Disguises

"Take me out," I whine into my cell.

It's been about a month, since Tyler and I have started dating, and we haven't really been on an official date. I'm a feminine male, who craves them. I need to feel cared about. I need the attention. Dates just happen to give me both, and I love them.

I hear him sigh, but agree. I giggle, as I hear him tell me when he'll be over. I click End and run to the bathroom to see whether or not I look good enough for my boyfriend. I brush my hair, pulling out all the tangles that I had received from laying on my bed, and I brush my teeth again. I fix any imperfections I spot with make-up, and I put chapstick on my lips. I use chapstick because I find it ridiculous to wear lipstick or lip gloss.

I walk back into my bedroom, and I look over the cheap furniture for a pair of shorts:the shorter the better. I remove the sweat pants I'm currently wearing, walking around in tiny girl 'boxer' panties. If you don't know what they are, I am greatly ashamed. I find a pair of shorts, and I slip my feet in, and I pull the thin denim over my hips, and then I zip and button them.

I decide against wearing a bra today. They're all in the wash except for my tan one, which the under-wire is sticking out of the fabric and stabs me. I'm not going to mess with that today, so instead, I decide to just be flat chested. It's not like Tyler won't mind. I pull on a loose-fitting, cropped shirt. It was loose enough that I didn't have to worry about not wearing a bra, or boobs for that matter, and it would still look nice.

By the time I finish, I'm downstairs and waiting for Tyler to show up at my door.

Of course, he's late. "I'm sorry," He says, as I climb into his car.Greyson is never late.

I tell him that it is okay, and that I don't mind. I do, though. It bothers me. He tells me when to be ready, and I had to wait on him. He should have been at my door on time, so I wouldn't have to feel so bitter about it. Or maybe I'm just being selfish.

"You look nice," He says to me, and I find myself smiling at him.

I thread our fingers together, "You do, too."

He really does. He's wearing tight clothing, showing me every muscle, every perfection on his thin, well-built body. I bite my lip, gnawing on it to keep myself from jumping him. I don't need to be in a car collision.Greyson has a better build to his body.

We arrive to the small restaurant, and Tyler orders for both of us. We eat, laugh, and talk with each other, ignoring our surroundings. It's easy at first, but as the night goes on, I find myself thinking more and more about Greyson, and a loud clatter forces me to swing my body around in my chair and search for the broken dishes on the ground. I watch them clean the floor, ridding it of the glass and food.

"I'm glad we didn't get that waiter." Tyler laughs.Greyson's laugh is more melodic.

I nod, "At least we would know were our food was."

Cue Tyler's laugh, once more.

"Tyler."

He's still laughing.Greyson would have stopped.

"Tyler."

He's still laughing.Greyson would have listened the first time.

"Fuck, Tyler," I groan, "It wasn't even that funny."

"You don't need to snap."

I roll my eyes, "I do, since you refuse to listen to me without me snapping at you."

Tyler opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, "I'm going home."

"We didn't even eat."

"Forget about it."

I need Greyson.