Page 22 of Loving Lauren
But their hands trembled anyway as they lit the candle on the table, the flicker catching the gold rim of the wineglasses. A playlist played low in the background, soft acoustic and lo-fi jazz woven together. Everything looked warm and inviting, but inside, they were bracing.
Lauren had hosted friends before. They’d dated casually, but tonight felt different. It felt like the air had shifted, likesomething important was waiting past the clink of silverware and flutter of nerves.
When Sierra knocked, Lauren exhaled and smoothed their palms down the sides of their jeans. She opened the door with a smile already halfway there.
“You’re early.” Lauren tilted their head in gentle tease.
Sierra grinned, holding up a bottle of wine like a prize. “I missed seeing your face.”
Lauren’s breath caught for a second, but they stepped aside and let her in. “Well, in that case.”
Dinner was warm. Easy. Laced with the laughter that cracked open places Lauren hadn’t realized they’d been holding closed. Sierra told stories with her whole body, eyes bright, and hands animated. She complimented Lauren’s cooking like she meant it, and Lauren, normally shy about praise, soaked it in without shrinking.
But underneath the banter and the sips of wine, there was a slow pressure building. Not tension in a bad way, but more like potential energy. Like a held breath. Like if either of them reached a little further, the entire night would shift into something else, and Lauren wanted that, but not before she said what needed saying.
They cleared the dishes together, the rhythm between them so natural it felt rehearsed. When they settled on the couch with fresh glasses of wine, Lauren tucked their legs beneath them and turned toward Sierra, one hand still holding hers.
Lauren’s throat tightened. “I need to tell you something.”
Sierra’s expression softened in an instant. She angled toward her. Her fingers gave Lauren’s an encouraging squeeze.
Lauren looked at the candle flickering between them, then back at Sierra. “I’m transgender... a demigirl. Also, I prefer they/them pronouns. I didn’t bring it up before because I wait to seehow people treat me first, but I want you to know before this went any further.”
They paused. Let the words land. Let them live in the room.
“I’ve known since I was little that I didn’t fit what everyone expected of me. When I was three, I cried about wearing blue and not wanting to cut my hair. I didn’t want to play with the boys. I didn’t entirely fit in with the girls either, though I felt more like myself there, but mainly I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere all the time. That’s why I chose they/them for my pronouns.”
Sierra was silent while she listened, truly listened, and it made Lauren’s chest ache.
“To my parents, I was just wrong. I didn’t understand why. As I got older, I started letting more of my true self come through. Small things, then bigger ones. When I was in high school, I found a group of friends who didn’t just accept me; they celebrated me. They helped me find the courage to be myself. That support kept me going when everything else fell apart.”
They glanced down, voice quiet. “My parents didn’t take the changes well. By sixteen, they’d kicked me out. I stayed with friends, worked part time, and finished school. I scraped by, but I made it. My parents and I haven’t spoken since.”
They felt her hands shake and tried to still them.
“I don’t talk about this much. I’ve been careful. People have been cruel. Sometimes they smile while they do it, and it makes you question everything. Makes you wonder if you’re ever going to find someone who sees you fully and still stays.”
Their voice nearly cracked on the last word.
Sierra reached out and gently tucked a piece of Lauren’s hair behind their ear. Her fingertips lingered against their skin before she leaned in, forehead resting lightly against Lauren’s.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You didn’t deserve it. None of it.”
Lauren blinked, a tear slipping free before they could catch it. Sierra wiped it away with her thumb.
“I meant what I said. You didn’t owe me that part of yourself, but I’m glad you shared it, and if I mess up your pronouns...”
“I’ll throw a pancake at you,” Lauren said with a grin.
“Blueberry, I hope.”
“Obviously.”
Lauren let out a shaky breath, the weight of their unease lifting inch by inch.
“Eventually, I’ll tell you everything, but I need to take things slow. I hope that’s okay.”
Sierra pulled them into a hug that wasn’t careful. It was solid and full, the kind you only give to someone you’re not planning to let go of soon. They stayed that way for a long time, hearts pressed together, music humming quietly in the background like a heartbeat outside their own.
