I sip my coffee, looking out of the diner's window at the flow of cars crawling along the highway. Even considering the bad traffic we still have enough time, but Raven wanted to be there before they open the gates, so we better get going. I squint up at the blinding afternoon sun, then down at the brown liquid in my porcelain cup and finish it in one gulp.

"Anything else?"

The red-haired waitress is standing next to me again, smiling.

"No, thanks," I say. "Can I get the check? We'll leave when my friend comes back."

It's then that I see behind her back the door to the restroom open. At first, I don't even identify the person coming out as Raven, but then I recognize the black backpack with the red stripes he carries on one shoulder. I gape at him, and the waitress turns to looks, too, following my gaze.

I expected for his 'special outfit' to be something of a hard-rock kind, perhaps leather pants or black jacket with metallic spikes or something.

Instead, he's wearing a dress.

It's a short but elegant black dress, its material hugging his body tightly, giving it a lean, girlish shape. There's got to be some padding at the chest, since it gives an impression of some minimal breasts. The dress ends slightly above his knees, showing more than enough of surprisingly slender legs clad in skin colored shimmering tights. He's wearing white sneakers, and it strikes me as ironic how, with his love to everything black, he has now chosen to wear shoes so completely out of sync with the rest of his outfit.

As he comes closer, I notice that he has added some make up, too. His face now resembles a porcelain mask, all smoky eyes and dark red lipstick. There's a black choker around his neck, and he's tugging at it nervously with one finger as he slides onto the couch next to me.

"A friend, huh?" says the waitress. She looks Raven over, then pierces her lips, turns and heads away towards the cash register. He follows her with his eyes, his eyebrows slightly raised. Then he pulls his backpack up to the seat between us and starts rummaging in it.

"What's her problem?" he says.

"She saw you come in as a boy," I say, "and come out as a girl. I guess that's it."

He shrugs. "So what? I bet she's just pissed because I look hotter than her. Oh, here it is!"

He retrieves his old chipped cell phone and leans over to me, wrapping his hand around my neck. "Selfie time!"

"No selfies with you." I move away. "Not when you look like this."

"No? Pity." He pouts, then pushes the phone back into the bag. "Anyway, my camera is shit. Will you take some pictures with yours at the show? I should have asked Catherine for a new phone instead of a hoodie. I'm so stupid sometimes."

"Why are you wearing a dress?" I say, as patiently as I can.

He leaves his backpack alone and bats his eyelashes at me.

"Don’t you think I'm gorgeous in it?"

"You…" I pause, because, frankly, he does look good, but in a good-looking-girl kind of way, not the good-looking-boy, which would have been more appropriate. I can literally feel it messing with my head already.

"What's the deal with you?" I snap. "Are you a girl trapped in a boy's body, or a transvestite, or, I don’t know, a transsexual?"

He chuckles. "Oh sweetie, it's all just one big fucked up mess to you, right? Don't worry, I'm not trapped anywhere. It's just 'Fake Drug' used to be some serious gender-benders themselves—have you heard their lyrics? And the front man used to perform in dresses sometimes when they were younger, and he was smoking h-o-t in them. Rest assured, I won't be the only cross-dresser in the crowd."

I hum thoughtfully. "Not your typical hard rock band."

"Exactly, and I love that about them."

"Where did you get this dress?"

He shrugs. "I bought it."

"It looks expensive."

"I have savings." He rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on, don’t ruin the experience. I also bought the shoes." He puts one foot on the seat, and I catch a glimpse of what looks like silken underwear underneath his skirt. I look away while he keeps chatting. "I needed something comfortable, since you need to run to catch a good place when they open the gates, and you need to run real fast because everybody else do, so I needed good shoes for that, and they didn’t have them in black, so here I am."

"How do you know about running? Have you been to any shows before?"

"Never, but I've read everything about them on fan sites. Have you?"

"No, it's a first."

"Great!" He removes his foot and moves closer to me, squeezing my hand. "It's going to be the first for both of us! We're losing our virginity together!"

A movement draws my attention and I look up to find the waitress standing by our table again, staring at us, a bill and a pen in her hand. Raven follows my gaze and, instead of letting my hand go, laces his fingers through mine and brings my hand to his lips.

"The love of my life," he tells the waitress, kissing my knuckles. "Tonight, he's making me his bitch."

I feel like my face is about to explode from all the blood that rushes to it. The waitress rolls her eyes and slams the check on the table, then turns around and marches away while I'm still trying to wrestle my hand out of Raven's grip. He eventually lets go and bursts into giggles.

"Oh come on, don't be so serious," he says. "Did you see her face?"

"Don't you ever embarrass me like that again," I hiss, retrieving money from my wallet, my fingers shaking.

"You're so easy to embarrass that I can't resist." He traces his finger along my cheek. "Also, you blush right away. That's cute."

"Stop touching me," I snap, getting up. "Let's go."

"All right, platonic relationship it is." He raises his hands in mock surrender, and adds in a sing-song tone, "But I love you nonetheless, don’t you forget that!"