Almost Perfect (20 page)

Tammi’s boy-band music drowned out any other sounds in the house, so I refrained from snooping too much. It was tempting to look and see which Internet sites Sage had bookmarked, but I contented myself with examining the things on her desk.

A purple leather-bound book caught my eye.
Journal
. Sage kept a diary? I wondered what she wrote in there. I wondered if she ever mentioned me.

“Hey, Logan.”

I turned. Sage was closing the door behind her. She wore a bulky bathrobe and a towel over her hair.

“Hi, Sage. Here, I’ll leave while you change.”

Sage sat down in front of a makeup table. “Why bother? You saw practically everything at the pool. Did you come to take pictures?” I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or was actually angry.

“Very funny.” I awkwardly crouched on the end of her bed. I hadn’t been that obvious, had I?

Sage removed the towel from her head and began brushing her wet hair. “You almost drowned back there. I never knew I had such an amazing figure.”

“Neither did I, Sage.”

She paused midbrush and swiveled in her chair. “You really had no idea?” She seemed legitimately surprised that I didn’t know.

“How is this possible? You said yourself, you’re technically … not a girl. But you have … you have …”

“Thirty-six B breasts. Thanks for noticing.” She winked.

I remembered seeing her from behind at the pool, when I didn’t recognize her. I’d thought she looked so beautiful, all wet in that bikini top. I had liked what I saw. And Sage knew it. I mentally begged her not to mention it. Didn’t she realize I wasn’t supposed to look at another boy that way?

“Sage, how did you … um … develop like that?”

Sage played with her brush. Then she pulled a small pill bottle out of a drawer of her makeup table and set it on
the desk next to me. “I take synthetic estrogen. Hormones, Logan.” There was shame in her voice, like she was admitting to having some kind of fungus.

I flopped backward on the bed. This was too much. “Like medicine? You actually grew those things?”

Sage sat down next to me. “I started when I was fourteen. It took a few years, but I’m happy with the results. But why are you so surprised? You had to have noticed before.” She was leaning back, and I could see the ghost of her curves against her robe.

“I always thought you just wore a padded bra or something.” Men didn’t have breasts, not in my experience.

“You never wondered why I don’t have a beard? You never noticed how soft my skin is?” She held her arm out to me as if she wanted me to feel her softness. I jumped up off the bed and began to pace.

“Of course I noticed, but I just thought you were girly. I guess I never knew you could change someone’s body like that.” I thought back to the pool. Pills could turn a guy into a chick?

Sage’s oversized robe had slipped slightly, revealing her bare shoulder. “Only if you start before puberty’s over. That’s another reason I transitioned early. If
you
started taking hormones now, you wouldn’t get nearly the results. Your breasts would stay small and pointy, and you wouldn’t lose your facial hair. Your, ah,
other parts
wouldn’t wither up as much, either.”

I got a full-on case of the shudders. I certainly didn’t like thinking about what hormones could do to me! Especially that last bit.

I picked up the pill bottle but didn’t look too closely. “So you just go up to the pharmacy and order this stuff?”

“Ha! I wish. It’s a catch-twenty-two situation for trans-gendered people. Hormones have to be prescribed by a psychiatrist, and most therapists won’t let you start until you’re in your midtwenties. By then they won’t do you nearly as much good.” Sage crossed her legs, revealing her bare, hairless calves.

I tried to read the label on the bottle, but it made no sense. “So how did you get these?”

“I order them from Mexico. My grandfather left me a few thousand dollars, and my parents were foolish enough to put it in an account with my name on it. It was supposed to go toward a car for me, but instead … Every month I have to buy an international money order, spend a bunch more on postage, and worry like hell that it won’t go through.”

“Your parents let you do this?” I figured Sage’s father would cut off the medicine the second he found out.

“They don’t know.”

I stared at her skeptically, and she frowned.

“They know. But they won’t talk about it. They don’t want to deal with it. Mom knows I’m never going to go back to being a guy, and my dad … he’d never bring it up. He still tells me I’ll end up going back to being a boy. I’m not sure if he’s trying to be cruel or he’s just deluding himself.” She snatched the bottle of hormones and put it back in her vanity.

