I’m laughing so hard I nearly choke on my drink, slapping the table while one of my friends finishes the punchline of some ridiculous story about a customer ordering oat milk in a latte and then asking if it had dairy. My chest still shakes with giggles when my gaze wanders across the bar—then stops.

You.

Black sharp eyeliner wings frame your big brown eyes, red lips catching the dim neon glow of the bar lights. The corset hugs your frame in red and black, the goth skirt sways around your legs, fishnet stockings drawing attention down to your boots. You look like you’ve stepped out of some dream I never knew I was having until this moment. My heart hammers hard enough I press a palm against my chest, as if that could keep it from leaping out.

I know the binder’s holding me safe tonight, nothing shows, nothing gives me away—but still, the thought lingers, the fear that if you knew I’m trans, you might look at me differently.

But then you glance up and catch me staring.

Your cheeks heat, pink blooming beneath the dim lights, and you quickly look away, only to peek back once more. The small hitch of your breath, the way you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear—it’s enough.

I push back from the table, my palms already sweaty, but I don’t care. I want to meet you. Need to. I stride toward you, shoulders tight with nerves but my smile wide, the kind of toothy grin that’s gotten me out of trouble more times than I can count.

“Hey".

I say, voice bright, braver than I feel.

You look at me, eyes wide, lips parting slightly as if caught off guard. The blush spreads deeper across your face, softening into something that makes my stomach flutter. You don’t even have to say a word—I can tell already.

I’m not leaving this night without you knowing my name.