I don’t really remember much of the rest of that night. I can’t recall any of the drive home, though I apparently made it just fine. At the time, all I could focus on was the constant, droning voice in my head: “You fucked this up. You. Fucked. This. Up.”

...That and the ghost of Noelle’s lips against my own.

After stumbling into my house and collapsing into bed—without my parents noticing, thank god; I don’t think I could handle questions about the clothes or makeup on top of everything else—I was just so overwhelmed in every way that I passed out.

When I woke up the next morning to sunlight filtering through my window, I laid there in bed for a long time. I had a lot to think about, after all. My head still felt stuffed full of tangled thoughts and complicated emotions, and I knew that I couldn’t keep doing this. Not when people were getting hurt. I had to figure this out—figure something out. I was sick of it. Sick of flailing around, careening from one confusing interaction to the next, getting more and more flustered and undoubtedly making everyone around me feel awkward and uncomfortable.

A steely certainty settled into my stomach. I was going to get my shit together. This could not continue. The only important question was where to start.

So what did I know?

1) Dustin and Noelle were fighting. It seemed pretty bad, too. It’s not like I knew that much of the specifics of their relationship, so I didn’t have any clue whether arguments like came up occasionally, or if this particular time was abnormally bad... but it certainly felt bad. They both seemed so upset, in a way that made my stomach twist up in a knot inside of me. Which led to the second thing...

2) I wanted Dustin and Noelle to be happy. This was important to me. They were just better together. I could see so clearly what they had together: the happiness they shared, the way they made each other better, at least when everything was normal and good. I was certain that if they found a way to talk through things, they’d come out of the other side even stronger. I wanted that for them more than anything. But...

3) I had thrown everything off. I was the new variable here, right? The two of them were totally good beforehand. But it was me hanging around Dustin that had made Noelle annoyed—not the first time my presence had been unwelcome. And then the kiss… I wasn’t sure what was going on there, whether it was in fact Noelle trying to make Dustin jealous, or if… if it was just out of misguided pity towards me or something? I couldn’t quite think about the kiss without feeling sick to my stomach in sixteen different directions. But either way, I was the one in the middle of all that mess.

So. Putting all that together, I knew I had to do something. And I knew what I had to do. Apologizing wasn’t going to cut it. The more entangled I got, the worse I would make things. Plus, I couldn’t face Noelle again. Not after last night.

No, it was simple. I had to leave.

I needed to remove myself from the equation. I needed to step back out of their lives, and trust that then they’d be able to find a way to work things out again. 

They didn’t even really need me for the project, not really; they had Sam helping now, and he actually was trans. He had the kind of perspective and personal understanding of gender that I could never really provide. 

So yeah, they would be okay. In fact, they’d probably do way better with me no longer dragging them down. This made sense. This gave me a purpose.

But first, I had to get out of bed. I hauled myself up, only dragging my feet a little as I made my way to the bathroom, getting ready to brush my teeth and prepare myself for the day.

It was only when I saw the mirror that I realized with a jolt exactly what I looked like. I still had on the clothes and makeup from last night, though sleeping in it—as well as shedding more than a few tears—had done me no favors. In the light of a new day, I looked awful, some sort of thoroughly bedraggled vaguely-humanoid mess. I fled back to my room, searching through the mess on the floor to find—there, yes, the bag with makeup and stuff that Dustin’s mom had given me. 

Taking it back to the bathroom, I closed and locked the door, digging through it. She had told me it was important to take your makeup off before sleeping, because otherwise it was bad for your skin. I found the makeup remover wipes and carefully started doing my best. I didn’t want to have a break-out or something. I mean, I looked bad enough already, right? No sense making things even worse.

When I had finished, and saw myself in the mirror, the makeup mostly scrubbed off, I wasn’t sure what to feel. I suddenly felt like the person looking back at me was even more of a stranger than usual. This wasn’t the girl from last night. Even if I had only seen her in flashes, at the corner of my vision, by the end of the night I had... grown accustomed to her presence.

