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Author's Note: This is my entry for the contest. Its a romance of a different sort. I decided I wanted to do something a bit different with this one. Its a quick and simple standalone tale. I don't have any intention of continuing it :)
 

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Finley Cross stepped out of the shower, the hot water washing away the last vestiges of sleep. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, his red hair sticking to his forehead in wet strands. The bathroom mirror fogged over as he sighed and leaned in, looking at a face that most girls would love to have. But he wasn't a girl and looking like one had caused him a lot of problems for the last couple of years.

He was tall but not tall enough to be noticed. He was all legs too but more importantly, he was flat as a board.

"Finley, I need your help!" his sister, Monica, called from the living room. Monica was a few years older and had just started beauty school. She often used him as a model for her projects. This time was no different.

He rolled his eyes and tightened the towel. "What is it now?"

"I've got an assignment for school, and you're my only hope," she said, poking her head around the corner. "It's for my makeup class, and I need a model for the 'before' and 'after' shots."

Finley sighed. He was used to this kind of treatment. Being the youngest of four with three older sisters had taught him to expect the unexpected, especially when it came to fashion and beauty. Over the years, he'd been the butt of their jokes, the recipient of their hand-me-downs, and the surprise model for their latest hair and makeup whims.

"Fine," he said, resigning himself to his fate. "But I want dinner out of this, and not fast food."

Monica grinned. "You got it. Now get dressed."

Finley took the time, drying off his long hair, making sure he squeezed all the water out of it. He didn't bother blow drying it because he knew Monica would want to style it as well.

He got dressed in an old t-shirt and skinny jeans. They were Monica's cast offs, old pants that no longer fit her - girls' jeans, but no one really noticed. If they did, they never said - not that it mattered to him, they were comfortable as hell!

"Come on, Finley," she said, knocking on the bathroom door. "You're taking too long."

Finley took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway. Monica's eyes lit up when she saw him. "Perfect," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards her room. It was a typical teenage girl's lair, with posters of pop stars and actors plastered on the walls, makeup scattered on the dresser, and clothes thrown haphazardly across the bed. She sat him down in the chair in front of her vanity and began her transformation.

The first step was the makeup. She applied foundation that was a shade lighter than his own skin tone, blending it flawlessly. He felt his cheekbones become more prominent and his jawline softer. He watched in the mirror as she painted his eyebrows into a more feminine arch. Then came the eyeshadow, mascara, and eyeliner. With each stroke, his eyes grew larger, more defined. She took a step back to take a picture, the flash momentarily blinding him. He blinked rapidly, trying to regain his focus.

Next was the hair. She curled it into soft waves, framing his face like a halo of fire. He'd never seen his hair look so good, and for a moment, he was almost jealous of the girl in the mirror. But it was just makeup and hair, right? It wasn't like he was actually turning into a girl.

As she worked, Monica snapped picture after picture, her excitement palpable. Each click of the camera was like a metamorphosis happening in real-time. Finley couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, his cheeks flushing under the layers of makeup. He'd never really cared much about his looks before, but now that he was being transformed into something so... different, he couldn't help but feel a bit anxious. What would people say if they saw him like this?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Monica stepped back and announced, "Alright, you're done!" Finley looked up at her, his eyes wide with curiosity. The person staring back at him was indeed a girl, but it was not a stranger. Someone he'd seen in the mirror before, sure, but never quite like this. The makeup was subtle yet effective, highlighting his features in a way that made them appear more delicate, more feminine. His hair fell around his face in gentle waves that made him look like he'd just stepped out of a magazine.

The transformation was so complete that even Finley had to admit it was pretty convincing. He had always had a feminine face, and with Monica's expert handiwork, it was easy to see how someone could mistake him for a girl. The only giveaway was his lack of breasts, but with the right outfit and posture, he could pull it off.

Not that he wanted too of course.

"Not bad, you look great, little sis" she said with a playful wink.

"I'm not your little sister," Finley grunted, feeling the weight of the makeup on his skin. "Can I take this stuff off now?"

Monica rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. "Not yet, I need to get some better lighting."

Finley sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "Monica, seriously?"

"Come on, just five more minutes," she pleaded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "The lighting in here is terrible. We'll go to the sunroom. It's perfect."

Finley grunted but followed, resigning himself to his fate. The sunroom was a small addition to the house, filled with plants and warmth that spilled in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The light was indeed better, casting a soft glow that made everything look more alive. He sat down on the wicker chair, feeling the cushions sink beneath him. This was his mother's favorite room, a place she liked to use to unwind after her long shifts at the hospital.

"Hold still," Monica said, fussing with his hair. "I just need to make sure it's all perfect for the pictures."

He rolled his eyes. "It was perfect already. Take your stupid photos. I gotta go to work soon"

"Just five more minutes," she promised, her eyes shimmering with excitement.

Monica finally got all the pictures she wanted.

"Alright, that's the last one," she said, her voice echoing with satisfaction. "We're done now"

"Good" he said with a sigh of satisfaction. "Get this gunk off me now".

Monica's phone rang a second later. She raised her hand, silencing him. He tried asking her again but she waved him off. He groaned. This is what happens when he agrees to help her. She was focused only when it was something she wanted but as soon as that was done, she became flighty and inattentive. Just like now. She wandered out of the sunroom, laughing to whoever was on the other end. Probably her fling of the week.

Great, he thought.

He considered calling Julie but she was probably in class. Trying to get ahold of Melissa would be even worse. So that meant he was stuck. Monica never taught him how to take it all off on his own. He cursed himself for not learning on his on, especially considering how many times they'd all done this to him over the years. Back then though, they always took it off him before anyone noticed.

He wanted to scream but realized he didn't have time to panic. Instead, he grabbed the nearest jacket and rushed out the door.

The heat of the day hit him like a wall as he stepped outside. He was already running late for work. Luckily his boss was pretty cool or else he'd be in deep shit. As bad as it was, he'd have to take the bus. He sprinted to the bus stop, his heart racing and his hair flapping in the wind. He arrived just in time to see the tail end of the bus disappearing around the corner.

"Shit" he cursed, knowing the next one would be about 20 minutes from now.

