by Kaye Draper
When Grey got to the clinic, Joy was waiting for him, just like always. “We’ve got room number five today,” she said with a smile, waving him down the hall. “How have you been?”
He followed her into the stark white exam room and shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over a battered chair with ugly upholstery. “Same old, same old.”
Grey hopped up onto the exam table, and Joy started taking his vitals. “What have you been up to?”
She glanced up from taking his blood pressure and rolled her eyes. “So much drama, I don’t even know where to begin.” Joy knew that Grey loved to hear about her life. About life on the mainland. About being a woman. Grey himself had still been a teenager when all this crap happened. He liked to wonder what kind of adult he’d be, if he was still a she. Living vicariously through Joy seemed like the next best thing. And Joy wouldn’t judge. She knew what Grey was, and she had that whole professionalism thing going for her.
Joy rolled up the blood pressure cuff and put it back on her little cart. “All of your stats are pretty much the same. Though your body temperature is low.”
He shrugged. Old news. His temp had been low forever. But Joy frowned, her violet eyes genuinely concerned. “I mean, it’s lower than it usually is.” She put a small, warm hand on his forehead, then up his shirt and under his armpit, making him giggle. “You’re so cold. Do you ever have chills? Headaches? Cramps in your hands or your legs?”
Grey shook his head. “Nope.”
She wrote something down in his chart. “Hmmm…”
Grey was used to being an oddball, and he felt fine, so the temperature thing didn’t bother him. “So, are you still going out with what’s-his-name?" he asked. "The one with the nose?”
She laughed and gestured for Grey to take off his shirt. “No. Thank God. I sent him and his schnoz packing a few weeks ago.”
Grey stripped down to his boxers and stood still while she took a bunch of measurements. The clinic charted his growth rate and any body mass changes to see how they compared to a real boy. He smirked at the thought. If Grey's nose grew every time he lied, Joy's ex wouldn't be the only one with a mile-long schnoz. When she was done with her measurements, he got dressed again and took a seat in the chair.
“So, now that all the fun stuff is out of the way,” Joys said with a grin. “Do you have any questions or concerns regarding your condition?” Condition. They always called it that. Like he had a disease. Something treatable or temporary.
“Well….” Grey cleared his throat and told himself to man up. It was usually easy to keep from thinking of himself as a guy when he was talking to Joy, but that was about to become impossible. Nevertheless, he really wanted to know. “There is something I’ve been wondering about lately….”
Joy put her things aside and leaned forward, a look of polite attentiveness on her pretty face. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You can talk to me about anything, no matter how embarrassing. Believe me, odds are I’ve probably heard or seen way worse.”
He smiled. “Well, I was just wondering…the doctors and volunteers here work with a lot of morphs, so I thought maybe you could tell me. We are…I mean, we’re fully functional right?” He gestured lamely. “Down there?”
Joy laughed, then caught herself. “Sorry,” she said with a smile. “That wasn’t professional of me at all. It’s just that, well, I assumed you would have figured that out by now...if you know what I mean?”
Grey's face grew hot. “Well…I mean, I know it, uh, works. But I haven’t, you know…been with anyone.” Could this be more awkward?
Joy just smiled. “You aren’t the first one to ask.” She leaned back. “From everything we’ve seen, yes, you’re a man in every conceivable way. We haven’t found any true physical differences. In fact, there have even been a couple of pregnancies between morphs and women from the mainland.”
Grey nodded. He had read that on the internet, but you never knew what was true and what was just bull.
Joy grinned at him. They rarely ever maintained the illusion of doctor and patient anymore. “So, wear a condom okay? I mean, unless you’re planning to start a family, that is.”
Grey snorted. “Ha.” Boy would that ever be the worst idea in the history of mankind. Besides, his interests wouldn’t exactly lead to pregnancy, even if there was a woman to spare.
Joy closed his file and stood, stretching every inch of her five-foot, six-inch frame. It was strange to be around women. Even though Grey was short and scrawny for a guy, he was still taller than her by a couple of inches, and his fingers could easily encircle her delicate wrist.
