Toni’s left Steve as he continues to watch soccer, and now it’s onto getting her nails and eyebrows done with Jess and Sally. After that the plan is to meet the man from yesterday in Light Avenue. Tim, the man who stole a kiss—not that Toni was objecting—at least if he shows up.

There are important questions such as Why? Will he make Toni’s heart beat faster? Is he as handsome as she remembers? And, most importantly, does he have any friends for Sally? There are other important things like having fun, and a few drinks, and just catching up with friends, but Toni’s mostly in a whirlwind continuing her busy morning.

--------------------

I’m sitting on a couch in a nail parlour, or more a beautician’s, that’s really friendly. I expected it to be intimidating, I don’t know why, or maybe overtly feminine in a way I wasn’t ready for, but everyone’s relaxed and professional. The decor is modern but welcoming, slate and exposed stone, a little bit of dark hardwood, nice lighting, low music. The couch is leather and my nails are pink.

I lift the fingers on my right hand to admire them. They’re not fake, I didn’t get any extensions, they’re my own nails but filed and shaped. I didn’t know what colour I wanted so just asked for something like my nail bed that’s already there. Basically I didn’t want them red, and couldn’t think. It was silly. I could have gone for literally any other colour and I pretty much ended up with girly pink. Not Barbie pink, but, I don’t know... I could have gone for anything!

I look around for Sally and Jess but there’s no sign of them. There’s been no sign of them since we were lead our separate ways. Them for a pedicure and me for my nails, and now I’m waiting for an eyebrow shaping thinking I can’t let that develop like my nails. I don’t know what I’d end up with.

There’s women, and a few men, flitting about. Eventually a woman approaches me with seeming purpose and says, “Toni?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Come with me,” she says. “Stairs not a problem?”

“No.”

“OK, just checking.”

She leads me into a spotlessly clean room, small, not quite clinical but it looks like it has the same style of examination bed you’d find in a doctor’s office. She closes the door behind me and instructs me to sit up on the bed, which I do.

“What can I do for your eyebrows?” she asks, smiling. It’s not a teeth-filled smile, just pleasant and warm.

I think for a second or two and finally pipe up, “I’m not sure how to describe it? Subtle. I suppose. Tidy. Nothing obvious. Clean. Professional.”

“Stuffy office?” she asks.

“How do you mean?” I say.

“Like your nails? For a stuffy, well, conservative office... Your nails are beautiful, don’t get me wrong, I’d wear them myself, but the women I’ve seen with that shade asking for ‘professional’ eyebrows usually have really conservative jobs or workplaces. Places that just about tolerate painted nails. Places that hate to be reminded women exist as women, especially talented, working women.”

“Yeah, like that,” I say. “I mean I’m not out at the office and have to go back to boy mode so I don’t want anything that’d be...”

She nods and clicks her tongue. “Do you have polish remover? I’m guessing the colour is coming off Sunday night if that’s the case. If you need it I can give you some little packaged pre-soaked pads that’ll take the polish right off.”

I’m not too sure what to think of this, or this woman. She’s just so incredibly professional. She hasn’t missed a beat in anything I’ve said, hasn’t seemed worried about anything I’ve said, and genuinely seems to care, at least quietly. “I have some already, but thank you very much.”

“OK, let me get a look at your face,” she says. I’m not sure how she would do that any more than what she’s already done, but I look her in the eye and she nods at seemingly the exact same moment. “Have you been drinking?”

“Two shandies,” I say. “Is that bad?”

“Shandies are Radler’s, right?” I nod. “We can mange. Try not to drink before any waxing or electrolysis or anything like that. And no painkillers unless you’ve had some sessions before, in here, and asked us about it. Your friends are having some prosecco while they get their pedicures and if they’re not finished by the time we are, and they won’t be, you can have a glass too. OK, lie back.”

I do lie back, keeping my legs together as she busies herself at a little table by my head. She soon has a small wooden stick and is applying a hot liquid to my eyebrow in what seems an extremely casual manner.

“Will this hurt?” I ask.

She presses something on top of the wax and rips it off, and repeating it all again. “You tell me,” she says.

“Yeah, OK,” I say, acquiescing, as she’s pressing more wax on the other eyebrow and has it ripped it off in flash.

A few movements later it’s, “All done. Did it hurt?”

“I don’t think it matters any more,” I say, reaching up, then stopping myself from touching my eyebrows, or what’s left of them.

“It might feel and be a little puffy for a while. No makeup there when it’s like that, gentle washing if it’s tender. If you have a reaction to the wax or the process of waxing give us a phone call or email. That is extremely unlikely. Literally no-one I’ve personally waxed since I’ve been here has had a reaction. We’ll tell you what to do if the really unlikely does happen, but even if that happens it’s even more unlikely again to have serious, long lasting effects.”

I’m sitting up again, surprised this is all done with already, when she asks,“All happy?” I nod. “Want to see?” I nod again. And she holds a mirror up for me to look at myself.

I can’t be fully sure what she’s done but my eyebrows suit my face more now, somehow, my female face, without looking any different. Not that I can see. Like they were designed for me rather than simply growing on me. But the only reason I really notice is because they’re a little tender now, or kind of damp-feeling around them. “That’s perfect,” I say.

“I like you,” the woman says. “Right, do you want to ask questions here in private or do you want to do it downstairs on one of the couches with something to drink?”

“Downstairs is fine, but I’d don’t know if I want to drink,” I say, my mind back on the empty, distant feeling I had before I met Steve this morning. Thinking of how this means I feel normal, with nothing to worry about.

I stand and fix my dress, then she holds the door open for me and we’re both walking down the stairs to the area at the front of the salon. It’s barely taken minutes to get this done.

She pauses for a few seconds to talk to one of the receptionists as I hover around the couches then she’s walking back with a tall champagne flute filled with what I assume is prosecco. “You don’t have to drink and I can get you a coffee or orange juice if you’d prefer, but it’ll do the image of this place good for some of the old dipsos to see other people with a glass. Go, on sit down.”

