by Emery Lee
“I just don’t want you to get so caught up in your fairy tales that you ignore what’s right in front of your face,” she says.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I say. “I don’t need you to look out for me anymore, okay? If you can handle your love life, I can handle mine.”
Brian knocks on the door, peeking his head in long enough to say, “Hey, Maggie just left if you wanna catch me up on things.”
I smile at him. “Yeah, just a sec.”
He closes the door, and I tell Becca I should actually go hang out with him for a bit.
“Yeah, go,” she says. “Your fifteen minutes are pretty much up anyway.”
“I’ll update you tomorrow. Oh, and don’t forget to check the Diary.”
Brian waits for me in the living room, a small plate of pastelitos on the couch. I plop down next to him and ask, “Is this my share?”
“If you want it.”
But I’m not sure I do knowing that Maggie’s been all over it. Actually, Brian’s got a bit of a lipstick mark on his cheek, which tells me that not only have they been all over each other, but Maggie doesn’t even buy smudge-proof lipstick. Wow.
“Anyway,” Brian says, kicking his feet up on the little coffee table. It’s got a bunch of table books, including an old-ass Jell-O recipe book that I’m pretty sure he’s never even opened. “How was the date? Good?”
I push the thought of Maggie slithering her way into our lives out of my head and think about Drew instead, a smile creeping over my face. “Yeah, it was pretty great.” Brian doesn’t need to know that it was a fake date, and considering we’re on track to be the perfect end-game couple, it only makes sense that Brian thinks we’re already together.
“Good, I’m glad. When do I get to meet him?”
I cringe, though I probably shouldn’t feel so strongly about it. Drew’s great, and Brian will probably love him, but our relationship is too new. The last thing I need is for Brian to chase Drew away with his weird sports talk and occasionally edible cooking.
Just for good measure, I say, “Probably never.”
Brian laughs, but his eyes narrow slightly like he’s trying to figure out what I’m hiding. He pauses for a second and says, “Uh, I’ve actually been meaning to ask you, are you, like, into girls or guys?”
I chuckle and shrug. “I mean, I definitely prefer men and masc-aligned people, but I can’t say I’ve never been attracted to any femmes before. I guess I wouldn’t want to rule anything out too quickly either.”
He gives me this look like he’s not quite following but says, “Okay, cool. I was just wondering because I realized I didn’t actually know.”
“Yeah, I guess my dating preferences got totally eclipsed by the trans thing, right?”
And he looks like I just poured ice water down his shirt. It’s weird because I feel more open in being myself around him now, knowing that he accepts me for who I am and isn’t expecting me to be the perfect sister or whatever, but it also kinda feels like we speak different languages. Like anything I say runs the risk of confusing him so badly he can’t tell up from down anymore.
“I mean, it’s not that big of a deal,” he says. “The trans thing. I don’t think it really changes much. I mean, obviously it’s good that you feel like you’re being your true self now. I just meant that it doesn’t change the way we see you, you know?”
“Wait, you mean I still look like a girl?” I say, hands coming up to my mouth for dramatic effect.
And Brian jerks back, absolute terror washing over his face. “What? No! I didn’t mean it like that at all! I just meant—”
“It’s okay, Brain,” I say, watching as the color returns to his face. It’s been years since I called him that—a little keepsake from when we didn’t have cable and only had old DVDs of ’90s television. Sometimes I wish we could go back to that—me being Pinky because my parents thought I needed pink everything to satisfy their thrill at having a daughter, and Brian being the Brain because I couldn’t figure out how to spell his name.
But honestly, that person feels like a total stranger to me now, and it’s not because they used to wear the color pink, because I still love pink, and anyone who doesn’t is wrong. It’s just that, back then, I was willing to be anything people told me to be. I didn’t mind that I was dying inside because I didn’t know how to live any other way. But how do you learn to breathe, then opt to be suffocated day in and day out?
I’m Noah now, and really, I always have been. It’s not my fault no one believed in Noah until he gave them no other choice.
“Noah,” Brian says, resting his hand on my arm, “I’m sorry. I know I’m not perfect about this whole thing, and I’m really sorry if I make you feel uncomfortable at all.”
I smile, wrapping my arms around him. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re great. I love you.”
He squeezes me to him, and I can almost pretend this is the way we’ve always been—Brian and Noah. It doesn’t matter how I was born or who I thought I was back then. I’m me, and we’re brothers, and there’s nothing in the world that can ever change that.
Step 4: The Consultation (aka The First Date)
It’s where the relationship really begins, the moment the seed is given a chance to grow roots.
Inbox (228)
Anonymous asked: Congratulations, Noah! I’ve never been happier for someone!
Romlover2203 asked: You’re always giving, and now you get to receive! So happy for you!
Majorfanboi15 asked: Did you get your neighbor to pose in that pic? I call fake.
I wake up the next morning to find that my post has, in fact, gone viral. It’s not quite the top-of-the-world, larger-than-life, getting-a-free-cookie-at-Publix feeling I was hoping for, but it is kind of cool. I’ve got an inbox full of people congratulating me on finding a boyfriend, and a whole inbox of hate that I skim over and delete. I’ll get to the positive messages later. Gotta show up for the fans.
