Taking time off school when you aren’t technically sick is fantastic, especially when you have parental consent. As a child you don’t think about the ramifications like, homework or catching up, you merely enjoy the delicious freedom and deal with the consequences later.

Mom, true to her word had taken the week off so we could spend the time together. On the surface, I’m still feeling a little guilty at taking her away from the hospital, but deep down I’m overjoyed to have my Mom here with me.

Waking up that morning felt like I was waiting up on the first day of the rest of my life. Here I was, lying in my bed in silky girls’ pajamas with hair that was braided by my mother and it was entirely normal. It’s hard to put a definition on feeling so utterly free.

If you expected me to awaken like a delicate Princess in a cartoon movie then you are, in fact, quite wrong. I woke up face first in my pillow, one boob having made a bid for freedom from the pajama’s cami top and the shorts stuck halfway up my asscrack. Delicate Snow White, I am not.

Finally kicking myself out of bed, I pulled a robe over my pajamas and stumbled downstairs to grab myself a coffee and perform the necromantic arts of raising the dead. I might be starting an entirely new and joyous chapter of my life, but I’m a teenager, so that doesn’t make waking up any easier.

By the time I get downstairs, Mom is already reading at the kitchen island. Somehow she’s already dressed and perfect despite the ungodly hour of nine, I have no idea how adults do it. Spotting me, she smiles. “Hey sweetie, did you sleep ok?”

“Smdfmfj” I mumble as I pass her. “Coffee.”

She chuckles and waits for me to get a cup before joining her at the island.

“I figured we could hit the mall today and perhaps a couple of outlets. That way we can grab some basics and get started on some day-to-day wear for you. Makeup, shoes,” she shrugs, “that sort of thing. Does that sound ok?”

Greedily slurping the dark elixir, I feel a pang of guilt. “I do feel bad about you guys spending more money on me, Mom. I got a bunch of good stuff from Kara and Megan, we don’t have to go crazy. Especially after you told Dad how much my doctors are going to cost us.”

Mom rolls her eyes, “Never mind what I tell your father, and don't worry about the money. We can afford it, and you deserve it, ok?”

I don’t really feel like arguing, but I do feel somewhat responsible. I’ll just have to be more reserved later and she can just lump her new frugal daughter.

“I can see that look,” Mommy dearest indicates. “No refusals today, I’m spoiling you and you have no say in the matter.”

I sigh, “Yes, Mother”

“God, you and Chrissie are the exact same.” she moans theatrically. “Just promise you won’t be such a primadonna?”

“That might be difficult,” I admit, trying to conceal a grin, “but I promise to try.”

Think this all sounds far too quick and efficient? Try having a doctor at a major metropolitan hospital for a parent. Efficiency, planning and results are a fact of life. Honestly, at this stage of events, I was largely along for the ride. Once my Mom got the idea into her head, it was full steam ahead solving the issue.

After breakfast, I head back upstairs to dress for the day ahead. I barely have a fashion sense, but I am aware that if we’re going shopping, that will mean plenty of changing. Keeping it simple in the wardrobe department is likely to be a good start.

This rules out dresses and anything too tight. In the end after trying on far too many things, I settled on a denim mini, a white tank, and a pair of Rans sneakers that look neutral enough to wear still. With a couple of bracelets and a ring I like, I grab my zipfront hoodie and head back downstairs to find my Mom.

The one thing I didn’t get much of from the girls was footwear. Fun fact? Turns out my feet are smaller than both Kara and Megan. That meant that beyond a pair of sandals that are kinda decent, I’m stuck with my existing shoes until we change that. What? Did you expect me in skyscraper heels on my first day out? Get a grip.

Mom is in the kitchen waiting for me when I get back downstairs and she tuts the second I arrive. Apparently, I’m not presentable enough for her lofty standards. Given that this is my like, second full day as a girl, I think I have a fair excuse.

Why is it in so many trans stories, the protagonist is a perfect little lady the second she’s allowed to express herself? Makeup and hair talents suitable for salon stylists right off the bat, who can even do that? I do wish to remind the court that most teenage girls look like they wet their faces and headbutted Sephora when they go out… experts we are not.

