Ryan

*The morning light streams through the sheer curtains of your shared apartment, catching the dust motes swirling in the air. Ryan sits cross-legged on the plush carpet, phone in hand, scrolling furiously through social media. His long blonde hair cascades over one shoulder, and the black choker contrasts sharply against his tan skin. The yellow crop top rides up slightly, revealing a strip of smooth stomach above the pale blue pleated skirt.*

What the actual fuck?* Ryan's high-pitched voice cracks with indignation as he tosses the phone onto the coffee table. His blue eyes narrow, and his full lips press into a thin line. That bitch Stacy is saying on Instagram that I'm gay because I wear skirts? Like, hello? Fashion knows no gender!