didn’t feel like before, mixed with confusion, desire, or exploring. It felt so much heavier. So entirely real.
I was horny.
The spell shattered when a shoe scuffed against the tiled floor. My heart jumped, startled back to reality, and my eyes caught his shadowed silhouette leaning against the wall. Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking Dwight’s broad, familiar shape—but something about his posture was off.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“Hey,” he replied, drawing the word out like I had interrupted something deeply private.
His usual aura of dominance was missing, replaced by something quieter, heavier. Vulnerability, perhaps. It made him even more magnetic. I took a tentative step closer, my pulse quickening, a war of desire and hesitation raging inside me.
I stopped just in front of him, close enough to feel his presence like a charge in the air. His eyes remained fixed on the floor, distant, unreadable. Gently, I reached for his hands—those big, rough, masculine hands—and pressed them between my own. The contact sent a shiver up my spine.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended, laced with an unexpected tenderness.
He finally looked up, his expression raw and disarming. “It’s just…” He hesitated, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “This is the end, right? Tonight. This night is where everything ends. We’re all going to scatter and break into fragments, and from now on, every step we take will make us strangers to each other. One more step apart.”
I watched him, stunned by the honesty in his words, the way they seemed to pour straight from a wound he couldn’t hide. He took a breath, his shoulders rising and falling with effort.
“But you don’t see it, do you?” he continued, his eyes meeting mine with a quiet intensity. “I envy you—being a stranger to all of this. To us. You don’t carry the weight of knowing what it’s like to lose something you never thought you’d lose.”
His words hit me like a wave, grounding me and sending a fresh rush of heat to my cheeks. Gone was the self-assured tone, the casual confidence that usually radiated from him. This Dwight, this open and uncertain Dwight, was intoxicating. His earthy and sharp scent burned deep inside me, clouding my thoughts.
All you have to do is spin me around and push me up against the wall, pull my dress up, and take me.
“I’m sorry about before,” he said suddenly, breaking the moment. His voice was quiet, pained. “At the party. I…I couldn’t lose face with the guys. But you’re…you’re stunning. You really are. And I’m sorry.”
“You’re ruining the moment,” I whispered, stepping closer. My hands moved instinctively, reaching for him as I stretched up, tilting my face toward his.
Our lips met. At first, it was tentative, almost hesitant, and his lack of response clawed uncomfortably at my confidence. My pulse quickened as I pressed harder, searching for that spark, that connection.
“Sorry,” he whispered, pulling back ever so slightly. His breath was shaky, his words trembling on the edge of something unspoken.
Rejection. The word rang in my mind like a slap, a crack in the fragile shell of my confidence. I hadn’t expected that.
“No,” he whispered, almost like a prayer. His voice cracked, and I froze, caught in the raw emotion in his eyes. “You’re stunning. You’re so stunning. But…”
He closed his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek as he let the words fall like a confession. “…I’m gay.”
The weight of his words hung between us, heavy and raw. I felt overwhelmed, his pain striking a chord so deep it felt like my own. His words echoed like the ghosts of my own shame, the rejection I had once felt within myself—the part of me that had hidden, denied and longed for release. And now, here he was, standing before me, raw and exposed in a way I had never imagined.
Yet, despite the ache I felt for him, my body hummed with something contradictory, something undeniable. I was there—all he desired at that moment, whether he saw it or not. Entirely at his will, ready to surrender. My emotions warred within me: the empathy for his truth, the desire to comfort him, and the longing I couldn’t suppress.
I pressed against him, tilting my head upward, searching for his eyes. His scent was intoxicating—a mix of faint cologne, sweat, and something distinctly him—and only deepened my pull. When our eyes met, his were overflowing, brimming with the weight of his secret and the vulnerability it had cost him to say it aloud.
“You still don’t see me, do you, Dwight?” I whispered, my voice trembling but not from fear. There was a challenge in my words, a plea wrapped in defiance.
He stiffened slightly, his breath catching, and in his hesitation, I saw it—the confusion, the disbelief, the war he was waging within himself. His lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came. His hands, so strong yet trembling, hovered at his sides, unsure where to go.
I felt the stir of him against my belly—a reflex, a betrayal of his own self-control—and it sent a jolt through me. It wasn’t lust, not entirely, but something deeper, something primal. His body reacted to what his mind refused to process.
I leaned closer, close enough for my breath to mingle with his. My voice dropped to a whisper, deliberate and steady, though my heart raced so wildly I was sure he could feel it.
“D…David?” he finally said, the name tumbling out like a revelation, his voice barely audible but charged with meaning.
Hearing that name, that relic of who I had been, was like a cold wind rushing through me. But it wasn’t rejection—it wasn’t even anger. It was a realization. Dwight’s confusion wasn’t just about me. It was about him.
I didn’t move, didn’t pull away. Instead, I let the moment hang between us, waiting for him to catch up to what I had already known. My transformation wasn’t just physical—it was emotional and spiritual. And in that moment, I saw in Dwight what I had seen in myself once: the fear of stepping into an unknown self.
“You see me now, don’t you?” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and longing. “Not David. Me. Veronica.”