Mom pulls my hair back into a ponytail and gives me a lecture on why I shouldn’t be using the hair ties I’ve been using my entire childhood and should in fact, stick to scrunchies instead; less damage apparently.

“Now I really shouldn’t,” she mutters digging through her bag. “I’m sure we’re both fine this one time but girl rule two; don’t share makeup. It can transfer infections and it’s just not hygienic. We’ll get you your own later, but for now, we’ll just bend the rules a tiny bit, hmm?”

I will admit that the idea of wearing makeup is exciting. I did a little experimenting with Meg and Kara, but it was kinda limited during our massive fashion party. Mom, being an adult has a lot more experience and it really shows. Within a minute or two, I’ve been slapped with some mascara, liner, and a little gloss. It’s not much, but a quick look in the hallway mirror shows me a pretty average-looking teen girl and her mom. I won’t lie, it still feels like I’m dreaming whenever I see myself now.

 

 

Rather than going to our local mall where the chance of running into people we might know exists, we’ve driven forty-five minutes across town to a different one. In the grand scheme of things, a mall is a mall; they’re all basically the same, so it doesn’t really matter. This also saves me from describing it to you in excruciating detail. If you don’t know what a mall looks like, put down the trans fiction and go touch some grass, don’t worry, I’ll wait.

As I get out of the car, my phone starts ringing. By muscle memory, I reach for the pocket of my jeans and find both my phone and jeans missing. After a second, my brain catches up with reality and I dive into my handbag to try to locate the darn thing before whoever it is hangs up.

Ah yes, I forgot to mention that part; I have a handbag now. It’s this small brown leather bag on a long strap that Mom gave me after we went to leave the house and she realized I had nowhere to put anything. I swear, if I wasn’t positive that I was female, I’d point out that I kinda suck at being a girl so far.

Rick’s name is on the screen, so I accept the call and put it to my ear.

“Hi?”

“Alex? Hey, you never got back to me the other day. I was hoping you were ok after what happened...”

Rats, I forgot to call him back with everything that happened. “Oh, god, I’m sorry. A lot’s been happening (Understatement) and I got distracted, what with hospital and stuff.”

“I was worried,” he admits over the line. I can hear people yelling in the background so I figure based on it being mid-morning he’s likely outside during a break.

“Yeah, they were worried about concussions and stuff. Look, thank you.” I offer as we walk towards the front entrance of the mall. “Rob said you dove in to help and I really appreciate it. From what the doctors, said you might have saved my life.”

“Jesus, Alex, I’m sorry,” Rick sighs. “They suspended him for what happened, and Coach booted his ass off the team too; this was a major last straw.”

“Good riddance,” I growl. “The guy was a pig.”

“Rob said your mom was keeping you off school this week. If you wanted, well, if you felt up to it that is; I thought maybe you might wanna hang out sometime?”

Do I? Yes, I really do, but I’m also nervous about spending time with him, and now I have the added concern about letting my life outside of school accidentally blend with the one in.

“Uh, yeah, maybe. I’ll have to check with my Mom,” I defer. “I’ll let you know. Hey look, I gotta run ok? Talk soon bye!”

I hang up before he can answer and I feel a little guilty but I needed out of that conversation fast.

“Was that the boy that you like?” Mom freaking mindreads.

“How did you?”

“Know?” she chuckles as we head into the cavernous interior of the mall. “Your voice went up half an octave when you answered the phone and you were smiling during the entire conversation sweetheart. You think I don’t know the signs?”

“I mean, I don’t want to…” I grumble. “We’re just friends, we have to just be friends.”

Mom squeezes my arm lovingly, “I know darling, but that doesn’t prevent you from liking someone. Believe me, sometimes trying harder to not like them is worse.”

“Don’t you find this a little weird?” I ask uncertainly. “We’ve spoken more about my feelings since…well since I came out than I have in my entire life.”

