After coming out of theatre 4, I stop at the line stemming from the woman's bathroom.
A few guys lean next to the vending machines, waiting, and the women in line shift impatiently. There is no line outside the men's bathroom.
"Ugh, I have to go." I jut my chin at the line and Adrian looks around sneakily.
"Go in the men's bathroom, I'll stand guard." He flexes his lean biceps and I stare at him. "And if anyone gives you trouble tell them you're transgender and then ramble about equality."
"I've never went in a men's bathroom." I stutter a bit, wringing me hands. He flashes a grin.
"First time for everything." Then he strolls right in like he belongs there; which he does, unlike me.
I follow him.
Inside it's similar, though smaller, to the women's bathroom and deliciously empty. He leans against a sink that looks very lightly used and gestures to the few stalls. A stand of urinals sit to the left, and I pray that no one will come in to use them.
I pick a stall at the very end of the line, and it's surprisingly clean. I guess the myth of guy's bathrooms only hold true when said bathroom is used.
I finish quickly and flush. Adrian is fluffing about with his hair in the mirror. As I walk up the aisle between stalls, I have to admire him. He's tall, much taller than me, and thoroughly lithe and strong and gorgeous. The line of his back is gorgeous. The way he rocks his ankles when he stands still for too long is gorgeous.
"See, not so bad. No line waiting." Adrian says, giving his hair one final, seemingly random, tousle as I turn the sink on.
Then a guy walks through the doors; about our age with black hair and a yellow hoodie.
He does a double take at me, washing my hands. Adrian notices, and wraps his hand around my elbow. "This is a guy's"-
"The transgendered have every right to use the facilities they identify with." I say, with shocking abruptness. He gapes at me.
Adrian guffaws, and wheels me out of the room with dripping hands. My heart is beating like a humming bird's.
We explode into giggles out on the sidewalk, and he falls against the black-sided building. His face goes incredibly bright when he laughs, thoroughly angelic and beautiful, especially with those clear blue eyes.
"Oh my goodness, you are the best." He says, breathlessly. I do a little curtsy, then wipe my still-wet hands on the sides of my jeans. "We have to hang out again, I won't take no for an answer."
Good thing I'd say yes.
* * *
Yeah I don't know. At what length is a story disqualified from short story?