The more I thought about it, the more profoundly weird it felt to have spent a whole day where I actually cared about how I looked. In so much of my life, I had actively worked to avoid thinking about it, falling into a cloud of generalized despair and apathy, that it felt strangely foreign to recognize that I had kind of… enjoyed how I looked yesterday. Even if it wasn’t, like, good, even if it was just a minor improvement on something I really hated, it still felt… nice.

My fingers twitched, twiddling with a tube of eyeliner, unable to put it away entirely.

I thought about it for a moment. If I really was going to commit and try to stay out of Dustin and Noelle’s way, then… well, there wasn’t much point anymore in trying to look girly or anything. I didn’t need to practice my makeup if I was going to back out of the presentation and leave them alone forever. No matter how hard I thought through all the angles, I couldn’t figure out a valid justification. I really should just put all of this away, shove the entire makeup bag under my bed or throw it away entirely, and never think about it again.

And yet…

I wanted to do it, I realized. 

If I did my makeup, even just a little bit, I’d feel better about myself. That didn’t have anything to do with Dustin or Noelle, didn’t have any real practical rationale. Maybe it was just a distraction from all the complicated feelings I had about the two of them, to focus on myself instead. But it would make me happy

A familiar voice in the back of my head butted in: Did I deserve to be happy?

I wasn’t sure about that. But… maybe I could give myself this one little thing, just for today. Maybe I needed that. I could use that strength, even if for just a little longer. 

I uncapped the eyeliner, looking in the mirror steadily.

I’d face this, and then I’d face the rest.

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

Half an hour later, I had retreated to my room. I didn’t want anyone to be suspicious with how long I was hogging the bathroom. I changed out of Noelle’s rumpled clothes, folding them as neatly as I could. I felt really awful about just running off with that cute pair of overall shorts, but I had an idea about that: if I dropped the clothes off at Dustin’s, that gave me an opportunity to apologize and explain. I'd let him know I would leave both of them alone, and then he’d have a reason to go over to Noelle’s to bring the clothes back. Fingers crossed, maybe the two of them would take that chance to talk, and things could get back to how nice they were before I had messed it up.

Finding something of my own in my closet to wear was even harder than usual, though. I was struck again by how bland and baggy most of my clothes were. Yesterday it had felt like the door to a world of colorful and fun options had opened, just barely, only for today to have it slam shut again. 

I did have some things… I tried on a Slayer t-shirt that I had accidentally gotten in a size smaller than usual, thinking about how cute it’d look if worn by some kind of punk-gothy girl with heavy eyeliner and ripped jeans. But then looking down, the way it clung tightly to my body only reminded me of what I didn’t have.

I hastily took it off again, feeling newly uncomfortable. Sighing, I settled for another black hoodie and jeans. 

At least my face looked better, even though my attempts at makeup weren’t quite as professional as Dustin’s mom’s. She had also thrown in a small compact mirror and I spent a few minutes looking at myself in it, guiltily relishing the experience, as if I actually was a girl touching up her makeup or something. I did sort of envy the vanity setup that Dustin’s mom had. Something like that wouldn’t fit in my room, unless I rearranged the furniture entirely. Which I could do. But it wasn’t like I was going to.

There were a few other things in the bag with the makeup that I hadn’t expected, either. I rolled a bottle of nail polish between my fingers, looking at the way the light caught the light-blue color. It was a shame; it seemed like it’d go really well with that blue dress that we were thinking of using for the presentation. Though maybe it would be a bit of a different color when it dried? I guess I’d never know.

Unless I tried it, just for a bit, and then took it off again.

The bottle was uncapped, the brush floating over my left pinky before I could find some rationale to talk myself out of it. I could allow myself this, too, right? Since the clothes thing had brought my mood right back down to the basement again, I could have one more nice thing. I’d just paint my nails, see how they looked, then take it all off—the polish, the makeup, everything. Then I'd go face the music, give Dustin the clothes back, and leave all this nonsense behind. Things would go back to normal.