Mom shakes her head. “Darling, mothers and daughters talk about these things, so it’s totally normal. Are you asking if it’s weird that we’re talking about a boy that you like?” No, if it’s so easy for me to see you as my daughter, then the idea of her liking a boy isn’t that unusual at all.”

“It is for me,” I admit sheepishly. “I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“What do Megan and Kara say?”

I shrug and stuff my hands in my sweater pockets. “That its completely normal and expected because my brain is full of hormones and I’m meant to be boy-crazy.”

Mom chuckles to herself, “I wouldn’t say crazy but yes, that’s the gist of it. I was too at that age if I’m honest with myself.”

“You were?”

She nods, “I had my fair share of crushes, although I admit you’re in a somewhat different position than I was, sweetheart.”

I stopped walking suddenly as the words hit me. “It’s different for me because I’m not a real girl?”

Mom stops and quickly wraps me in a hug before kissing my forehead. “No, baby, I would never ever say that. Never let anyone tell you that you’re not real or valid; you’re my daughter and I love you. What I meant is that I wasn’t locked in a school full of boys as the only girl.”

“Sorry,” I snuffle. “I guess I’m a little sensitive at the moment.”

“You have every reason to be,” Mom smiles, stroking my hair. “Come on, let’s go get you sorted eh?”

Walking through the mall, I take the opportunity to stare openly at dresses and clothes for the first time. Displays that I’ve cast furtive glances at in the past are now entirely open to my attention without feeling like an alarm will suddenly sound. I feel truly liberated for the first time in my life and it’s almost a sensory overload.

As we’re passing one shop, a dress catches my eye and I stop walking to get a better look at it; I can do that now, it’s allowed. Mom glances at it too. “You’d look beautiful in that, do you want to try it on?”

“I don’t need to buy it.” I reply, “But I’d love to.”

“Benefits of womanhood,” Mom grins. “We never need to, but we want to.”

We head inside the store and I find the rack of dresses that match the model in the window. The dress is gorgeous: It’s a beautiful black with an almost white speckled pattern that looks like stars on an inky black sky. It’s got a peasant bodice with a tight-fitted waist with some boning like a corset. The skirt is poofy and flirty and comes to about mid-thigh, judging by the mannequin. It’s giving goth lolita vibes and it looks so damn adorable. Truthfully, it’s the sort of dress I’ve looked at secretly for so very long.

Mom eyeballs me for size and hands me three. “This should fit, but here’s either side of the size. You’ll never really be sure what will fit. Rule fifty-nine of womanhood; sizes don’t mean crap.”

“What? Like, two, four, six, why have them?”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, they’re a good guide, a rough indicator, but you have to try everything on. Sizes are all over the place in womens fashion. Some are bigger so you feel skinnier and buy more stuff, some go down, and some just plain don’t make sense. Being a woman is complicated.”

“Sounds it,” I grin as we arrive at the changing rooms. “I. uh…”

Mom spots my hesitation and smiles before guiding me gently to one side. Giving me a quick hug she lowers her voice so the attendant doesn’t overhear us. “You’ll be doing this a lot today darling, trust me, you have nothing to fear. Cubicles are generally single person and nobody will even begin to worry that you’re not what you seem. It’s ok.”

I know she’s right, academically, but it doesn’t stop me feeling like I’m suddenly invading as I present the dresses to the attendant and she hands me a tag with a three on it. When she lets me pass, I feel suddenly hyper-aware that I’m in a specifically female-only space and endeavor to see nothing that I’m not supposed to.

Fun fact about women's changing rooms; there’s nothing really to see inside them that you can’t see outside on the shop floor. The interior is plain and functional with rows of cubicles along either side. As I walk cautiously into this sacred space, no alarms sound and nobody screams. There’s one or two women coming and going and not a single one of them pays me any sort of attention. It’s rather anticlimactic actually.

I slip into an empty cubicle and hang up the dresses before slipping out of my clothes. Mom handed me a two, a four, and a six in Juniors' sizes. This means very little to me at the moment but with misses, juniors, petite, womens', and tall, it’s all bloody stupid if you ask me.

