Page 7 of Full Split
So many memories live in these pages. So many versions of these little boys who have grown up to be the kind, funny, hard-working men they are now.
Try as I might, I can't seem to reconcile the gap between the kid in these photos and the man who has me tied in knots.
It's not just concerning. It's confusing.
I've never been an especially sexual person. I've had sex—obviously. I have Weston, don't I? But even with his mom, Mia, it was never like this. It was something I went along with because it was expected. Because I didn't want to hurt her feelings by admitting that I just didn't care about having sex. Not saying I didn't enjoy it once it was happening. I did. It’s just not something that I've ever sought out.
Sex has always been something I've done because it was expected of me. Something the other person wanted. I always thought that maybe something was wrong with me for not wanting it the way I was supposed to.
If there was a silver lining to being a teenage single dad, it was that I had a built-in excuse. I was too busy working two jobs,raising a kid, and getting my degree online. Nobody expected me to date for a long time after Mia left.
It's not that I don't have a libido. I just prefer to handle it alone. It's simpler that way. There are no expectations, no pressure to perform. No making excuses to myself or anyone else as to why I just don't react to other people the way I'm expected to.
But when I let myself think about Niles that way?
God help me.
The idea of touching him, of being touched by him, doesn't feel exhausting. It feels electric. Visceral. Real.
But it's not going to happen.
It can't happen.
I can't go there.
I just can’t.
CHAPTER 3
NILES
"You need to take a break."
I scowl at my best friend. Surely he knows me better than that. Yes, I'm running on adrenaline and maybe five hours of sleep. Yes, it’s past when we should have left, but I want to run through my combos one more time.
I've been working on upgrading my vault and high bar release sequences, aiming for riskier, more complicated combos with higher D-scores. If I can land them, it'll put me over the top.
"Dude, the routine you've been working on for months is more than good enough to get you in the top three easily."
Hands on my hips, chest heaving, I shake my head. "It's not good enough. There can't be any question?—"
"There is no question, Niles."
"That's easy for you to say." Weston, of course, has the cleanest sets on the pommel horse and rings. If you ask me, he’s already in. I'm close, but not perfect—yet. I keep slipping up on the small stuff. The tiniest hop on a landing. Less than the tightest form on a twist.
"This isn't like you. You can't let them get to you like this."
I throw my hands up, not knowing how to respond. He's not wrong. I'm letting the pressure get to me, but it's not the normal nerves you get before a competition. It's not the routines. It's not even Wyatt, though the man continues to haunt my waking dreams.
It's the noise.
The headlines. The constant commentary. The cameras that follow me to practice and force me to separate from the rest of my peers.
All because some asshole leaked my status as assigned-female-at-birth. Before politicians and the news made being transgender a talking point, no one cared. Thanks to hormone blockers and an early start on testosterone, I've beenstealthfor most of my life. I actually hate that term, but it's a thing.
Until recently, no one in my life questioned who I am or how I present myself. All throughout grade school, I slipped under the radar of being othered. My peers either didn't care or didn't remember that I started kindergarten with a different name.
Thanks to my mom, I had a relatively easy transition. She paid attention, accepted me for who I am from the beginning, and supported me to the fullest extent. She did extensive research, traveled to see specialists, attended seminars both in person and online; whatever it took to help make the best possible decisions for my younger self. Most kids aren't lucky enough to start hormone blockers early enough to avoid the worst of puberty and start hormone replacement therapy at sixteen. Most kids aren't lucky enough to be supported through top surgery on theireighteenth birthday or have their mom and best friend by their side as they heal from bottom surgery a year later.