I do sit down, when she hands me the glass and sits down next to me. “I think one of my friends is a young dipso,” I admit.

“There’s no judgment here. As long as you had a pleasant, relaxing time. And to be honest if I wasn’t working I’d be drinking. It is the weekend.”

I take a tiny sip of the prosecco, which is nice, uncross my legs and lean forward to place it on the table. “It was pleasant,” I say. “Not what I expected.”

“In what way?” she asks.

“I guess because it was so calm.”

She smiles a big smile and says, “I’m glad. If you ever walk into anything beauty treatment related and you don’t feel calm immediately turn around and walk out. They’re no good at what they do and could actually cause damage, especially if they’re doing more than nails. Now... Questions...”

I didn’t think I had questions, but now I know I do. I’m quickly asking this woman about all manner of procedures, and especially about electrolysis. It’s easy and she explains it all simply but not without detail. I even notice I have the glass of prosecco in my hand, and it’s actually half gone without me being seemingly aware of it.

We’re talking about classic pop music, literally nothing beauty related, when she stands and says, “Your friends are back.”

I stand too and the woman asks Sally and Jess, “Enjoy yourself, ladies?”

Sally says, “As always, Althea. It was a joy.”

“Thanks for bringing Toni here,” she says, before turning to me. “Please ask for me when you’re booking in the future. I’ll get us one of the rooms with its own speakers and we’ll have a party.”

I smile and nod. Althea asks if we’re paying individually, which we do with the receptionist and I add what I hope is a very nice tip to what I pay, which really isn’t that huge a price. Not compared to the pedicures Sally and Jess had.

The receptionist gives us our coats and purses, and me my bags from the athletics store filled with the clothes Steve brought me this morning, and we’re soon walking outside, on the way to Light Avenue in the sunlight.

“What was that about?” Sally asks.

“What was what about?” I say.

“The party and speakers thing with Althea?” Sally asks, as we amble down the street, me feeling a little cosy with the prosecco.

“Oh! We were talking about classic pop and I mentioned some girl-bands from the 90s from Britain she might like. I think Althea was talking about putting them on when I get my beard electrocuted,” I say, rubbing at what is my shaved but still obviously male—by the stubble to the touch—face.

Sally rolls her eyes and raises her palms to the sky, as we keep walking. “I fucking hate you, Toni. I really do. You are absolutely disgusting. Everyone loves you the instant they set eyes on you. It’s ridiculous.”

I shake my head at Sally’s outburst, which I know is mostly joking. Mostly. “It’s just because I’m getting my beard zapped, which will be in a private room. And I’ll be spending money. I’m sure she’d do the same for you if you had a goatee and wanted to spend a lot to get rid of it.”

“You’re both idiots,” Jess says. “Toni is adorable and cute, and yet to discover her inner bitch—”

“Except with us,” Sally says.

“Except with us,” Jess says. “And she will, eventually... And Toni, you barely have any beard, no-one’s making their riches off you. People just like you.”

“I can be a bitch!” I say, and I swear I feel what feels like my boobs—which I don’t have, just fake plastic things in my bra—bounce as I say it. Both Sally and Jess break into little evil laughs.

My freshly shaped eyebrows furrow and I bump into Jess’s shoulder, stumbling a little from annoyance. “Alright! Fine! Where the fuck are your toes!? Neither of you are wearing sandals and I can’t see your toes. I didn’t know you could just wear regular shoes.”

Sally laughs again and says, “You’re right, sorry Jess. She is adorable. Now come on, fill us in on this man you’re meeting in Light Avenue, and any friends he might have.”

“You two really do do everything in your power to bring out my bitch,” I say. They nod small nods and smile small smiles, then I describe Tim, and what we did, without going into too much detail about how ridiculously hot he is.

We arrive to Light Avenue with me filled with nerves after Sally and Jess asked me non-stop questions about Tim, especially with my trying to avoid precise details about the thrift store he brought me to, something I think I actually got away with. Jess is showing no interest in it. All the clothes for me, I guess!

“Right!” Sally says, standing inside the Light Avenue front doors. “It’s no longer your birthday weekend. You’re not a new woman needing special treatment and welcoming to the feminine world any more, you’re a regular old boring woman who can get us drinks as a thank you for being so kind to you when you were Bambi.”

Jess slaps Sally on the arm and says, “That’s it! Like a little fawn!”

“Yeah, disgusting,” Sally says, before telling me what drinks to get them as they go find seats.

Jackson is standing behind the bar as I move up to place my order. “Hello, gorgeous!” he says, with the smile I remember from when he first started chatting me up during the week. It does nothing for my nerves over meeting Tim but I force a smile back. “What can I get you?”

I tell him Sally’s cocktail and Jess’s white wine and then hum and haw about what I want for myself before finally asking for a whiskey.

“Gut-rot or good?” Jackson asks. “Not that anything we serve is actually gut-rot, you just look nervous about something. Cowboy settling their nerves before the shoot-out kind of thing.”

“Both?” I say. “One of each.”

“OK, what is it? Is it me?” he asks.

“No,” I say, but I feel the tremors in my voice.

“Is it the boy you’re meeting?” he asks, smiling again.

“How did you know?”.

“Steph said you met some guy and if you ended up dating your names would sound goofy.” And Jackson is laughing now, seemingly taking joy in my doubt.

“Tim...” I say. And he laughs again, as he’s mixing Sally’s cocktail.

“Why are you worried?” Jackson asks.

“Yeah...” I sigh. “I suppose... He might not even show. He’s really hot. Like, extremely hot. He’ll have come to his senses after he left me last night.”

Jackson is shaking a shaker when he says, “Yeah, only ugly men want to date you, or have kissed you.”

It dawns on me what he means. Jackson, my first kiss. “I’m sorry, Jackson. You’re really hot, I mean that. But, you know... He seems, well, not...”