The first dress is way too big and I return it to its hangar before trying the four instead. This time, it’s a far better fit. I manage to eventually zip it closed after much contortion and twisting and turning to regard myself in the mirror.

“Woah.”

The girl in the mirror is super cute and I’m struggling to comprehend that I am she. The boning in the dress accentuates my waist and the full skirt pops out giving me a way more shape than I thought I actually had. Sure, I’m not wearing much makeup, but I can imagine how I’d look with more on.

“You ok in there darling?”

I slide the latch and open the door to find Mom hovering outside expectantly. The look on her face when she sees me is everything I could have hoped for. She gasps quietly and her eyes look suddenly dewy. Her hands fly to her mouth, “darling, my gosh, you look gorgeous.”

“Is it ok?” I tug nervously at the hem, hoping suddenly that it was longer.

Mom slips inside the changing cubicle and closes the door behind her. Without even waiting she starts checking the fit and adjusting the dress. “This really does look lovely on you, we have to buy this.”

“What happened to just essentials?”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Holly, this is perfect; you’ve got a little room to grow in this and it looks beautiful on you, sometimes you will learn you just have to buy something and this is one of those occasions.”

“Does it really look nice? It’s not too short, is it?”

Mom gives me a look and shakes her head. “Sure, it’s a little much for church, but we don’t go and you’re sixteen years old; I think it’s lovely. Now get changed so we can go buy it.”

I pondered what she meant for a moment and realized she wasn’t planning on leaving. Welp, there’s a first for everything I suppose. If I’m girl enough for Megan and Kara, I’m girl enough for my Mom I guess. Before I could chicken out, I unzipped the dress and slipped it off.

Mom gasped, but it wasn’t a ‘oh god, I just saw a man go through a band saw’ type of gasp. Rather, her eyes were suddenly wide with surprise as she took in my body. Her face changed from shock to love to sadness as she regarded me. Reaching out, she stroked my cheek softly.

“Oh baby, you’re so beautiful. I knew, but I had no idea darling. I simply had no idea how very much you were hiding.” she murmurs, “how the heck didn’t I see this?”

“I was working hard to hide it,” I admit with a shrug, standing there awkwardly in my underwear.

Mom smirks and adjusts my bra strap. “Not so well, if I’m honest, but I struggled to admit it to myself too.”

Bashful at my state of undress, I pull my skirt up and button it closed. “Yeah, I’m only just starting to learn how sucky I was.” I pause and remember something. “You know, that time we were grocery shopping and you told me the lady said that I had such beautiful hair?”

Mom thinks for a moment and then nods. “Yes, the deli counter right?”

I smile as I pull my top back on. “You told me she said my hair was beautiful, but I actually heard her say ‘Your daughter’s hair is so beautiful, it’s a shame she dresses like such a tomboy.”

Mom froze for a second and looked at me. “You actually heard that?”

“Yeah, and I cherished every time someone called me your daughter.”

Mom doesn’t say anything, but simply wraps me in her arms and holds me tight. “You are my daughter, Holly, for now and forever.”

And thus began my first-ever shopping adventure with my mother. I have to say, I was absolutely overwhelmed by the experience. There was so very much that I simply didn’t know. What clothes suited my body, what colors were flattering, or how to style certain clothes. What worked best to mix and match together and what could be a staple item across multiple outfits.

Given that my mother is a cardiologist who spends most of her career in scrubs, she has an amazing eye for fashion and an encyclopedic knowledge of how it all works. Honestly, I’m a teenager, and we’re not easily impressed. Is it likely to replace my best friend's lofty opinions? No, but it certainly gets me started in ways I never imagined that I might.

I would describe trying on bras, jeans, skirts, and tops in vivid and nauseating detail if it wasn’t something you hadn’t already read a billion times before, so why beat a dead horse? I can safely tell you that by lunchtime, we had already made one trip out to the car after viciously assaulting the department stores. Somehow I had managed to have energy for that marathon and I was actually still enthusiastic by the time we collapsed into a booth in the food court a little after twelve.

“It won’t always be like this,” Mom sighed gratefully as she managed to take the load off her feet for the first time that morning. “Be glad we only need to build a life for you once.”

