***FYI This is third of three chapters that will be shared here on BC***

CHAPTER THREE

My brow furrowed and my body tensed. We weren’t even a full day into our trip and already Erica was on her second confession.

“Erica…” I began cautiously. “What are you talking about? You knew he was here?”

It took her a moment, but Erica swallowed hard and nodded.

“Yes, okay? I knew he’d be here. But please just hear me out.” She took a deep breath and began to explain. “When Carter and I broke up at the end of college, I unfollowed him on everything — Instagram, Facebook, everything — because I didn’t want any feelings to fester. And, honestly, it was for the best considering he eventually found a fiancée who’s way prettier than I ever was.”

Already I was shaking my head with disappointment. “Jesus… So you’re here to home-wreck. Do you have any idea how bad of an idea that is!?”

“No no no!” she insisted, holding out her hand. “I don’t follow him but Marie does. And a month ago she noticed Carter’s been super active with his life updates. He got this fancy new job in Dallas, called off his engagement to that girl, and… well… he won a two-week sweepstakes trip to Ocean Oasis.”

Everything slowly made more sense.

“So this whole trip…” I began to surmise. “This whole sweepstakes. We didn’t actually win?”

“The trip is 100% real. I really did win the sweepstakes.” Erica asserted. She bashfully dangled her feet off the bed like a nervous tween. “It just wasn’t quite as, uh, spontaneous as I made it seem.”

I let out a small sigh of relief, pleased that at least some of her original story was truthful. The last thing I needed was to find out we were paying out of pocket. Or worse, that we scammed the resort. Still, my fury toward Erica was present and justified.

“Look, Will, I’m sorry I lied,” she said cautiously, likely noticing my skin reddening with rage. “But, shit… I’ve been looking back on those days recently and I really think Carter was the one! Maybe it’s my move back to Chicago or turning 30, but every fucking day I think about how breaking up with him was the biggest mistake I ever made. And winning the bachelorette sweepstakes… I honestly think it’s a sign from a higher power.”

I’d never claim to understand how my sister’s brain functions. Hell, sometimes I doubt she even knows what’s going on. But the way she was talking about Carter — whether in her best interest or not — it was clear she still cares about him. Sincerely and passionately.

“Two weeks,” I stated. “Two weeks is all you think you need for him to… to what? Fall in love with you again?”

Erica shrugged. “Maybe not ‘fall in love’, but at least show him I’ve grown and matured. I mean, I dumped him, so it’s my responsibility to make it up to him, right? I owe him that much.”

I was impressed by the level of self-reflection and maturity Erica had shown — even if flying across the country to a Hawaiian resort for a pre-planned meet-cute is still pretty insane. But for someone who’s chronically indecisive and vacillated between jobs and cities her whole life, it was refreshing to see her stick to her guns and go after what she felt was right.

After a sequence of deep breaths and convincing myself not to strangle my sister on the spot, I was able to think rationally again.

“So what do you need from me?” I asked, followed by a sharp gulp upon remembering the type of suite we were in. “The whole… Wendy thing. That’s done, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Erica quickly assured me. “There’s a bunch of sweepstakes winners staying at the resort. Some won trips for two and some got solo trips. Was Carter with anyone?”

I shook my head. “He was alone.”

“Perfect. So he’s a solo tripper and as far as he knows, so am I.”

“But hold on. Solo trip?” I clarified. “So what, am I supposed to hide for two weeks?”

Erica put her hand on my shoulder. “Will, have you seen this place? It’s ginormous! You don’t have to disappear. Plus, he doesn’t have to know we’re staying together.”

With so much lying packed into the first day of our trip, adding yet another lie to the pile made me feel icky. Particularly one that directly involved me.

“I was gonna tell you about this before I saw Carter, but I found a little alcove on the beach a quarter-mile down. I took a seat and… I dunno… I got weirdly inspired to write again. Maybe if it’s all it’s cracked up to be, I’ll spend most of my days down there. Finally, you know, doing what a writer is supposed to do.”

“That’s incredible!” she cheered. “It’s perfect for both of us. Heh… you know, in a roundabout way, aren’t we kind of both here for redemption? I’m here to reconnect with Carter. You’re here to reconnect with your creative side.”

I nodded along, agreeing. This whole trip could be about reconnecting – even the two of us reconnecting as siblings. Wouldn’t that be something?

No, Erica hadn’t exactly earned my trust. At least yet. But there’s a difference between deception and desperation, and Erica’s scenario felt more like the latter.

I’m only 23 years old. I have no idea what it’s like to be in your 30s, still single, and yearning for the past. But I can sure as hell empathize with her fear. And the least I can do — even with how uncomfortable it makes me feel — is to cheer her on as she seeks her own redemption.

