Kace grunts, then they’re gone. They have the whole; we have our arms around each other’s waist and hands stuck in the other’s pocket as an excuse to touch their ass, thing going on.

Damn, I hate seeing couples all touchy-feely in public. We singles don’t appreciate the flaunting of your possibly infatuated relationship. Especially not me.

I know I shouldn’t judge, seeing as I wasn’t much different a few months ago, but I haven’t completely gotten over the dreaded ex, so I admit, I’m a tad crabby around couples.

“That was a close call,” Max says, appearing out of nowhere. “Kace looked ready to pound you, in the not fun unsexual way.”

I face one of my best friends. I’m not sure where Sophie is—probably on her way out too—but Max is heading down the steps with a backpack so light that I don’t see why he bothers having one.

Max is what I like to call a comfortable vampire, white as a corpse, incapable of wearing color, but always looking comfy as hell in baggy sweaters and pants. He’s the epitome of comfort and lackadaisical lifestyle and the reason so-called adults call teenagers lazy. It’s a skill, he always says, although I don’t see how that could be a skill, but I’ve never put up an argument.

“I’m not sure any type of pounding with Kace is fun. I bet he lasts thirty seconds, tops,” I say.

“You ready to prove that bet?”

“No way in hell.”

Max chuckles, scratching absentmindedly at his stubbled chin. Swinging the car keys around his index finger, he says, “Let’s go. Sophie’s right behind. I want to stop at the comic store.”

Max’s words are lost to me. My eyes are fixated on the school doors, peering past rows of students to the library entrance nearby. I can run in real quick, tell Max I forgot something and will be right back. It will only take a second to scribble out my response and give a new one.

“Avery,” Max calls.

I tear my eyes away from the school doors. “Huh?”

“You coming or what?”

“Wait a sec, I forgot something.” I’m already moving up the stairs with my back to Max, otherwise he’d tell by my very warm cheeks that I’m probably lying. “Be right back!”

Max gives a quick ok, allowing me to rush to the library without worrying about him prying.

Why I’m hiding K, I’m not entirely sure. Maybe because they’ve made no move to reveal their identity, but neither have I. Maybe it’s because I like that these notes are only between us, and even if we meet, how we met can be a funny story to us.

Or maybe because I worry my friends will find it weird how I’m falling for a complete stranger I’ve never met. There are a lot of reasons that could be the truth that I’ve never taken the time to consider.

When I reach the library, it’s empty save for the librarian, Mr. Mikalik. He’s ancient, no one knows his age, only that we’re all waiting for him to fade into dust or slip through the fabric of spacetime to return to his home world.

He’s getting ready to lock up, so I evade him by ducking behind the bookshelves, then practically crawling army style to the designated location. I safely make it to the third row, where I lift the school bus and find—

Sorry. I like how things are now. Hope you enjoy the movie.
—K

Disappointment has never tasted so bitter.

*

When a page is filled with our notes, we leave a new one in its place. I’m not sure what K does when they finish a page, but me? I keep them.

The first completed page I considered throwing away, but the thought left a foul taste in my mouth, so I took the note and now find myself with quite a few of them stashed in my desk. They’re proof that we met, that we’ve talked; about more than bad movies, too. And I thought maybe, just maybe, K was as intrigued by me as I am of them.

Now I ponder if I’ve been wrong, if I’m completely delusional, another desperate teen searching for a love that isn’t there hoping to pick myself up after a heartbreak. The failure of a relationship, especially one I thought I would never have, put me in the rut of a lifetime. Hopefully. I really don’t want to go through that shit again.

I didn’t have anyone lining up to date me, and that certainly didn’t change after coming out. I decided to reveal the truth like ripping off a bandaid, get it all done in one go; agender and pansexual. The double whammy had classmates asking a bazillion questions.

Some people were genuinely honest and kind. I appreciated they wanted to learn and I would rather they receive answers from someone a part of the community than a potentially awful reddit post. Other students, however, found new opportunities and expired ones. I can’t count the amount of times someone asked, “pansexual, so you like pans, yeah?”

If I could support myself financially off horrible jokes, I would be a multimillionaire.

All of the attention, the strange looks, I truly believed high school would be a No Dating scenario. No one wanted me. I know what people think when they look at me; boy.

I’ve got the shoulders of a boy, and the facial hair peeking out on days I forget to shave. My favorite apparel consists of baggy shirts, hoodies, and a comfortable pair of jeans. I’m not opposed to the world calling me a boy. I am opposed to what many of society deems a boy is and how they shove those expectations on me because of appearance and their own ridiculous expectations.

When I switch out hoodies and tee shirts for comfortable thigh length sweaters, paint my nails, wear dangling earrings, or let my hair grow a little long, people act as if I’m a different person, as if my existence taints the air and corrupts the youth. This is not boy-like behavior, but when I ask why that is, who determines what a boy is and how one is meant to feel, the answer varies and is as stupid as the last.

“That’s just not how the world works.”

“You’re being dramatic. Stop trying so hard to get attention.”

“Men and women are different.”

“Girls like that stuff and boys don’t.”

“This is the way things have always been.”

And if one dares to point out that nail polish was originally a sign of wealth and power, people go ballistic. If I explain that pink didn’t start becoming a “girls” color until a fad in the early 1900’s that stores kept pushing for profit, thus reinforcing the trend and making it a new norm, they will argue until they’re red in the face. The truth shows that so much of what we do and how we think is utterly meaningless, and often ruled by corporate overlords.

But long before I learned how to conduct basic research, I never understood gendering anything; clothes, colors, makeup, hairstyles, even ourselves, none of it. It is sad how the world tries to use two colors to define humanity when what makes humanity beautiful is how many colors we can be.

These thoughts make me irritating, so I have been told, and who would want the irritating me? But, then someone came along who did want me. I foolishly thought he would be my forever. Obviously, that wasn’t the case. Reality hit me hard, and I fell back into believing nothing would work. Until K.

This may be complete stupidity on my part; if only the notes shared between two strangers proved that rather than disproved it.

I retrieve the notes from my desk, falling into my old leather chair that shrieks from the tiniest touch. Once the chair was an inky black, but now, it has faded and wears the scars of battle against my cat.

Floof hops on my desk, purring as if she didn’t knock down a cup of pencils with her giant fluffy white tail. She swats two more pencils off, then sleeps like the lazy ball of fur that she is. I would complain, but a good petting is in order. She purrs when I scratch behind her ears and read over a random note.

I haven’t gotten around to watching Cats but you seem to know a lot about movies, like, I don’t know, stuff. Are you interested in working with them? Producer, director, something like that?
—A

Something like that. I love movies, how they tell a story that can make you laugh or cry or fall in love in the span of a few hours or less. Art always influences reality, so you know a story is good when it can change your reality. But I love the dumb movies too. Everyone needs a good laugh every now and again. Is that what you needed, a laugh when you watched those movies?
—K

Wow, that kind of makes you sound like a bit of a romantic, and that is by no means an insult.
And yeah, a laugh was definitely something I needed. Things have been tough lately, much better now, only partially thanks to you. I’m glad I watched them and left a response. We wouldn’t be talking otherwise.
—A

A romantic, huh? Never heard that before. If that’s the case, I think you are too. You left a note in the library in hopes someone would answer. And I will remember I’m only partially the reason, but I am honored to be even a little bit of the reason. I’m glad I could help in any way. I like talking with you too.
—K