He dropped onto the bench and pulled out his phone. He started flipping through his phone, trying to occupy his time while he waited. Most of his social media feeds were dominated by his sisters---Monica with her fashion, Julie with her boy drama and Melissa with her kids---there was little room for other things. Except entertainment news. He didn't subscribe to it but it was always there. The latest was some kind of ongoing crap between that jackass actor Patrick Stark and his latest girlfriend. Again, nothing that concerned him.

Or so he thought.

"Excuse me, Miss" said a voice and he noticed someone standing in front of him.

Looking up, Finley found himself face to face with a cute Asian girl, probably early twenties. She looked overworked and timid, her eyes darting around nervously as if expecting someone to jump out and yell 'surprise'. She was dressed in an overpriced sweater and a pair of black leggings. The stark contrast between her and the fancy red sports car behind her was like comparing a daisy to a rose. The car screamed money and confidence while she whispered 'please don't trample me'.

Finley felt a strange mix of pity and curiosity as he took in her delicate features. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

"I'm Chloe Park" she said as if introducing herself was the proper thing to do. "And my boss would like to talk to you".

She pointed to the sports car behind her. Finley sighed.

What the hell was this?

That car probably cost more than 10 times what he could make in his lifetime. Whoever was inside was probably bad news and he really wanted no part in it.

"I'm not interested in whatever you're selling" he said and meant it.

It had to be drugs, right? Especially in this shitty neighborhood. It was kind of bold of them to sell out in the open like this, in broad daylight.

The color seemingly drained from the scared woman's face. "Its not drugs...its...a business opportunity. Please, it will only take a few minutes."

Against his better judgement, Finley sighed and agreed to it.

"Fine, but make it quick."

Chloe's eyes lit up with relief, and she led Finley to the shiny red sports car. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the sight of it. The door creaked open, and as he stepped closer, the scent of leather and expensive cologne wafted out. The interior was pristine, not a single speck of dust marring the gleaming surfaces. Finley slid into the passenger seat, the heated leather seats a little off putting.

"Thank you, Miss Park," a familiar voice said, and Finley's heart skipped a beat.

He looked up to see Patrick Stark, the teen Hollywood heartthrob himself, leaning over the center console of the car. His grin was a mile wide, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. His trademark blonde hair slicked back, his award winning smile on display.

Finley knew that smile all too well. It adorned Monica's walls.

"Hey, I'm Patrick" said the actor, putting it on a little thick.

Finley sighed. "I know".

He wasn't really into all this crap. He'd seen a few of the guys movies but only because Monica played them whenever it was her turn at movie night. Stark was one of those dime a dozen guys. He'd probably be famous for a few more years before his good looks waned or he got caught up in one too many scandals. His newest one with Jessica Turner was probably the one that was going to kill his career.

Patrick was unfazed. "Do you have a name?"

Here we go. "Its Finley and no, I'm not telling you my last name or where I live. I've seen this movie."

Patrick chuckled. "I think I starred in that one".

Finley rolled his eyes. "You don't say."

"I like you, you don't give a shit about who I am, do you?" Patrick was mildly amused.

Finley shrugged. "Not my thing."

"Not into handsome hotties?" asked a still amused actor.

Finley laughed. "Not into dudes period".

Patrick was still unfazed. "One of those types. Well I can still work with it."

Work with it? What the hell was this all about?

Finley's eyes narrowed, his annoyance growing with each passing second. He was late for work, stuck in a fancy sports car with a celebrity, and still dressed like a girl. If he didn't get out of this soon, it was going to be a mess. "What do you want, Mr. Stark?"

Patrick leaned back in his seat, his grin never wavering. "Call me Patrick," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "But to answer your question, I need your help."

Finley raised an eyebrow. "My help?" He couldn't imagine what a Hollywood star would need from someone like him. "What for?"

Patrick leaned in closer, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "It's simple," he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I need a favor. You see, I've got this image problem..." He paused dramatically, as if the very words were too heavy to be spoken aloud. "And I think you could be the solution."

Finley did not like where this was going. "You know I'm a..."

Patrick cut him off. "I don't care if you're a lesbian. Its all smoke and mirrors. You're cute, you have that girl next door kind of thing going on. Its what my publicist says I need right now. Someone to curb my image, get the tabloids to stop talking about me and Jessica".

So this is what all this was about. Finley just never thought things like this actually happened. The jackass needed a good PR and apparently a wholesome girl-next-door type to help him get it. Finley almost laughed if it wasn't so terrifying. This moron actually thought he was a girl. Looking in the rear view mirror, he could see where that mistake could have been made. But surely he at least sounded like a dude, right?

Finley groaned. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?"

Patrick laughed. "See, I didn't even have to explain it. Its just for a few weeks. Make a couple social appearances, Jess gets jealous and comes crawling back. Its a win win".

Finley scoffed. "For you maybe, it sounds like an embarrassing shit storm for me".

But then the amount dropped like a bombshell. "I'll pay you $200,000," Patrick said casually, as if that kind of money was something one threw around like loose change.

Finley's eyes widened. He couldn't have heard right. "What did you just say?"

Patrick leaned back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Two hundred thousand dollars. For one week of playing the part of my girlfriend. What do you say?"

Finley felt his mind racing. That was more money than he'd ever seen in his life. With that kind of cash, he could finally get a car and not have to rely on public transportation anymore. Maybe even help his mom with bills or put some aside for college. It was a ludicrous proposal, but the amount was too tempting to ignore.

"Not enough" said the smug jerk. "How about this then. 250k to start and another 250k when the job is done?"

Finley was floored. The man just offered him a half a million dollars. Was he that desperate?

"Why me?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Patrick's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Because you're the perfect mix of innocence and mystery," he said. "You're that cute girl next door, you're a nobody and you don't like dudes so there's no messy entanglements"

Finley felt like he'd just been picked out of a lineup by a kidnapper for a role he didn't audition for. But the money was too good to pass up. Half a million dollars. For a week's work. It was insane. "And what happens after?"

Patrick shrugged. "We go about our lives. You get a story to tell for years to come. I get my girl back. Like I said, its a win win".

Finley took a deep breath, the weight of the decision settling in his chest. He glanced out the window, watching as the world outside passed by, unchanged by the ludicrous turn his day had taken. A half a million dollars was nothing to sneeze at. He'd be set for life. But what was his life worth?

"Okay, you got yourself a deal," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "But only for a week. And no funny business."

Patrick's eyes lit up. "Great!" He leaned back in his seat, a look of relief flashing across his face. "You won't regret this, Finley."