I check my follower count and find it’s stabilized a bit. It’s not quite back up to the original numbers, but it’s a little higher than when I went to bed last night.
I open my messages to find a text from Becca saying, Nice job! and another one from Drew saying, Morning. Any plans for today?
I actually wasn’t planning to do a whole lot except eat, watch anime, and maybe shower, but I want to know what he has in mind, so I say, Not really. You?
Wanna come by the shop?
My face heats up as I type back a quick, Sure.
I get dressed and smooth out my hair, which, yeah, is pretty much a lost cause. Can’t say what Drew is planning if he’s asking me to stop by, but endless possibilities float like little bubbles around my head, and I have to make sure I look hot. Brian’s already gone as I burst through the door. It’s nice out, and I’m feeling great, and I’m actually starting to kind of enjoy the walk.
The streets are more bustling than usual, and I wonder if everyone’s just taking in the first few days of summer. I can’t blame them for having that extra pep in their step because I know I certainly do. But also, it’s cold out, and I’m not sure Coloradoans know what the word “summer” is actually supposed to mean.
I slip into the shop with the full knowledge I probably have some horribly embarrassing grin on my face. “Morning!”
Drew’s organizing a stack of books, and he looks up as I approach, a smile creeping across his face. “Hey. You look happy.”
“I am happy,” I say. It’s hard not to be when the Diary’s on the rise again and I’m meeting up with a hot guy who’s bound to fall desperately in love with me. I sit down across from him and resist the urge to help him sort through the books. I really shouldn’t be putting in the effort if I’m not even going to get paid for it.
“So I take it everything worked out with the Meet Cute Diary?” he says.
I smile and nod. “And, I mean, it doesn’t hurt that I get to see you.”
He smirks, but there’s a slight blush rising in his cheeks anywa
y. “I noticed you didn’t tag me in the post. You can next time if you want. I don’t mind.”
It hadn’t even occurred to me to ask him the name of his blog, but I probably should’ve assumed he had one since he’s been following the Diary. I pull my phone out of my pocket, opening the Tumblr app and passing it to him. “Then I have to follow you.”
He smiles, taking the phone and typing something into it. “I’m gonna take a lunch in a half hour, and we can go do something if you want. Maybe grab some food? You know, keep up appearances?”
He passes the phone back, and I accept it, my heart fluttering at his words. “Absolutely.”
I’m not sure how long he requests for his break, but we catch a ride out to this block lined with pho shops and Thai food. Drew steers me toward a little local Chinese joint, and we step inside, the smell of duck immediately falling over us.
“You strike me as the kind of person who likes exotic food,” Drew says.
And I’m not sure what’s “exotic” about decent Chinese food, but my stomach’s already rumbling just standing by the front door, and I’m too hungry to care. We get a table, and much to my delight, the menu’s full of Chinese barbecue. Can’t say I’m the best versed in Chinese food, but if it’s meat and it’s barbecue, I won’t complain.
“The portion sizes are huge, so don’t overwork yourself,” he says.
I smirk. “You underestimate how much I can eat.”
Which, yeah, I’ll go light on the duck because I’m not out to murder his wallet, but damn, my mouth is watering.
“So, should we set some parameters on this?” he asks.
I freeze, my lip rising. “What do you mean?”
“Well, if we’re gonna be building this whole fake relationship, I feel like we have to set some ground rules,” he says. “You know, like who’s allowed to know, and how we’ll behave in public, and all that stuff.”
This is a minor hiccup I wasn’t expecting, but not too hard to work around. “The less people know, the less chance the troll will find out,” I say.
He nods. “True. So that means we should probably act like a couple in public, huh?”
I shrug, but really, I’m very much okay with that. “We should make it as real as possible.”
“So no flirting with anyone else, then?” he says.
I shake my head. “Definitely not. And we should do all the things we would do if we were actually dating,” I say.
“Especially online, right?” he says. “Since the troll could be watching. Make sure to tag me in everything, and I’ll play it up from my blog too.”
I smile.
“So what are your plans for the summer?”
I pause, waiting to see if he’s going to ask me something more about our fake dating before turning back to the menu. It’s basically a full-time job just trying to keep track of all the numbers of the dishes I want to order. “Working, you know, once I find a job. Probably spending some time with my brother. I don’t really have much worked out.” And, of course, having the perfect meet cute romance, but I don’t need to tell him that.
“Where are you going afterward?”
“California.”
He grins. “Sounds cool. I’ve never not lived in Denver.”
“I lived in Florida my whole life until now. It’s a huge change, but I’m happy about it,” I say. The truth is, I’m cool with never going back to Florida as long as I live. The only fond memories I have of the place are with Becca, and she can just come visit me in Cali instead.
“I can show you around if you want,” he says. “There’s some cool stuff out here. We’re a little limited ’cause I don’t have a car, but there’s still some awesome stuff, especially if you like the outdoors.”
