Us At Midday

Confessions Of A Boy In Love

He fell quiet, so quiet that I thought he was angry about my confession. He looked closely at me, unaware of my internal panic.
"You wanna really know the actual reason to my avoiding you?" He swore, shifting toward me. I gulped.
"Tell me what the hell is going on, do you even like me or not? You can't just tre-"

That was the moment when he kissed me. It was a small peck on the lips, just enough to make a point. "This was the reason."

I don't think I'd never not think about our first kiss. I felt dazed, the moment I'd waited years for, it was happening at that moment. I was sure that I was dreaming. I wasn't prepared, and a crap kisser on top of everything else. Jesus, what lip balm was that?

"Could we do that again?" I asked, looking down and playing with my fingers. I couldn't believe that it was really happening, but if that was a dream, I might as well have taken advantage of the delusion.

He leaned in, smiling, and so did I this time. I pulled him down on the cold black sofa, closing my eyes. His lips were so much more softer than I imagined it. I tightened my grip on his waist, trying my best to not push my luck. Kissing him for the first time, it was like walking on eggshells. It felt like if I messed up, he'd run again. But how could I keep this state? I wished I could live in that moment again, and enjoy it properly with you.

I was quiet for a minute. It was a lot to process.

"Do you want to go to the Matric Ball with me?" I asked. The Matric Ball was the South African equivalent of USA's prom, taking place during the final year of high school toward the end of the third term after the matriculation examinations commence. It symbolized stepping into adulthood and recognizing the hard work put into completing secondary education - or at least that was what I had been told.
Sol and I were already not going together, we had plans to stay in and watch movies til his parents would pick him up, which was the plan since we were 14. But maybe ... since we were ... whatever we were ...

"I'd love to."

...

The last couple of months after our  confessions were an absolute dream after that. He'd changed a lot which was difficult, especially at first (since when was he the PDA type?) but I didn't mind ... at least, that was what I told him. I was not ashamed of him, quite the opposite, but ... maybe I was expecting something a little more low-key?
I was a shy person and I was used to keeping my relationships more private, but maybe I needed that, having someone to show me off, I supposed.

I came home, trying to keep my head wrapped up tightly. It was the first time I'd ever had my hair this short and it was so nice - but I was more worried about my mum. My sisters all knew I was trans and used my name accordingly, but my mum? She didn't even like it when I cuffed my jeans.

"Hello, my angel." My mum called when she heard my dad closing up the garage. He had taken me to my favorite hairdresser that evening and I was tired. I gulped. It was now or never.
"Hi mum." I went into her room and hugged her.

My parents' room was the biggest in the house, if you didn't count the entertainment room and the yard. It was painted cream, was themed with a pretty shades of blues and purples, with a queen sized bed and a desk with papers shattered all over it. She was on her bed, reading a book but I never saw the cover, and my sisters were at the foot of it. Probably just missed bible study.
"Come come, let's see that hair now." She took of the shawl on my head, and my sisters were in amazement. My black curtain bangs cascaded down my face and neck. I felt great, my sisters looked happy for me but my mum ... she pulled me in for a hug.

"So long as you're not a lesbian, it doesn't look half bad." There it was. I nodded. Of course, I'd never tell her after that.