Patrick rolled down the window and looked at Chloe still standing on the curb. "Start making the arrangements. I'm gonna drop her off to wherever she was going then I'll swing back around to grab you."

Before Chloe could respond, Patrick rolled up the window and peeled out of there.

The drive to the bookstore was uncomfortable to say the least. Finley sat in silence, his mind racing with questions. How did he get himself into this mess? Was he really going to go through with it?

As they pulled into the parking lot, Patrick leaned over and whispered, "Remember, the moment we step out of this car, you're my girlfriend. Act like it, okay?"

Finley nodded, his heart racing. This was it. The moment his life took a sharp left turn into the bizarre.

Finley took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen. He watched as Patrick turned off the engine and climbed out, his movements graceful despite his height.

As he opened the door to the bookstore, Finley's heart was racing. He stepped out of the car and felt the cool air hit his face. He knew he had to keep his head down, avoid any direct eye contact. But then, before he could even move away from the car, Patrick had his arm around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug. Finley stiffened, his eyes wide with surprise. The smell of the actor's cologne was strong and the warmth from his body was surprisingly comforting.

"I'll see ya, babe" said Patrick, gently kissing him on the cheek.

Then he was gone, leaving Finley both stunned and embarrassed. A few people in the bookstore stared but no one said anything.

What the hell did I just get myself into?

That's all Finley could think about as he clocked in at the bookstore, his mind racing with the absurdity of the situation. He kept his head down and tried to ignore the occasional curious glance from his coworkers. It wasn't hard to see why they were looking at him; he'd never worn makeup to work before, and his hair was styled like he was about to walk a runway. But no one said anything, and for that, he was grateful.

The hours dragged on, each customer's question feeling like a pebble thrown into the pond of his anxiety. He managed to keep his cool, though, and by the time his shift ended, he was more than ready to go home.

When Finley finally walked through the front door, the smell of something delicious wafted through the air. His mother was at the stove, a wooden spoon in hand, and Monica was setting the table, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. It was rare to see his mother these days, especially with her busy shifts at the hospital.

"You're home early," she said, not looking up from the bubbling pot.

"You too" he said, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table. "Slow day today?"

She chuckled. "Even a nurse is warranted some time off"

He hated that his mother worked so much. She was in her late fifties and was still a bit from retirement. His father died five years ago, leaving his Mom pretty much on her own to raise them all. Melissa was at college at the time, Julie was about to graduate high school, Monica was a couple years behind her. It all seemed too much for his Mom and yet she managed. She was one of the reasons he decided to take Patrick's deal. If he could anything to take the burden from her, he would.

But now, he had to tell her that he'd agreed to pretend to date some Hollywood heartthrob. She'd probably think he was insane.

"Mom, Monica," he began, his voice shaking. "I need to tell you guys something."

Monica looked over her shoulder, a spoonful of salad hovering in the air. "What's up?" she said, her tone light.

Finley took a deep breath, trying to find the words. "Remember the makeover?"

Monica stared at him, mouth open. "Oh shit, Fin. I completely forgot to remove the makeup!"

His mother chuckled. "I was wondering why he looked runway chic all of the sudden"

Finley groaned. "Well, Monica, your little experiment got a bit out of hand."

He recounted the entire bizarre encounter with Patrick Stark to his mother and sister, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Monica's eyes grew wider with every detail, and by the time he finished, she was practically bouncing in her chair.

"Oh my God, Finley!" she squealed, her voice reaching octaves he didn't know were humanly possible. "You're going to be a celebrity! This is going to be the best thing that's ever happened to us!"

He groaned and rolled his eyes. Of course, she would only think about herself in a time like this.

"Monica, could you give us a minute?" his mother asked, her voice calm and even. She knew her daughter too well to be surprised by her reaction.

Monica pouted but did as she was told, leaving the kitchen with a dramatic flourish.

"So, what do you think?" his mother asked, turning to face him fully. Her expression was one of genuine concern, her eyes searching his for any hint of doubt.

Finley sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know," he admitted. "I mean, half a million dollars is a lot of money. It could change our lives."

She waved that off. "Putting aside the money, are you sure this is something you really want to do. There's a lot of exposure here, Fin. People are going to recognize you. It could get really messy? Are you sure you really want to do this?"

Finley felt his heart sink. His mother knew him too well. She knew that he was never one for the spotlight. He liked his quiet life, his quiet job, and his quiet friends. He liked being in the background, watching the world go by without bothering him too much. But the money... that was a game-changer. "I think this will help us Mom. We need this"

His mother gently grabbed his hand. "But is it something you need?"

He'd been asking himself that very same question all day and had come to only one conclusion. "I think I can do this, Mom".

Her gaze searched his face, looking for any signs of doubt. "Fin, are you sure?"

"Yes" he said with confidence and finality.

The silence that followed was thick with understanding. His mother knew him better than anyone else in the world. She knew his fears, his insecurities and she knew that he didn't like being the center of attention. But she also knew that he was a good kid, and that he wouldn't make a decision without considering the consequences.

"Okay," she finally said, her voice tight with concern. "But promise me you'll be careful."

He nodded. "I will."

As soon as he could, Finley retreated to his room and shut the door. The walls were plastered with posters of rock bands and action heroes, a stark contrast to the feminine makeover he was currently sporting. He collapsed on his bed, his thoughts racing. This was insane. He was going to pretend to date one of the most famous actors in the world. And all because of a simple makeover.

The phone on his nightstand buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. He picked it up, expecting it to be Melissa or maybe even a telemarketer. But the name on the screen made his heart skip a beat: Chloe Park. He took a deep breath and answered.

"Hey Finley," she said, her voice calm and professional. "How are you holding up?"

Finley lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. "I've had better days," he replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Look, I know this is weird," Chloe said gently. "But we're going to make it work. We're going to turn you into the perfect girlfriend."

"How does this work?" he asked, still not sure how they were going to do this.

Hell, they all still thought he was a girl.

"So this simple. You're a little rough around the edges, as is to be expected. We're going to buff those out. Patrick talked with Grace, his agent, she's made arrangements. We've rearranged the time table a bit. You and Patrick will not an official "out" couple until three weeks from now. In those three weeks leading up to your "debut" on his arm, we're going to put you through a crash course in everything you'll need. We'll call it Girly Boot Camp if you will." She paused as if taking a breath. "Then there will be the week of romance that you two initially agreed on, leading up to the premiere of Patrick's new movie. His hope is that Jessica will have come to her senses by then."

