Love Is Meant To Break

She jumps into the car, giggling ecstatically as the vehicle drives off. She buckles herself in and looks besides her at the driver's seat. Sitting to her left, steering the car, is the boy. The one boy who actually treats her like a girl. The only person to know she's a girl.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"I'm not sure." He glances at her from the corner of his eye. "Any suggestions?"

"You're the one who's helping me skip school," she says sassily, "you better have something fun planned."

He chuckles lightly, staring straight ahead to think as they wait at a red light. "I have an idea," he says finally, turning the wheel to the left when the light turns green. "Take control of the music."

She searches through his playlist before selecting a song by a band they both like. The two bob their heads in unison, her's a little more aggressively since she doesn't have the responsibility of driving.

He eventually stops at a house, pulling into the empty driveway and turning the key in the ignition, cutting off the music. She pouts as she stops singing mid-chorus before looking at her surroundings. Unease fills her stomach. Does he expect anything from her? She isn't ready to do anything intimate with him, no matter how much she likes him.

"Let's go," he says casually, getting out of the car. She follows suit, closing the door behind her and taking longer strides to keep up with him. He stops at the front door, pushing a different key into the lock. Her stomach lurches when she hears the lock click open.

He puts the key ring back in his pocket and pushes the door open. Inside, the curtains are drawn, bathing the room in shadows, and he makes no move to open any windows. Even more darkness fills the interior as he closes the door behind her.

"Come on," he says, walking to what looks like a closet door. "They should be down here."

He opens the door and descends down a flight of stairs. She follows, cautious, curious and a little confused. She's attacked by the cold air the further down they go, but she ignores it.

The basement is nicely furnished, with carpets, a sofa, gaming chairs and giant beanbags. Against one wall is a flat screen TV with a stack of movies, videogames and controllers underneath it. A coffee table sits in front of the couch and there are pillows strewn around the room. The television is on and two guys are playing a video game. Everyone is wearing sweaters or is covered in blankets, and it smells strongly of weed. She knows why when she sees someone with a lit blunt.

"Hey there," one of the guys on a beanbag chair says. "Who's this?"

He introduces her, using the name and pronouns she prefers. Everyone nods and goes along with it, even though she has buzzed down hair and a flat chest.

"Wanna borrow a sweater?" his friend asks, gesturing to her exposed, goosebump-ridden arms. "It's always kind of freezing down here."

"Sure," she says, putting on the sweatshirt he tosses her, ignoring the potent smell of pot at lingers on the pale blue fabric.

She takes turns playing video games with his friends, sharing jokes and stories. She refuses their offers of smoking a joint, enjoying the secondhand smell instead. At one point, someone turns on some music and she sings along. Four songs go by and his friend, who gave her the sweatshirt, notices.

"You've got good taste in music," the friend comments.

"Yeah, she does," another one of his friends says.

She grins happily. This is the first time she's felt so accepted around someone other than him. Granted, she hasn't come out to anyone else yet, but it's still a nice change. Everyone wants to feel love. She's finally feeling love for who she really is.