That night in the garage, when her father was yelling at me … all he had talked about was how Sage made him feel and how ashamed
he
was of her. Did it ever occur to
him that Sage might be feeling ashamed? That she needed her dad to be proud of her, just like any other teenage girl? I wanted to tell Sage that her father was wrong. But not right then. I was still sorting out my own emotions.

“Sage, you’re full of surprises. I’m sorry I wigged out at the pool.” I got up to leave. “I just never realized that under your clothes, you were so …”

She stood, looking at me intently. “So what?”

“Um …” Ah, hell, there was no denying it. “So womanly.” I said it with a grin, letting her know there was nothing sexual about my comment. I turned and placed my hand on the knob.

“Logan?”

I looked back. Sage was standing near her bed. The bottom of her bathrobe had fallen open, revealing that she was wearing a thick pair of gym shorts. Slowly, her hand crept up to the robe’s belt and began to undo it.

“Sage, don’t.” I did not want to see her body again. I did not want to see her smooth belly or her freckled shoulders or her round, perfect chest. I knew I’d never be able to forget what I’d seen.

Her hand didn’t stop. The knot fell apart. Her robe began to open. Slowly. I had plenty of time to leave if I wanted. Why was she tormenting me like this?

Her robe collapsed onto the bed. And there she stood, in nothing but shorts. Every detail of Sage’s damp body was revealed.

This was the first time I’d ever seen an actual pair, in real life. Brenda, who was not as well endowed, never let me this close.

I should leave. I should say something. I should close my eyes. I shouldn’t just stand here. I really shouldn’t be walking toward her
.

Sage stood silently, her hands held nervously at her side. What was she thinking?

Do you still doubt I’m a woman, Logan?

Do you like what you see?

Would you like to do more?

I was close enough now to see individual freckles. Close enough to smell Sage’s shampoo, to feel the moisture radiating from her skin.

My hands raised and gently touched her hips. She was right, her skin
was
soft. Her body quaked. Our eyes locked. Sage was smiling a terrified smile. There I stood, holding a topless woman. I could feel her stomach expand with each breath.

She took my right hand in both of hers. Her fingers wrapped around my wrist. Gently, she guided me upward. Sage wanted to be touched. She wanted me to touch her. Hip, belly, ribs …

Just before my fingertips made contact, I broke away. No explanation. I was out the door and on my bike within seconds. I didn’t stop moving until I had locked myself in the bathroom at home.

Sage … oh, oh, Sage
.

Picturing Sage standing topless and damp in her room, I unzipped my pants.

O
UR BATHROOM WAS
only slightly larger than an outhouse. This had been especially rough when Laura lived at home and all three of us had to share.

I lay on the moldy bath mat, crammed between the toilet and the shower. I’d been there for a couple of hours, just sprawled out, staring at the dead bulb above the mirror. The phone rang a couple of times, but I didn’t answer.

Well, I’d blown it. Totally, absolutely blown it. Months of trying to convince myself that Sage was my buddy, that I didn’t have the tiniest speck of a sliver of a fraction of an interest in her … and now
this
. I had touched her soft, soft—dear God, it was
so
soft—skin. And if that wasn’t enough, I’d pleasured myself just thinking about her. It was a little late to be pretending my feelings for Sage were pure brotherly concern.

The worst part wasn’t what I’d just done. It was what
I’d almost done. Rushing out of Sage’s house took a lot of willpower. What if she’d grabbed my arm? Or kissed me? What if she’d said,
Logan, please don’t go?
That might have been enough. My defenses would have crumbled, all thoughts of the future vanished. Just me, Sage, and that body lotion I’d gotten her for Christmas.

And what then? After the smoke cleared, I couldn’t just pretend that Sage didn’t have a cock and balls … could I? Of course not. It disgusted me too much. And if her family ever found out, we’d both be sunk. Her father seemed like the sort of vengeful son of a bitch who’d tell my mom everything, out of pure spite.

I huddled in the bathroom corner, wrapping the filthy bath mat around my shoulders like a cape. I wondered what Sage was doing. Maybe primping in front of her mirror, smirking about how she’d almost landed me and planning her next move. More likely, she was hiding in her room, as confused and scared as I was.