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While the reason behind our trip may have changed, it didn’t mean our activities had to. In addition to exploring a bit more of the resort, Erica and I took the chance to read through every guide, brochure, and catalog on the Ocean Oasis resort and the Hawaiian island of Oahu. And the more I learned, the more I felt two weeks wasn’t enough time!

Though Erica and I arrived as equals, we both quietly understood that this was more her trip than it was mine. She won the sweepstakes, she’s here on a mission to reconnect with Carter – my role is merely the travel companion and vacation mooch. But I’m perfectly happy with that. The change of scenery coupled with the island’s energy was already reinvigorating me as a writer.

Our first official ‘plan’ as guests at the Ocean Oasis was a dinner reservation booked at one of the hotel’s seven — yes, seven — restaurants. Erica insisted we start off with a bang and dive right into the island culture with a traditional Hawaiian seafood meal. The restaurant she selected was called Rainbow Kitchen and apparently known for its Hawaiian Yellowtail or ‘Kanpachi’.

“I read that Guy Fieri used to come here,” Erica noted as we were seated at the table. “Surprising considering nothing here is drowned in barbecue sauce.”

“Hmm,” I replied, distracted by the overwhelmingly leafy decor. In some regards, it felt like a Hawaiian Rainforest Café — albeit with a much better menu. The restaurant was pretty crowded too, which made it excellent for people watching. In the middle of our first cocktail, I pointed toward a couple that appeared to be fighting.

“What’s their story?” I gestured subtly. “Your three o’clock.”

“Oh, those two? Hmm…” she mulled, staring at the younger woman and her much older companion while coming up with a story. “They’re on a weekend trip — one she initially didn’t want but came around on. So she put in effort to look good, and now she’s upset that he’s not paying enough attention to her.”

I peered across the restaurant toward the table. Our view was partially blocked by a sprawling plant in the middle of the dining room, but I could see her grab her dress material and shake it furiously as if to say ‘Is this not what you want!?’.

“Damn,” I chuckled. “I think you’re spot-on!”

Erica leaned back, cocky. “I’m an ace. Give me another one.”

Again, I glanced around the restaurant until I found a group of four friends — three men and a woman, all in their 40s. “Okay, do them.”

Erica cracked her knuckles and narrowed her focus. Neither of us could hear, but through expression and body language alone, she delivered her verdict.

“The balding guy is in love with the girl, but she’s dating Green Shirt. He came along on this trip hoping to get her to notice him but he’s too much of a wuss to make an actual move. Either that, or he respects his friend too much to even try. That’s why he’s so sad.”

I smiled and shook my head, deeply impressed. “And what about the third guy? Red Shirt.”

She squinted hard, trying her best to get a read on the man from behind.

“Hmm…” she muttered. “He’s not giving me much… but I get the sense he’s obsessed with his job. Can’t unplug. Ah, look!”

Erica pointed to the man who, on cue, slyly pulled out his phone beneath the table.

“He’s answering a work email. I guarantee it. The guy is a workaholic.”

I gave my sister a polite golf clap, applauding her gift of people-reading.

“You’re really fucking good at this, aren’t you?”

She shrugged and smiled. “I’m a consultant, I travel and work with new people every day. Comes with the job, I guess.”

It was at that moment that I realized something that hadn’t yet leapt into my mind. Was this the first ever solo dinner I had with my sister? I mean, think about it… She’s seven years older than me, so it’s not like we hung out growing up. Sure we ate breakfast or lunch at the kitchen table, but it’s not the same thing as going out for a real meal.

I thought about this more as we chatted and worked through our tasty Kanpachi. She’d always been my sister, but this trip was creating a whole new dynamic. Two adults. Two friends.

“So, this private beach spot,” Erica said in the middle of a bite. “You said it inspired you to write. But write what? Another alien thing?”

“I mean… I guess so,” I answered, though with little confidence. “That's all I’ve ever written.”

She raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her cocktail. “Well, why not mix it up? Write about people for once?”

The way she said it felt like she was mocking me.

“Yeah. If only it were that easy,” I bemoaned.

“I think it is,” she added with a smug look on her face. “Look what I just did. I didn’t know those random peoples’ situations — I mean, I know I’m right… but it’s just made up. Have you ever considered writing about a relationship?”

Immediately I scoffed at her. “Yes, Erica, I’ve considered it. I just suck at it.”

“How come?”

I paused, briefly weighing how much of my personal life I should expose to my sister. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe I just felt like I owed her some candor.

“Well… I’ve never been in a relationship.”

Erica nearly spit out her drink. “You haven’t dated anyone??”

Immediately I turned red and regretted saying a single word. “Not, like, officially! Okay? So what?”

“Wow…” my sister said, shocked and sinking into her seat. “I guess we do have a lot to learn about each other.”

Ugh. I wish she hadn’t brought that up. Until now the meal had actually been quite pleasant. Though to her credit, I think Erica knew it stung.

