One month later and we were still dating. We hung out in between my lectures and her shop hours. She often brought me flowers, which included messages of their symbolic meanings. She gave me yellow pansies quite often, which symbolized thinking of you. She gave me blue hyacinths, which came with the message your loveliness charms me.
We went to the movies to watch a double hitter, sneaking into our second film.
"How'd you like the show?" I asked, shoving a handful of popcorn into my mouth as we walked out of the theater.
She said, "I was very amused."
I was doing great at this whole faking thing. She still called me Vivian, which hurt but I didn't have any other name to be called. In my inner monologues, I often referred to myself as Victor, but that seemed so formal. So, I didn't like it much. But it made me feel less dysphoric to address myself as male.
Another thing that was helping my dysphoria was not sleeping with her. I had yet to have sex with Rose and that was really to my benefit. Though it did make me wonder if something was wrong with me; if I was somehow undesirable to allosexuals. But of course, that couldn't be the case. After all, there was that whole thing with Kingston. So was I supposed to make the first move? Because that was never happening.
I didn't know.
But I did know this lie couldn't go on for much longer. Rose wasn't dating me for me, she was dating me because she thought I was Vivian. I had to tell her the truth. But to tell her the truth meant fessing up to lying. And what if she didn't want me as a man? What if she didn't want me as an asexual?
Then what? It was her loss? Yeah, somehow that seemed hard to believe.
I just had to keep up with the lie.
Simple as that.
YOU ARE READING
About Rose Tucker
RomanceI could taste the blood on my lip from where I bit too hard. It tasted like iron, a cool metallic flavor. I could hear my heart beating out of my chest, like an aggravated drummer beating the base of a heavy tune. I could hear the rush of my pulse...