I needed to talk to her, tell her my fears, beg her never to put me in a position like that again. I just didn’t have the self-control. But not now. Things were too fresh.

“Logan, honey, are you here?” Mom’s voice rang through the trailer.

“Just a second.” I stood and checked myself in the mirror. I looked like someone you’d see urinating in an alley while talking to himself. I removed my cape, washed my face, and zipped my pants.

What Sage and I needed right now was distance. Just a week or so with no contact, followed by a promise never to
be alone like that again. That was the only way our friendship could survive.

There was just one problem. We were planning on spending the weekend in Columbia together.

The next day was Friday. I was supposed to drive to the university on Saturday with Sage and spend the night. And now I couldn’t allow that to happen. After the incident in her room, there was no way we could be alone together for that long. Sage obviously was willing to do just about anything with me. I had to avoid being in that position again.

I tried to call Laura to cancel, but there was no answer. I left a message for her to call me. I couldn’t bring myself to phone Sage. Not so soon after seeing the effects of her Mexican medication.

That day at school, I avoided her. I even ran laps after the last bell until I was sure she’d left. We couldn’t talk about what had happened when people could overhear. Besides, it would be easier for me to cancel on Sage if I didn’t have to look her in the face.

Friday evening, I still hadn’t called her. It was nearly seven. If I didn’t pick up the phone soon, she’d show up at the trailer the next day, all packed and ready to go.

Mom was home that night and wanted to spend the evening with me. I couldn’t really tell her no. In a few months, I’d be off at Mizzou and might not see her for weeks at a time. The idea frightened me a bit. In Columbia, there’d be no one to do my laundry, fix me breakfast, worry when I was out late, or give me a hug before classes.

Mom was setting up the Scrabble board as I stared at
the phone trying to get up the courage to call Sage. We only had the one phone, in the living room. Mom never deliberately listened in on my calls, but the trailer was small. This was one conversation I didn’t want her accidentally-on-purpose overhearing.

I was still trying to think of a polite way to ask Mom to step out for a minute, when the phone rang. Mom answered it. Then she smiled.

“It’s Sage,” she teased, like I was fourteen and this was the first time a girl had ever called me. I took the receiver.

Mom stood up and walked to the front door. “I forgot to get something out of the car.” The screen slammed after her. Obviously, she realized I wanted a little privacy.

“Sage?” My voice cracked.

“Hi, Logan.”

“Hi.” So far, so good.

The line might have gone dead; neither of us spoke. There was so much for both of us to say.

Sage, I don’t think we should see each other for a while. I still find you attractive, and I can’t deal with that
.

Maybe Sage was thinking along the same lines. Finally, she broke the silence.

“So, Logan, am I still going to Mizzou with you tomorrow?” Her voice got higher throughout the sentence and ended with a squeak.

All I had to do was say no. She’d understand. After we’d both had time to calm down, we could take a day trip or something. Saying no would have been so easy.

“Of course, Sage. You’re my ride.”
Wait, wrong line!

Sage giggled. “Okay. Just making sure. See you tomorrow around noon.” She hung up without saying goodbye.

I stared at the phone until the recorded message told me to hang up and dial. What had I just agreed to do? Why?

Because you wanted to. Because you want to see Laura and visit the campus and hang out with Sage. You’re both nervous about going away to school, and you’ll have fun exploring Mizzou together
.

Which is exactly why I should have canceled the trip. If Sage had been nothing more than a girl with a pretty face and a great rack, I could have forgotten about her. But she was also my friend. Which meant I didn’t want to avoid her when I should.

I had to be Iceman this weekend. Mr. Cool. Sage and I would talk on the drive to Columbia. I’d ask her, for the sake of our friendship, not to come on to me again. She’d do that for me, I was sure. When we got to campus, I’d stay with Laura’s friends. Hang out with the girls, but not be too chummy with Sage. My sister would just think she was a classmate of mine I’d asked out once. By Sunday afternoon, Sage would be back to being just another trans-gendered girl who I’d shared secrets and saliva with.