Finley bit his lip. "And if she doesn't?"

Chloe sighed. "Then there will be room to extend the contract."

"You mean more?" he asked, not sure he liked that.

"We'll make it official. Tomorrow morning, we'll send a car. Grace wants to meet with you, make everything official and legal. You're sixteen right? You'll need an adult present. I know your mother works at the hospital..."

He was floored. How much did they know about him already? Did they know his true gender too?

"I think I can get my sister Melissa, she's in law school..."

She wasn't quite a lawyer yet but she was getting close. She was interning at a firm though, maybe she could bring someone with her.

"Sanders and Vick" said Chloe a moment later. "We can easily arrange that".

He was not surprised that this woman knew where his sister interned.

Finley ended the call with Chloe feeling like he had just stepped off a roller coaster. His mind was racing with the gravity of the situation. This was real. He was going to be paid half a million dollars to pretend to date a Hollywood celebrity. His stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety. He couldn't believe it had all started with a simple makeover.

He sat on the edge of his bed, his thoughts racing. The idea of a "Girly Boot Camp" was both absurd and terrifying. What did that even entail? Would they expect him to wear dresses and learn to apply makeup flawlessly? The thought of being coached on how to behave like a girlfriend made him want to laugh and scream at the same time.

The next morning, the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks as he walked into the gleaming offices of Sanders and Vick. Melissa was already there, dressed in her usual professional attire, looking like she belonged in a room full of suits. She gave him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the back as they made their way to the conference room.

Grace was a sharp-looking woman with hair so blonde it was practically white. She had the kind of smile that could cut glass and make you bleed. Her lawyer, a stern man with a tie so tight it looked painful, didn't bother with pleasantries. They sat opposite each other, the contract in the middle of the table like a minefield waiting to be navigated.

"Finley" said Mark, the lawyer Melissa had brought along, "This is going to be a very straightforward contract. You're going to be paid half a million dollars for one week of public appearances with Mr. Stark. You'll be given a script to follow, a set of rules, and a wardrobe."

Grace interrupted. "Before we begin, I need to make it very clear that Mr. Cross's true gender will remain between those present. Especially from my client".

So she knew. Of course she had to know. It was clear these people had done a ton of research on him beforehand. He knew there was no way he could hide his gender from them. But did she say that Patrick didn't know? How exactly was that going to work?

Finley took a deep breath and spoke. "Look, I know this is weird, but I need to apologize for deceiving you. I never meant for any of this to happen."

Grace's expression softened. "Don't worry about it, Finley," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "This isn't your mess to clean up. It's all on Patrick." She leaned in, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "And between you and me, I think he's an absolute idiot for not being able to tell the difference between a boy and a girl."

There was some chuckles.

Melissa's grip on his hand tightened. "How will you protect my brother if and when his true gender does get out?"

There it was, his voice of reason. Melissa was the smart one in the family after all.

Grace nodded solemnly. "We have a strict non-disclosure agreement in place for everyone involved. Your true identity will be protected at all costs. We've had situations like this before, albeit not quite as... unique. But we know how to handle it."

What did that mean exactly? He was too afraid to ask.

Melissa looked like she wanted to ask more but Mark shook his head.

"Its fine, let's just get this over with" Finley murmured, his eyes scanning the document laid out in front of him. It was thick, with more clauses than he knew existed. The words blurred together, a mix of legal jargon and potential life changing decisions. But the number at the bottom was clear as day: $500,000.

Melissa leaned over, whispering in his ear. "You don't have to do this, you know. We can just walk away right now."

But the allure of the dollar amount was too strong. He signed the contract with a trembling hand, the ink feeling like it was sealing his fate. The room fell silent, the only sound the scratch of the pen on the paper. Finley couldn't help but feel like he'd just signed away a piece of himself.

After a round of handshakes and nods, Finley and Melissa stepped into the elevator, leaving the gleaming office behind. The ride down was quiet, the weight of the decision hanging heavily in the air.

When they stepped out into the bustling street, Finley felt a strange mix of excitement and dread. He was going to be pretending to be someone else for the sake of money and a celebrity's love life. It was like he'd stumbled into a reality TV show, except the stakes were real and the prize was life-altering.

They went home. Melissa said her good-byes and Finley hung around the house until lunch time.

The car that arrived at lunch was a sleek black sedan with tinted windows. The driver stepped out, impeccably dressed in a suit that made Finley feel like a slob in his t-shirt and jeans. "Miss Cross?" the man inquired, his voice smooth as silk. Finley nodded, his heart racing as he slid into the backseat. The interior was spotless, smelling faintly of leather and something sweet that he couldn't quite place.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Finley couldn't shake the feeling that he was living someone else's life. The world outside the window passed by in a blur of color and movement, and he wondered if this was what it felt like to be on a movie set.

The car took him to a fancy hotel, not the place he was expecting.

"Here we are," the driver said, opening the door for him.

Finley stepped out into a world that felt like a different universe. The hotel lobby was grand and gleaming, with marble floors and a chandelier that looked like it was made from a million crystals. The air was cool and faintly scented with something floral, and the staff looked like they'd just stepped out of a magazine. He didn't even know there was a place like this in his home town. Hell he still wasn't even sure what Patrick had been doing in his nothing town.

As he made his way to the suite number Chloe had given him, his heart was racing. What was he going to say to this stylist? He'd never been into fashion, not even a little bit.

The door to the suite swung open before he could even knock, revealing a young woman with neon pink hair and enough piercings to make a pirate jealous. She wore a leather vest over a band tee that was a few sizes too small, showing off her toned stomach and the sleeve of tattoos that trailed down her arms. She looked like she'd just stepped off the set of a music video.

"Finley!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of enthusiasm and a hint of a British accent. "I've been waiting for you!"

Her eyes swept over him, taking in his baggy jeans and oversized t-shirt, the look on her face a blend of amusement and horror. "Oh, darling, we have so much work to do," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bex, the stylist, wasted no time pulling him into the suite and shutting the door behind them. It was like stepping into a mini fashion boutique, with clothes and accessories scattered everywhere. Finley felt like a fish out of water.