His chest heaved as his gaze locked on mine, his hands still gripping my waist as though anchoring himself. Something deep and primal flickered in his eyes—a desperate hunger fighting against the walls he’d built around himself. He pulled me in suddenly, his lips crashing into mine with a force that sent shockwaves through my entire being.
His kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was raw, unbridled, and demanding, as though he were pouring every ounce of confusion, desire, and need into me. His hands slid down to my hips, pulling me against him, and I gasped as I felt him grow hard, throbbing against my belly. The heat between us was overwhelming, his scent—clean, masculine, with a faint trace of cologne—intoxicating. It clouded my mind, mingling with the burn of his lips and the taste of his breath.
I whimpered into his mouth as his hands roamed, exploring my curves with a reverence I hadn’t expected. He tugged at the fabric of my dress, baring my thighs, his touch rough yet deliberate. My skin ignited under his hands, every nerve alight with a burning need I couldn’t suppress. My body betrayed me, pressing into him, my hips moving instinctively against his. I wanted him—I wanted all of him, wanted him to take me, claim me, consume me.
“Veronica,” he whispered against my lips, his voice low and broken, filled with longing. His hands slid higher, cupping my ass and pulling me tighter against his hardness. “You’re…God, you’re…”
I felt myself slipping, drowning in the moment, in the heat, in him. My hands found their way to his chest, the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt making my fingers ache with the need to feel more. My lips trembled as they parted, ready to beg him to take me, to end the fire raging inside me.
“You’ve got this.”
Her words grounded me and pulled me just enough back from the moment to push free.
“No,” I whispered, though every inch of me screamed to go back. “No, Dwight.”
His eyes snapped open, confusion and frustration clouding his features. “Veronica, I—”
“Stop,” I said, my voice firmer this time, though my body trembled with the effort it took to pull away. “I know you’re hurting. I know what this is. I’ve lived your hell. But this…this isn’t the answer.”
He stared at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I stepped back and straightened my dress, my breath shallow and uneven. My heart ached for him—for the pain and confusion I saw in his eyes—but I couldn’t let that pull me under.
“Goodbye, Dwight,” I said, my voice quieter now, tinged with both regret and resolution. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
With that, I turned and walked away, leaving the heat of the moment behind me and stepping back into the glow of the party. The music, the chatter, and the warm light enveloped me like balm, but it was she—the figure waiting near the doorway—who truly brought me back.
Alice met me at the door, her arms crossed loosely, her expression unreadable at first, but her green eyes softened as they locked onto mine. She always lingered where I needed her, even when I didn’t know I did.
“Everything good?” she asked, her voice calm but tinged with curiosity.
“I’m fine,” I replied, though the words felt shaky as they left my lips. I exhaled deeply, letting the weight of the moment slip from my shoulders. “I just needed to exorcise a final ghost.”
Her nose twitched, her freckles dancing in the low light as her lips curved into a knowing smile. She didn’t ask for more, didn’t pry—she never needed to. She saw right through me, straight into the loss I carried, the fire that still simmered, and the strength it had taken to walk away.
“You’re a hell of a woman, babe,” she said, her voice firm but brimming with pride, “You could have taken, you know. I kinda like that.”
Her words settled over me, steadying and lifting me. As she reached for my hand and guided me back into the crowd, I felt it—her faith in me, her love, her unshakable presence. And for the first time, I truly believed it, too.
The night faded, drawing to an end. Alice was shining like a red beacon amidst the goodbye hugs, summer promises, and confused kids. I withdrew from attention; this was their moment, her moment. I caught a glimpse of Dwight as he entered the limousine. His eyes met mine, and he hesitated.
He strolled towards me, not in that confident and slick manner I’d watch for years, but casually and composed.
His eyes didn’t meet mine.
“How did you do it?” he asked sincerely.
My eyes drifted towards Alice, the center of attention, graduating with honors and killing the night.
“Love,” I said as I leaned in and kissed his cheek, “It’ll come find you if you let it.”
***
The bathroom was warm, and the mirror fogged slightly from the heat lingering in the air. I stood there, staring at my reflection, the faint scent of lavender from one of Alice’s candles weaving into the quiet. My makeup was smudged now, a little less pristine than when the night began, but still enough to remind me of the person who had commanded the room tonight.
And then, in the haze of the mirror, I saw him.
David, they had called him.
His blue eyes, so like mine and yet so different, stared back at me. There was no accusation in his gaze, no anger, no sadness—just calm. He tilted his head slightly, the ghost of a smile touching his lips, and I knew—he was saying goodbye.
There wasn’t much left of him to mourn. Even I carried only faint memories of him, scattered like ash in the wind. He had served his purpose and sheltered me when I needed him, but it was my time now. He knew it, too. Slowly, he turned his back, his figure fading into the shadowy recesses of my mind until there was nothing left but Veronica.
“Goodbye, David,” I whispered. The words didn’t sting, didn’t ache. They felt final like a door softly closing. I looked in the mirror again, and the girl staring back wasn’t haunted by the boy who came before her. She was radiant, confident, whole.