Grey shook himself out of his pity party. “So, are we going to get drinks tonight?”
It had become routine for them to hang out once Joy was done with clinic work. Grey suspected that she enjoyed the opportunity for further study, but he didn’t mind. It was worth being a guinea pig once in a while if he got to hang out with a real girl.
Joy smiled. “Of course! We can go wherever you want. Take your pick. No pressure.” They laughed. The island did have a good variety of restaurants, but after four years they had pretty much exhausted all their options.
*****
They finally decided on the Chow Hound. It was a decent restaurant, if you didn’t mind the moose head that hung over the tables at the back, or the dusty stuffed mountain goat that stared at you while you ate. All the diehard locals went there to eat the best food they had ever tasted and be abused by the worst waitstaff on the planet.
Grey and Joy got a booth in the back with a bench seat on one side and chairs on the other. Joy talked animatedly about her life outside of work, while Grey soaked up the reminder that there was life outside his island hell. A skinny, graying guy with a five o’clock shadow and too many wrinkles dropped a plate of amazing looking cream pie on the table in front of Grey with a thump, shoved Joy’s mixed drink her way, and gifted them with a glare that would shrivel fruit on the vine, before scurrying off.
Grey glanced across the table at Joy and they both grinned. It was so bad it was comical. Grey took a bite of his pie and closed his mouth in bliss. Pure heaven.
A silky bass called him back to reality. “Grey!”
Grey looked up to find a beaming Luca headed their way, Ethan and Matheus in tow. It was getting bitter outside, and they were all bundled up. Luca’s gray sweater had a hole in the elbow, and he was wearing his ridiculous pink scarf. Grey took in his holey jeans and smirked. Abbie would die. But even dressed like that, he still looked gorgeous. They all did—Luca’s dark rock star good looks alongside Ethan’s sweet grin and Matheus’s broody smirk. It was like a buffet.
Grey kicked himself and tore his gaze away, busying himself by stuffing another bite of pie into his mouth. What the hell was wrong with him lately? Some kind of weird hormone surge? Guy bodies were so stupid.
Luca gave Grey a confused look when he refused to speak. Apparently, Joy shared Grey's opinion of the scenery. Her cheeks were a little flushed as she shook hands with the band. Really, Lucifer was a girl’s dream.
Grey finally stopped stuffing his face and forced himself to speak. But Ethan beat him to it. “Grey, why didn’t you tell us you had a girlfriend?”
Mat smiled slightly at Grey's discomfort. “You kidding? She’s way too hot for a kid like him.”
Joy laughed. Luca watched them curiously, plainly sharing Ethan's take on the situation. “She’s not my girlfriend,” Grey said flatly over their hilarity. “She’s my--”
“Good friend,” Joy supplied helpfully. “Here on a special endorsement.”
Grey quirked an eyebrow at her. He supposed “doctor” would have sounded fishy. And saying she was here to research morphs would pretty much out Grey. Joy grinned up at the guys. “Would you like to join us?”
She slid over to make room. Ethan and Matheus jostled one another for a second before Matheus finally won, sliding into the booth next to Joy with a sultry grin. Ethan took a chair in the cramped space next to Grey
with an exaggerated sigh, but the next instant he was leaning against Grey’s shoulder to get the drink menu and bouncing in his seat with excitement over something he saw there. They were such hams.
Luca hesitated. “You’re sure we’re not interrupting?”
Grey rolled his eyes and waved Luca over. “Yes. You are. But it’s okay.”
Luca slid into the other chair beside him with a creak of the fake leather seat. Grey tried to nonchalantly scoot his chair farther away, feeling inexplicably flustered, but the two guys boxing him in didn’t seem to notice. Luca picked up a menu and studied it intently. His shoulder brushed against Grey's and Grey shifted unobtrusively to avoid the touch, not liking the way his skin tingled. But that had him leaning into Ethan’s space, his back brushing the drummer’s chest when he reached around Grey to tap Luca on the shoulder and point out something out on the menu. Grey wanted to crawl out of his skin. He was a guy. He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this. The Cosmic Joke had other ideas. New ideas about being pressed in between two hot guys.