"Alright, let's get started," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she began to dig through the racks of clothes. She held up a pair of leggings and a crop top. "This is a no-go," she said, tossing them aside. "We need to find you something that says 'girl next door' but with a bit of an edge. You know, the kind of girl that makes every boy's heart flutter, but also makes their moms love her."

Finley looked at her skeptically. "Is that even a look?"

"It can be with someone as fab as me" she said, taking a few pictures of him with her smartphone. "You've got a boyish figure, easily fixable" She winked. "Some padding, some falsies. Do you have a lot of hair on your body?"

He shook his head. "What does that have to..."

"Good, good" she said, rummaging about and handing a bag of things. "This is skin care, you'll need it. There's some Nair in there too. Gotta get rid of that hair. We'll wax if we have time. I think I've got everything I need for today. I'll have Frank take you home"

Finley felt like he'd just been handed a manual to a game he didn't know he'd signed up to play.

The next day, Bex whisked him away to a fancy salon. The kind where the chairs were more comfortable than his bed at home. The kind of place where the lights were so bright you could see every pimple on your face. And the kind of place where a woman named Delilah, who looked like she could bench press him, greeted him with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"So you're the boy who thinks he can play girl" she said, her voice gruff and her hands already busy mixing something that smelled faintly of glue.

Finley sat in the salon chair, his heart racing. This was it. This was where the magic happened. Or rather, the madness. The woman, Delilah, was a makeup artist to the stars, according to Bex. He'd never felt so out of place in his life. The walls were a stark white and the lights were so bright he felt like he was in an interrogation room.

"What's the plan?" she asked Bex, looking for guidance.

"Boobs, hips and something down there" said Bex, pointing to between Finley's legs. "No one can know."

Delilah nodded. "When I'm done, no one will"

The process was strange, to say the least. The coldness of the glue was a shock to his system as she applied the fake breasts to his chest. They were surprisingly realistic, and Finley couldn't help but stare down at them as they took shape. Delilah was a master at her craft, working swiftly and surely, turning him into someone else entirely.

The hips were a bit more complicated. They had to be padded just right so that they looked natural. Too much and he'd be waddling around like a duck. Too little and he'd still look like a boy in a dress. She measured and cut pieces of foam with the precision of a sculptor, molding them to fit his body. The result was a surprisingly convincing curve that had Finley questioning his own reflection.

Then came the final piece of the puzzle: the genital concealer. It was a small, flesh-colored garment that he had to slip on under his clothes. It was a bit of a struggle, but eventually, he managed to get it on without too much trouble. It was tight and uncomfortable, but it did the job of hiding his most male characteristic.

Once everything was in place, Bex handed him a pair of panties and a matching bra. He took a deep breath and stepped into the back room to change, feeling like he was crossing a line he could never uncross. As he looked at himself in the mirror, the illusion was almost perfect. The padding gave him the appearance of having a modest but noticeable chest, and the panties smoothed out his hips. He couldn't believe he was doing this.

Bex smiled in approval and nodded.

The next three weeks were a whirlwind of lessons and transformations. Each day was a new battle in the war of becoming someone he wasn't. But Bex was a drill sergeant of femininity, pushing him to his limits and beyond. They started with his walk, his posture, his gestures. Finley learned to sway his hips and tilt his head just so, to make his movements seem more delicate and graceful. They practiced his speech, his laugh, his mannerisms. It was like he was being reprogrammed, every aspect of his being reconstructed into something softer, something more appealing to the male gaze.

Then came the clothes. Oh, the clothes. He was drowned in a sea of dresses and skirts, leggings and heels. He learned to navigate the treacherous waters of fashion, to pick out what would flatter his new figure and match Patrick's style. There were so many rules, so many dos and don'ts. He had to learn to sit like a lady, to stand like a lady, to eat like a lady. It was exhausting, but Bex was relentless. She taught him how to apply makeup so that he looked fresh-faced and innocent, yet somehow still alluring. How to do his hair so it fell in soft waves around his shoulders. How to dress so that he didn't look like he was trying too hard, but still looked like a million bucks.

Every day was a new challenge, a new lesson in being someone he wasn't. He had to learn how to handle himself in public, how to smile for the cameras without looking like he was about to throw up, how to laugh at Patrick's jokes even when they weren't funny. He had to learn to be someone else's girlfriend, someone else's arm candy. And it was hard, because deep down, he was still Finley Cross, the quiet boy who liked video games and pizza on a Friday night. But every time he looked in the mirror and saw the girl staring back at him, he knew he was getting closer to the prize.

The night before the big reveal, Finley lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He was wearing the lingerie that Bex had picked out for him, the kind that made him feel sexy and young. But it wasn't just playing anymore. This was real. This was his life for the next week, maybe more if the plan worked out. He was going to walk a red carpet, be photographed by paparazzi, be talked about on talk shows and social media. He was going to be someone else.

He rolled over and checked his phone. There was a text from Patrick. "Can't wait to see you tomorrow. You're going to blow everyone away." Finley felt his stomach drop. He had been practicing his smile, his laugh, his everything. But he hadn't practiced what to do when he saw the man who had set this all into motion. What if he messed up? What if he forgot his lines?

The next day, Finley walked into the hotel suite where Patrick was waiting, his heart pounding in his chest. He was dressed in a little black dress that Bex had picked out, his hair styled into loose waves that framed his face. He had to admit, he looked pretty good.

Patrick's jaw dropped as he saw him. "Wow," he breathed, his eyes raking over Finley's new figure. "You're... you're stunning."

Finley felt his cheeks heat up under the layers of foundation. "Thanks," he murmured, twirling a lock of hair around his finger. It felt strange, almost alien, to hear himself talked about like that.

"You look nothing like the girl I met at the bus stop," Patrick said, his eyes still wide with amazement. "You look... incredible."

"Its all for show" he readily admitted. "I'm still that snarky doofus on the inside".

Patrick's smile grew wider. "But the outside is what counts," he said, taking a step closer. "You look like you just stepped out of a magazine."

"I am what you paid for" he admitted.

Patrick frowned. "Don't say it like, it sounds dirty".

Finley smirked, feeling oddly empowered in the situation. "What? It's true. You've turned me into a girl you'd actually date".

Patrick rolled his eyes but the compliment had hit home. "You do look good, fit for my arm".

Finley laughed nervously. "Well, I guess we'll see about that."

