A second later, Angie appears from the kitchen carrying two bowls of cereal. She takes one look at the two of us standing shoulder to shoulder, our still-linked hands, and the stupid smile I can't seem to wipe off my face.

A slow grin spreads across hers. "For the first time since my birthday," she says, "I was actually happy Richie didn't come home last night."

Heat rushes into my face.

"Angie!"

"What?" She sets the bowls on the coffee table and smiles over at Megan. "I'm just saying that I've come around to this whole... situation."

Richie snorts beside me.

Traitor.

Megan looks from Richie to me and back again. "So..." she says. "Angie filled me in on more of the backstory. Can I assume that I'm looking at two people who've finally figured their shit out?"

I glance at Richie.

He gives my hand a small squeeze.

I smile.

"...Yeah."

"Oh, thank God." Angie throws one fist into the air.  "I was starting to think I was going to have to lock you two in a room together until somebody admitted they had feelings."

Richie raises an eyebrow.

I blush.

Angie sits down and slings her arm over Megan's shoulder. "Well, now that my brother has finally stopped being an idiot..."

"Hey." Richie holds up a hand.

"...and Dylan has finally stopped being an idiot..."

"That's fair," I say.

"...we can all move on with our lives."

Richie glances at me. He laughs. "My boyfriend's friends are kind of mean."

For a split second my brain catches on a single word.

Boyfriend.

But nobody makes it a thing. The conversation just keeps going.

Angie rolls her eyes. "Please. You've earned every second of this."

I catch Richie's eye again. He doesn't look nervous. Or uncertain.

Just happy.

I squeeze his hand. "My boyfriend," I say quietly.

His dimple appears.

Yeah. That feels right.

Richie clears his throat. "By the way..." He grins. "I got the job at the sports rehab place."

Angie lets out a scream loud enough to startle everyone. "I knew it!"

She jumps up and throws her arms around her brother before he has a chance to react. "I am so proud of you."

Richie laughs into the hug. "Thanks."

Megan stands next. "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

I wait until they've both let him go before stepping forward. "I think this calls for celebration. Should we go out for a meal?"

Richie wraps one arm around my waist and kisses my forehead. "Sounds good."

My heart does an embarrassing little somersault.

"We're literally eating cereal," Megan points out.

"Hilarious," I say, shaking my head. And I'm in awe at how natural this all feels. The four of us, hanging out.

"Let's wait until after noon so we can order alcohol without feeling weird about it," Angie says. "How about that Mexican place with the oversized margaritas? My treat."

"No," Richie protests. "I just got a job. I'm about to have money."

"Exactly. About to. Future tense. Let me buy you lunch before you become all financially responsible."

"I don't think that's how adulthood works," he half-mumbles.

"It is today."

Megan shakes her head. "I vote we let her have this."

"I also vote we let her have this," I say.

Richie sighs dramatically. "I appear to have been outvoted."

"Excellent." Angie points around the room like she's assigning homework. "Everybody be ready in..." She checks the microwave clock. "...an hour?"

"Works for me," Megan says.

Before anyone can say anything else, Richie's phone vibrates in his pocket.

He pulls it out, eyes widening. "Oh."

"What?" Angie asks.

"The paperwork." He turns the screen toward us. "The new-hire packet just came through. So, I should probably get that started," he says. "There's probably a hundred forms they need before they'll actually let me near a patient."

"And probably a blood sample," Angie adds.

"And your firstborn."

"I don't have one of those."

"Yet."

Richie rolls his eyes. "I should head to my room. I need my laptop."

I nod. "Yeah." Then I glance toward the window, trying very hard to sound casual. "I've got a couple errands I need to run anyway."

Richie looks at me. "You do?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What errands?"

I shrug. "Adult stuff. You'll understand soon enough."

He laughs. "I don't think that's how errands work."

"It is today."

He studies me for another second, clearly trying to decide whether I'm being mysterious on purpose. Finally he smiles. "Okay."

"I'll meet you back here?"

"You better."

"I will."

As he heads toward his bedroom to grab his laptop, I catch myself smiling.

Angie steps forward. "Are you calling your mom? Is that the errand?"

"Huh?" I say, confused. "Why?"