Jackson places the filled cocktail glass on the counter and begins preparing the wine. “Yes. I do know what you mean, unfortunately for us. But you really are quite attractive if you have no issue with the whole...”

“Yeah...”

“It won’t always be like that,” Jackson says. “Just enjoy someone liking you. Have fun. Don’t worry.” I nod, still nervous but now not feeling my mind vibrating out of my head. “So... gut-rot or good?”

“Still both,” I say.

“Wow, I’ll have to see him for myself. He must be exceptionally hot.” As he says that my eyes open wide remembering Tim as an absolute Adonis. Maybe I’m just building him up in my memory? He’s hot but not catwalk hot. Just hot for someone like me. Real women will have had way better looking men all the time.

Jackson places the cheap whiskey in front of me and I knock it back. Wiping my mouth I say,“I don’t even know what a good whiskey is, or how much it costs, I just know the stuff I had with Trevor was lovely.”

“If Trevor was drinking it it costs more than you want to spend, believe me. In fact we might not even sell it, it could be from him and Steph’s personal stash. But for you? Is $20-ish OK? It’ll get you something really good.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I say, and soon Jackson is back down with a nice glass with a brown liquid in it. “What is it?”

“Scottish. You won’t remember the name. If you like it message me later and I’ll let you know. But either way message me with how Toni and Tim got on.”

I frown at him. “You gossip more than me.”

“Do you want help carrying the drinks down? I see you have bags. And I want to say Hi to Sally and Jess.”

“And you want to see where we’re sitting so you can watch if Tim arrives,” I say.

“You’re almost as smart as you are pretty,” Jackson says.

After he gets out from behind the counter, picks up the drinks, and begins to help me find where Sally and Jess are sitting I walk with him wondering why everyone but me is such a bitch. Even the men.

Eventually we find Sally and Jess in one of the recessed areas on the opposite side to where the long bar is, and Jackson sets the drinks down and helps me settle as he says hello to the two of them.

“Are you going to go look if he’s here?” Jess asks.

“No!” I say. “I don’t know if he’s even coming. And if he wants to find me he can look for me.”

“Determined woman,” Jackson says. “Let me know how it goes, Toni.” Then he’s gone and I’m taking a sip on the very, very nice whisky.

“So you met Steve for a soccer match,” Jess says. “And got your nails and eyebrows done. Now you’re waiting on a man, in the middle of all that you went shopping, and it’s not even lunch time. Did you take up meth during the week?”

I look towards the athletics store bags set beside me and get ready to tell the story. “Well...” I say. “Steve is a moron. He wanted to apologise for last Friday and getting me into this whole mess with me in dresses now, and he was drinking and hungover and was guilted into a big apology gift by some store workers.”

Sally nods and Jess picks up one of the bags, seemingly asking for permission, to which I shrug, then she’s pulling the athletic-wear out of the bags before passing the individual items to Sally. She gets to the bathing suit when Sally laughs and Jess says, “Do we tell her?”

“I think we did,” Sally says.

“Well, yeah. Last Friday. But I don’t think she actually took much in that night what with the whole, ‘Oh deary me, I am actually an interesting woman and not a boring old boy,’ thing going on front and center.”

“We’ve told her at other points. We have to have,” Sally says. “We definitely did!”

“I don’t think she knows, or accepts it, maybe,” Jess says.

“It might upset her,” Sally says.

“When have you worried about upsetting her if it’s actually a benefit in the long term?”

Sally shrugs and says to Jess, “You or me?” As I feel a headache coming on waiting for another of their torment sessions.

Jess leans forward, and says in a tone I haven’t really heard before, “Steve likes you.”

“I like him too,” I say, honestly.

“Yes...” Sally says.

“He really likes you,” Jess says, holding up the bathing suit.

“I believe the playground term is, ‘he like-likes you,’” Sally says. “And wouldn’t mind if you gave him cooties.”

“Oh please!” I say, with a scoff.

“OK, we’re dealing with Hollywood here, but the idea is the same. Two friends, male and female. Lifelong friends. The girl is kind of quiet and reserved but gets a makeover turning her into a hottie—”

“Stop saying stuff like,” I say. “I know you want me to be confident and to appreciate myself but I am far from a hottie.” I’m really getting annoyed at this now.

Jess, in the same serious voice says, “No. You’re not a hottie. You are not a drop dead gorgeous, California sun, butt-splitting bikini, big boobed babe. None of us are. But you are attractive in your own way, really. A woman some men and some women will find very appealing. Then they’ll get to know you and find out you’re a lovely, kind person and that attraction will grow. Add the Bambi thing you have going, for the moment at least, where they want to protect you, and they will be thinking thoughts about you. And some will approach you. You’re literally sitting here now with a high chance a man, who you kissed last night, will be coming here googly eyed wanting to see you again.”

I think about all this but my mind doesn’t seem to be telling me anything other than Steve did say he wanted to protect me. To stop that thought I blurt out, “Me and Steve are just friends and will always be friends, at least if he stops being a moron so often.”

Sally is halfway through her cocktail and says, “Was he being a moron this morning?”

“Yeah, of course. He’s been a moron ever since last Friday. It was just more comfortable and fun this morning.”

“Like last Friday when he was flirting with you and you were with him?”

“He was being mean to me then!”

“Because he’s confused and wide-eyed for you, you stupid woman!” Sally says.

“Don’t call me a stupid fucking woman, you bitch!” I half shout at Sally.

Sally looks shocked, blinks twice, leaning back, then says, “I’m sorry, that was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have said that.” And I feel myself calm down a little if not my thumping heart.

“As people with more experience in this can you accept we might be right?” Jess says.

“OK. Fine, but I’m not certain you are. I’ll simply leave the possibility open,” I say, and now I want another shot of Jackson’s gut-rot. “Can I have a taste of your cocktail, Sally?”

“Of course you can, my love,” Sally says, still with hesitancy in her voice, as she picks it up and places it front of me. I’m taking a sip of it when she says, “And did you and Steve flirt this morning?”