The car ride to the restaurant was a blur of butterflies and deep breaths. Finley had never felt so exposed in his life. The dress Bex had picked out for him was tight, showing off his new curves in a way that made him feel both powerful and vulnerable. The heels were a nightmare, but he managed to navigate the sidewalk with only a few wobbly steps.

As they entered the restaurant, a hush fell over the room. All eyes were on them. Finley could feel the weight of the stares, but he held his head high, channeling the confidence that Bex had drilled into him. This was it. Their first appearance as a couple. He glanced over at Patrick, who looked as cool as a cucumber, his hand resting comfortably on the small of Finley's back. He wondered how the heck the guy did it.

"Patrick, wherever did you find this darling young lady" asked one of the many reporters arranged to be present.

"Filming actually" he said almost as if he rehearsed it. "I wandered into this little book store and there she was"

"Love at first sight?" asked another reporter.

"Hardly" interjected Finley. "He wouldn't leave me alone. Imagine me getting hounded by a big Hollywood star".

"I wore her down" Patrick shot in before casting Finley a look for going off script.

As they walked toward their table, Patrick leaned in and whispered sharply. "They liked it but don't do that again"

Finley nodded, his heart racing. He knew he had to stick to the script. The meal was a blur of flashes and questions, a symphony of silverware clinking and laughter that felt forced. Yet somehow, Finley found himself slipping into the role more naturally than he expected. The food was exquisite, each bite a burst of flavor that was lost on his nerves. The dress clung to him like a second skin, the padding in his bra and underwear a constant reminder of the façade he was maintaining.

As the night grew late, Finley felt the first pang of necessity. He excused himself to the bathroom, his heels clicking on the marble floor. The Women's bathroom was as opulent as the rest of the restaurant, with plush velvet stalls and gleaming chrome fixtures. It was there that his heart skipped a beat as he saw Jessica Turner, Patrick's ex-girlfriend, standing at the mirror, her back to the door. She was flanked by a girl with a sharp jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to see right through him. Both had blonde hair and those blue eyes.

Finley froze, his hand hovering over the handle of the nearest stall. He'd seen pictures of Jessica, but seeing her in person was like getting punched in the gut. She was even more beautiful than he'd imagined, her hair cascading in soft waves down her back, her dress hugging her in all the right places. And here he was, a boy dressed as a girl, about to walk into her personal space.

But there was no turning back now. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the racing of his heart, and stepped into the bathroom. The sound of his heels echoed off the marble walls as he made his way to the counter. The girl noticed him first, her eyes narrowing as she took in his outfit, his makeup, everything. Jessica was too busy fixing her own makeup to look up.

Finley didn't interact with them until he was out of the stall after done his business.

"Hi, I'm Finley," he said, trying to keep his voice steady as he approached the sink. Jessica looked up from her reflection, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. She had a polite smile on her face, but there was a hint of curiosity in her gaze.

"Jessica," she said, her voice cool and composed. "And this is my friend, Dana."

Dana didn't bother hiding the fact she was checking Finley out. Her gaze lingered on his chest and hips, and she smirked as she held out her hand for a shake. "Nice to meet you, Finley."

Finley took her hand, feeling a jolt of something unidentifiable. She was beautiful in a way that was almost intimidating. Her eyes were a piercing shade of blue that seemed to bore into him, and her grip was firm, almost challenging.

Why did this happen to him? Here he found an amazing girl and he was now a girl too. Life wasn't fair.

But he had to keep it together. He was playing a role. A role that paid half a million dollars. He couldn't mess this up.

"So you're the new one" said Jessica, still doing her makeup.

"It would seem so" he said, trying to play it cool.

"Interesting" said Dana with a hint of a smile.

Jessica sighed. "I know what he's doing. Its cute actually. He thinks you're gonna make me jealous and make me go crawling back to him".

Finley shrugged. "Hey I'm just the pick up girl along for the ride"

"The bookstore right?" asked Dana, still staring.

Finley nodded. "That got around fast?"

"Well its suddenly big news" said Jessica with an eye roll.

"Yeah I guess it is" said Finley awkwardly.

"Well I don't know how he convinced you but good luck with that" said Jessica.

Finley nodded. "Thanks I guess". He left the bathroom feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet. He took a deep breath and walked back to their table. Patrick was talking to some other people but he broke away and saw Finley approaching.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his eyes searching Finley's face.

Finley nodded, his heart racing. "Yeah, just had to powder my nose," he said, taking his seat.

Jessica and Dana came by the table, taking seats without being asked. "Hello Pat" she said, smirking. "I just had a lovely chat with your Finley, lovely girl"

Patrick's face turned red. "Finley, this is Jessica, my... former girlfriend and her friend Dana"

Finley nodded awkwardly. "Yeah we've met in the bathroom"

Patrick's eyes snapped to Finley's face, a hint of irritation flashing through them. "Oh really?" he said, his voice tight.

But Finley was already turning his attention to Dana. "So, what do you do?" he asked, trying to ignore the tension that had settled over the table like a thick fog.

Dana leaned back in her chair, crossing one long leg over the other. "I'm a model," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "You work in a bookstore right? You still in high school?"

Yeah but its summer break" he said, feeling like an awkward idiot around a real pretty girl.

"Oh right. So what do you do for fun?" Dana asked, her eyes still assessing him.

He shrugged. "THere's not much around here...a bowling ally, roller skating"

Dana giggled. "Jess and I used to live for roller skating. You remember, Jess?"

"Yeah, we had some wild times," Jessica said, her eyes on Finley.

"We should go then!" jumped in Patrick. "The four of us, it could be fun!?"

Jessica was about to decline but Dana shot her a look. She knew that look. Her best friend wanted to get to know Finley better. She turned and looked at Finley, smiling. She was cute if a bit masculine. She supposed the girl was Dana's type but there was something about her, something...then it clicked. She saw it and smiled. She looked at Patrick. How could the idiot not see the obvious? She realized that Finley was pretty enough and while it was subtle, it was obvious too.

She smirked. This was too good. It was a gold mine but she wasn't a bitch. She'd let this one get out on its own. She couldn't wait to see Pat's face though.

"I suppose it could be fun" she finally admitted in response to the roller skating.

Fun for her to watch Patrick try to woo his Finley. It might also be fun to watch Dana snatch the poor thing away.

