forum Starting a new short story (queer romance), let me know what you think...

Started January 16, 2022 by @wordlesswriter

tune

It's the first draft so it's not amazing.

There's cursing so pls don't read if you're not okay with that :) Also, Charlie is referred to as "he" in Blair's part, but is referred to as "she" in Charlie's part. This because after Charlie moved, she realized she was transgender and changed her pronouns, but not her name. But Blair didn't know that so she refers to Charlie as "he".
___

Blair

It has been almost a decade since I saw him. Charlie. Since then, everything’s changed. And not just my sexuality.
I sigh, waiting for the next customer to arrive. I don’t know what inspired the recent thoughts of Charlie. Maybe it’s the constant judgmental stares from the customers.
They look me up and down, more than is really necessary. No doubt that they noticed the several rainbow bracelets on my wrist, the black high tops pulled on my feet, my black clothing, and the blue and white flannel covering it all.
I’ve been squirming for a while now.
Charlie never made me feel like this. He cared about me, made sure I was comfortable.
I miss him. I always think of him whenever this town becomes too conservative for me. Needless to say, I think of him quite a lot.
I take a deep breath as another customer approaches. It’s a woman, with three children - triplets, one girl and two boys - running around her legs in a circle. She looks exasperated and exhausted, definitely in need of coffee.
Luckily, The Mudhouse is the perfect place for coffee. It is, after all, a coffee shop.
I force a smile on my face as she looks me up and down, noticing and silently commenting on every aspect of my outfit and look.
She says, sounding bored. Not like she just looked into my very soul and knew I am going to hell. “I’ll have two hot lattes, a doughnut, a cookie, and a scone.”
I nod, plugging the order into the machine in front of me. “Will that be all?”
Her searching, prying eyes burned into my skin. She narrows her eyes “Yes,” she says.
“That’ll be 25.69.”
She hesitates, but hands me a twenty and a ten. I open the cash register, pulling out her change and sliding in the cash.
“Your change is four dollars and 31 cents,” I reply.
She stares at me for an uncomfortable moment, but her kids soon demand her attention, and I am relieved from her scalding look as I am able to slip away.
I grab a handful of Alex’s sleeve as he walks by. Alex is about the only person in town who is straight and not homophobic. “I’ll give you a dollar if you deal with that homophobic’s order.”
He rolls his eyes playfully. “You say this every day, Blair. Every. Single. Day. They’re all homophobic! What is it? Do you want me to take every order and then you just take the credit?”
I grin. “That’s not a half bad idea. And I still get paid.”
He narrows his eyes. “No.”
“But-”
“No, Blair.”
I make a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “Thanks a lot, asshole.”
He smirks. “Anytime, dipshit.”
I head toward the display case of the pastries, using a napkin to take a doughnut, a cookie, and a scone and dropping them in a paper bag. I pause. “Shit. I forgot to ask for her name.”
I hear Alex snicker a few feet away. “Shut up,” I snap. He ignores me.
I lean across the counter, looking toward the corner of the shop, where the woman sits with another family and someone who looks like her husband. “Um… lady?” No answer. No acknowledgement. “Lady?” I say a little louder.
Alex comments, “Just… go over there and give it to her.”
I snap back at him without even a glance. “And have to deal with more disapproving looks than necessary? No thanks.” I furrow my eyebrows at the woman, ignoring Alex as he replies. “Lady?!” I practically yell.
The whole store turns toward me. Finally, finally the woman looks over to see what the commotion is about. She takes her time, sliding her eyes from my frustrated, embarrassed face to the paper bag in my hand.
“Oh,” is all she says, and gets up to walk toward me. It seems like an eternity has passed when she finally takes the pastries. She begins to walk back, but turns around about half way. “We’re still waiting on those lattes too.”
I narrow my eyes once her back is turned again. Alex chuckles behind me. Slowly, the rest of the customers begin to direct their attention elsewhere. By the time I’m invisible again, sweat crawls down my back and my face is no doubt as red as a tomato.
“Well… that backfired.” l whip around to find Alex smirking at me. That god's damned idiot.
I punch him in the arm.
___