“I don’t think I could handle your ram raid approach,” I giggled, sipping the huge coke I needed to rebuild my strength. “I’m pretty sure you just made that sales girl’s Christmas bonus back in Northgroms.”

Mom grins and I see a glimpse of the woman behind the mother for a moment. It’s funny how I didn’t really see Veronica Winters as a living breathing woman until we started interacting as mother and daughter. I think it actually makes me love her even more. Is that how sons are with fathers?

“I think we got a lot of the basics you’ll need to get you started, honey. Next, it’s shoes and makeup then we can probably call today quits.”

“I’m glad I won’t have to do this again,” I sigh. “It’s exhausting.”

Mom smiles, “When you’re just looking or hanging out with friends you’ll have a lot more fun. Heck, maybe your dear old mother might share a trip every now and then.”

“I’d like that, Mom, I really would. I can’t explain it, but ever since this all came to a head, I’ve felt so much closer to you.”

She smiles and nods. She doesn’t need to reply. It’s been a handful of days but my world has shifted more totally than transition alone could possibly manage. I think the best way for me to describe it, is a freedom derived almost entirely from living the truth. Secrets hold us back, they disconnect us from people we care about. We lock ourselves down so that we don’t slip and get caught or uncovered. By living honestly, by experiencing that simple truth, I received a clarity unlike any other.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, baby.”

We chat about inconsequential nothings over lunch. It’s honestly wonderful to just relax and talk with my mother without any pressure piling down on top of us. As we’re real women and not fictional cute lil balls of femininity, we had sandwiches; we ain’t afraid of no carbs! Well, I wasn’t until I turned thirty, but that’s another story.

Once we’re done, Mom sets off on a mission to find me shoes. From her perspective, my slightly worn Rans are only suitable for casual attire and mooching around. As such, according to Mater, I must possess four staples to start my journey to shoeageddon. Firstly, the humble sandal; it's comfortable and practical and works with most things. Second, the ballet flat; whether I dance or not, is up to me but these are apparently ‘timeless’ and comfortable whilst maintaining style. Third, the ankle boot; this pair has a small but fairly chunky heel giving me a little height and some winter warmth while remaining practical and grippy. The fourth and final shoe for Cinderella is currently on my foot, and I’m more than a little nervous; the high heel.

The shoes in question are a pair of pretty black slingback pumps. They’ve got a patent finish and look rather snazzy. The heel is a three-inch spike waiting to dump me on my butt the second I let my guard down.

“Black will be a great choice for a first pair because it will work with most outfits,” Mom continues as she attaches the other torture device to my foot. “Comfy?”

“I suppose,” I admit, wiggling my foot. “Sitting down.”

“Get up then and walk to the far wall and back.” she indicates, crossing her arms.

I’m pretty sure that this is a trap, but I’m determined to walk away without injury. I hold my head up high, straighten my back and I put one foot in front of the other like I’ve seen models do on TV. I take my first tentative footsteps in a pair of high heels with my mother proudly watching on; it’s the dream of every transgender girl in history… right up until I prompt faceplant into a display of Birkencrocs.

“Oh god, are you ok?”

“I can taste practical sandal,” I complain. “That shoe went one way and I went the other.”

Mom chuckles to herself. “They are a little tricky, although I did enjoy the newborn gazelle act though before you hit the floor.”

I look up at her with a less-than-amused look on my face. “Yeah, I practiced in the mirror before we came out here.”

Mom offers me her hand and I haul myself upright again. “Weight on the balls of your feet, ok?”
I nod and attempt to balance again, this time, my fawnish wobble is kept to a minimum and I manage to stand freely atop the torture devices.

“Butt out, chest forward, head upright, and feet forward with a slight outward angle.” Mother instructs, still with a shit-eating grin on her face; she’s enjoying every moment of this, I can tell.

Slowly but surely I take my first and then second steps in high heels. It’s not pretty, I won’t win any runway contests, but the advice is solid. Slowly but surely I reach the other side of the room and turn to face her.

“Rubbing?”