The restaurant date tracked well. It was good PR for Patrick. People were talking, especially his fans. They liked he was dating a "normal" girl.

Two days later, Finley found himself at the local roller rink, feeling like he'd been thrown back in time. The smell of stale popcorn and the sound of wheels on the polished floor brought back memories of his childhood, when things were simpler. He'd picked out an oversized sweatshirt and black leggings, hoping to blend in with the casual vibe of the place. But as he looked around, he realized that even here, in the heart of his own town, he was now the center of attention.

Jessica and Dana glided in, both of them in skin-tight jeans that showcased their toned figures and confidence. They looked like they'd just stepped out of a fashion magazine, while Finley felt like he'd just rolled out of bed. The contrast was stark, and it made him feel even more like the imposter he was.

But as the evening went on, something strange happened. Patrick, who was supposed to be playing the part of the lovesick boyfriend, couldn't keep his eyes off Jessica. He was trying to charm her, flirting shamelessly, while Finley felt like the third wheel on their very awkward date. Dana noticed the dynamic and took it upon herself to entertain Finley.

They skated in circles around the rink, laughing as they bumped into each other. Dana was surprisingly good, her movements fluid and graceful. Finley felt a spark of genuine joy, a rare feeling amidst the chaos of his masquerade. She showed him tricks, spun him around until he was dizzy, and even held his hand to keep him upright. The warmth of her touch was comforting, a small slice of normalcy in a world that had gone topsy-turvy.

As they took a break at the food court, Finley felt a strange camaraderie with Dana. She was the only one who seemed to see through the façade, the only one not playing along with the charade. They shared a large greasy pizza and talked about their lives, their dreams, and their fears. Finley found himself opening up to her in a way he never had with anyone before, sharing his love for video games and his hopes of going to college. Dana spoke of her modeling career, the glamour and the grind, her eyes shimmering with ambition.

"I miss the quiet too" she admitted. "Its been nice being in this town, hanging with Jess. With our busy careers, its so hard to connect and hang out like we used too".

Finley found it strange that Dana was a teenager like him but acted so much like an adult too. He definitely wasn't ready for that.

Neither of them noticed someone silently taking pictures.

The next day, the tabloids were ablaze with the headline "Trouble in Stark's Paradise?" Accompanying the article were several shots of Finley and Dana, laughing over a slice of pizza, their heads close together. The photographer had managed to capture the exact moment when Dana's hand had rested on Finley's knee, and the angle made it look intimate. Finley's heart sank as he read the article over breakfast, his mother's worried gaze on him. It was all over the internet, the whispers of a love triangle starting to form.

Patrick was livid. "What the hell were you thinking?" he spat when Finley walked into the hotel suite, his eyes glued to the article on his phone.

Finley sighed. "It was just pizza, Pat. We were just hanging out."

"The rags don't see it that way" he snapped. "You made me look like a fucking fool. What's worse, you did it with Dana Stevens, the lesbian It Girl. Look do your dyking on your own time, not when you work for me!"

Finley felt his cheeks burn with anger. "First of all, I'm not 'doing' anything with Dana. Second of all, she's not just 'the lesbian It Girl', she's a person with feelings and a name!"

"Look, finger her on your own time!" he raged and stormed off, leaving Finley alone with a flabbergasted Chloe.

Chloe sighed. "You like her?"

Finley couldn't deny it. "Its hard not too".

Chloe rubbed her temples. "Grace is probably flipping out..."

Her words were barely out before the phone in Finley's pocket buzzed. He pulled it out to see Grace's name flashing on the screen. "Speak of the devil..." He answered with a heavy sigh.

"Finley! What the hell was that?" Grace's voice was a shriek that could've shattered glass. "You're supposed to be playing a girlfriend, not cozying up with the enemy!"

"She's hardly the enemy" he said with a laugh.

"Well she is now" seethed Grace.

Finley's heart sank. "What do you mean?"

"You're supposed to be Patrick's girlfriend!" she snapped. "Not making friends with his ex's best friend, the lesbian best friend!"

"Dana's my friend too, you know!" Finley protested. "And she's not just 'the lesbian'. She's a person, and she's pretty cool."

Grace's voice remained sharp. "I don't care if she's the coolest person on the planet, Finley! You're on the job! The paparazzi are going to have a field day with this. You need to keep it professional, keep it tight, or this whole thing goes to hell in a handbasket! In other words, stay the hell away from Dana Stevens!"

Finley sighed, feeling a twinge of sadness at the thought of cutting Dana off. But he knew Grace was right. This was business, and he had a contract to uphold. "Okay, okay. I'll be more careful."

"Good. The premiere is three days away, we can't afford another scandal like this" said Grace, finally regaining her cool. "I'm gonna arrange a press release. You and Dana are just friends and nothing happened. Then you and Patrick will go out on a quiet date alone, without Dana and Jessica."

"Okay, okay I get it" said Finley with a nod.

Grace's press release had done its job. The storm of speculation had been downgraded to a drizzle. But the tension between Patrick and Finley was palpable. The "date night" arranged by Grace was anything but romantic. They went to a fancy French restaurant with candles flickering on every table, but Finley couldn't help but feel like he was on a stage, acting out a scene from a bad rom-com. Every gesture, every smile felt forced, and Patrick was definitely not making it easier. He was cold, distant, and barely said two words to him. Finley felt like he was being punished for something that wasn't his fault.

The date still tracked well.

When Finley arrived back at the hotel suite, Patrick was already gone, leaving a note that the next day's date was off. Grace called, her voice a whip crack of annoyance. "Patrick says he's too busy," she said through clenched teeth. "Do you know what this means for your contract?"

"It means he's neglecting our deal" I said, having read things thoroughly after all.

Grace sighed. "I'll try to keep him on track".

The next day, Finley was left to his own devices, feeling more like a forgotten prop than a paid participant in the charade. He wandered around the hotel, the opulence of the surroundings now feeling oppressive rather than exciting. He missed the simplicity of his life before this whole mess had started. He missed being just Finley, not 'the girl from the bookstore'.

That night, his phone rang. It was a number he didn't recognize, but something told him it was Dana. He answered tentatively, expecting another lecture about maintaining his cover. But instead, she sounded... friendly. "Hey Sexy, it's Dana. What's up?"

He was surprised. "Sexy?"

She laughed. "We both know its true. I've always had a thing for cute red heads. Who would have thunk I'd fall for the one with a little bit extra?"

