enjoying everything

James stepped further into the sunlight, the warmth spilling over his bare shoulders. His skin prickled with an almost electric awareness of the air brushing against him, the light fabric of the skirt lifting just enough with each small breeze to tease the tops of his thighs. He caught himself smoothing it down absently, not out of embarrassment, but instinct—an instinct that felt so natural it frightened him.

He turned toward the stone planter in the middle of the drive, where a halo of flowers bloomed bright against the sky. For a moment he just stood there, admiring the colors, the way they seemed to burn under the sun. Then, without thinking, he spun around once. The skirt flared outward in a playful circle, the bracelets chimed on his wrist, and a laugh slipped out of him—light, carefree, girlish.

The sound startled him so much he clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. But instead of shame, he felt a giddy ripple inside him, like he’d just stolen a secret joy. His body moved again before his mind could protest—hips swaying lightly, hair twirling around his shoulders as he turned in the sunlight. The chunky heels clicked and tapped against the pavement, steady at first, then more rhythmic, almost like a dance.

James shook his head as if to clear it, strands of hair spilling into his face. “What… am I doing?” he whispered, but the words came with a smile, not a frown. The smile wouldn’t leave his face—it stretched wider as the thought repeated itself, reshaped, softened: What does it matter?

He glanced down at himself—the pink halter laced tight against his chest, the skirt riding deliciously short, the glossy white platforms giving him a little extra height—and instead of feeling ridiculous, he felt right. He even lifted his wrist, tilting it to catch the glint of the bracelets in the sun, admiring them like little treasures.

Another flash hit him then. Not a memory exactly, but something deeper—like an echo. A crowded mall, laughter, girls clustered together and tugging him toward a mirror, the same bracelets stacked on his wrist as someone said, “So cute on you!” He gasped and blinked, the vision dissolving, leaving only that dizzy pulse of excitement.

James pressed a hand to his chest, the rise and fall of his breath fast and shallow. He should go back inside, he told himself. He should change. He should stop this before it spun further out of control. But his feet didn’t move. They rooted him to the pavement, sun spilling over his body, the flowers burning bright, the skirt fluttering with each breath of wind.

And deep down, in the marrow of him, James didn’t want to move.