I do not, in fact, like the outdoors. Bugs, wet grass, spotty cell service? Yeah, sounds like a living nightmare. But it could be cute to do some outdoorsy things with a date. Maybe a short hike or a field of flowers or stargazing in the moonlight.
I smile. “Sure, I’d like that.”
He smiles back. “My friends are doing a bonfire tonight if you want to go.”
Oh, bonfires are sexy. Definitely in.
I’ve never been to a bonfire before, so I already feel like I’m leveling up. Not only is this one of those cutesy events that only really exist in old Taylor Swift songs, but it’s perfect for getting some more shots for the Diary.
When we get our food, I scarf mine down, and Drew’s eyes widen like he didn’t realize it was physically possible for me to eat that much. When I was younger, my mother always used to say that you shouldn’t eat too much when you’re getting to know a guy—if he thinks you have a big appetite, he won’t want to date you. It only seems fair that now that I’m old enough to make my own decisions, I do the exact opposite.
“I’m glad you interviewed to work at the store, even if you didn’t get the job,” Drew says, and I freeze, duck grease dripping down my chin.
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m glad I met you. Like, actually met you. Being a fan of the blog doesn’t count.”
I smile because how do you not smile about something like that?
“And I’m glad you’ll be my date for the bonfire.”
I freeze. “Wait,” I say, because we have to play this right. Steps one and two were simple, but was last night the first date or would that be the bonfire? I guess it really depends what I consider to be the Invitation, which, for Diary purposes, was when he suggested the fake date, but that can’t count as a real Invitation because that was obviously staged. The bonfire could be the second date, but that would mean we never had a proper Consultation, which could really screw us over in the long run. . . .
“Noah?” he says.
I look up to find him staring at me, just now realizing my fork is halfway to my mouth, so I gently lay it down on my plate. “Sorry,” I say. “Just working out some executive details.”
He raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t ask.
It’s not the perfect dinner and night under the stars I always imagined, but maybe the bonfire could make for a good first date. That would just mean that the rest of this was part of Diary planning, so it doesn’t count.
When we leave the restaurant, Drew slips his hand into mine and places a quick kiss on my cheek. “How’s that?” he says.
And wow, I know this is all fake, but it feels pretty damn real—the feeling of his hand in mine, the gentleness when he kissed me, the low tone of his voice like we’re sharing some intimate secret, which, I guess we kind of are.
“It’s perfect,” I say.
He smiles. “So, you wanna come back to the shop?”
And it almost feels like a joke that he’s even asking. I mean, he’s gorgeous, and we’re working on creating the perfect romance, even if it isn’t entirely real yet. Why would I want to go home?
I squeeze his hand, a smile on my face as I say, “I’d love to go back to the shop with you.”
And as he calls the rideshare, all I can think is that for the first time in my life, things are actually lining up with the stories I crafted in my head.
Becca, you are NOT going to believe what just happened! Call me when you get a chance!
Delivered
“You did what?”
I roll my eyes. My parents are driving to another house since the last one didn’t work out, and the static is bad enough that I’m forced to repeat myself every couple seconds. My mom’s always been the type of person who needs to get three things done at once, which means the vast majority of my conversations with her lately have been on the road. I can’t say I’m well-educated on real estate or loans or whatever it is exactly that they’re trying to work around right now, but I know they’ve been having trouble securing a house since the costs are so high over there and it’s a “renter’s market” or something.
“I had a job interview at a bookstore,” I say.
“Oh, that’s great, honey!”
I decided it w
as about time I update my parents—both because I haven’t spoken to them in a few days, and because I want that credit card back. I don’t have to tell them I got turned down for the job already. Actually, I’m hoping if they think my job prospects are positive, they’ll be willing to pitch in for my travel expenses.
“Yeah, the only problem is I can’t afford to get a ride to and from interviews,” I say. “I feel bad forcing Brian to do it since he works too and has to get there early.”
I can practically hear my mom roll her eyes as she says, “You want the credit card back.”
“I mean, if you don’t mind. . . .”
My dad chuckles in the background. He’s always said I’m like a bunny rabbit—too cute to resist, but dangerous to underestimate. I can’t say I’m opposed to it.
“You can have the card back, but you better not abuse it again, and I expect you to get a job,” she says.
“Thank you, Mommy!”
“Anything else you want to tell us about before we get to the new house?”
I pause. A part of me feels like I should tell them about Drew. I mean, we aren’t officially together, or whatever that means, but we’re going to a party with his friends tonight, and we’ve really been nailing this fake dating thing. I told him that the best way to make sure we convince the Diary fans is to just really commit to it. After all, if we could convince ourselves that we’re a couple, no one online should have any reason to doubt us. And, when we got back to the shop, we basically just acted like a couple, and Drew even went so far as to tell Amy we were going out. Definitely approaching the Trip.
Or are we there already?
Honestly, I’m still not sure if tonight constitutes the Consultation or if that was dinner. This whole list was easier to follow before I had to put it into practice.
Of course, my parents seem to be having a hard enough time navigating a second son. I don’t know if they’re ready to enter our-son’s-boyfriend territory yet.
