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Even though it was a sweltering California night outside, the air in the upstairs bathroom felt thick with tension. Loud bass waves boomed from the speakers, pounding so hard that the glass with toothbrushes on the sink rattled each time.

– Hey, maybe it's time to stop clinging to your old life? – Gina, sitting on the washing machine with half-loose hair and a look that carried more irritation than sympathy, crossed her legs and stared challengingly at the girl across from her.

Melissa—or, as she used to be called, Michael—kept her gaze locked on the snow-white sink, her fingers gripping its edge tightly. Her breasts in the stretched dark tank top swayed slightly, whether from anger or the alcohol she'd poured inside herself. With her smeared lipstick and bright eyes, she looked so far from the person she once was that she didn't even want to glance at the mirror.

– What are you talking about? – she mumbled, turning her head halfway toward Gina and adjusting the tank top strap slipping off her shoulder. – I… I just had a bit too much. Wine. Or vodka. Or...

– Or your own reflection in the mirror? – Gina shot back, clicking her tongue and jumping down from the washing machine. – Don’t act like you don’t get it.

Melissa snapped her head up — long dark strands stuck to her damp cheek. Something flickered in her eyes between anger and fear.

– No, I really don’t understand you, – her voice wavered, and the phrase sounded too theatrical, like a rehearsed excuse. – I... I’m just not myself today.

– You’ve been “not yourself” for two fucking years, – Gina folded her arms across her chest, tugging at the collar of her denim jacket. – You’ve been living as a girl for TWO. FUCKING. YEARS. Maybe that’s enough already?!

Somewhere beyond the door, laughter burst out in the crowd, someone pounded on the wood and yelled, “Hey! You fucking in there or what?!”

– SHUT THE FUCK UP, JAKE! – Melissa suddenly shouted, spinning toward the door with such a burst of fury that her tits, barely held by her tank top, shook and bounced, distracting Gina for a second.

A chorus of “oooooh!” and greasy laughter came from behind the door. The bass still thudded through the walls, but now the tiny bathroom felt especially cramped. Cramped with heat, with air, with... conversations both girls were long sick of after these past two years...(full story (9 300 characters) is open to subscribers)