“You’re unreal, Sally,” Jess says. “Fucking hell, no wonder everyone hates you.”

“The right people love me,” Sally says. “Like Toni.”

I hold Sally’s glass in front of me and say, “Yes. I do love you. And I’m sorry I screamed, this is just weird. Steve doesn’t like-like me we just know each other a long time. And I’ll answer that question but if I answer you’re not getting your cocktail back. I’m finishing it myself.”

“Deal,” Sally says.

“Yes. We kind of flirted but only jokingly,” I say, as I take another sip of Sally’s, now my, cocktail.

“That’s the cheapest victory I ever got,” Sally says.

“And they were only wrestling like they did when they were kids, and it was only the steamiest moment of their lives together when Toni lay atop Steve, having beaten him in hand to hand combat, and felt the incredible sexual tension between them reach the edge of a crescendo impossible to forget before flying away to her room to look at pictures of them as children when they were best friends. Wondering if the two of them could ever recover from the realisation each other was the most attractive person they’ve ever known in their lives, and only one form of intimacy, never before considered, but now unable to be ignored, was left unexplored,” Jess says.

I sit back on the couch and take a deep breath.

“Sorry, Toni,” Jess says. “At least you know now.”

“I would never get away with something like that,” Sally says.

“Yeah, because you’re a bitch no-one likes.”

Sally purses her lips and says, “Well, yes, but aside from that...”

“I’m sorry, both of you. I’m sorry for calling you—”

“It’s fine, Toni. Really,” Sally says.

I nod and feel tiny while asking, “OK. What do I do now?”

“What do you want to do?” Sally asks.

“Well, if he likes me and it seems I like him. It just makes sense to—”

“No! Toni! You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. That’s what we’ve been saying all along. Just be aware of your thinking. Just because you’re attracted to someone doesn’t mean you have to get married. There’s no such thing as ‘soul-mates.’ If you want Steve as a friend who you have the hots for but don’t do anything with that’s fine. Just know that’s what it is. And know Steve might end up being a bit weird at points. Unless you’re Sally in which case you’ll use him up and then be rid of him as soon as the fun is over.”

Sally laughs. “You know me so well, Jess.”

“OK. I don’t have to do anything. I can just let it fester.”

“You can do anything you want, Toni, that’s the point. It’s your choice. What did you do last Saturday, your birthday?” Jess asks.

“I came here,” I say, confused.

“That morning. With me, I mean?” Jess asks.

“You gave me some clothes and I walked home. And I’m sorry, I forgot. I still have your yellow suitcase,” I say, feeling bad for not returning it yet. “I can get you the clothes back as well. I don’t really need them any more.”

“That’s my point,” Jess says. “What clothes did you pick out?”

“You picked out the clothes for me. They were your clothes!”

“Yes! On your instruction, it was your choice!”

I really don’t understand what Jess is trying to get at and I turn it over in my mind a few times looking for her angle. “Explain this to me, please. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“You were in my apartment. You saw all my racks. Do you not think I have loads of jeans and trainers and hoodies?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask.

“She doesn’t even remember what she was two weeks ago. Her life and memories seem to start last weekend. This is some powerful stuff!” Sally says.

“What?” I ask. They’re talking like aliens.

“You could have asked for a normal pair of jeans, a hoodie, and some basic trainers. You could have walked home wearing some clothes that’d have 99% of people assuming you’re a dude with good taste in fashion. Instead you asked for one of my exquisite sweater dresses, and happily put on a pair of boots and pantihose to walk home as the woman you are.”

My mind is racing thinking I could have escaped all this. That I could still be a dude. “You spent the morning telling me how glad you were to have met me, and you only met the female me, Jess. You were on the phone saying we’d be doing this again soon, and then we did go out that night, Sally.”

“Yes, because both of us knew we’d met a wonderful, if somehow even still in denial despite all the evidence, woman, who we’d be friends with for a long time. At least if doctors don’t discover she doesn’t actually have a brain and whisk her away to a secret military base to be studied and tested on for the rest of her life,” Sally says.

“No!” I moan.

“Yes. And would you change it? I’m sure some dude is gonna turn up in the next hour or two and you’ll at the very least be kissing him before the night is out,” Sally continues.

“This isn’t my fault!” I say.

“No,” Jess says. “You are who you are. You didn’t choose that. And it’ll probably be very tough for you at various points. But you did choose to embrace who you are, once given the choice.”

“I want to cry,” I say, which I know is a lie.

“No you don’t, you’re having the time of your life. And even more importantly you’re hot. Which is quite literally the most important thing on the planet,” Sally says.

“I’m attractive to some people, not hot,” I say.

“That’s a bit of progress,” Jess says.

“Now be quiet and sip your girly cocktail you chose to try to con out of me which resulted in a wonderful realisation for you,” Sally says.

“Cocktails aren’t girly,” I say. “That’s an unfair stereotype.”

“Does the woman who pouted when she said that want to get into a debate about who’s the most girly person sitting at this table?”

I look at them wearing jeans and tops, and down at myself wearing a dress and clompy Mary Janes and decide not to push it, but quietly say, “Yeah, but I have a dick and neither of you do.”

“It’s a really girly dick, though,” Sally says.

“Yeah, it is. We’ve both seen it,” Jess says.

“Just say you hate us, again. You say it often. It only hurts our feelings a little and you’ll feel a bit better.”

“I’m gonna go find Trevor and see if I can store away these bags,” I say.

“And you can get us more drinks,” Sally says.

“Get your own!” I say, walking away with the bags.

I’m up at the bar again and Jackson looks at me. “Is Trevor around?” I ask.

“He is, but he’s busy. Said don’t interrupt him unless it’s important.”

“Steph? Head of security? Duty manager?” I say.

“If you want to go upstairs just go. Telling me is fine, what we me being allowed up there. Someone’s up there as well, I think,” he says.