He glanced up to find Joy watching them with wide eyes and tried not to make a weird face. He frowned at her, wondering just what absurd things she was thinking, and willed himself to stop jiggling his leg and sit still.
Grey never did get a chance to ask Joy what that look meant. When they left the restaurant, after way too much food and a couple pitchers of beer, she was engrossed in hushed conversation with Luca, his dark head bent to her blond one.
“Care to let the rest of us in on the secret?” Grey knew his voice sounded bitchy. He shouldn’t have had that second beer. Or the third. He tried to reel it in. Really, what was up with him? He had a bad feeling he knew exactly what was up, but he refused to admit it.
He had no reason whatsoever to feel all jealous and possessive of anyone.
Mat threw an arm around Grey’s shoulders as they headed down the sidewalk, the tall guy pulling Grey in against his side, making it hard to ignore the way Grey could have just snuggled into his tailored wool coat—if he was a girl. “Forget them,” Matheus said in a sly, sultry voice. “Luca’s always up to something. You get used to it.” He grinned, his hooded hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. “Should we do some…scheming…of our own?”
Ethan, walking on Gray’s other side, snorted. “Right. Like you’re smart enough to scheme.” He ignored the way Matheus seemed to be…flirting? It was what Matheus did, after all. Maybe he just always sounded like a walking invitation.
Matheus lifted his free hand and shot Ethan the bird, the leer never leaving his handsome face.
Grey ignored them, unable to tear his eyes off Joy and Luca ahead of him. Joy handed Luca a little piece of napkin with something scribbled on it, and Grey exhaled through his nose. Fine. Whatever. They made a cute couple. He wished them all the freaking happiness in the world. Grey was not jealous.
A strange rushing sound filled his ears, like the crashing of ocean waves. Luca’s head jerked up and he turned to give Grey a sharp look over the top of Joy’s head.
“Ethan! Wait up.” The drummer had pulled ahead of the rest of them, yammering something about his drumsticks. Grey guiltily shrugged out from under Mat’s arm and followed Ethan into the chilly night. “What was that you were saying about your drums?” Suddenly, percussion was extremely interesting.
Matheus raised his eyebrows. “Shit, Grey. Don’t encourage him!”
Ethan obliged Grey by keeping up a steady stream of chatter all the way back to the car, and the rushing sound in Grey's head gradually subsided.
Chapter 8
The oldest being on the island stared out over the churning sea. Mother nature was struggling to find balance. Luca had called him earlier that day, and the kid seemed to think his new friend had something to do with the chaos. But he had begged the god to let him handle it. He sighed. Luca was every bit as stubborn and determined as his father. There was no sense in telling him to let it be.
Even though the gods had all sworn long ago to stay out of human matters, he itched to intervene. This little island may be insignificant in the great scheme of things, but it was his home these past twenty years. It was the place where he had met his human wife and seen his youngest children born. He cherished this little spot of land like a time-worn trinket, of no value to a stranger, but more precious than gold or gems in the mind of its owner. He couldn’t abide seeing it in danger.
He sighed and called the wind to him, doing his best to calm the turbulent waters for the sake of the creatures who dwelt below. Doing just this much was acceptable. The ocean was his domain, after all. Besides, he felt less hesitancy in upsetting the delicate balance of nature, now that someone had already thrown it so far off kilter.
His bushy black brows knit together as he glared out over the sea, wondering how much longer this imbalance could last. He sensed things wobbling, like a spinning top whose whirlwind dance would end the moment its momentum slowed.
Chapter 9
Grey paced around the bedroom, trailing his fingers over glossy magazine covers and battered, well-used music books. He paused to riffle a notebook filled with cramped writing and blocks of hastily scribbled music, taking in the little things that made this space Luca’s.
The bedroom had the same soothing class to it that Grey had seen elsewhere in the house. But here it was tempered with bits of whimsy. A handful of neon-colored guitar picks were scattered across the top of a mahogany dresser. Grey righted a battered photo frame that had fallen over, smiling slightly at Luca’s barely controlled chaos. The surface of the frame was rough with sand and glued-on seashells, like a teenage girl’s craft project.
