Not Your Average Guy
Jane ran a hand through her short hair, tugging gently at the tiny ponytail at the back. It barely held together. Her fingers brushed against the shaved sides and the back of her neck, a bold choice she hoped made her look more masculine. It still felt strange, her head lighter, her neck exposed to every breeze. She took a deep breath and adjusted the strap of her backpack.
"Relax, Jane. You look totally like a guy, thank God," she muttered under her breath. "Nothing to worry about."
She checked her reflection one last time in the narrow, cracked mirror above the sink. Her jaw looked sharper now, the angles of her face more pronounced. Sure, her lashes were a little too long, her lips too full, too soft. Her hips still curved where they shouldn't, but her oversized fatigues helped hide that. What mattered were the details people noticed first, her voice, her posture, and her face.
The family resemblance had been her saving grace. Her father's features, strong, roman nose, prominent brow, squared chin, had become hers with just a little effort. They ran deep in the Reese bloodline, and now, with her hair chopped short and no makeup to soften her edges, she passed easily enough.
At least, she hoped she did.
The freedom of it all was strange. Liberating, in a way. No more brushing and styling, no more pins and heat, and no more perfume. She didn't miss the hair that used to trail down her back. But the lack of makeup made her feel raw, unfinished. Her skin, never bad, but far from perfect, looked harsh under the unforgiving fluorescent lights. She wasn't self-conscious, not really, but she wasn't used to facing the world this bare either.
Then again, she reminded herself, boys didn't care about that. The ones she'd grown up around barely noticed their own faces, let alone anyone else's. They rolled out of bed, splashed water on their cheeks, and went. No one expected them to look polished.
And now she was one of them.
Jane took a deep breath and adjusted the clothes she had borrowed from her brother. They were black, simple, and a bit too big, just enough to hide her curves, but not quite enough to disguise her wide hips. The pants were snug around them, tight enough to make her uncomfortable, but she couldn't afford to be picky. They would have to do. For now.
She reached beneath her shirt to adjust the tight band wrapped securely around her chest. The fabric pressed against her skin, compressing her breasts to flatten them. It wasn't comfortable, but it was necessary. She'd been wearing the chest band for weeks now, getting used to the pressure, to the suffocating feeling that came with hiding the truth about her identity. She tugged at the hem of her shirt again, making sure it covered everything it needed to, then reached up to flick off the bathroom light. The room fell into an oppressive darkness, and for a split second, she stood still, feeling the weight of the quiet around her.
Carefully, she opened the door, wincing at the creak of the hinges. She held her breath, listening for any signs of movement from the house.
The hallway stretched before her. She moved, her footsteps light, trying to avoid any noise. As she passed her brother's door, she paused for just a moment, peering through the crack. She could see him, still and peaceful in sleep. For the first time in years, he wasn't tossing and turning, haunted by the memories of battle, the weight of his duty. His life, so closely entwined with the army, was over, and though it had cost him greatly, he had earned the right to walk away. A well-earned retirement with honor, the chance to build a future with the woman he loved.
She watched him for a long moment, her heart full of admiration, pride, and love. He had been her hero for as long as she could remember, brave, strong, always there to protect her. She remembered how his stories had filled the silence of their childhood, stories of valor and duty, of hardship and brotherhood. They had kept her going through the lonely years, giving her something to dream of, something to reach for.
But now, she was about to do something he could never understand. Something he would never approve of. She was about to betray him, not through any fault of his, but because she needed to break free.
Jane swallowed hard, whispering a silent goodbye in her mind. She loved him too much to tell him the truth, to burden him with her decision. He had fought his own battles, and now it was her turn.
She turned away from his door, and moved on, quietly and quickly.
At the end of the hallway, her parents' room loomed in her peripheral vision. She glanced at the crack of light beneath their door and felt a sharp pang. Theirs was the life she was supposed to lead. The life they had always envisioned for her. They would never know what she was doing. They would never understand. She couldn't live a lie, pretending to be someone she wasn't.
One last breath. One final step.
The door to freedom was just ahead.
Jane crept down the stairs, each step making her heart race. The house seemed alive with the sound of creaking wood and old floorboards groaning under her weight. When she stepped down one stair, it let out a creak, loud and sudden.
She froze, her breath catching in her throat. For a heartbeat, the entire world seemed to stop. She waited for movement from upstairs, for the sound of her parents' voices, or footsteps coming down the hall.
But there was nothing.
The silence pressed in until she let out a quiet, grateful sigh.
Jane continued, the door ahead of her looming like a portal to a new life. When she reached it, she hesitated for only a second, her fingers trembling as they brushed over the cool, metal doorknob.
Once she turned that knob, there would be no going back.
No more family.
No more safety.
That was it. The end of everything she had known. And the beginning of everything she would become.
She twisted the knob and stepped outside, the cool night air biting at her skin as it wrapped around her. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound final, sealing her fate.
There was no turning back now.