“I’m sorry I brought it up, okay? You’re a professional writer. I’m not. But if I can give my two cents... Stories are about people, right? And you can’t sit alone and not interact with anyone and expect to be inspired.”

With our plates cleaned, Erica signaled to our server for the check.

“We’re in Hawaii with a ton of fun, cute people,” she reminded me. “Maybe try meeting some. It could help your writing.”

I didn’t exactly disagree with her, but at the same time wasn’t in the mood to be taking unsolicited relationship advice from the girl who flew across the country for an ex.

However, before I could say anything else, Erica’s face went cold.

“Shit!” she yelped, pointing with her eyes directly behind me. “He’s here!”

“What??” I quickly jumped into full alarm mode. “You mean Carter?”

Erica shot up from her seat and grabbed my wrist. “Yes, I mean Carter!!”

I stared at Erica, not entirely sure what she wanted from me.

“HE’S WALKING OVER! HIDE IN THE BATHROOM!” she whisper-screamed.

I shot up from my seat like it was on fire, juking around the restaurant foliage and scooting into the nearest bathroom which was, thankfully, right near our table.

The door locked, lights off for some reason, I could hear Erica through the bathroom Erica muttering “Shit! Shit! Shit!” to herself as a man’s footsteps approached our table.

“Well, well, well… Erica Quinn!?” Carter announced. “I thought it was you!”

“Carter Harris,” my sister replied, putting on her best, flirtatious voice. “No freaking way. What a coincidence!”

Even though there was no chance he could know I was listening through the bathroom vent, I kept my mouth zipped shut.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I heard her ask, obviously well aware of his circumstances. “Of all the resorts in the world…”

The two of them went on like this for a while re-stating the absurdity behind their run-in, offering loose details on what they’ve been up to, how she’d moved back to Chicago from New York, how Carter started a new job in Dallas… and of course, complimenting how ‘stunning’ one another looked. I found it funny how easily my sister could put on this faux ignorant persona. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised – she’d done it to me twice already.

It was pretty surreal listening to the two of them talk. Carter, who I’d only seen in pictures, was here in the flesh. Dug up from Erica’s past and, Bam! Right back in her life. I gotta give my sister credit. She made this happen. Not that Carter knows that.

“So tell me,” Carter said after an awkward pause. “Who’s, uh… Who’s here?”

I couldn’t see a thing, but it was clear the conversation had moved to the apparent empty plate and seat right in front of her.

“Oh, who’s here?” Erica repeated Carter’s question, but not like she didn’t hear him. More like she was stalling for time.

You’re kidding me! Erica planned out lies for everything except this? I mean, shit, just say you’re with a friend! But as it turned out, Erica’s answer wouldn’t have mattered a lick.

“Wait,” Carter went on. “It’s Wendy, isn’t it?”

Huh?

“Huh?” Erica echoed my thoughts.

“Yeah,” Carter said. “There was a little posting in the lobby of the sweepstakes winners. I remember reading ‘Erica and Wendy’. Though I didn’t realize Erica was you.

Shit. Shit shit shit! I wanted more than anything to sprint out of the bathroom and reveal myself to him. To put a stop to this Wendy nonsense once and for all. Just cut my losses and chalk it up as a silly misunderstanding. In fact, I did reach for the door handle, but not before Erica put the nail in the coffin.

“Oh yes! That’s right. Wendy’s my cousin. My friend couldn’t make it so I invited her instead. But she’s in the bathroom now. G.I. issues, I think…”

I slapped my forehead with such force that I was genuinely surprised she couldn’t hear me from outside.

Carter awkwardly chuckled at her overshare. “Cool…” he replied. “Well, I hope she’s feeling better.”

“She’ll be fine. Just might be a while! Girls being girls, I guess!”

I never wanted to smack Erica more than I did right now.

“Well, hey, uh… You still have my number, right?” Carter added, sounding like he was on his way out. “Text me. Would love to, you know, catch up and hang.”

“I’d love that!” My sister beamed.

Red face, sweaty palms, and fury in my soul, I spent another 60 seconds pacing in the bathroom before promptly returning to the table where my sister was done paying the check.

“Hey! We’re all cl—” she started but abruptly stopped as she saw the beginnings of my conniption.

“Don’t you dare say we’re all clear!” I shouted, even catching the attention of a few diners. Erica should be lucky we were in public because I. Was. FURIOUS.

It took her a moment, but she looked at the bathroom wall to our right and put two and two together.

“Oh… You heard…”

I nodded stoically.

She shot me a sheepish, embarrassed look. “Maybe I need a little more Wendy time than I thought.”

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That's it for the sample chapters unfortunately :( But the entirety of Two Weeks of Wendy is on Amazon right now!

Thanks for reading :)

-Jennifer

AMAZON LINK: https://www.amazon.com/Two-Weeks-Wendy-Gradual-Feminization-...