And soon I’m walking into Trevor’s room, where I smell cigarette smoke. Natasha is sitting, reading as usual, this time in jeans and a strappy top, not a ridiculous candle shop outfit. “Are you allowed smoke in here?”

“Well hello, Toni. It’s nice to see you. How are you? Is a normal kind of greeting.”

“Sorry, Natasha. How are you?”

She puts her book down. “Good, yeah. Went for a walk. Wanted to read in a café. Ended up here, as is the way.”

“Will you come downstairs and join me with my friends?” I ask, as I store my bags in one of the curtained areas.

“And be social? You know me. Why would I do that?” she asks, face curled in disgust.

“Please!” I plead. “It’d mean a lot to me and I know you actually like me, or at least tolerate me. I need some support because my friends are being horrible bitches.”

“They’re not nice like you? How mean are they being to you?” she asks, interest in her tone.

“Awful! Like, they mean well but they torment me,” I say.

“Well yes, definitely then! I don’t want to make you cry but if I can learn how to torture you without you actually dying, then absolutely. Lead the way!”

“I knew you were nice!” I say, with a smile, while wondering who’s really playing who?

As I get back towards our table with Natasha I see Trevor is standing by the table talking to Jess. “I’m already being punished for this decision,” Natasha says.

“No going back now,” I say to Natasha.

Trevor steps back as he hears our footsteps and I introduce Natasha to Sally and Jess, while I blindly reach a hand back, which Trevor takes, and I give his a squeeze.

“I’ve heard you’re being mean to Toni,” Natasha says.

“Did she really tell you that?” Sally asks, her voice raised a few octaves.

“I want to learn from you!” Natasha says. “I’m afraid I’ll make her cry and then she’d be even more annoying.”

Sally nods assuredly, placated, and smiles. “I like Natasha more than you, Toni. You can go away now.”

“I’m already learning!” Natasha says, with a big smile, and it’s the first time I’ve really seen her, well, joyful.

“Sit down between us, Natasha,” Jess says. “Toni has some boy visiting her soon.”

“Oh for fuck... You didn’t tell me that, Toni. You really are the worst,” Natasha says, but she still sits down on the couch between Jess and Sally.

I sit myself down, solo, on my own big couch and say to Trevor, “Hi, Trevor. How are you?”

Trevor shuffles forward again and says to me, “You have a gentleman caller and his friend waiting for you. Would you like me to direct them here?” I see both Sally and Natasha roll their eyes and Trevor and Jess share a smile.

“What’s he like, in your opinion?” I ask.

“I couldn’t tell you. I simply overheard him speak to his friend about a beautiful woman named Toni, while I was making my rounds, and after a brief conversation to confirm who he meant I said I’d let him know if I saw you, and for him and his friend to sit and enjoy their coffees in the smoking area.”

“Is he polite?” I ask Trevor.

“He seems quite polite from what I could tell,” Trevor says with a smile. Natasha and Sally are whispering away to each other so don’t notice when Jess gives me a look of approval.

“If you’d tell him where we are I’d appreciate it,” I say to Trevor, and I mouth Thank you at him

As Trevor walks away I feel my stomach constrict, but it relaxes again when I looked towards Jess who seems to have shock on her face. “I have never, ever heard Trevor describe a man as ‘quite polite,’” she says.

“It could be because Trevor is a senile old bore who saw someone under the age of 60 use a handkerchief and he felt young and lively again,” Sally says. Which she and Natasha share a laugh over, but me and Jess share a different kind of laugh over it. Then I sit, and wait, for Tim.

Sally, Jess and Natasha are chatting away, getting along like a house on fire, which I’m glad of, but I still I sit feeling myself fold into a ball until I hear a voice say, “Hi, Toni.”

I quickly stand and rush out between the table and the couch towards Tim where I give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, feeling him hold me tight. As I pull away I feel myself blush, but it’s OK because Tim is blushing too.

Sally says, “Fuck!” and I hear both Jess and Natasha cough.

I ignore it and say to Tim, “I’m so glad you showed up,” and he’s said something too but I don’t hear it. “Sorry,” I say. And I actually hear him say Sorry too. And we laugh.

“Can you get me a beer now, please, Tim?” Tim’s friend asks.

“Yeah, of course. Sandwich too?” Tim’s friend checks his watch and nods, while Tim makes a circular stirring motion with his finger towards the table and his friend nods again. “Will you have a drink, Toni?”

“A shandy, please?”

“Anyone else?” Tim asks.

“House red,” Sally says.

Both Natasha and Jess shake their heads.

“If you’re being polite there’s really no need. I am more than happy to get drinks for you. And if you don’t want anything there’s no pressure, even if you want to come up and get your own drink yourself, with your own money, I won’t be offended.”

Natasha squints at Tim, as if to get a read on him, and says, “OK, thank you. Whiskey and coke, please.”

“I’m really fine,” Jess says. Tim gives me another look before he’s gone to the bar, while his friend is away dragging an armchair towards the end of our table.

I look around at my friends I see them all looking at me, in silence. “What!?”

“If you can’t see this...” Sally says.

“Is she always like this?” Natasha asks.

“This is a new depth, or height. It’s a new extreme, whatever it is,” Sally says.

“I think it’s nice,” Jess says. “It’s romantic.”

“What is?” I ask

“I want to smack her with a crowbar,” Natasha says. And there’s a round of Mmhmms.

Tim’s friend has the armchair in place and is sitting down, with the whole table quiet. He speaks up, “You were talking about how hot he is, weren’t you?”

Sally opens her eyes wide and turns to him, head tilted, “You’re no slouch yourself, my man.”

“Thanks, and you’re right, I try, but compared to Tim? You could compare literally anyone to him and they’d lose.”

I hear three Yeahs from the opposite couch. “What’s worse is he doesn’t know,” Tim’s friend says.

“How does he not know?” Sally asks.

“Because he’s an idiot,” Tim’s friend says.