I shake my head, “They feel ok, I’m mostly afraid of my ankles snapping.”

She smirks and nods. “You get used to that.”

I walk tentatively back towards her and stop. “Not bad, I can feel a pull in my arch.”

She nods. “Yup, you get used to that too. You can wear them at home and get used to them. Before long you’ll be running in them!”

“Run? In these? I don’t want to spend more time in hospital.”

Mom smiles as I sit and start taking the shoes off. “When I was a girl, my friends and I were quite adept at running in heels. Soon, you won’t even think about it, sweetheart.”

I slip my Rans back on and make a face. “I have so much to catch up on.”

“It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that I didn't let you wear heels till sixteen. Odd, but not outside plausibility.”

Mom and I carry the boxes across to the cashier’s desk and pay for our bounty. I cringe at the price but keep my word and say nothing. Mom wants to treat me, so I’ll let her, but I refuse to expect these sorts of things.

“I’d love to get your ears pierced darling, but until we know what’s happening with school I think it would be ill-advised.”

“Too many dominoes,” I agree.

Mom raises an eyebrow so I proceed to explain. “The way I keep myself under the radar; dominoes. Any one thing isn’t enough for people to spot me, but if I go over a threshold of girlish features or behaviors then they see it. The goal is to push down enough feminine behaviors or features until the sum total falls under that line; too many dominoes and they all fall over.”

Mom shakes her head. “The fact you’ve had to live this secret life hiding who you are breaks my heart, Holly. I should have come to you about this sooner, I should have told you it was ok.”

“No, you were right; I had to reach that point myself,” I admit with a frown. “The problem was that I had come to terms with myself a long time ago. There was no doubt, Mom, none.”

Her look is almost pained as I explain how my life until this point was.

“That knowledge, it burned; society told me I was wrong and that I shouldn’t exist, it told me you’d hate me. Because of that, I hid.”

“I am so sorry,” Mom offers quietly. “I’m sorry you had to hold this all in. It shouldn’t be this way.”

“Alas, it is.” I sigh.

“You sound old beyond your years baby.”

I squeeze her hand as we walk back towards the car. “I think maybe I am. I had to grow up fast, or I would never have survived long enough for the world to see me properly.”

 

 

The Friday afternoon that week, my parents had a meeting scheduled with my Principal, Mister Gardener. Ostensibly, it was to discuss the attack that landed my ass in the hospital and go over the school’s response and my return. What Veggie Garden (Our nickname for our ignoble leader) didn’t know, was that my parents planned to drop the ‘surprise, you have a mixed gender school after all’ topic in there too. It was all part of Dad’s strategy to strike while the iron was hot and in this case, feeling rather guilty. When a paying customer lands in the hospital on their watch, they tend to panic.

They had both left a little after two and I’d mostly spent the morning listening to music and organizing my wardrobe. You try sorting out an entire new wardrobe quickly; it doesn’t happen.

Now I can imagine you think Mom and I spent thousands of dollars and bought me an entirely new wardrobe so that I could confidently start my life as a teenage girl with something for every occasion. A lovely thought, but you would be entirely wrong. We bought a good broad selection, but it was just a start. Coupled with what I’d gotten from Kara and Meg, I had a decent base to work from, but not much more. I would certainly need to shop more often, but that was something I looked forward to doing in my own time.

I was lying on my bed reading a textbook when a little after three my phone started to ring. Rolling over, I pick the device up and answer, fully expecting it to be Meg or Kara coming home from school.

“Heeey, sup?”

“Alex, is that you?” a male voice asks uncertainly.

Gerk.

“Uh, um, yes, it’s me, what’s up dude?” I butch myself up immediately as I recognize Rick’s voice.

“Are you ok?” he asks uncertainly.

I hurriedly jab the CD player’s stop button (Yes, CD players were our main source of music back then and yes I have been raiding Chrissie’s music collection now I’m allowed to listen to girly pop; sue me.)

“Oh me? No, I’m great, just chilling out you know? I’m basically fine now, Mom is being over cautious but that’s parents am I right? I’m just at home relaxing, not much to do, you know?”

