I’m not ready for this.

Nic’s mind whirled as he kept his distance from Kyle, eyeing the makeup strewn about the counter around him. Kyle was perched on the counter, holding up lip glosses and eyeing his skin tone, looking gleeful.

But Kyle had waited patiently all this time, and Nic had promised. There was absolutely no harm in trying it on, at least once, and seeing what happened. Nic had put on lipstick around the house a few times, but he felt dumb and wiped it off after an hour. He’d never worn it around other people.

He’d already gotten into the cute blouse and skinny legging-like jeans Kyle had suggested for him. What was one more step?

“Ready?”

“Not even a little,” Nic laughed.

Kyle fondly smiled at him, then leaned in and tilted his chin up in an invitation for a kiss.

There’s no harm. Nic met him with a kiss, relaxing as Kyle’s hand ran down his arm and his fingers played with his fingers.

“You’re gorgeous,” Kyle told him softly. “Come on. Sit here.” He slid down from the counter and hoisted Nic up where he’d been.

Nic gasped and laughed at the sudden sensation of being hoisted.

“You like that?” Kyle winked, manhandling him around the counter a little just for show.

Nic laughed, but his cheeks were flushed. He could feel the heat burning around his skin. He really did. “Jerk.”

“I know.” Kyle winked, then held up a few tubes of gloss. “What do you like most?”

Nic swallowed hard and looked at the shades of pink. Objectively, he could recognize the differences—one had a cooler tone than the others, another had glitter that was hard to miss, and the third looked like a flat, more beige color.

But on him? How the hell was he supposed to know what would look best? “I don’t…”

“I didn’t ask what you think will look good,” Kyle warned, anticipating his next words and waggling the tubes in his face. “Just what you like.”

“Oh.” That was easy: the cooler pink. He said as much, then wondered if it was the right choice.

Kyle beamed and unscrewed the tube, then took his hand and flipped it to run the wand along the inside of Nic’s wrist.

Nic flinched but held still, blinking at him.

“That’s the most accurate color. If you see how it looks here, and then on your lips, you’ll get a sense for how to predict things you try out in the store.”

“You don’t… just try them on?” The moment he said it, Nic made a face. Trying on lipstick other people had used?

“Exactly,” Kyle laughed. “Most people swipe it across their hand or wrist. But hands get tanned more easily.”

“Right.” Nic memorized the information like a stepping stone to a whole new language. He turned his wrist this way and that, admiring the cooler pink. “That’s nicer on than in the tube.”

“A lot of things are really different on your skin and lips than they look in the tube,” Kyle nodded. “Now, you’re sure about no foundation? Not that you need it. God, your skin is gorgeous.”

Nic swatted at Kyle. “Stop flattering me.”

“Stop being so handsome.” Kyle sidled between his thighs, scooting up to the counter and sliding his arm around his waist.

Nic couldn’t look at Kyle, but he was beaming, too, trying to bite back his grin.

“Look at me.”

“You look at me,” Nic mumbled back like he was eight years old.

“I am.”

Nic chuckled. “Oh.” He cleared his throat and managed to meet Kyle’s eyes again, and the warmth he found there… God, it was beautiful.

It made this whole thing so much easier. Admitting what he liked, even in a lip gloss, felt like the vulnerability of being stripped naked, but even worse. Instead of his skin, it was his innermost desires—the ones he’d struggled to reconcile with his very core for his whole life—and Kyle had them in the palm of his hand.

But he trusted Kyle to be gentle.

He let his smile fade and tilted his face up to Kyle, letting him swipe the wand along his lips—top and bottom.

Then, Kyle picked up the eyeliner pencil. “At least let me talk you into this.”

“I—”

“You don’t have to do it yourself. I’ll do it for you,” Kyle promised. “And if you hate it, at least you tried it. But your eyes are gorgeous. Draw attention to your eyes and lips, that’s all you need. You can wear anything with that and everyone will see you.”

Nic winced. That was exactly what he didn’t want.

Kyle cupped his cheek. “I’ll be shopping with you today. I’ll kick their asses if you like.”

“Fine,” Nic laughed breathily and closed his eyes.

Kyle’s fingers were strong and confident as he cupped Nic’s cheek to keep his face still. Nic’s shoulders relaxed after a few swipes.

The pencil pressing against his eyelid felt damn weird, but it wasn’t his grandma trying to make him pretty for school photos or his middle school ex-best friend sneaking her mom’s eyeliner into school and practicing on all the girls.

It was Kyle, making him look handsome.

Kyle’s gentle rubbing of the pad of his thumb against Nic’s cheek helped him forget anything was up. Even with the sharp pressure against his lids, by the time Kyle pulled away, Nic was almost able to forget what it had all been about.

“Perfect,” Kyle murmured, his hand running slowly down Nic’s neck to his shoulder. “Take a look.”

Nic swallowed hard and pushed himself to his feet, spinning to face the mirror. Then, he caught his breath.

Holy shit. He looked good with eyeliner.

Kyle was already grinning like he knew exactly what Nic was thinking.

“Shut up,” Nic laughed, watching the pink flush through his own cheeks. The cool lip gloss was good. Not too obvious, not neon pink like some of Kyle’s preferred shades, but it stood out against his skin and made him glow.