“Toni is too, so they might be good for each other,” Natasha says. Sally and Jess both laugh, with Jess bumping her shoulder into Natasha who then laughs too.

“What do you mean?” Tim’s friend asks.

“She doesn’t know either,” Jess says.

“Know what?” I ask, but this time I’m not annoyed. I think I’m resigned to this.

“That explains it,” Tim’s friend says. “Why we were here from before the bar opened and would have been here until closing if she didn’t come, and then again tomorrow in case he mixed the days up. She treated him normally. And what’s worse is he’s not stupid, he’s just an idiot.”

“Toni’s the same.”

“Thanks for the help, Jackson,” Tim says, arriving back down with the drinks.

“No problem,” Jackson says, with a smile.

“You came down for a look too?” Jess asks.

“This is special moment,” Jackson says.

“You knew what a shandy is, Jackson?”

Jackson nods, “Of course. I knew it’d be for you too, Toni. And I understand why you were nervous earlier.” I smile at Jackson who turns to Tim and says, “We’ll have the sandwich down the second it’s ready, don’t worry. It won’t be kept on the counter.”

“Thanks, Jackson,” Tim says.

“And I hope it helps, Mouse,” Jackson says, turning to Tim’s friend, who thanks him too and passes some paper currency to him.

“Mouse?” Jess asks.

“Long story,” Tim’s friend, Mouse, says. “Keep it for the second date?”

“Sure,” Jess says.

“We haven’t done proper introductions,” I say, and go around the table letting everyone know who everyone else is.

Tim sits down next to me, and I see him smiling, and of course I’m smiling too but everyone else is quiet.

“What now?” Natasha asks.

“It’s never gotten this far,” Mouse says. “Literally never, just normal people sitting around. It’s weird, but this is a different flavour of weird to usual. Either way, the two idiots need to talk, sorry Toni. Well, my idiot wants to talk to her, at least.”

“Thanks, Mouse. That’s really helpful,” Tim says.

Mouse puts both hands to his temples and says, “You haven’t shut up about this since you got home last night. Please say what I know you’ve been practising over and over, because you’ve been practising on me.”

Natasha says, “This is getting spicy,” and Jess and Sally laugh before Mouse says, “As spicy as milk,” but Tim has turned to me and reached for my hands. I feel like I should turn to face him so I lift my legs half onto the couch cushion where we’re both looking straight at each other, square on each other.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, worried, but not that this is some trick. Unlike the other times I was worried since last Friday this time I’m worried for someone else, for someone who I really believe likes me and wouldn’t want to fool me.

“I really like you,” Tim says.

“I know,” I say. “I like you too. I was worried you wouldn’t turn up. Then you hugged me and it was OK.”

“Let me go on, please,” he says, so I nod. “I acted like an asshole yesterday. Like a teenage asshole. It was all bravado and macho, and not me at all.”

“You took me shopping, how is that macho? That’s the opposite of macho.”

“Talking about ‘the things I’d do to you’ it was wrong.”

“It made me feel sexy! I liked it. And I would have let you, if I’m being honest.”

“And that sneaking a kiss, after I walked you home? I haven’t done that since I was a desperate 15 year old no girl would touch. And it wasn’t some impulse thing. I thought about it and planned it.”

I hear someone snort but I’m not sure which of my three it is. “I enjoyed that,” I say. “I fell asleep to that kiss a few hours later.”

“It’s not who I am. I don’t want to be like that. It was cheap,” he says.

“I...” I begin to say, but I can’t really say what I’m feeling. So I move towards him, pulling his hands towards me. Despite his face not coming closer within a moment I’m kissing him. And I keep kissing him, and he’s kissing me. We’re not ‘wrestling tongues’ I simply feel his lips on mine and it’s perfect.

I don’t know how long we’re still for, or how long everything is still around me, and I don’t know which of us stop the kiss but at some point we are stopped. I don’t think either of us stopped it, it just ended. And everything is fine. And I am incredibly turned on but in no way horny.

“That was really boring until the end but she just about rescued it,” Natasha says.

“I like you much more than I like Toni,” Sally says to Natasha.

“You’re stuck with me now, Sally. Sorry,” I say, happy.

“Yeah, it’s my fault. I made the mistake in the first place,” Sally says.

I turn around to Tim and say, “Do you like my dress?”

“It’s the one you bought yesterday? It’s really nice on you,” he says, with a smile.

“You can say I look sexy!”

“I would do very polite things to you,” Tim says, and I laugh.

“Let’s keep that talk for the bedroom,” I say, and we both laugh.

“They’re two idiots perfect for each,” Mouse says, and he’s reaching for the rest of his sandwich. The sandwich I hadn’t seen arrive.

“How’s the food?” Tim asks, noticing it too.

“Yeah, good. Up there. I would return. Now let me finish it.”

“I have to pee,” I say. “Excuse me, Tim.”

“I’m going too,” Sally says. “Jess? Natasha?”

Jess shakes her head and Natasha says, “You could not pay me enough!”

“Tim?”

“I’m not too sure I’d be very welcome in the Ladies,” he says.

“Try it some time, Tim, you might be surprised... Mouse?” Sally asks.

“If I was finished my sandwich,” he says.

“We can wait, Mouse,” Sally says.

“I need to digest after I finish. I don’t want Toni to burst.”

“Another time?” Sally asks.

“With you? Yeah, definitely,” Mouse says.

“You’re such a sweetheart, Mouse,” Sally says. “Now c’mon Toni. You desperately need to pee.” And I do, so I speedwalk to the bathroom, and then I rush into the stall and close the door ripping down my underwear as I sit and let flow.

And while it flows Sally is talking to me. But I can’t answer. If someone else is in here they’ll hear a man voice and they won’t be able to see I’m not a man rather a man in a dress which is kind of more acceptable. After I wipe and put myself away, flush and leave the stall, I explain all this to Sally, who doesn’t seem to complain about my fretting.

She does say, “Turn around.” Which I do, and I feel her tug at the back of me. “Rookie error.”