“Cool, I’m just leaving school now so I’ll swing by then if that’s ok? I want to catch up and this week, well, it started out weird… look I’ll explain when I get there ok, Alex? Good, I’ll see you then.”

He hangs up without waiting for my response. This is partly my fault as I did dodge him at the start of the week and other than a phone call, I’ve been avoiding him even after he was one of the guys that saved me from the idiotsaurus. It’s not very grateful of me and I think he might have noticed.

I hate behaving like this because I really like the guy. This isn’t just the teen hormones talking, I like him as a person and I feel horrible for hiding. The truth is, that after our day out went a bit weird,I didn’t want to confuse him further. Why is my life so darn difficult?

I glance around my room and spot the sea of girl stuff and panic. I look down at my bare legs and my painted toenails and panic even more. Oh shit, emergency!

By the time Rick arrives, a whirling dervish has flown around the room stuffing things into wardrobes and cupboards and hiding as much of the girly stuff as I possibly can. Mom might kill me for not hanging some tops up, but I can always iron them later.

I unbraided my hair and retied it in my regular low guys' ponytail. I cleaned my fingernails of polish and changed into jeans, a tight sports bra and a sweater in time for the bell to ring downstairs.

Skidding to a halt, I take a second to breathe before opening the door. Rick is waiting and he’s still gorgeous, damnit.

“Hey,” he smiles. “ How are you doing? I’m sorry I didn’t stick around on the phone earlier, but I figured we could just hang out and relax. There’s no need to do anything too crazy with you being walking wounded.”

I deflate, beaten by thoughtfulness. I felt horrible icing him out earlier in the week and I got so caught up in my girl drama since the attack that I really didn’t think about the guy that helped to save me.

“I’m sorry,” I offer quietly, looking at the floor.

“I can’t come in?” he asks uncertainly.

I shake my head. “No not that, sure, come on in. What I mean is, I’m sorry for being a bi…astard this week. I iced you out at the start of the week because I thought that I did something wrong Friday and didn’t want to make things worse.”

“You did nothing wrong,” he replies firmly. “I get it, but you don’t need to say sorry, Alex.”

I don’t know how to feel right now, my brain isn’t working properly. We’re standing here in the entrance hall of my home awkwardly not getting any closer to each other. I saw his hands twitch like he was going to initiate a hug but seemed to think better of it. God this is an awful idea.

“Do you want a drink or something?” I offer weakly to break the deadlock.

He nods and follows me through to the kitchen. Right now I’ll take anything to distract me from the awkwardness of the moment.

“How are you feeling? I was really worried when… you know,” he prompts.

I look across at him and shrug neutrally, “Yeah, I don’t remember a lot of what happened, but I’m ok, I think; No lasting damage at least.”

I hand Rick a soda and stay where I am with the kitchen island between us. “Thank you for stopping him.”

Rick’s expression darkens and I see his fists clench. “Yeah, the teachers had to pull me off that asshole. I nearly killed him, but I wasn’t alone there.”

“I don’t know when to quit,” I chuckle darkly.

Rick cracks half a smile. “Yeah, something like that. He deserved it really, that guy’s a douche.”

“I’ll be back in school Monday, I think. Mom is being overly cautious about concussions.”

“That sounds fair, she is a doctor,” he points out. “I’m glad though, I really missed you this week, Alex.”

Fuck this, I’ma put us back on even ground.

“Thank you for being my friend Rick, I’m sorry I’ve been weird about things. I’m still trying to get over this paranoia that people always want something from me. I made the weekend a bit odd then I took it out on you by avoiding you afterwards. Look, I appreciate you, ok?”

He seems to relax when I take charge of defusing the tension between us. I think he was looking for a valid reason to blame for the tension that wasn’t the obvious one. I think it’s clear at this point that his brain tells him I’m a girl, even if his eyes have yet to catch up. Is that likely to change? I don’t know. All I can do is be his friend, god knows I need one right now.

“Look, let’s put the past in the past.” he offers. “Come over next weekend and teach me how to not suck so hard at Plumberkart?”

