*This is a teaser for a longer story. Posting to gauge interest in this kind of thing and receive feedback. Let me know what you think and whether you’d want to see more!*
“It’s okay, you know, we can stop if you want to.” He drew his head back and looked down at me with concern. He must have been able to tell I was terrified. Gently, he took his hand off of my top, where it had been cupping my breast.
“It’s — it’s not that, not really, I’m just…” I trailed off, not sure how to articulate what I was feeling. I pushed myself a few inches back and swung my legs over the side of the couch. Looking down, I stared at my socks.
I was telling the truth. I didn’t want to *stop,* not really, even though I did feel a little better now that he wasn’t on top of me and we were just talking. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what–” I felt my voice catch in my throat. *I don’t know what’s wrong with me.* “I like you a lot, you –” *You shouldn’t have to deal with this. Some stupid teenage trans girl you’ve barely been on three dates with having a breakdown in your apartment for no reason.* “I feel like I’m ruin–” I felt my lip trembling, and I realized I was starting to cry.