“What?” I ask.

“Dress tucked into your pantihose. Or your panties. Or thong. Or very sexy thong that would get any man foaming at the mouth. I’m sorry,” she says. Then, “Oh my god, you’re such a sexy little whore!”

I’m wondering what she’s sorry about so less concerned about my ‘rookie error’ than I imagine I would be otherwise. “What are you sorry about?” I ask.

“For giving you a hard time earlier. I don’t think any of us realised how much you like Tim, or how nervous you were about him coming.”

“I’m not sure I realised how I nervous I was either,” I say. “I was too busy doing things this morning. Having fun. And yeah, I thought about our kiss a lot, at least last night. But when I finally saw him I almost exploded.”

“When you two hugged? After you jumped out of your seat like a NASA rocket?”

“Yeah,” I say, feeling small and actually really cute for once.

“Yeah, that was adorable,” Sally says, and I feel like she sees me. Then me and Sally are hugging, and the bathroom door opens.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you two want a minute?” the woman asks.

“No, it’s OK,” Sally says. “Come in. All of us just didn’t realise how nervous Toni was about meeting a boy.”

“That boy?” the woman asks.

Sally nods.

“I wouldn’t blame any woman on the planet for being nervous about meeting that,” the woman says.

“She doesn’t realise quite how hot ‘that’ is. She knows he’s hot, but not how much,” Sally says to the woman. “She thinks he’s nice.”

“That’s a novel approach. Treating men like people? I’m not sure it’ll catch on,” the woman says.

“It’s working for Toni,” Sally says. “Maybe she’s figured something out?”

“Too revolutionary for me. I’m quite conservative in my outlook,” the woman says.

“Anyway, Toni, do you want make a bet about your new favourite man?”

“Tim, isn’t my favourite man,” I say. “I’d rate Big-G and Steve higher, for now. Tim just makes me feel good with myself.”

The woman who seemingly came here to pee, or something, seems to have forgotten about whatever need she had and is now saying, “How many men has she on the go?” Eyebrows raised and staring at me, aghast. At least I think it’s aghast.

“She considers them ‘friends!’” Sally says. “Possibly even equals!”

“Are you sure she’s a woman?” the woman asks. “Do we need to burn her at the stake?”

“We checked her panties and everything. A vagina that could make God weep,” Sally says, sneering.

“Perfect strange, the answer is always so simple,” the woman says. “Anyway, this bet?”

“Yeah... Bet? Toni?” Sally says.

“No! Betting got me into this mess. No bet. No way. Not a hope!” I say.

“It’s win/win. No matter what happens you win.”

“Then why would you make this bet?” I ask.

“Because I want you to acknowledge my insight and genius,” Sally says. I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, no. So just tell me, what’s the bet? You can still crow at me you won if you actually do get it right. A moral victory,” I say.

Sally cackles. And so does the other women. “That’s almost as good,” Sally says. “I was going to bet that you spend tonight in Tim’s bed.”

I laugh. “Yeah, not going to happen. What were the stakes?”

“I win I pick your Halloween costume, you win you pick mine.”

“This is why I don’t bet,” I say. “What would the costume have been?”

“You can still make the bet and find out tomorrow morning.”

“Nope,” I say.

“If I ‘lost’ that bet I wouldn’t be getting out of that bed tomorrow morning. Or ever. And I don’t like saying it but I’m Gold Star,” the woman says.

“Girlfriend? Partner?” Sally asks.

“We’re getting married just before Christmas, winter wedding, both of us always wanted one. Hopefully it snows right after everyone arrives.”

“Ooh! That’d be beautiful. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Anyway I’d better pee, then tell no-one about this conversation because no-one would believe it isn’t exaggeration.”

“Not even your fiancée?” Sally asks.

“Borderline...” the woman says, looking doubtful.

“I hope the wedding is amazing, snow or not,” Sally says. “You done, Toni?”

“Yeah,” I say, my hands now dry and following Sally out. “What’s does Gold Star mean?”

“She did very well in school,” Sally says.

When we arrive back at the table Sally says, “Sorry, Toni fell in.” But no-one is paying attention, they’re all eating from what looks like a table full of food. It’s all side-dishes and nibbles, and there’s barely space for the drinks.

“Who got this?” Sally asks.

“Mouse,” Natasha says. “Tim ordered when he was at the bar.”

“I like people to be fed,” Mouse says. “I’ll buy drinks and all that but if you want to make me happy you’ll eat at least some of the food I ordered.”

“Thank you, Mouse,” both me and Sally say.

Tim grabs me around my waist and moves me past him, between him and the table. And feeling him hold me, and move me, is heavenly. I want his hands on me forever, but he sits me down next to him and simply says, “Eat! Mouse knows when people need to eat. It’s his superpower.”

Sally has already re-taken her seat and is placing food in a napkin when I begin to pick into the bowls and plates. I remember I had a full English this morning, but that was hours ago and Steve did eat most of it, so after a few bites my stomach accepts how hungry I actually am.

Eventually most of the food has been eaten, and we’re all just sitting. I suppose feeling normal. No-one is calling anyone stupid, no-one is really drinking, everything is simply peaceful, and I want Tim to hold me.

I lean into Tim but as I do Mouse catches his attention, “Can I go home now, Tim?” he asks.

“You’re not starting preparing your dinner already?” Tim asks, and I’m starting to wonder how Mouse isn’t fat.

“No. You kept me awake all night talking about Toni, we were here first thing. I would like to go home and relax.”

“But you will start preparing dinner?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, of course. Just the basics. It is relaxing.”

“Do you think you could cook for everyone?”

“If you want Toni and her friends to come back you need to remember it is your place,” Mouse says.

“It’s your place, too, Mouse. I am asking if you would be comfortable with it and if it wouldn’t put out your dinner plans?”

Mouse growls to himself. “It’s my brother’s place, which he rents to you and you let me live in it, and how long has it been since my dinner plans have been put out?”