I give him a lazy half-smile and buff my nails confidently. “Do you really think you have a chance of taking me, huh?”

He shakes his head and holds his hands up. “No, against you I would never have a hope; I bow to your mastery of the game. Perhaps I can beat some mere mortals with a little help though?”

“What’s in it for me?” I grin.

“My parents are going out so we can order pizza, watch movies, and chill. Anything you want.”

No Holly, bad idea, really bad fucking idea, girl.

I step forward and lean on the kitchen island separating us and bounce my index finger on my lips looking thoughtful. “I teach you to kick ass at PlumberKart and all I get is pizza and movies?”

“You’re into your Anime right?”

Uh oh, trap detected, defenses insufficient.

“Yeeeeeees?”

Rick looks pretty confident now and I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach.

“Anna was in Japan last week for a conference,” he grins. “I knew you were super into anime so I asked her to get a couple of new releases on DVD. How does Howard’s Mobile House on a big screen sound?”

My eyes go full-on cartoon mode. “What? You have that? No way!”

This is entirely unfair, I am a huge fan of the Studio Genji movies, and I cannot resist this bait.

“Yes way, you in?”

I sigh and bow, “Congratulations, you won this round Rick-Kun.”

We share this look and I swear he’s about to say something when I hear the front door open and close. “Hey, I’m home!” Rob calls followed by the thump of his bag hitting the floor.

Crap, must avoid accidental Hollyings.

“Hey Rob, Kitchen! Rick’s here!” I yell. Hopefully the lumox gets the message.

He shuffles through the door and tosses his keys at the bowl. “Hey… spike, how’s it goin'?” He looks a little surprised to see me boying it up again but he keeps his mouth shut. He bro-nods at Rick, “Sup Dude.”

“Hey, just figured I’d stop in and check up on sleeping beauty over here after what went down on Tuesday,” Rick shrugs. I wince and I notice even Rob twinges at the remark. Funny in hindsight, super close to the bone in the moment.

“Ah, cool yeah, sadly he’s still fine,” Rob laughs as he moves past us to grab himself a soda. “You head over straight from school?”

“Yeah, not had a chance to catch up since, you know?” Rick replies before pausing. “Wait, Spike? Is that a new one?”

Uh oh.

“Yeah,” Rob acts really casual about it. “He spiked our parents' blood pressure ending up in hospital. I won’t let him forget it.”

Robert, you smooth, smooth boy. Cudos.

“Hah, that’s a good one,” Rick smirks. “You had us all worried though, for real.”

Rob looks at me and smiles. “Yeah, it really was rough.”

Rick shifts awkwardly and downs the rest of his soda. “Look, I don’t want to impose, I just popped in on the way home you know? I’ll get out of your hair and leave you to rest.”

He turns to look at me and I catch this look in his eyes that I can’t explain and he smiles. “See you Monday Alex. Remember next Saturday, ok?.”

“Yeah, deal.” I smile. “See you Monday, Rick.”

I follow him to the door and watch as he hops in his truck and pulls out of the driveway. While I’m stood at the door, Rob slides up alongside me and nudges me in the ribs.

“What was all that you said about not being into my teammate?”

“Shut up.”

Rob chuckles and ruffles my hair. “What was the visit for?”

I watch Rick’s truck drive out of sight and shrug. “He just wanted to check I’m doing ok after everything that happened. We’ve been in a bit of a weird patch.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was sweet on my baby sister.”

“You do know better,” I counter. “He knows me as Alex, a boy. He’s just being a good friend.”

“Really? Coulda fooled me.” Rob snickers. “Not many guys blush that much around their male friends.”

I give my brother a scornful look as we head back inside the house. Finally, out of sight, I release my hair from the low ponytail that kept it restrained and finger-comb it back to fullness.

“Looks weird seeing you like that.” Rob offers as he heads towards the stairs. “Though the mascara kinda ruins the whole grungy teenage boy look, sis.”

My head snaps to the hallway mirror and I stare in horror at the thick beautiful lashes surrounding my eyes.

Oh, Fucksicles.

 

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