Yeah. Okay.

I didn’t allow myself to dwell on it. I just lost myself in carefully and cleanly painting the nails of my left hand. It was soothing to be able to focus on something small like this, and when I finished and held my hand out in front of me, I was impressed at how well I had done.

It gave me a warm and fluttery feeling in my stomach looking at it. I even found myself smiling. Maybe things weren’t as disastrous as they seemed.

Things were looking up, in fact. I had a plan. I believed in Noelle and Dustin, and that they’d find a way to work things out. I was feeling better, and I looked— 

Well, I felt kind of cute, at least. 

I could do this.

“Honey? Are you up? There’s someone here to—” With only the most perfunctory of knocks, the door to my room swung open.

My mother stood there, stunned, her hand still on the doorknob. Her eyes went wide as she took in the sight of me, also completely frozen in place, hand still hanging in the air as the blue polish glittered on my fingertips.

I was pretty certain my soul completely departed my body in that moment. 

A minor eternity passed, neither one of us moving an inch.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shakily lowered my hand to rest on my lap. For a moment, I considered hiding it, jamming it into the pocket of my hoodie or something. But… I had done such a nice job, and the polish was still wet, and I didn’t want to immediately mess it up. It wasn’t like things could get even worse now.

“Yeah?” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “What do you need?” 

“Oh, right,” my mother said, obviously a bit flustered. “I was saying you have a—” She cut herself off again, finally looking up from my hand and then catching sight of my face.

Oh. Right. The makeup, too.

“I have a what?” I said, trying my best not to blush.

“You… have a friend… here to see you?” She still sounded completely distracted, but then she shook her head, a funny look on her face. “Sorry. I… should have knocked.”

I shrugged. “Would have been nice.”

“I was just excited. You’ve not had anyone visit in a long time.” She paused. “Other than Travis, of course.”

I grimaced. This wasn’t Travis? That was probably for the best; I didn't really want to deal with him right now, particularly given the things he’d say about seeing me like this. But then who had come over?

And the light clicked on.

Dustin. He did live just down the street. He was probably here to chew me out about last night.

Which was… well deserved. And maybe a good opportunity? This way I wouldn’t have to show up at his house unannounced, and disappoint his younger siblings or something. My stomach sank even further—oh right, I guess I’d be breaking my promise to Alyssa about playing baseball together soon. Ugh.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be right there.”

“Mm, sure,” my mom said, still looking sort of bewildered as she backed out of the room. She carefully shut the door behind her.

I stood up from the bed, glancing down at my hand one last time. I should really go ahead and take the rest of that off. But… Well, it wasn’t  it’s not like it’d matter, since it was Dustin. And I didn’t want to make him wait. 

I still wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to say to him. I didn’t know how to properly express the guilt I felt at screwing things up, or exactly how much it had hit me seeing him look so upset and sad last night. But as anxious as I was at the thought of facing him, I felt a little relieved too. He was here. He still wanted to see me, even if it was to yell at me or something.

I stepped out into the hall, being careful to keep the fingers on my left hand spread as I made my way to the kitchen, where I heard my dad’s voice rumbling. He was telling some joke I had heard a million times, in that awkward good-natured way that I found kind of embarrassing but secretly a bit endearing—not that I’d ever let him know that.

As I approached, my apparent visitor let out a genuine laugh, and that’s when I suddenly realized that it wasn’t Dustin after all. It was a much higher-pitched giggling, and that sent a cold shiver of immediate panic down my spine.

When I stepped into the room, I saw my father at one end of the dining room table, the day’s newspaper spread out in front of him next to a cup of coffee. I could see my mother in the kitchen behind him, washing dishes in such a frenzy that I had to assume she was working off nervous energy. And across from him, in the chair I usually sat in when we had dinner...

“Oh, hey,” Noelle said. “There you are.”