“I’m asking you, Mouse,” Tim says.

Mouse coughs a theatrical cough, a call-to-attention cough, stands and says. “OK, if anyone at this table is vegan will you please raise your hand? High in the air, if you will? At the request of the Commander in Chief, all round idiotically nice guy, Tim.”

I look around and see everyone else also looking around, worried.

“That was a bad start. That was my fault. If you can raise your hand and have no difficulties raising your hand could you raise your hand in the air?” High please,” Mouse says.

Everyone looks around again and within a few seconds of each other hands are raised by everyone but Tim. Who I elbow in the ribs before he looks at me and raises his arm in the air. “Thank you, Toni. I did say everyone and I know for a fact Tim has functional arms barring any catastrophic injury or stroke in the past few hours.”

“Anyone vegan?”

No arms go up.

“Vegetarian?”

No arms.

“Pescatarian?”

Nothing.

“Allergies? I don’t care about penicillin or cat dander...”

Again no arms.

“Any picky eaters?”

Now people are looking at each other.

“This is the free hit. Most people have something they’re picky about,” Mouse says. “Some people lots.”

I raise my hand a little and Mouse is on me before I’ve even really unbent my wrist, let alone my elbow. “Thank you, Toni, yes. The first honest person here... Now I’m seeing why he wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“I had English baked beans for the first time this morning, but I left most behind. They were particularly awful. Pure sugar.”

“Yes, you’re right. The sauce is almost entirely sugar, but there are some very nice, and healthy, English baked beans available. Don’t write them off completely, but I get your point.”

Natasha blurts out, without raising her hand or being called on, “I’ll eat them out of politeness, if it’s put in front of me, but I’ll be holding back gagging the whole time with most seafood.”

“Thank you, Natasha. That is not a problem,” Mouse says.

“Stinky cheese,” Jess says, things really flowing now.

“How stinky?” Mouse asks.

“I don’t know. Stinky? The cheese has a stink.” Jess says, as though people’s tolerance of stink is standardised. I think I even give a quick, involuntary sniff to see if Tim has a nice boy stink. Which he doesn’t. He smells of soap. Plain, normal soap. Which is a shame, but not the worst.

“Do we even have stinky cheese, Tim?” Mouse asks, looking curious rather than annoyed about cheese stinks.

“Just cheddar and American cheese, I think,” Tim says.

“No worries with stinky cheeses, Jess. Thank you.”

“Broccoli, and brussel sprouts,” Sally says, in a tone verging on defiance.

“There it is! I knew it! I knew it’d be you because I quite like you!” Mouse says, waving his arm in the air—finger pointed—like some mid-speech irate dictator. “I bet you don’t like cabbage either!” he says, bending down to meet Sally eye to eye, while she stays sitting ramrod straight in her seat, meeting his glare.

There’s a burst of laughter from Tim. Which makes me laugh. Then everyone is laughing, except for Sally and Mouse who are still staring at each other with big smiles on their faces. Until Sally gives Mouse a quick peck of a kiss on his laugh-stifling lips, when he does start laughing and Sally does too.

“Fine, you’ve all met the real me,” Mouse says. “Congrats, it usually takes longer than that.” And he’s still meeting Sally’s gaze.

“This is not the real Mouse, by the way. He’s usually much more charming,” Tim says.

“Shut up you, smitten idiot. Kiss your girlfriend and stop annoying real people,” Mouse says.

I feel like I could float, or literally grow boobs on the spot at the thought of being someone’s girlfriend, but Tim’s eyeballs look like they’ve retreated three inches inside his head.

I rub his thigh as though I’m doing the sternum rub thing I’ve seen in medical shows, but sexier, and needier. It does nothing so instead I try Jess’s tactic with Natasha and give him a shoulder bump, but maybe with a bigger build up than necessary. He snaps around and looks at me, surprised. “Will you please kiss me?” I ask, now I have his attention.

“You don’t have to—” and I don’t hear it with my ears, but rather through vibrations of our tongues meeting, and through my skull, Tim finishing his sentence, “—ask me twice.”

As soon as me and Tim have begun I break away for more important matters. “And what was the point of that food quiz, Mouse?” I ask, really wanting to get on with it.

“Oh, sorry, yeah. You’re all welcome to come back to me and Tim’s place. If you stick around for a few hours I’ll cook dinner for you, which you at least have to play around with on your plate and make it look respectable. I’ll even respect Sally’s weirdness.”

“You can do that?” Tim asks.

“I’ve been respecting a lot of weirdness today, Sally is annoying but easy.”

“’Annoying But Easy’ is Sally’s tramp stamp,” Jess says, and even Sally laughs.

“Anyway, please come back to our place. We have lots of drinks, you can smoke with no-one bothering you, we haven’t annoyed the neighbours in years so they can put up with us for once, it’s comfortable, it’s cheaper than here, even if you don’t like my food we have lots of nuts and snacks, and the snacks are at most a few months out of date. We’re really close by, about seven minutes walk. You lot outnumber me and Tim, so our murder is more likely than yours. And we don’t buy the cheap toilet paper.”

Natasha stands before I’ve fully taken account of Mouse’s speech and says, “The seven minute’s walk thing sold me but the good toilet paper made me a believer.”

“You’re a woman after my own heart, Natasha,” Jess says.

“I’ll get your shopping bags, Toni. I know where you put them.”

“Thanks Nats. I knew you were nice,” I say. Then she snarls at me.

“I’m not nice I just know you’ll need your energy later,” Natasha says.

“Do you think there’s a Gatorade in those bags? I’m expecting a lot of lost fluids,” Jess says.

Natasha laughs, bends over and kisses the top of Jess’s head, then is off to Trevor’s room. We all sit in silence while she’s gone, enjoying having been fed, then she’s back, my bags in her hands and standing next to the head of the table.

Mouse stands as well, and says, “Right, if you must, and if you will... Back to mine and Tim’s place!” And then I quietly hear him say, “After we stop for some Gatorade...”