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“Looks like it,” Marisol said.

She told Riley about the 1990s, when she’d go to gay bars and hear men whisper “trap.” When LGBT organizations would fight for same-sex marriage but leave out gender identity protections. When the T in LGBT felt less like a letter and more like an asterisk. freeshemales tube

“New stray?” Deja asked.

By midnight, Riley was perched on a cracked leather couch in the dressing room, watching Deja paint her face while Marisol lent them a clean hoodie. The bar filled with music and laughter. A lesbian couple slow-danced by the jukebox. A group of gay men argued loudly about which RuPaul’s Drag Race winner had the best finale lip sync. And in the corner, a young nonbinary kid who’d arrived with nothing clutched a warm mug and listened to two transgender women sing an old, off-key duet about survival. “Looks like it,” Marisol said

Deja pulled up a stool on the other side of Riley. “Well, kid. You’ve got two choices. You can sit here and cry into excellent hot chocolate, or you can let me teach you how to wing eyeliner so sharp it could cut a homophobe.” “New stray

The kid sat. Their name, they mumbled, was Riley. They’d been kicked out of their cousin’s apartment in Akron after coming out as nonbinary. The cousin had said, “Can’t you just be a normal lesbian?” and Riley had laughed, because they weren’t a lesbian, weren’t normal, weren’t even sure what they were except terrified.