"Oh, I don't know." she shrugs. "I know you aren't super close, but..."

Megan is sitting on the couch, slurping milk from her spoon, and I suddenly feel awkward. "No, I haven't told her about Richie, if that's what you're asking. I will. I'm not gonna hide him from my family, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, I know." She holds up her hands. "I just, well, I know how your folks are. Wanted to make sure things were cool."

"Yeah... but this will be a cakewalk after telling them I'm trans."

Angie laughs, the sound lightening the air. "At least this time you don't have to explain the side-effects of testosterone."

She isn't wrong. The first time I'd been asking my family to change the way they saw me. And this time... I just need to tell them who I've fallen for.

"But really," I say, glancing at the time, "I have errands to run. Don't leave the apartment before I get back."

Angie nods and Megan waves good-bye.

I've got exactly one hour. Hopefully that's enough time.

***

An hour later we're squeezed into a booth at the little Mexican place around the corner, chips disappearing almost as fast as they're dropped on the table, salsa bowls migrate back and forth without anyone asking, and a pitcher of margaritas that has been nearly emptied before we've even ordered our entrees.

Richie lifts his glass. "Thanks, everyone."

"No," Angie corrects. "Thank you for finally getting employed."

We all laugh.

I reach down beside my chair. "Actually..."

Three pairs of eyes turn toward me.

"I, um..." Suddenly this feels a lot more awkward than it had when I was at the store. "I got you something."

Richie's eyebrows lift. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know." I slide the gift bag across the table. Tissue paper sticking out the top, a card tucked beneath one handle.

The front reads: To Dick

Richie snorts before he even opens it. "You keep calling me Dick, maybe I need to change my last name to Tracy. Or Clark. Or..."

"Or just embrace it." I finish his sentence for him, earning me an exaggerated eyeroll.

He opens the card first and skims over my words. I didn't write much, just that I was happy that he got a job working with athletes like he wanted and wouldn't have to help my grandma rehab after hip surgery. And I might have thrown in a cheesy line about all his hard work and how his persistence, patience, and humor would definitely help him succeed.

I'm glad he doesn't read it out loud, but I enjoy watching his face as he reads. His eyes crinkle. His dimple makes an appearance. Then he reaches into the bag. The first thing he pulls out is a neatly folded set of navy blue scrubs. He unfolds the top. Embroidered over the pocket are the words: Richard Lopez, PT

His mouth falls open. "You had these embroidered?"

"I know a guy." I shrug. "I met him at the uniform shop."

Richie laughs and shakes his head. Then he looks back into the bag. "A toothbrush?"

I shrug. "Well..." I can feel myself starting to smile. "You know how I feel about sharing toothbrushes."

For a second nobody says anything. Then Angie groans dramatically. "Who have you turned into? You've never given me such a thoughtful gift. Like, what the hell?"

"Told you to buy that mug at the art fair," Megan says.

I shoot them both a look.

But Richie doesn't even avert his eyes. He's just looking at me. "You know," he says quietly, "that's a very presumptuous toothbrush."

I grin. "I know you'll be spending the night again, but yes, I guess I am presuming you brush your teeth."

He leans forward, cups my face, and kisses me. When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against mine. "I love the scrubs," he whispers.

"Can't wait to see how sexy you look in them," I whisper back.

Then he lifts the toothbrush. "But this? This is actually my favorite."

Across the table, Angie pretends to gag.

"Don't ruin the moment," I hear Megan scold her.

"I just don't want them to make a habit of acting all lovey-dovey in front of me just because I gave them my stamp of approval," Angie defends herself. "Because I have a feeling this is more than a summer fling."

I take Richie's hand beneath the table.

I agree with Angie. This isn't some summer fling. Because even if so much of this is new territory, I think we'll figure it out together. And right now I can't imagine a future, except for one with Richie in it.

AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER... AT LEAST FOR RIGHT NOW. THE END!

Thank you so much for spending time with Dylan and Richie. Watching these two idiots stumble their way toward each other has been so much fun to write, and I'm incredibly grateful you came along for the ride.

If you enjoyed the book, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Votes, comments, and adding stories to your public reading lists really do help other readers discover it.

Also, please check out my profile for more stories featuring trans male protagonists. I have a ton. 😄