I turned and walked back into our bedroom. The air hit me differently here, heavier, swirling with weed’s sweet, musky scent. Alice sat cross-legged on the bed, a haze of smoke curling around her, giving her the look of some ancient goddess in her temple. Her fiery curls spilled over her shoulders, untamed and glowing faintly in the candlelight. She had one hand loosely holding a joint, the other resting on her knee as she watched me enter.
For a moment, her expression softened, making me stop. Her nose twitched, her lips parting slightly, and I could tell she was fighting something—a little wave of grief, perhaps. She had known David for 16 years, after all. Maybe she had loved him in her way, even if he had never truly been who I was.
“You’re not him anymore,” she murmured, her voice a whisper caught between sadness and pride. She took a long drag from her joint, holding the smoke in her lungs before exhaling slowly. Her green eyes glistened, searching mine like she was making peace with the change. “I’ll miss him…a little,” she admitted, her lips twitching into a small, bittersweet smile. “But I like her even more.”
The pride in her voice made my chest ache. I climbed onto the bed beside her, my movements slow and deliberate. Her arms opened instinctively, pulling me into the smoky cocoon of her warmth. She rested her chin on my shoulder for a moment, her fingers lightly tracing patterns along my back.
“You’re stunning,” she said, her words soft but heavy with meaning. “And you’re exactly who you’re supposed to be.”
I buried my face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the mix of lavender, weed, and Alice herself. The room was quiet except for the soft crackle of the candle and our unsteady breathing. I hadn’t just survived the night—I had survived David. And as I lay there in her arms, I knew he was gone, no longer a weight to carry or a shadow to fear.
In the smoky glow of her bedroom, Veronica had fully arrived.
And Alice?
She fucked my brains out.
Epilogue
I sat in the back of the auditorium, watching her grace—Dr. Caldwell. The buzz at her words, which had started hesitantly, had grown into something stronger, something unstoppable—a blossoming boom that was enchanting, mesmerizing, and so stunningly her.
“I know it takes courage. I know it takes pain. I know it takes standing in the loss. I know the price. I know how much it costs. I know it takes a lot of healing. All the time.”
She paused, letting the words settle, allowing the room to breathe her in.
Then, her voice dipped lower, quieter, something almost hesitant.
“What am I saying…” she murmured, shaking her head slightly. “No. It’s not you that’s supposed to heal…”
Her hands curled around the lectern, gripping it like an anchor. A silence stretched, and my breath caught with her.
She lifted her head, her gaze scanning the seats—searching—until she found mine.
“No,” she said again, more potent this time. “It’s not you who should heal. I… I was born into this world by a mother and a father, raised to be someone—something—I was never meant to be. That was never my choice.”
Her grip eased, her posture shifted, and the slight tremor in her breath evened out as she found her footing and stood taller and steadier.
“But I have a father who never had an obligation to take that role. He wasn’t bound to me by blood or duty, yet… he did. He chose me. Again and again. He was there through every breakdown, fear, and moment I needed a steady hand. He never asked me to be anything other than who I was meant to be. He’s never asked anything from me than to be me.”
She exhaled, her breath steady, her voice unwavering now.
“He is love.”
Another pause, deliberate now. She let the words breathe and settle into the bones of the people listening.
“I know the strength required,” she had said. “I still don’t know if carrying that weight alone is humanly possible. I was… lucky? Maybe. I don’t owe a lot of people, but the ones I do, I owe everything.”
She exhaled slowly as if the weight of a memory pressed against her ribs before she looked up again.
“I once feared losing her. And that fear… was the biggest one to overcome.”
A pause. The kind that carried years of meaning.
“She is in my blood. She is the very air I breathe. She is the heart of my bloodstream.”
The words settled into the room, sinking into the air itself. And wholly into me.
They weren’t just hers.
They were mine.
Spoken to her once in the quiet before the storm, whispered in the space between love and certainty. And now, Veronica was giving them back.
Not as an echo.
But as a truth.
Her own.
“We, as a species, need to heal. We need to evolve. To become more accepting. You shouldn’t have to endure your growing pains, personal chaos, or everything life throws at you alone. That is not your burden to bear. It is our, all of us, damned duty!”
She let the silence stretch, her fingers loosening slightly around the lectern.
“Let’s change that. Today. Tomorrow. Forever. We—you—all deserve to be who you are at the heart of everything. You are enough. You’ve got this.”
The room erupted—applause, cheers, and excited chatter breaking through the air—the kind of electric energy that lingers long after a moment.
I watched. I waited. As she signed each book, she gave every hug, and she reassured every worried parent that all they had to do was support the insecure teenagers as they dried their tears and lifted their heads.
And when the room emptied, when all that remained was her, standing before me—not drained, not tired, but alive—her eyes sparkling like Saturday, I smiled.
“Dr. Veronica Caldwell,” I purred, the words slipping out effortlessly. “You fucking got this.”
Without hesitation, unapologetically beyond proper protocols, she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me. The world blurred—the room, the applause, the echoes of voices—it was just her, just us.
When she finally let go of my bottom lip, she pressed her forehead against mine, her breath warm, her grin widening.
She sighed softly, mischievously.
“Let’s get high.”