And the worst of his fears—that it would make him look like less of a man, that people would go back to stumbling over themselves to insist he was a tomboy but still a real girl—didn’t materialize. His jaw was still square, his stubble still shadowing his upper lip and cheeks.

There was no way someone would look at him and make the assumption he feared. They might have other assumptions, but he could deal with those, just like Kyle did.

I like it. I actually do.

Nic straightened up, then glanced at his lips again. He was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“I told you,” Kyle crowed, slipping his arms around Nic’s waist from behind. He stretched up on his toes to press a kiss against the back of his neck, just under his hairline.

The fact that Kyle was an inch shorter never failed to amuse Nic. He pretended to bend while he twisted so Kyle could kiss his lips. “You might be a know-it-all, but you’re still short.”

“My love is more compact.”

“What does that even…?” Nic burst out laughing, but he gripped Kyle’s arm around his waist. He never wanted him to let go. Kyle ground against his ass in response, and Nic laughed again. “Not until we shop. You said we had to. Where?”

“Fine. I did,” Kyle agreed, winking and looping his arm around Nic’s neck to lead him out of the bathroom. “Target time. Where else?”

“You like it that much?”

“Because,” Kyle answered wisely, “there’s only one set of changing rooms at our local one. Which makes them gender-neutral. Good place to start, until you have your sassy comebacks perfected when they stare at you in the men’s section.”

Nic’s cheeks flushed. He remembered that much from his own transition, in the awkward early stages of motel living and trying to put together a wardrobe that wouldn’t raise eyebrows. Luckily, most thrift stores only had one set. “Oh. Of course.”

The first twenty minutes at the store were a blur. This time, instead of lurking around the periphery, Kyle dragged him straight in and started handing him things: two skirts, a dress, and a couple of blouses.

“First lot. Go.”

The dressing room attendant didn’t seem to care what he brought in. So, one at a time, Nic tried on items. It was easy to start figuring out what fit him and what didn’t. Some cuts were more flattering to his flat chest and different body shape these days than others, and Kyle had a good eye.

As for buying things, he wasn’t sure. Some of the blouses were easy—they were just on the feminine side of what a flamboyant guy would wear without hesitation.

Best of all, though, was Kyle’s last find: a kilt.

“Perfect. Perfect!” Kyle enthused. “Dude. You know you want it.”

Nic laughed sheepishly. “Yeah. I do.”

“Try it on.”

It fit well. It looked good. It was unmistakably a man’s clothing item, but feminine, too. The perfect kind of androgynous thing to wear in public.

He really wanted it, but he put it back.

It was only when they got home that he realized Kyle hadn’t just been shopping for items for himself when he’d been gathering up clothing. Somehow, among the new blouses Kyle had bought himself, Nic’s kilt ended up on his bed.

Damn it, he’s sneaky. Now I have to do this, for real.

But he was far from annoyed. Instead, he grinned as he headed back to the living room.

Kyle had earned more than a cuddle tonight.

* * *

“From how you told me about this, it sounds like you feel Kyle was pressing you to come out of your shell. Did I get that right?”

Nic was nodding before Dr. Barnard even finished the sentence. “Yeah. Exactly. It was like an intervention makeover.”

“Those are interesting words. Can we talk about intervention?”

Nic hummed, his mind turning over why he’d used that word. He glanced around the therapist’s office, taking in the greenery and plant life here. It was his first session, and she wasn’t letting him get away with an inch. He liked that about her. That was what he needed—not to be able to retreat to his shell. And she’d already said she was willing to write a surgery referral letter—he’d double-checked.

“Yeah. He thinks I need to be less… repressed. Closeted. I don’t know the word, exactly, for it. But to be more open about what I want to be, and do.”

“And you feel…?”

“Good.” The answer was instant. Nic knew that much—it wasn’t unwanted. Maybe, like the therapist, he needed someone who pushed him a little harder than he’d push himself. “It’s actually really good. I don’t know what I’m doing, exactly, but… it’s fun. It makes me think about what I actually don’t like and what I’m told I’m not supposed to like.”

“That sounds a bit like coming out, to me.”

“It is.” Nic seized on it, brightening up. “It… yeah. It’s just like when I realized I was gay, only that was more complicated because I knew I was a guy long beforehand, but I was stuck in limbo until my family… yeah.” He’d told his therapist about being thrown out, but they hadn’t gotten into the specifics yet.

They only had an hour this week. It would take a few sessions before he got it all out.

Nic tugged on his kilt for probably the third or fourth time that hour, then played with the hem. “But I… I actually am glad he bought it for me. People don’t stare as much as I thought.”

“And the attention would bother you?” Dr. Barnard made a note.

Nic laughed. “Yeah. I don’t flaunt it, like Kyle does.” Immediately, he felt bad for the word choice, though he wasn’t sure if she knew the depth behind it. “Not in a bad way. Just in a loud way. A… proud way.” That was jealousy. “I wish I could. I wasn’t supposed to. But I want to flaunt… me.”

“That’s a big statement.”

“Yeah.” Nic drew a breath, his chest tight. “But I’m… I’m getting closer. This feels like a step closer.”

They were drawing near the end of the hour, and he recognized Dr. Barnard drawing him down from the conversation into discussing where they’d go next week, if he returned, and how he felt about the session and their working relationship.

Oh, he’d be coming back, all right. It felt good to be talking to someone about this, establishing a bond… figuring out what he wanted, but was still too afraid to go for.

One step at a time.