Charlie

“Honey, it’s time for dinner!”
I blink. How has the time passed that quickly already?
I note the time at the top of the screen of my dying phone, then glance at my sticker-covered laptop on my desk across the room. I was supposed to start my homework almost two hours ago.
Instead, I spent the time staring at my phone’s screen, trying and failing to think of something to text Blair.
It has been almost a decade since I’ve seen her. We were childhood friends, inseparable. Well, almost inseparable. The concept of moving countries was the only thing that had a chance of breaking us apart. And it had. After that, we tried to call regularly, but life had a different idea for Blair and I. We slowly grew apart.
Now, I find myself missing my old friend more and more.
I force myself out of the position I’ve been in for three hours, groaning as my body adjusts to the new movement.
“Coming!” I call back to my mother.
The thumping of my older brother and younger sister running down the stairs is muffled by my closed door.
I take one last glance at my phone, at the one word I’ve thought of so far.

Hey

Classic. But maybe not enough? I groan as my thoughts start to spiral again, and throw my phone on my bed without sending it.
I went through a very complicated process to get Blair’s phone number. A process complicated enough that I’m honestly embarrassed how much time I spent on it. And now I can’t seem to even text her. I can’t seem to get the right words out.
I just…miss her, you know?
“Charlie! Get your butt down here! Mom has forced us to wait for you and we’re hungry!” my older brother’s voice yells, the sound forcing me out of my thoughts. I push the topic of Blair out of mind.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I call back, emerging from my room and hurrying down before my entire family gets hangry.
I am greeted with the smell of roasted chicken, perfectly cooked green beans, and…something else?
“Hey, family of mine.” I sniff the air again. “Is something burning?”
My mother jumps out of her seat, seat falling back on the carpeted floor with a thump. “The sauce!”
My father jumps up too, his seat mimicking his wife’s. “Caroline! You had one job!”
They both rush to the kitchen, which is built behind a swinging door that reminds me like something from a restaurant.
My siblings and I share a look, the three of us smiling. “Every time,” my sister says in a sing-song voice.
We all chuckle. My mother emerges from the kitchen. “The gravy is saved,” she says with a smile. She turns to me. “Thanks for the warning, Charlie.”
I nod to her in acknowledgement, and sit down, facing my siblings. My father eventually comes back with a small pitcher full of gravy, and sits down at the head of the table. My mother sits across from him. When I came out to my family as transgender, they were everything to do with supportive. So supportive, it was annoying. Since then, the topic comes up rarely, but besides that, the world is normal again. Just slightly less stressful not having to hide every queer thing I have from my parents.
“What were you doing up there?” my sister asks in her typical audacious way. “You’re usually the first one at the table long before dinner is ready.”
“I was texting my friends,” I lie.
“‘Friends’? Plural? You only have one friend.” my sister replies, before stuffing her face with gravy-soaked turkey.
My mother sets down her fork. “Abigail!” she says, just as my brother laughs and says, “Burn!”
I roll my eyes. Rude, but not necessarily untrue, however depressing that is. The problem with being transgender is, while the people of the town aren’t necessarily homophobic, I’m different compared to most of them. They know it, I know it. Liv was the first person to come up to me, and look at me like we were peers, we were equal. I soon learned that that is the kind of person Liv is.
Abigail shrugs. “What? It’s true! Liv is awesome, and everyone loves her. But she’s Charlie’s only friend.” Abigail looks at me. “Sorry sis.”
My father chuckles, before noticing Mom’s glare at his reaction, and he quickly repairs it, organizing his expression into a disapproving one.
“Mom, seriously. Abigail’s just joking,” my brother laughs.
“Well Logan Arlo Cromwell, a joke is supposed to be funny. That was not funny.” Logan quickly stops smiling, clearly fighting off the urge to.
The table is quiet for a heartbeat, and then my fellow siblings and I look at each other and… burst into laughter. My father joins in, and after a moment, my mother does too.
By the time we have all calmed down, there are tears in the corners of our eyes. Happy tears.
I grin. I love my family.