The bathroom door opened, and Grey turned to find Luca padding across the room in nothing but a fluffy blue towel. Holy hell. His long, lean body was remarkably well-defined for someone who played music for a living. Bits of silver glinted on either side of his dark nipples. And…Grey should stop staring. Or, at the very least, admit to Luca that he wasn’t really a guy. But the habit of trying to blend in was overpowering. Besides, Luca thought Grey was gay and he still chose to walk around half-naked. His own fault, Grey told himself gravely, his eyes sliding back to the smooth planes of Luca’s chest and down to the groove over his hip bones just visible above the top of the towel.
Luca paced to the dresser and started pulling out clothes, oblivious to Grey’s ogling. “What are you doing?” he said as he rummaged through his sock drawer.
Grey was startled out of his less-than-innocent thoughts. "Oh—uh, I noticed this fell over and I was just going to put it back up.”
Grey felt ridiculously embarrassed that he’d been caught touching Luca’s stuff. He put the picture frame back on the dresser and studied the photo—more as an excuse to keep from looking at Luca than from true interest.
It was a picture of a beautiful woman, late teens, maybe twenty, with blond hair and wide brown eyes. “Wow, hot. Who is she?” She could have been a model, her expression secretive and alluring.
Luca looked up, his dark blue eyes hooded with emotion. “That’s Christine,” he said quietly. He ran a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back from his face, and his cheeks pinkened. “She was my girlfriend...before.”
Grey’s eyes darted from the beautiful guy standing next to him to the woman in the photo. That sounded about right. No overweight, frizzy-headed disaster for someone as amazing as Luca.
Grey studied the picture for a moment longer as Luca stood silently beside him. “You said was. Where is she...he…now?”
Luca turned away, scooping up the clothes he had laid out. “I don’t know,” he said lightly. “I haven’t seen or heard from her in four years.”
Grey’s first thought was that Luca, like a lot of men, hadn’t been able to deal with his significant other growing testicles. But he couldn’t believe the Luca he knew would just throw the girl out and never speak to her again. He was too empathetic to do something so cruel. Luca’s eyes met his, filled with some serious pain.
“I think…she didn’t believe that I would accept her.”
Ah. The girl had run away before she had the chance to get rejected. Grey sighed. “You can’t really believe that’s your fault.”
Luca looked down at his bare feet. Hell, even the guy’s feet were beautiful, with long toes and high, graceful arches. “She didn’t think I loved her enough to accept her.” Luca shrugged. “She never even gave me the chance to try.” Clearly, he felt like he was the one who had been rejected. He turned and headed back to the bathroom, his deep voice barely a whisper. “I’ll be out in a sec.”
Grey stared at the bathroom door. It wasn’t completely unheard of for a man to be so determined to maintain a relationship after the change, but it certainly wasn’t the norm. Christine, wherever she—no he—was, was an idiot.
And Grey wasn’t even going to let himself think about the fact that Luca had wanted to make it work…even with a girl who was now a guy. That didn’t mean he was suddenly into dudes.
When Luca re-emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, he seemed like his old self, all traces of sadness hidden under a rising excitement. He pulled on a long black coat with a Japanese-style collar as they headed out to Lucifer’s latest gig. The band was playing at the Rusty Anchor, a seedy bar near the dock. Luca slid into his gothy, punk-rock persona like it was a part of him, shaking off everything else and becoming all lean, dark, mysterious beauty. Grey had to make a conscious effort not to drool.
“You sure you’ll be warm enough in that?” Luca nodded at Grey’s hoodie. “The news said it’s supposed to get cold tonight.”
Grey shook off his concern. “I’ll be fine. The cold doesn’t bother me.” He made his way to the door, not happy at the reminder of his unusual physiology. He certainly couldn’t compete with the delicate blond beauty in the photo. A real girl would probably need to be wrapped up and coddled. Maybe she’d use the excuse to have Luca fuss over her.