So she did know. He wondered from the looks she gave him. "You didn't..."

"Your secret is safe with me." She paused. "Does Patrick know?"

Finley laughed. "He's about as bright as you'd expect."

He explained everything to her---from his sister's "makeover" to Patrick picking him up at a bus stop. Dana laughed at the idea of him trying to use Finley to make Jessica jealous.

"She's already moved on. The thing with her and Pat, it was never real. Another PR stunt. He thought it was real though. Kinda pathetic. The boy never once took a hint."

Finley couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Wait so he just spent all that money on me for nothing?"

She laughed. "Not nothing. He got some good PR again".

They talked well into the night. Nothing else mattered to him.

Then in the morning, the big scandal broke, i.e Patrick screwed up again.

Finley woke up to a symphony of buzzing phones. He grabbed his phone and the screen was filled with articles. "Patrick Stark's New Love Interest? Rockstar Melody Night!" It was a blur of images, but the one that stood out was Patrick with his arms wrapped around a young woman, her hair a wild mess of dark curls, her lips red and swollen, a cigarette dangling from her mouth. Finley felt his stomach drop. It was a slap in the face, a stark reminder of the game he was playing.

Grace called, her voice a mix of anger and panic. "Patrick's gone and done it again," she said through clenched teeth. "Some rock chick named Melody Night. He swears it was just a one-night stand, but she's not playing ball. She's telling everyone who'll listen that she's his new girl. And the press is eating it up."

So what did that mean for their deal....

Arrangements were made and Grace had Finley brought home. He'd been staying at Patrick's hotel to be close at hand but with the deal all in shambles, they decided it was better to get him away from Patrick. Their deal was still in place though, so Patrick was on the hook for the money he owed. There was some back and forth between his lawyer, Mark, and Grace's law firm. In the end, they had to pay.

Finley tried to ignore the buzz around the scandal. The TV and internet were alight with images of Patrick and Melody, their tangled limbs and kisses plastered across every tabloid. He was forgotten, a distant memory. His transformation back to his male self was as thorough as his transition into a female one. The clothes were packed away, the makeup removed, and the padding discarded. He looked in the mirror and felt a strange mix of relief and sadness. He was back to being just Finley Cross, the boy from the bus stop.

But the reality of his life didn't change with his appearance. The money from the deal was deposited into his account, but the weight of what he'd done hung over him like a dark cloud. The half a million dollars felt dirty, tainted by the lie he'd helped perpetuate. His mother tried to cheer him up, but her words fell on deaf ears.

Days turned into weeks, and the scandal with Melody Night faded from the headlines. Finley tried to go back to his old life, but the sting of his brief brush with fame lingered. He felt like he'd lost something vital, like a piece of himself had been chipped away. He missed the thrill of the ruse, the challenge of being someone else, and, more than anything, he missed her.

Not Dana. Though he really did miss her.

He missed being a girl.

The days passed by in a blur, the excitement of the past month feeling like a distant dream. Finley found himself back at the bookstore, restocking shelves and avoiding the customers' prying eyes. He'd become something of a local celebrity, known as "that kid who pretended to be a girl for Patrick Stark." The whispers and stares were constant, and while some were filled with admiration, others were tinged with disappointment.

A month later, the news broke that Grace had dropped Patrick as a client. His latest movie had tanked at the box office, and the public's interest in his tumultuous relationship with Melody Night had waned. The gossip rags were now labeling him a has-been, a tragic fall from grace for Hollywood's former golden boy.

The whispers grew louder, the rumors uncontrollable. Someone, it seemed, had spilled the beans about Finley's true identity. The story of the teen heartthrob's failed ploy to win back his ex-girlfriend with a fake girlfriend had become public knowledge. The irony of the situation was not lost on Finley as he served coffee to the same townsfolk who had once ogled his pictures in the tabloids.

"That's really you?" asked one of his classmates, Jake, who was at the bookstore getting his usual cup of coffee.

Finley looked at the picture of the pretty girl on Jake's phone screen and blushed. "You'd do it too if someone offered you five hundred grand" Finley admitted.

"No shit?" asked Jake's friend, Greg.

Finley nodded. Jake and Greg looked at him with a new found respect.

But just when Finley thought he'd managed to shake off the last remnants of his bizarre summer, Dana Stevens reappeared in his life like a mirage in a desert of boredom. He was in his room, lost in the pages of a book, when the sound of a knock at the door jolted him back to reality. His heart hammered in his chest as he slowly approached it. The last thing he expected to find on the other side was the girl who had seen through his charade, who had made him feel seen in a way no one else had.

"Heya Sexy" she said, smirking.

He was floored. "What are you doing here?"

Dana had disappeared right after the Melody scandal broke. She didn't run, she just had to go back to New York. They had said their messy good-byes but seeing as they were never truly dating, neither felt the other was responsible. But here she was again, standing in his bedroom, gorgeous as hell.

Dana smiled. "I met this amazing girl, she blew my mind. But she was pretending to date this dirt bag and..."

Finley sighed. "She wasn't real, Dana. We both know that."

Dana pushed into the room. She gently pushed him onto his bed, startling him. "We'll see about that" she cooed, climbing on top of him.

Their relationship started there.

A month after Patrick's downfall, Dana had become a regular in Finley's life. They'd hang out at the bookstore, or she'd come over to his place, often bringing her makeup bag. She'd sit behind him, her breath warm on his neck as she'd show him the art of makeup application. "You gotta blend, babe," she'd say, her hands deftly sweeping across his lids. "It's all about blending."

Finley had never felt more alive than when he was with Dana. The way she looked at him didn't make him feel like he was in a costume anymore. She saw him, all of him, and liked what she saw. They'd laugh about the absurdity of it all, the millions spent on a lie that had grown into something real. Their dates were simple, sometimes they'd just sit on the roof of his new truck and watch the stars. Other times, they'd sneak into the local diner and share a milkshake, causing gossip and stares.

Sometimes they were boyfriend and girlfriend on their dates. Other times, Finley would make an effort for her and they'd be two girls. It was always exciting and never dull.

He realized one night while they were kissing in his room---Dana gently squeezing one of his fake breasts---that this is what he'd been missing.

And when people asked, he told them he was a pick up girl that Dana had found in the bathroom and they had a good laugh about it all.

The End.

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF