I took a deep breath as I marched into the living room where dad was watching TV. Defiantly, I stood between him and the television set, earning a confused stare from the middle-aged man.

"Something you want to tell me, Jason?" Dad asked as I dramatically placed my hands on my hips.

"Dad," I said in a loud, proud voice. "I- I'm gay." An eternity passed as dad's face remained neutral, before he simply nodded once.

"Okay," dad said. "Can I go back to watching my TV programme now?"

"Wh-what?" I asked. "Didn't you hear what I just said? I said I'm gay!"

"Yes, you were very easy to understand," dad said.

"Do you even know what that means?" I asked. "I'm GAY! I'm attracted to other men! I want to have sex with other men!"

"Whoa- I don't revolt you with details of my sex life, do I?" Dad said, putting me on the back foot.

"So- so you're okay with this?" I asked.

"Any reason I wouldn't be?" Dad asked. "It's your life, you need to do what makes you happy, gay, straight, bisexual or whatever."

"Even though I'm only sixteen?" I asked.

"Last time I checked, that was over the age of consent," dad shrugged. "Jason... I want- I've always wanted you to be your own person, to be who you want to be regardless of my wishes. Would I have liked grandchildren some day? Perhaps. But it's much more important to me that I have a happy and healthy son right now. So if you're gay, then I'm happy that you're gay, son."

"Well- okay, I guess," I said as it sat down on the sofa next to dad's chair. "You're really-"

"Yes!" Dad snapped, immediately silencing me.

"...I'm going to bring boyfriends home," I said.

"Not until you're eighteen, you're not," dad replied.

"Fair enough," I shrugged.

"Anything else you want to tell me today, or is the gay thing all?" Dad asked, making me roll my eyes.

"The gay thing's all for now," I replied, even though deep down, the real answer to dad's question was a big, firm 'no'.

My name is Jason David Hanley. I was born on the second of February 1996 to two parents who loved each other and adored and spoiled me. When I was young, I was never left wanting for anything.

Then, a month after my sixth birthday, my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Three months later, she died, and dad and I were devastated. I stayed away from school for the rest of the school year, and when I returned in September, all my classmates- even though there were also only six years old- all teased me and whispered behind my back.

All, that is, apart from three- three amazing and friendly girls named Caitlin, Jessica and Noor. For the remaining five years at primary school, they were my confidantes and my confidence. To all intents and purposes, I was the fourth girl in their gang. I didn't care what the others said, as long as my three REAL friends loved me and supported me. I even dressed up in the same costumes as the girls for their birthday parties- fairies, princesses, you name it. Back then, of course, I had no concept of what crossdressing was, or even of the difference- the REAL difference- between boys and girls. To six year old Jason, it was just a bit of fun, being 'one of the girls'.

Then, at the start of secondary school, everything changed. At a whole new school, the stigma I'd inherited after my mum's death was replaced by another stigma. Everywhere I went, the same names followed me- 'gay', 'queer', 'homo'... And then, to make matters worse, my three friends all entered puberty... And so did I. And very quickly, I was no longer 'one of the girls'... Even though I desperately longed, more than anything, to be so. I spent my thirteenth birthday wishing that I could just tear off my boy's uniform, pull on a skirt and once again be part of that 'clique' that had so cruelly abandoned me. It didn't even have to be with Caitlin, Jessica or Noor, just being part a clique with ANY girls would have been enough for me. By my fourteenth birthday, that longing had become desperation. And by my sixteenth, just a few months prior, that desperation had become urgent.

I'd try to offset the desperation by pretending to be a girl at home, of course- the usual girlish things such as singing into a hairbrush - but there's only so much you can do when you don't have the 'equipment' you need to pretend. Sure, I could wrap a towel around my waist and pretend I'm a runway model, but most models don't go around displaying the crest of Brighton and Hove Albion Football Club on their arse.

Of course, I'm not lying to dad when I say that I'm 'gay'. My obsession with girls is purely about becoming one. I feel no attraction to girls. Well, not beyond their clothes, anyway. But the more the girls at school became obsessed with boys, the more I did as well. I couldn't come out whilst at school, of course- being teased is one thing, but getting my face pounded in every day? Not my idea of a relaxing life. So I held out, endured school just as long as I could and not one second longer, and as of that fateful day, Tuesday the 7th of August 2012, I was out and proud as a gay man. It's just a pity that I'd rather have been out and proud as a straight woman.

But, we learn to take whatever victories we can get. Throughout the remainder of the summer holidays, my new 'status' enabled me to be much freer in my actions. Whenever I giggled girlishly, dad brushed that off as a 'gay thing'. Whenever I played with my growing hair, it was the same thing. Whenever I spoke softer than usual- well, I'm sure you get the image. And to his credit, dad never once showed any signs of discomfort at my actions. I wasn't 'Jason, the gay son', I was just 'Jason, the son who just happens to be gay'.

In September 2012, I started studying at a sixth form college, doing resits of my GCSEs (I'd only got a D in maths, and virtually employers or further education colleges require a C or higher). There, for the first time, I didn't have to hide who I was. Well, I didn't have to hide SOME of who I was, anyway. With my long hair, my increasingly androgynous dress sense and my camp mannerisms, it was obvious from day 1 that I was very different from most of the other boys on campus.

...'Most of' being the important words there, much to my relief. There were still meatheads at the college who took one look at me and snorted at the 'queer', but there other boys there who took one look at me and liked what they saw. Kinder, more sensitive boys who provided a safe space for me to enjoy my life at college. And yes, there were some extra-special boys who wanted to share their 'safe space' with me.

I got my first boyfriend at the end of October. I'd been invited to Martin's (one of my gay friends) Halloween party, and I had literally never been so excited in my entire life. I of course knew the Mean Girls quote that states: 'Halloween is the one day a year when a girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girls can say anything else about it'. I chose to interpret the quote to mean 'Halloween is the one day a year when a boy can dress up like a girl and no other boys can say anything else about it'.

Of course, just like when the quote is applied to other girls, this isn't necessarily true- if I'd gone to anyone else's party dressed as a girl, I'm sure the boys there would've had plenty to say about it. But I didn't go to anyone else's party, I went to Martin's... And when I walked through the front door in the tiny pleated skirt and tank top that made up my cheerleaders' outfit, I immediately felt at home in a way I had never done so before.

"Jason!" Martin beamed, whilst looking VERY sexy in a fireman's outfit. Assuming firemen regularly put out fires whilst not wearing a shirt, anyway. "Or should I say, 'Jasonette'? Or maybe, I dunno, 'Jacinta'?"

"'Jason' is fine," I giggled as I greeted Martin with air kisses.

"Well, either way, I LOVE that costume," Martin teased. "I never knew you had such great legs... You should get them out more at college."

"Umm, in November when it's freezing outside?" I retorted, making my host snort with laughter.

"In the summer, I mean!" Martin laughed. "Maybe pull on a sexy pair of shorts... Unless, of course, you prefer wearing miniskirts?"

"Heh," I laughed as I found my way through the small crowd of partygoers to the drinks table in Martin's kitchen. As much as I liked Martin- and as much as I 'liked' him- I needed to be 100% sure I could trust him, and the accusatory tone in his voice immediately put me on the back foot.

"...Maybe just at Halloween," I laughed as I hastily downed the can of ridiculously weak lager Martin had laid on and thanked god that I wasn't the only person at the party who was crossdressing. Unless, of course, the schoolgirl at the back of the living room moonlighted as a grizzly bear...

"You, um, didn't see any other costumes you liked?" Martin asked, making me groan internally as my suspicions about him were confirmed.

"Nope," I said. Well, I thought to myself, not apart from a French maid, a playboy bunny, an air stewardess, a latex catsuit...

"Well either way," Martin said, "you look SERIOUSLY cute tonight."

"I'm not the only one," I giggled as I played with my long brown hair. "Many people coming tonight?"

"Probably eight, tops," Martin sighed. "No point in advertising a gay party to the meatheads at the school."

"'Meat' isn't the word I'd have put in front of 'head'," I say, earning a giggle from the sexy young man.

"They probably think we're having some kind of gay orgy here or something," Martin laughed.

"More's the pity," I shrugged as I reached for my second can of lager.

"...What?" Martin asked. "Pity they're not coming, or pity we're not having an orgy? Or worse yet, pity we're not having an orgy with them?"

"I can think of worse ways to spend an evening than having an orgy with half a dozen footballers," I teased.

"Umm, Jason..." Martin said with a concerned look on his face. "You- you've never actually had sex, have you?"

"...No," I mumbled as my cheeks flushed. "Never even had a boyfriend before."

"...Neither have I," Martin said with a nervous laugh.

"I only came out to my dad a couple of months ago," I laughed as Martin smiled sympathetically at me.

"Same here," Martin sighed. "Wanted to wait until I'd finished school, so I didn't have that hanging over my head... School really sucked for me. Think that'd apply to everyone here."

"Definitely does for me," I sighed. "So, um, are you, you know, looking for a, um, boyfriend?"

"...Depends on the boy," Martin said as I bit my lip. Dressed the way I was, I didn't exactly qualify as a 'boy', and I had even less desire to live my life as a boy. I may have been dressed as a girl, but all I was was a boy in a skirt, and crucially, that was all that Martin saw. More crucially, though, he definitely seemed to like what he saw...

"Could we, umm..." I mumbled. "Continue, you know, this conversation in, um, private?" I giggled nervously as a wide smile spread across Martin's handsome face.

Ten minutes later, I had a smile almost frozen onto my face as I emerged from Martin's bathroom. As I adjusted my skirt, however, it just hammered home how differently Martin and I viewed our encounter. Martin inevitably saw it as two guys having sex, but I... Every time Martin touched my body, I tried to put myself into the mind of a girl who was about to give up her virginity, and for one brief, perfect moment, I was that girl. However, it wasn't to last.

I wanted my man to treat me like a queen, to lavish me with attention before finally taking me... Instead all I got was a quick 69 on a cold floor where I had to do as much 'work' as the guy I was (in my mind, anyway) making love with.

Martin and I remained a couple for the next month or so, but as you might infer when I described him as my 'first' boyfriend, it didn't last long. I can't help but feel that this is partly because during the rest of our relationship, I didn't get the chance to so much as touch another item of women's clothing. Technically, I hadn't even done so at Halloween- the cheerleader costume was advertised on the website I got it from as being a men's costume- none of the female costumes would fit my 5' 10" frame.

My stress only increased at Christmas, and on my birthday the following February. The previous year, I'd turned sixteen, and my presents had included men's deodorant, jeans, t-shirts, DVDs... For my seventeenth birthday, my first after coming out, I got men's deodorant, jeans, t-shirts, DVDs... Despite my coming out, I was no closer to being 'one of the girls' than I was on my sixteenth birthday. The only difference was that I was no longer a virgin, but even that was no comfort.

I had other boyfriends during my year at sixth form college, of course, but none of those relationships lasted long. Whenever it came to lovemaking, I had no problem being 'the woman', but whenever it was my turn to be 'the man', it just felt fundamentally wrong, like it was not who I was supposed to be- and every guy I was with seemed to notice, contributing to the end of each relationship.

That single moment of blissful femininity at Halloween would prove to the only time in over a year that I would come even close to realising my dream.

By the time the 7th of August 2013- the first anniversary of my coming out- rolled around, I was once again miserable and stressed out. I was due to start college again the following September- this time at a further education college, studying photography- but I had no reason to believe that matters would improve when I began my course.

Much to my surprise, however, on my first day at college, I would meet the person who would set my life on the path I had always dreamed- and perhaps even more surprisingly, that person was a girl.

Naturally, I didn't go into my first day of college with particularly high hopes of 'getting' anything other than a decent education. As I'd done the previous year, I 'set out my stall' early with my shoulder-length hair, androgynous dress sense and, just to hammer it home, a rainbow flag pin on my rucksack. And, of course, I got the usual whispers from the 'meat'heads, and the occasional glance from the other gay or bisexual boys- many of whom I 'glanced' back at, even though I knew that none of the glances would lead to anything more- not sex, not a relationship, and most definitely not me being allowed to be the princess I was always destined to be.

Then, at lunch on my first day, I saw something I never expected to see, sat at one of the corner tables of the cafeteria. I'd entered the vast room expected to find a seat with the other gay men, but when I saw her, I knew deep down that she was the person I had to eat with that day.

As the college was art-and-fashion centred, every girl who walked its halls had their own look. And they were all virtually identical. The latest trends, the most expensive make-up, perfect nails, perfect hair, perfect tans... I would've given anything to rip away my 'boy skin' and get lost in that world. It seemed like heaven to me... Until my eyes were drawn to a brown-haired, deathly pale-skinned make-up free girl sat in the corner of the room wearing a dress that looked like it had been made from an old duvet. It was obvious just by looking at her that she didn't belong in this crowd, and she knew she didn't. And I knew a thing or two about 'not belonging'.

"H-hi," I nervous stammered as I approached the reclusive girl. "Can- can I sit with you?"

"...If you must," the brown-haired girl replied with an almost stereotypical working class accent.

"Thanks," I said, too nervous at the time to pick up on the girl's hostility. "I- I'm Jason, by the way. Jason Hanley."

"I'm Amanda Lowe," the girl replied. "And I'm also not interested. I don't do 'pretty boys'." I smirked at what was obviously intended to be a double-edged compliment.

"Good," I retorted. "I don't need the competition!" I giggled as, for the first time since I entered the cafeteria, the brown-haired girl smiled.

"So why are you sitting with me, then?" Amanda asked. "There are plenty of 'pretty boys' in here. Plenty of whom will be interested in other 'pretty boys'."

"Because you look like you don't belong here," I said bluntly, wincing as Amanda frowned at what she no doubt saw as an accusation. "And I know a thing or two about 'not belonging'."

"What makes you think that I 'don't belong'?" Amanda asked me.

"Well for starters," I replied, "you've got a really working class accent, but you used the word 'whom' two sentences ago. We live in a coastal city and it's still technically summer, but you look like your skin's never even seen the sun, and that dress is clearly meant to look like it was cobbled together in minutes but the stitching looks almost professional quality."

"...Are you sure that your name is 'Jason' and not 'Sherlock'?" Amanda asked, before letting out a snort of laughter that caused her brown eyes to sparkle. "I apologise, I shouldn't have accused. You're of course right about the dress. It is home-made, and yes, I did make it myself over the course of the summer. I spent most of the summer holiday indoors, making clothes to wear for college."

"Studying fashion design, then?" I asked.

"You hardly needed to be Sherlock Holmes to work that one out," Amanda retorted, snorting with laughter again as I stuck my tongue out at her. "But yes, I've always been fascinated with fashion design, how someone can take something as plain as a piece of cloth and use it to create a statement that can be heard around the world. And as for my manner of speaking... Yes, I come from what most would consider a lower-class background. My mother gave birth to my eldest sister when she was fifteen. She became a grandmother when she was thirty-two. My two other older sisters all became mothers before the age of twenty. My younger sister is fourteen, and she smokes ten cigarettes a day."

"So you're kinda, like, the black sheep?" I asked the young woman, whose eyes suddenly looked a lot older than the rest of her body's sixteen years.

"I prefer to think of myself as the white sheep," Amanda replied. "...I apologise again, I'm talking too much. I've spent my whole life keeping quiet, after a while you become used to it."

"Used to sitting in a corner, where no one can see you?" I asked, smiling sympathetically as Amanda nodded.

"Tell me about yourself," Amanda ordered. "All I know is that your name is Jason Hanley and you like pretty boys."

"There's not much to tell," I replied, wincing inwardly at my lie. "I'm seventeen, not sixteen- I did GCSE resits last year. I study photography, I live with my dad, I don't have any brothers or sisters- my mum died when I was six."

"Oh, I am terribly sorry to hear that," Amanda said softly.

"It's okay," I whispered. "I came out to dad just over a year ago and he couldn't be more supportive. Thinks it's great that I'm doing photography as it'll set me up with a career, even though I really, really want to go to university when I'm nineteen."

"That's always been my ambition too," Amanda replied. "Mum doesn't see the point in it. But then she's never even had a job, she's just lived off of benefits for her whole life."

"And that doesn't appeal to you?" I asked.

"It does not," Amanda sighed. "It feels like I've been born into the wrong life, into the wrong body. Every morning I wake up, and it's like I know that this is not who I am supposed to be. ...I apologise again, I must sound like a crazy woman."

"...Actually, you make a lot more sense than you think," I whispered. "Umm, can I- can I add you on Facebook? So we could maybe talk more?"

"I don't believe in Facebook," Amanda said, shaking her head. "...But I can give you my mobile number, you can text me if you'd like."

"I would like that," I said, earning another genuine smile from Amanda as she wrote her number on a napkin and handed it to me.

I had a smile on my all throughout the remainder of the first day at college. I may not have found the 'prince Charming' I was looking for, but in Amanda, I had the next best thing- my 'fairy godmother'. Not that I was going to refer to the aloof brown-haired girl in such a manner, of course, but over the course the week, the two of us became nearly inseparable away from classes. I was happy to play the role of her 'GBF' as she opened up to me about her dreams of being a famous fashion designer, her frustrations with her home life and her strong feelings that she never truly 'belonged' anywhere, and she listened intently as I moaned about my love life (or lack thereof), my miserable school days and, on occasion, what little I remembered of my mother.

Whenever I opened up about my mum, Amanda no doubt took that as me confessing my deepest feelings to her. At the time, she had little idea that I was harbouring an even deeper secret- though that was soon to change.

"Hi Amanda!" I said with an excited giggle as I intercepted my friend on her way out of the college. As always, the brown-haired girl was dressed 'uniquely' in a long-sleeved, short dark blue dress that seemed to have been made out of a very shiny satin-like material. When combined with her jet-black tights, Amanda's look was earning some confused, disapproving stares from our classmates... And one look of pure envy from me (though I tried my hardest to hide it from my 'fairy godmother', of course).

"Hello, Jason," Amanda said, again entertaining me with the formality of her words and the commonness of her accent.

"One week down," I say, trying to tease a smile from the normally-stoic girl. "What do you have planned for the weekend?"

"I plan to work on my course," Amanda replied. "It shall be a welcome distraction from my family."

"Of course," I whispered- even after a few days, I knew better than to question Amanda over her attitude toward her family. "I'm planning on doing the same... Do you, um, do you want to work on our courses, you know, together?"

"...We are studying different subjects," Amanda retorted.

"Well- yeah," I said. "But, you know, they kinda go together, I mean, you make the clothes, and I photograph them for you, and, umm, you make the clothes, and I photograph them, you know, for me..." Or I could model them for you... I self-pityingly thought to myself.

"Jason," Amanda sighed. "If you wish to spend time with me over the weekend, all you need do is ask."

"I wish to spend time with you over the weekend," I instantly replied, earning a smirk from the eccentric young woman.

"I should warn you," Amanda said, "all the items I require for my course are at my home. This means that you will need to come to my house. This means that you will meet my mother and at least one of my sisters."

"...I would say 'they can't be that bad' but I know that that's something you don't like hearing," I replied, making Amanda smirk again.

"Already, we are becoming best friends," Amanda said, making me giggle excitedly. "Would you like to arrive by, say, half past ten tomorrow morning?"

"I would like that very much," I replied, giggling as I headed home.

Obviously, when I told dad I was going round to a girl's house the following day, it caught him somewhat by surprise- he'd had thirteen months to get used to a gay son, after all- but after I explained that she was just a friend, he calmed down and took it in his stride, as he always did, and even gave me a lift to Amanda's house... Though when he saw the run-down condition of the house, he was somewhat wary... And in fairness, so was I. Nonetheless, I had promised Amanda that I would visit her, so I got out of the car, made my way through the litter-strewn front garden and knocked on the front door, grimacing as that simple action caused loud yells to come from the living room. I tried to keep my smile on my face as the door was answered by a young woman with bleached blonde hair skin so tanned it was practically orange. It was obvious from the way she was playing with her phone that my mere presence on this Earth was a massive inconvenience to her.

"Who are you?" The young woman asked in a coarse voice, the likes of which I'd only ever heard come from the roughest of Jeremy Kyle Show guests.

"I'm, um, Jason," I mumbled. "I'm, um, Amanda's friend."

"Who's 'Manda?" The young woman barked at me. "Ya mean Mandy?"

"Umm... I guess?" I replied.

"Mandy!" The young woman shrieked up the stairs behind her, loud enough to cause the dog in the neighbour's house to start barking. "Ya fuckin' boyfriend's here!" I bit my lip as I heard a door at the top of the stairs open, only to breathe a sigh of relief as Amanda emerged from the room dressed in one of her home-made dresses.

"Thank you, Candice," Amanda said as she skipped down the stairs toward me.

"What you fuckin' call yourself 'Manda?" Candice sneered at my friend, before returning to playing with her phone.

"Hello, Jason," Amanda said in a weary voice. "Please, come in."

"I'm almost scared to," I mumbled as I followed Amanda back up her stairs. "Was- was that one of your sisters?"

"My youngest sister, yes," Amanda replied, momentarily confusing me.

"You- your YOUNGEST?" I replied. "But I thought she was fourteen?"

"She is," Amanda said matter-of-factly. "She was born on the 26th of May 1999. Why, does that confuse you?"

"Just a bit," I said, shaking my head with confusion. "She looked about twenty, what with that hair, that tan, all that cheap jewellery..."

"You would hardly be the first man to fall into that trap," Amanda sighed. "And you will undoubtedly not be the last. Candice believes that the only purpose to her life is to have as much sex as possible with as many men as possible, and she believes that if they know she is fourteen, they would be less likely to have sex with her."

"...She's going to get herself hurt one of these days," I whispered.

"I hope not," Amanda mumbled. "But I learned a long time ago that there is only so much help I can give to my family, especially to my sisters. They are their own women, and I must respect them as such."

"I suppose," I sighed, before turning to my friend with a quizzical look on my face. "...Mandy?"

"Ugh," Amanda spat, showing uncharacteristic emotion. "I hate that name. It's undignified, only slightly better than 'Candice'. Hence why I prefer to be addressed as 'Amanda'. Have you never wished that you could live your life by a different name?" Such as 'Jacinta'? I thought to myself.

"...Sometimes," I whispered, trying not to let Amanda know just how raw a nerve she had touched.

"For GCSE English we studied Hamlet," Amanda explained. "There was a name in it that always... Resonated with me."

"...Never read Hamlet," I confessed with a grimace. "What was the name?"

"Ophelia," Amanda said.

"Beautiful name," I whispered. "Though 'Ophelia Lowe' does sound a bit like the name of a porn star."

"Or the name of someone who lives her life the way she wishes," Amanda stated firmly, clearly irritated by my remark. "But regardless, we shouldn't stay out here conversing when we both have work to do."

"Right," I said, nodding as Amanda opened the door to her bedroom. However, I was soon stunned into silence once the door was fully opened and I saw what waited inside the room.

"Come on in," Amanda said. "I apologise for the limited size, but there should be enough room for both of us."

"You- your room..." I gasped.

"...My room, yes," Amanda says. "I understand if you have little experience being in a girl's bedroom, but I assure you that most others are similar in nature to this one."

"That's just it," I said. "It- it's so- so- ordinary..."

And it was. Amanda's small single bed had a floral duvet covering it. Flat-pack furniture filled the room, the centrepiece of which was a moderate-sized dressing table with a plain rectangular mirror. Pictures of models- some posters, but mostly newspaper or magazine clippings- wearing fashionable clothes filled two large pinboards hanging about Amanda's bed. Once the shock had worn off, only one emotion remained- envy. My bedroom may have been larger than Amanda's, but I would have traded it and its posters of footballers and cars in a heartbeat.

"I AM a sixteen year old girl, Jason," Amanda reminded me, snapping my attention away from the unapologetic femininity of the room. "Just because I choose to be atypical, it doesn't mean that I don't conform for the sake of not conforming."

"Are the pictures of models for studying?" I ask. "I mean, the dresses, etc?"

"Mostly, yes," Amanda replied. "It helps me with my own designs, and I have to study other designers for the course. I assume you must study other photographers as well?"

"Yeah," I mumbled as my eye was instantly drawn to one photograph in particular, of a model who had caught my attention during the summer. "Is- is that- is that Charlotte Hutchinson?"

"Yes," Amanda replied. "From this year's Amsterdam Fashion Show, one of her final appearances before leaving Spencer and Hall. How do you know Charlotte?" I took a deep breath as I prepared to confess my greatest secret to Amanda, but despite everything, I was still terrified.

Sure, she was as 'atypical' a person as I had ever met. To say she was the black sheep of the family would be an understatement. She had utterly no problem with me being gay, and she trusted me enough to invite me into her bedroom, alone, after knowing me for less than a week. All of this should be enough evidence that I could implicitly trust her. And yet, there are people in the world who will accept literally anything and everything except cross-gendered behaviour. I crossed my fingers behind my back, before beginning to speak.

"It- it's not Charlotte I really follow," I whispered as I cursed my heart for beginning to race. "It's her friend, um, Jamie, Jamie-Lee Burke, that girl. The transgendered one, the transgendered model."

"Oh," Amanda said, before an awkward silence filled the room. It took me seconds to realise that I hadn't actually told Amanda what I'd intended to.

"The reason I like Jamie is because I wish I was a girl," I blurted, before the realisation of what I'd said caused me to almost hyperventilate.

"Jason..." Amanda whispered. "Umm..."

"I know, I'm a weirdo, a freak," I sighed. "I'd understand if you wanted me to leave."

"I want you to stay," Amanda said firmly. "The way you are... It doesn't make you a 'weirdo' or a 'freak'. And as someone who lives her life in an atypical manner, I speak from authority."

"...Thank you," I said, sitting down next to Amanda and smiling as she gave my hand a comforting squeeze.

"Do- do you dress up often?" Amanda asked.

"No," I whispered, bring a sad look to Amanda's face. "My mum died when I was young, dad didn't keep any of her clothes, I wouldn't get away with buying any and bringing them home... I dressed up as a cheerleader last year for Halloween, but even that was just a piece of fun. Even if it did kinda lead to sex."

"During which you could feel that you were a girl being romanced by the man of her dreams?" Amanda asked.

"Trust me, there was no 'romance'," I snorted, making Amanda chuckle despite herself. "No... These thoughts have occupied my mind for so long I can't even remember. But that's all they are, just thoughts."

"Thoughts form ideas," Amanda said softly. "And ideas are the basis of reality. Have you even told your father about this?"

"No, I couldn't," I sighed, wiping away a tear.

"You told him that you were gay," Amanda reminded me. "And he continued to love you just as he had before. Why do you believe that telling him this would cause him to love you any less?"

"I- ugh, I don't know," I moan. "I mean, I wouldn't even make that great a girl. I'm 5' 10", I have hairy legs, a deep voice..."

"Many of the women on the wall behind you are over five feet and ten inches tall," Amanda countered. "You can always shave your legs. And it is possible to change the way one speaks." As if to punctuate her argument, over the course of her sentence, Amanda alters her voice from her usual working-class accent to a much posher Received Pronunciation way of speaking.

"...You sound like one of those old BBC presenters, from, like, 1940," I said with a snort of laughter that Amanda simply brushed off.

"And why should I be criticised for speaking the way I wish?" Amanda asked, continuing to use her 'posh' voice. "Any more than you should be criticised for being the gender you wish to be?"

"I wouldn't know, I'm not an idiot," I answer, making Amanda giggle. "Though every time you use THAT voice, I'm going to call you 'Ophelia', okay?"

"That is most acceptable," 'Ophelia' replied. "And what would you like me to call you whenever you wear feminine attire?"

"Jacinta," I said confidently. "Not like that'll ever happen, but-"

"Please remember," 'Ophelia' said, "that you are friends with a young woman who makes her own clothing. In exchange for your continued friendship, one would be more than willing to make clothing for you."

"...I wouldn't feel right just accepting charity like that," I grimaced.

"Then pay me for them," Amanda said, abruptly reverting to her 'normal' voice. "Jason- Jacinta, it's not fair that I was born into this family. It's not fair that you were born into that body. But we can take steps to improve our circumstances."

"Like you going to college?" I asked.

"Precisely," Amanda confirmed. "Or you embracing 'Jacinta'. I already own several dresses that don't fit me as well as others. It would be a simple matter to alter them to fit you. I can even give you some of the make-up that I no longer wear. Jas- Jacinta, sorry... I've never met anyone as accepting as you."

"I've never met anyone as accepting as you," I whispered. "...You know, if you were a guy, I would probably kiss you now." I smile again as Amanda involuntarily lets out another giggle.

"Lucky me for being a girl," Amanda said.

"You said it," I sighed.

"We should do some actual college work now," Amanda said in a voice much more relaxed than her usual, formal way of speaking. "But I will keep my promise, Jacinta. Come back to this house a week from today, and I will have a surprise for you."

"Deal," I said with a grin as we got out our college folders and began to study.

That night, I could barely sleep, I was so excited about the prospect of the following weekend. I almost texted Amanda and asked if I could come back over the following day, only realising just before I sent the text that she would actually need more time than a couple of hours to alter the dresses, which had no doubt been made for her petite 5' 5" frame.

I had a smile on my face all throughout the following week of college- a smile that 'infected' Amanda more than once with its enthusiasm, much to her annoyance! However, no matter how many questions I asked her about her 'special project', she refused to crack, only giving me vague, cryptic answers.

By the time Saturday rolled around, I was so excited by what awaited me that I barely slept the previous night, meaning that when I knocked on Amanda's door, I was momentarily surprised by the bright orange, bottle-blonde monstrosity that greeted me.

"Mandy!" Candice yelled, barely acknowledging my existence. "Ya boyfriend's 'ere!"

"Thank you, Candice," Amanda said with a tired sigh as she skipped down the stairs. "Good morning, Jason, please follow me."

"Good morning," I replied, trying not to roll my eyes as Candice sneered at the two of us as we headed up to Amanda's bedroom. "Is- is everything-"

"Everything is ready and waiting," Amanda said, clearly suppressing a wide grin. "The question should be, are YOU ready?"

"I've been ready my whole life," I said as Amanda shut her bedroom door behind us. "Was the money I gave you for underwear enough, Amanda?"

"More than enough," Amanda said, momentarily surprising me by slipping into her 'posh' voice. "And whilst we reside within this room, we must adhere to certain rules- or rather, to certain names. Inside this room, I am not 'Amanda'. You may address me... As Ophelia."

"Agreed," I said. "But only if you address me as Jacinta!"

"Agreed," Ophelia said with a dignified nod of her head. "The underwear I provided for you can be found in the bag on my bed. I shall obviously turn my back to allow you to change."

"O-okay," I said nervously. "Are- are we doing this NOW, then?"

"You would prefer to spend less time as the woman you wish to be, Jacinta?" Ophelia asked, turning her back as she promised.

"Well- no, I guess not," I sighed as I tipped Ophelia's bag onto her bed. I hadn't provided much money- and Ophelia obviously didn't have much of her own- but she had done a good job with what she had, providing a packet of three pairs of panties, one lacy bra and a packet of three pairs of black tights, the mere feel of which between my fingers caused me to gasp with excitement.

"This will be the first time I've worn anything like these," I breathed as I pulled off my own clothes, folding them neatly onto the chair in the corner of the room. "What- what if, you know, I don't like any of it?"

"Tell me, Jacinta," Ophelia asked, "what did you ask yourself before the first time you had sex with a man?"

"...I asked myself 'what if I don't like it'," I conceded.

"And did you like it?" Ophelia asked.

"Yes, a lot," I replied. "But this, it- it's different. I've built up this moment so much, dreamed about it for so long... What if it's not what I hoped it would be?"

"We only regret the things we DON'T do," Ophelia said, making me sigh and nod in agreement.

"...Are you sure you're sixteen?" I asked the brown-haired girl. "Because you're wiser than, well, everyone I know."

"I was born on the 17th of December, 1996," Ophelia stated matter-of-factly. "I would get you my birth certificate, but it doesn't have my REAL name on it."

"...Which real name?" I asked with a giggle.

"Ophelia, of course," the brown-haired girl replied, making me giggle even more. "Are you dressed, yet?"

"Not yet," I said, shivering as I slipped off my underpants and placed them on the pile on the chair. "I want to take my time, savour this moment..."

I took a deep breath as I stepped into the soft panties one leg at a time, shivering as I pulled them up past my knees before coming to rest on my hips. Even though they were outwardly similar to the underpants I had just removed, to me, they couldn't be any more different. The material was softer and smoother, the lace trim was delicate and feminine, and they 'clung' in a way no boy's underpants ever could.

Next came the tights. As with the underpants, I thought they would just be a case of 'like socks' but different, but I knew that was wrong the second I poked a toe into the rolled-up leg of the garment. The tights were soft and silky smooth, and completely skin-tight against my legs without any sagging, as socks tended to do. After they were on, I spent several moments simply smoothing them against my legs, relishing the sensations they provided (and being thankful that Ophelia had bought control-top tights to help control my 'excitement').

"I, um, need help with the bra," I mumbled, trying not to blush as Ophelia turned around and, despite herself, grinned at the sight of me stood wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a pair of tights.

"Put one arm through each armhole," Ophelia instructed, and I shivered as I felt the lacy cups of the underwired garment touch my bare chest. After Ophelia fastened the bra behind me, she opened her underwear drawers and withdrew two pairs of thick, thermal socks, shoving one pair into each cup.

"And now, for your dress," Ophelia said with a smug grin- a smugness that I immediately conceded was well-earned as she opened her wardrobe and removed my dress.

The garment was a shirt dress, with buttons running up the whole of the front. It was brown, but had a floral pattern to it, and had a loose, low-cut collar. When I had it on, it looked like it would come to about knee-length on me. Most excitingly of all... It was almost identical to the dress that Ophelia herself was wearing.

"Is today a disappointment so far?" Ophelia asked, her grin growing smugger.

"Not even slightly," I breathed as I pulled the dress on like a shirt and began fastening it, while Ophelia rummaged in the bottom of her wardrobe, eventually emerging with a wide, white belt, a dark purple hairband and, most surprisingly of all, a cape, which she wrapped around my neck the second my dress was fastened.

"I did promise you make-up as well," Ophelia said, sitting me in front of her dresser, before smearing my face with a liquid foundation. Next came a thick mascara, followed by eyeliner and a subtle purple eyeshadow. Last of all was a deep red lipstick that somehow made my lips look thicker than they already were, not to mention more inviting for any boy who might want to kiss them...

"Fashion is all about accessorising," Ophelia said as she brushed out my shoulder-length brown hair into a feminine bob, before holding it back from my face with the hairband she had produced earlier. I lifted my arms as I felt Ophelia wrap the elasticated belt around my waist, cinching it in slightly and giving me a more feminine figure.

"...Feels like I'm wearing a corset," I laughed as Ophelia fastened the belt shut.

"Maybe next time, you will," Ophelia said. "Maybe next time, I will too, as I've never worn a corset before, but I've always wondered what it was like..."

My look is completed when Ophelia places a small chain of black plastic beads around my neck, allowing them to fall into my dress and, by extension, my new cleavage.

"I do apologise for not having any shoes," Ophelia says. "Our feet are different sizes, and there was no money left over, and most charity shops don't sell high heels in size nine..."

"I don't care," I sighed as I did a quick twirl, giggling as my dress billowed out away from my nylon-covered legs. "This is perfect. Thank you SO much."

"So might I assume that 'Jacinta' is everything you imagined?" Ophelia asked, her earlier smug grin returning to her face.

"Everything and more," I sighed, before surprising Ophelia with a gentle hug. "I- I'm sorry, I know you don't like being touched, but I- I just had to- you- you're like the sister I never had, but always wanted."

"Warn me, next time," Ophelia said with a stern glare, before breaking into a fit of giggles. "I have four sisters, but you are the sister I always wanted. I can immediately tell that you seem so much more happy, more free like this."

"I do, thank you so much," I said as I did another happy twirl. "This- this feels so RIGHT. I feel almost like a princess..."

And I did. I felt like the single most beautiful, most important girl in the world, and even though I knew that at the end of the day, I would have to remove my new clothes and go back to being boring old Jason, I was determined to enjoy every single second, every single sensation that being 'Princess Jacinta' would offer.

My only regret was that I didn't have a 'Prince Charming' there to whisk me off my feet...

Over the course of the next few weekends I was given- and took- the opportunity to become Jacinta several times. Despite her own limited storage space, Ophelia (which, by October, was the only name I addressed my friend by) was more than happy to keep 'my' clothes at her house.

She was also happy to wash the clothes for me, especially the underwear- which came as a huge relief to me when I saw that she'd bought me a packet of thongs.

I'd spend every waking moment of every weekday anxious looking forward to Saturday, and when it finally came I'd spend virtually every possible second cooped up in Ophelia's bedroom, allowing her to transform me into 'Jacinta', whilst she was able to spend the time honing her dressmaking skills and working on her own college assignments. Obviously, I had no problem acting as the 'clothes horse', but after a few weekends, much to my dismay, the 'novelty' began to wear off.

"Both of the garments you will wear today were made from other types of clothing," Ophelia explained as she held up a red top-like garment. "This was originally a long dress that I customised and repurposed into a bodysuit. However, there are no fasteners in the crotch, so you will need to step into it through the neck, as you would a swimsuit or a leotard."

"Okay," I said as I took the bodysuit and stepped into it as instructed, stretching it past my nylon-covered legs and over my bra (which, as always, contained a pair of thick socks in each cup).

"This skirt was made from an old pair of ladies' jeans," Ophelia said. "The extra denim panels on the front and the rear should make it comfortable to walk in, but please do tell me if it is too tight."

"Will do," I said as I stepped into the skirt, zipping and fastening it shut before walking back and forth in Ophelia's room a few times to test the 'stride' the garment had. "Seems okay to me..."

"Marvellous," Ophelia said with a genuine grin. "Whilst purchasing these items from the charity store I was also able to procure for you a pair of shoes. They are only a pair of plain, flat ankle boots, but they are labelled as women's boots, and would suit your outfit very well."

"Cool," I said, lacing up the boots and trying to smile at how they complemented the skirt and the bodysuit.

"Jacinta..." Ophelia said as she sat me down and fussed with my hair and make-up, "are you feeling alright today? You don't seem to be your usual self, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I'm okay," I shrugged, frowning as Ophelia fixed me with a quizzical stare. "Honestly, I'm fine. This is the first time I've ever worn anything like a leotard or a bodysuit. I remember being so jealous of all the girls in swimming classes, getting to wear one-piece swimsuits whilst I shivered in a pair of trunks..."

"I am glad," Ophelia said. "I had a feeling that such a garment might excite you... But I expected it to excite you more than this."

"...I'm sorry," I sighed. "I don't know what it is. I spend so much time building each weekend up in my mind, maybe I give it a bit TOO much build-up, you know?"

"Is there anything more you would like me to do?" Ophelia asked.

"Oh- seriously, you've done WAY too much for me already," I laughed. "I really wish I could repay you somehow."

"You ARE reimbursing me," Ophelia urged me. "Every assignment I complete, every passing grade I achieve brings me closer to my ultimate goal."

"University," I whispered. "God... That would be SO amazing. Living away from home, having the opportunity to be who I wanted, when I wanted, where I wanted..."

"There is no reason why you couldn't go as well," Ophelia said softly. "Your assignment scores are satisfactory, are they not?"

"They're okay," I shrugged. "Reckon if I worked hard and applied next year, I'd stand a good chance of getting on a photography course."

"Then what is preventing you?" Ophelia asked.

"...Because I don't know whether it'd be 'Jason' or 'Jacinta' who went," I confessed.

"...You wish that you could attend university full-time as a woman?" Ophelia asked.

"I wish I could attend EVERYTHING full-time as a woman," I laughed. "Guess the reason I'm not so excited by- by all this is because I know it'll end eventually."

"Then why don't you simply tell your father about Jacinta?" Ophelia asked.

"Because he's the only family I have," I sigh. "And I'm the only family he has. It's- it's too much of a risk."

"Surely if that is the case, then it would be more reason to tell him?" Ophelia asked.

"I can see why you'd think that," I mumbled. "But ask yourself this- why haven't you told your family about Ophelia?" I bit my lip as Ophelia remained quiet, clearly affected by my question. "...Sorry, I know that was a bit, you know, close to the bone. Didn't want to say 'below the belt'..."

"You are right," Ophelia said, before suddenly reaching underneath her bed and pulling out her laptop, sitting cross-legged on the floor as she booted it up.

"Umm... What are you doing?" I asked, confused by my friend's sudden antisocial behaviour. "I'm kinda still in the room, you know."

"I know," Ophelia said as she opened up a website.

"...Finally signing up for Facebook?" I asked, earning a stern stare from the brown-haired girl.

"I would rather skin myself," Ophelia spat. "I am browsing to the government's deed poll website. I am consigning the name 'Mandy Lowe' to history, where it belongs."

"...So you're really going to be known as 'Ophelia Lowe'?" I asked, earning another stern stare from my friend.

"I have as little connection to the name 'Lowe' as I do the name 'Mandy'," Ophelia snorted. "I already know what my new surname shall be. I've known my entire life what I wished it to be."

"...And?" I asked.

"My name shall be Ophelia... Love," my friend explained.

"That's even worse than 'I feel you low'," I commented, earning a punch in my shin.

"When I was younger," Ophelia said, "I suffered greatly from dyslexia. I had difficulty telling certain letters from each other, certain words from each other. My mother, of course, didn't care at all. Her attitude is that I shouldn't need to read or write when I was destined to become a single parent at the age of sixteen. But I was determined not to resign myself to that fate. I wished to learn. It didn't come easy, but I tried my hardest, and I did learn."

"Let me guess," I said. "One of the words you had difficulty telling apart was 'Lowe' and 'Love'?" I'm forced to giggle as my deduction is met by a very rare grin from my friend.

"You're very perceptive, has anyone ever told you that?" Ophelia asked.

"...Lucky guess," I mumbled. "And you've got a hell of a vocabulary for someone with dyslexia."

"Because I refuse to allow my dyslexia to hold me back," Ophelia said in a confident voice. "Just like I refuse to allow my family to hold me back. Just like you should refuse to allow your biological sex to hold you back."

"How do you think your mum will react?" I asked in a low, quiet voice. "Or your sisters, when you tell them that your name is now 'Ophelia Love'?"

"With scorn and ridicule," Ophelia spat. "The same way they have always reacted to me. But as I said- I refuse to allow them to hold me back."

"...Are you saying that I shouldn't allow my dad to hold me back?" I asked. "Worrying about how he'll react, I mean."

"How has your father always reacted to you?" Ophelia asked.

"...With unconditional love," I sighed.

"That doesn't sound like something you should be worried about," Ophelia mused. "Nor should you be worried about 'Jacinta time' ending when it doesn't have to. I found a blog online a few days ago."

"That's where you usually found them," I retorted, earning another punch in my booted shin. "Was it Jamie-Lee Burke's? Because I already follow her on just about every website ever."

"It was by a girl called Nicola Thomas," Ophelia said. "She is more or less the same age as me. She began transitioning during this past May. If Jamie-Lee Burke's blog can't give you confidence, then maybe Nicola Thomas's can."

"...Confidence to do what, exactly?" I asked.

"To leave this room and show Jacinta to the world," Ophelia said.

"Well... Okay then," I sighed. "But only if you leave this room and show Ophelia Love to the world at the same time as me."

"Deal," Ophelia said confidently, offering me her hand to shake.

Over the next few weeks, I read both Jamie-Lee's and Nikki's blogs, gaining confidence with each word I read, and every time I set foot in Ophelia's room, I was excited by the prospect of new 'Jacinta time'... Only to find myself feeling oddly empty once dressed, and downright miserable once 'Jacinta time' came to an end. 'Jason' would then spend the next week going through life in a daze, wondering why 'he' had been dealt the losing hand- why I had to be forced into a body that didn't belong to me, and into a life I didn't want to live.

For weeks, it seemed like I would be stuck in this rut forever, with no 'breakthrough' in sight, only for salvation to suddenly come one day when I was least expecting it.

"Hi, Ophelia!" I said with a giggle as my brown-haired friend sat down opposite me in the college dining hall.

"Hello, J," Ophelia replied, using the genderless nickname we'd agreed on for use in public.

"Good lesson?" I asked.

"It was educating," Ophelia answered. "We are studying the history of skirts. Something I imagine would interest you..."

"Only if I can do a practical demonstration," I retorted to Ophelia's teasing, making the brown-haired girl giggle. "Not that anything like that will ever happen anytime soon."

"I would not be so sure," Ophelia said with a smug grin.

"Ophelia..." I said, before letting out a quiet sigh. "What have you done?"

"It is not what I have done," Ophelia said confidently. "It is what WE are about to do."

"Just- just keep explaining," I sighed. "Don't want to have to squeeze it out of you..."

"As you are undoubtedly aware," Ophelia said, "this coming Thursday is the 31st of October, or All Hallows' Eve, as it's better known."

"Or Halloween, as it's even better known," I said, before nodding as I caught onto Ophelia's line of thinking. "And you're thinking I could, what, have a repeat of last Halloween?"

"I was not suggesting that you contact that man with whom you made love, no," Ophelia said.

"We gave each other a BJ whilst splattered on a bathroom floor," I retorted. "Hardly 'making love'. And he was hardly a 'man', he was barely older than I was."

"If you would kindly permit me to finish," Ophelia said with a stern glare that immediately silenced me. "You yourself have said that it is the one time each year when a boy is permitted to dress as a girl."

"Well- yes," I said. "But you yourself have said- in your opinion, anyway- that there are three- ugh, what did you call them, 'levels' to clothes? Regular clothes, uniforms and costumes."

"Yes...?" Ophelia asks.

"The last few weekends, I've been wearing clothes," I explained. "The 'top level' of your little ladder. If I went out on Thursday, I'd be in a costume- the bottom rung of your ladder."

"Wearing ordinary women's clothing appeals to you more than wearing a feminine costume?" Ophelia asked.

"As silly as it sounds... It kinda does," I confessed.

"It does not sound silly at all," Ophelia said with a supportive smile. "Rather, it sounds like your desire to be a woman is based on a struggle with your identity, instead of a more... 'Basic' desire."

"Thanks," I whispered. "Though I do, you know, kinda have those 'basic' desires too, I'm only, you know, human..."

"Trust me, I know all about those 'basic' desires," Ophelia snorted, her 'posh' accent slowly making way for her natural one. "My family couldn't be anymore 'basic' if they tried."

"And you reckon I might get those 'basic' desires fulfilled at this party you want me to go to?" I asked.

"That is one possibility, yes," Ophelia said. "However, the vast majority of people who will be attending this party are women."

"'Women'?" I asked with a sigh.

"Alright, they will mostly be 'girls'," Ophelia said. "And you have made it clear in the past that girls do not have any effect on your 'basic' desires."

"Correct," I said. "So what would I gain from going, exactly?"

"I'm very glad that you FINALLY asked," Ophelia said, giggling as I stuck my tongue out at her. "What you would 'get' is the chance to introduce 'Jacinta' to a dozen or so girls who have never met 'Jason' before, and do not even know that he exists." My jaw dropped as I realised the seriousness of what Ophelia was suggesting.

"...The chance to leave your bedroom and show Jacinta to the world," I whispered, my heart starting to beat faster at the prospect.

"Precisely," Ophelia said, her smile wider and smugger than ever. "I shall start work on our costumes immediately upon returning home."

"Thanks- thanks for this," I said, my own mouth stretched into a happy grin.

"That's what friends are for," Ophelia said softly.

Not for the first time, I spent the rest of the week in a daze, but this time, it was for a good reason- excitement and anticipation over what Ophelia would whip up. With only two days to make the costumes and her extremely limited budget, I tried to convince myself not to expect too much, but every time I went into college to be met by her knowing grin, I couldn't help but get more and more excited. But it wasn't just the costume that excited me- it was the hope that maybe, just maybe I would stop feeling like a man in a dress, and start feeling like a real girl, just as I had twelve months earlier- and that maybe I wouldn't need a man to 'help' me feel that way. As much as I might have wanted the 'help' of a cute guy...

Finally, by the evening of Thursday the 31st of October, I was almost literally bouncing with excitement as I accompanied Ophelia on the lengthy walk from our college to her house.

"I take it then that you are looking forward to the party?" Ophelia asked.

"Just a bit!" I replied, making my friend smile. "How- is, umm, is the costume, you know..."

"All ready and waiting for a beautiful young woman to don it," Ophelia said with a confident smile. "I truly believe that you will find the costume to be VERY much to your liking!"

"I don't doubt it!" I giggled.

And I was right not to doubt it. The second I set foot in Ophelia's room, my jaw dropped when I saw what was hanging on her wardrobe door. Even though to all intents and purposes, it was a plain, long-sleeved, floor-length black dress, to me, it was sexier and more feminine than a hundred cheerleader outfits.

"First," Ophelia said, removing a carrier bag from underneath her bed, "you must don these."

"Okay..." I say as I looked in the bag at the underwear within- though some of the garments looked like they had left Ophelia's 'clothing' category and belonged to the engineering department of our college.

First came a pair of highly elasticated shorts, which not only flattened my crotch but added extra shape to my hips and my backside. Next came a pair of sheer black tights, to match the dress, and third was a black cotton bra with 'inserts' sewn into each cup to give me a very feminine figure. The final item in the bag, though, would be what would give me a totally feminine figure- and would spark a lifelong obsession for my BFF.

"This," Ophelia explained as she wrapped the stiff black garment around my waist, "is called a waist clincher. It is a type of corset, and will give you a narrow waist to match your hips, your posterior and your chest."

"Okay," I said, before grunting as Ophelia gently laced the corset tighter and tighter. "How- how tight does this thing get?"

"How tight would you like it to get?" Ophelia asked.

"...This tight will be fine," I said, making Ophelia giggle as I pulled the dress on over my head and stepped into the 4" stiletto-heeled shoes Ophelia had supplied me.

My make-up came next- obviously, as it was Halloween, my make-up wasn't what you would call 'subtle'. Pale foundation was followed by thick black eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara, and blood-red lipstick completed my look. Well, before Ophelia produced a set of 3 inch long false black fingernails, anyway, but I was instructed not to put them on until I was ready to leave.

However, fingernails or no fingernails, when I examined myself in the mirror, I almost gasped at the sight. I was still tall and broad-shouldered, just as I had been the previous year, but I certainly didn't give off the vibe of a 'man in a dress'. I was very much a womanly woman. With subtler make-up, I could even have worn this outfit to a regular, non-Halloween party.

I was more happy and more excited than I had ever been in my entire life... And then Ophelia revealed her costume for the party, and my happiness and excitement were quickly replaced by shock and disbelief.

"...What. The. Fuck?" I asked as Ophelia removed her costume from her wardrobe.

"Surely you didn't think that I would not be wearing a costume, Jacinta?" Ophelia asked as she stripped down to her bra and her panties, before sitting down in front of her dressing table with her make-up kit.

"'Costume', yes, but- but this!?" I exclaimed. "And since when did you wear make-up?"

"Since today," Ophelia announced. "Wearing that outfit is a source of pleasure to you, is it not? As it is with that make-up, I assume?"

"Well- yes, yes it is..." I mumbled.

"Then if you can derive pleasure from dressing in a feminine manner," Ophelia said, "it surely stands to reason that I, as a person fortunate enough to have been born female, would also derive pleasure from being able to dress in such a manner?"

"I'm not sure you've got a grasp of how this whole 'transvestitism' thing works," I retorted. "Also, that only applies if what you're wearing is actual, you know, clothing."

"I explained to you my theory of my three levels of clothing," Ophelia said as she, much to my shock, removed a pair of contact lenses, replacing them with a pair that caused her irises to appear a bright white colour.

"Yes, and this only barely fits the category of 'costume'," I said. "And since when do you wear contacts?"

"Since I was thirteen," Ophelia said with a smug grin, before applying an even thicker layer of make-up than my own. "Just because my mother dislikes me wearing spectacles, it doesn't mean that I will wear them simply to spite her when I also dislike wearing them. And as for my costume, it goes into the fourth level of attire- clothing worn solely to induce pleasure in yourself."

"...So this is a 'wank suit'?" I asked, sighing as Ophelia rolled her pinprick eyes at me.

"No, it is not a- what you just said," Ophelia snorted. "What it is, is a way for me to truly express who 'Ophelia Love' truly is. Just as you are expressing 'Jacinta Hanley's true identity."

"Well- okay, I guess..." I said with a grimace as I handed Ophelia her costume. "Good job neither of us are legally allowed to drink alcohol, peeing's going to be a challenge for both of us, I think!" Again, Ophelia rolled her eyes as she stepped into the costume, a black catsuit that seemed to be several sizes too small for her.

Fortunately, as it was made from a shiny lycra fabric, it easily stretched to cover her petite feminine form, even if it left very little to the imagination- not helped when Ophelia wasn't happy with the line of her underwear showing through the catsuit, so she removed her underwear. Even then, her 'camel toe' was bordering on the obscene.

"Hand me my waist clincher," Ophelia said, and I dutifully obliged, little knowing exactly what impact this would have on my friend's life.

"Okay," I said. "Not that you need one, you've already got, you know, a narrow waist and curves."

"It could be narrower and I could be curvier," Ophelia replied. "Now please, tighten my laces."

"Now I see why I was banned from wearing the nails until I left," I said as I reduced my friend's waist by three inches. "There."

"Can it go tighter?" Ophelia asked.

"Well, yes, but-" I replied, before being abruptly cut off.

"Tighter," Ophelia said, grunting as I reduced another inch from her waist. "Tighter."

"If I go any tighter, I'm probably going to snap your spine in half," I retorted, to which Ophelia simply nodded.

"Tighter," Ophelia ordered, letting out a moan of pain as I pulled the laces in even further. "Tighter."

"The back panels are locked shut," I said. "I don't think it will physically go any tighter."

"Then next week," Ophelia announced, "I shall buy a smaller corset. Hand me my measuring tape, please." I nodded as I handed Ophelia the instrument from her bed, before sighing as she wrapped it around her new tiny waist. "Good, twenty inches, just as the manufacturer promised."

"How has your stomach not been squeezed out of your arse?" I asked, making Ophelia roll her eyes yet again.

"Hush," My brown-haired friend commanded as she reached into her wardrobe for a pair of bicep-length gloves that seemed to be made of a shiny black latex-like material, followed by a pair of thigh-length boots of a similar material that had a six inch platform heel. After stretching her catsuit's tight hood over her head, Ophelia turned to face me.

"Are you ready?" The sixteen year old girl- who barely looked human anymore- asked.

"God, are you?" I retorted.

"I shall take that as a 'yes'," Ophelia said as she carefully made her way down the stairs, closely followed by me. "We are heading to the party now, we shall be back later."

"Yeah, whatever," Ophelia's mother replied, not even getting off her sofa to look at our costumes. Suddenly, I felt very guilty about my earlier criticism of my friend's costume.

"Ophelia..." I whispered as we left the squalid home.

"You heard what my mother said," Ophelia said, not even trying to disguise the bitterness in her voice. "'Whatever'."

"I- I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"For what?" Ophelia asked. "You have shown me nothing but love and friendship over the course of these past few weeks."

"And I took the piss out of your costume," I said.

"You will not be the last person tonight to do that," Ophelia said stoically as we slowly- due to the height of my friend's heels- made our way to the party venue. "What do you know of the girls with whom we shall be partying tonight?"

"Umm... They're on the same course as you?" I replied. "That's about it, really."

"They are on the same course as me," Ophelia said. "Fashion designer. They keep up with all the latest trends, the latest labels, they idolise celebrity culture and all things plastic."

"...So why are WE hanging out with them tonight?" I asked. "I mean, no offence if you think otherwise, but I always got the impression that we were kinda the oddballs at college."

"I very much doubt that I myself shall be doing much hanging out tonight," Ophelia said. "It is you who shall get to interact with the girls- girl to girl." Tears began to form in the corner of my eyes as I realised the enormity of the gift that Ophelia had given me. She knew she'd spend the evening being ridiculed by her so-called 'friends'- but that would be no different than any other evening in the Lowe household. The difference was that I would be there- and next to Ophelia, in her exotic 'costume', I looked just like any other girl... An ordinary girl.

"Hug incoming," I said with a grin, making my friend spit with disgust.

"Get it over with," Ophelia said, grimacing as I gave her a tight embrace.

"You know," I said smugly, "with this corset it's REALLY easy to hug you. I could, like, cuddle you with two hands, let alone two arms!"

"Yes, thank you," Ophelia sighed as I let her go.

"Is it done up so tight so that it feels like someone's hugging you all the time, only they don't actually have to touch you?" I asked, giggling as Ophelia moaned with frustration all the way to her 'friend's house.

When we arrived, I allowed Ophelia to knock on the door, and when it opened, I immediately began to realise what my friend was talking about when she'd described her 'friends'.

"Oh, um, hi, Amanda!" The girl said, looking at my friend's costume in a state of near-shock. The girl herself- who was clearly no older than sixteen, like Ophelia- was dressed in what might be called a 'cat costume', if cats had a habit of going everywhere in a bikini, furry mittens and Ugg boots.

"Hello, Chloe," Ophelia replied, letting herself into the posh house. "This is my friend Jacinta, who I said would be accompanying me tonight."

"Hi..." I said, nervously greeting Chloe with a gentle hug. "Thanks for letting me come along tonight, I REALLY didn't want to spend Halloween alone!"

"No problem!" Chloe giggled, clearly feeling more at ease around me than she did around Ophelia. "Are there, like, no girls on your course you can hang out with? Or, like... No, you know, 'boys'?"

"...None I'd want to spend any time with," I replied. Not dressed like this, I thought to myself. Or speaking like this, or acting like this...

"Ugh, I SO get that," Chloe laughed, leading the two of us into her living room where the party was already in full swing. "And I LOVE that witch costume! Where'd you get it?"

"From my super-talented BFF!" I gushed, causing Ophelia to blush underneath her extra-thick make-up. "Seriously, Ophelia is SO cool."

"...If you say so," Chloe said. "Help yourselves to drinks, it's just us girls here at the moment but I've been reliably informed by my boyfriend that there'll be some guys along soon to trick or 'treat' us, if you get what I mean, hehe!"

"Thanks," I said as I grabbed a bottle of a strong-smelling alcoholic soda from the table and sat down on the sofa, keeping my knees pressed tightly together.

Mere seconds later, as Ophelia carefully browsed the drinks selection, I was joined on the sofa by a Playboy Bunny in fishnet tights, who seemed to be having a lot of difficulty keeping her costume up over her boobs.

"Hey," the bunny said. "You're, like, Amanda's friend, right?"

"Ophelia's friend," I corrected the rabbit.

"Amanda, Ophelia, whatever," the bunny snorted. "The weird girl who wears weird clothes."

"...Yes, yes I am her friend," I said.

"Like, what's her problem?" The bunny sneered. "She, like, goes everywhere by herself, or with that weird gay friend of hers. She wears weird clothes and hardly talks to anyone, and now she's here, dressed like THAT... What's with her?" Oddly, even though I knew that when the bunny said 'weird gay friend', she was referring to me- or rather, to Jason- it was the way she spoke about Ophelia that caused me to take the most offence. How DARE she speak about such a kind and loving person in such a way, just because she chooses to be different from everyone else! How DARE she imply that by being the person she was, Ophelia was somehow less than her, or anyone else!

"Ophelia," I said, trying in vain to keep calm, "is cool. She's had to overcome a lot in her life, and she's still kind, warm and friendly."

"Okay! Jeez!" The bunny protested. "Like, are your knickers ACTUALLY twisted or something?"

"...No," I mumbled as I calmed down. "But- you know? She's my friend. Actually, she's my BFF. I'm gonna stick up for her if someone puts her down, you know?"

"Sorry I breathed," the bunny spat as she stood up, uneasy on her heels and walked away.

"That was Hayley," Ophelia said as she gingerly- due to her extra-tight corset- lowered herself into the seat the bunny had just vacated. "She is one of the more... 'Trendy' girls on my course."

"Beginning to think that 'trendy' and 'friendly' are mutually exclusive," I snorted.

"Not always," Ophelia said with a smile. "But when it comes to this college... You're probably right."

"I still don't know why we're even here," I mumbled. "We stick out like a sore thumb."

"We were invited," Ophelia reminded me.

"That's probably WHY we were invited," I scoffed. "To make everyone else feel better about themselves."

"If that's what they want to do, then fine," Ophelia said. "But it doesn't mean that we have to feel worse about OURselves."

"...You're right," I said, earning a rare grin from my BFF.

"And did Hayley, at any point, ask why a boy was dressed as a witch?" Ophelia asked.

"...She didn't," I replied, my eyes lighting up.

"Then this party, so far, is a success," Ophelia confidently announced. "MISS Hanley!" I smiled as the two of us rose from our sofa to refresh our drinks, before mingling with the rest of the growing crowd.

Every girl I spoke to at that party asked me the same thing- 'what's with Ophelia?'. Or rather, 'what's with Amanda?'. Every time I heard the question, I had to take several deep breaths to calm myself, but every time the girl who asked the question walked away, clearly offended by my refusal to insult my friend, a smile from Ophelia reminded me of the most important thing- that I hadn't been clocked, that I was just another one of the girls.

Soon, the party got into full swing as we were joined by a gaggle of boys from our college, each of whom soon found their way to one of the girls in the room- or rather, one of the other girls in the room. I flirted with my fair share of the boys, some of whom were even as tall as I was in my heels, but it was strictly on a 'look, but don't touch' basis. I didn't even get so much as a snog from any of them, let alone the 'activity' I got the previous Halloween... But that was okay with me, as none of the boys were able to 'clock' me either- or if they did, it didn't stop them from flirting with me. For one night only, I wasn't just a girl, I was a cute girl... And I wanted so, so much more.

Eventually, the boys and the girls paired off, and I found myself 'paired' with Ophelia as she took my hand in hers and led us toward the exit.

"I believe it is time for us to depart," Ophelia said, clearly sweating and uncomfortable in the heat of the room and the tightness of her costume.

"You're probably right," I sighed. "Though I did have SO much fun tonight..."

"I will be sure to pass your compliments onto Chloe tomorrow," Ophelia said. "Assuming she comes into college, of course."

"Yeah, that might be a long shot," I giggled as we stepped out into the cold October air and I took several deep breaths to clear my head.

"Did you enjoy this year's Halloween more than last year's?" Ophelia asked.

"You know, I actually did," I chuckled. "Even though last year ended in sex- well, kinda... And I was in drag last year too- again, kinda... This year was still better. Wish I knew why..."

"Because last year, you were Jason, and this year, you are Jacinta," Ophelia said confidently.

"I guess," I said with a grin. "Still minus a 'Prince Charming', though..."

"Someday, Jacinta, your prince WILL come," Ophelia said softly.

"I guess," I sighed. "I'd just prefer him to be somewhere near me when he DOES come..." I giggled as Ophelia gave me a playful punch in the arm to tell me off for my crude joke.

"You are the wittiest woman in the world," Ophelia sighed as we turned onto the street containing my house.

"How- how about you, Ophelia?" I asked my friend. "See any guy at the party who caught your eye? Whatever's passing for your eye tonight, anyway..."

"No, I did not," Ophelia replied, triggering an awkward pause in the conversation.

"You know," I mused, "I don't think I've ever heard you even mention a boy, like, ever. It's like, I dunno, you're completely disinterested in them or something."

"Perhaps I am," Ophelia said.

"Because of your family?" I whispered.

"Partly," Ophelia whispered. "I- I don't want to discuss this, J. I'm sorry."

"No, no, I'm sorry for pushing too hard," I sighed, leading to another awkward silence. "...They're still calling you 'Amanda', then? At college, I mean?"

"I haven't put through the deed poll application yet," Ophelia mumbled. "I'm- I'm kinda scared about what my parents will say..."

"I thought you were doing this precisely as a 'fuck you' to your parents?" I said, grimacing as Ophelia regarded me with an angry glare.

"No, I am doing this so that I can finally be who I always wanted to be," Ophelia said. "Your desire to transition is not a- is not a reaction to your parents, and nor is mine."

"Sometimes feels like it is, though," I sighed as I cupped the fake breasts on my chest and the extra padding on my hips. "Especially to dad, taking away the only family he has left... And to my mum, too."

"How so?" Ophelia asked, leaving my jaw hanging loose as I was lost for words.

"Umm, this is my house!" I chuckled as I pointed behind me at my home. "No lights on, so dad's in bed, that'll make things a LOT easier getting in, heh."

"Please answer my question, Jacinta," Ophelia asked in a soft whisper. "I can tell it is important to you."

"I- umm, I, umm..." I mumbled. "Look, it's dark, your house is about half a mile away, I- you shouldn't walk home by yourself, come in and I'll call you a taxi, okay? I'll pay for it. My treat, after what you did for me today."

"Very well," Ophelia said with a smile as she followed me into my house- the first time she had ever set foot (albeit a suicidally high-heeled foot) in my home. "Your house... Is lovely."

"It's small and cramped," I said with a snort of laughter.

"Remember to whom you are talking," Ophelia whispered, once again making me feel guilty.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I know I should be grateful for what I've got. That's not always easy, though... Do- do you want a cup of tea?"

"Desperately," Ophelia said, making us both giggle as I put the kettle on. "The lady in the photographs... Is that your mother?"

"Yep," I sighed sadly. "Amelia Eileen Hanley, 1967-2002. I make a point of looking at her picture every day, so that her image stays fresh in my mind... I know dad does, too."

"She is beautiful," Ophelia said softly. "And looks a lot like her daughter."

"Her dau-" I retorted, taking several seconds to realise that by 'daughter', Ophelia was actually referring to me. "Huh. Maybe a little... You know- god, this will sound morbid..."

"It is the correct evening for it, is it not?" Ophelia asked, making me chuckle and roll my eyes.

"Leave the bad jokes to me," I scoffed, making my BFF giggle. "That urn by the side of the fire- those are actually her ashes. Dad never lets them out of his sight for longer than he has to." Much to my confusion, Ophelia immediately returned to the living room and carefully knelt down in front of mum's urn.

"Hello, Mrs. Hanley," Ophelia softly whispered. "My name is Ophelia Love, and I am your daughter's best friend. Your daughter is a wonderful, kind and beautiful human being, and I am proud to call her my friend."

"Umm, okay," I said, hastily blinking tears out of my eyes. "I guess if nothing else, mum would be proud of me for having good taste in friends, heh."

"She would be proud of you for being a beautiful and warm-hearted young woman," Ophelia said, making me blush and shed yet more tears.

"You know..." I mumbled. "I'm really, really... Not interested in you sexually OR romantically. I mean, if you had a penis, and you lost the boobs, then maybe-"

"Shut up and serve me my tea," Ophelia ordered, making us both giggle again.

"You're right," I sighed. "About mum. I reckon she'd have loved to have had a daughter, and if it hadn't been for the cancer, I'd have at least one younger sibling right now."

"Other than me, you mean?" Ophelia asked, making me shed yet another tear.

"...God job I'm about to wash my mascara off, heh!" I said, making Ophelia smile sadly. "I'll, um, I'll call you that taxi now..."

"No rush," Ophelia whispered as I reached for the house phone. "Jacinta... There is another reason I haven't filled in the deed poll form yet. I- I want a middle name."

"You don't already have one?" I asked.

"I want a middle name that ISN'T 'Lulu'," my BFF retorted. "And I can't really afford to keep sending off deed poll forms. I want to get this RIGHT. Right first time. Have you ever thought about what your middle name would be? When you become Jacinta, I mean."

"I like that you say 'when' instead of 'if'," I whispered. "And it'd be 'Amelia', my middle name. No question."

"To honour your mother," Ophelia said with a smile. "My own mother deserves no such honour. Nor do any of my sisters."

"Well it's up to you," I shrugged. "If you're going to choose your own name, it should reflect who you really are, deep inside. 'Ophelia' and 'Love' definitely do that."

"As do 'Jacinta' and 'Amelia' for you," Ophelia replied as the taxi firm answered the phone and I arranged her ride home. "I'm afraid I don't know enough about the origin of the surname 'Hanley' to pass judgement."

"I looked it up a while back," I replied. "It's apparently Irish, short from 'O'Hanley'. Means 'beauty' or 'grace'."

"So it DOES reflect who you are, then," Ophelia whispered, bringing another tear to my eye.

"...Drink your tea, your taxi will be here soon," I mumbled. Mere minutes later, the taxi arrived, and I made sure to escort my still-black clad friend to the car, just to make sure that she was okay.

"Jacinta," Ophelia said as she suddenly looked up. "What is that?"

"...It's the sky," I replied, earning a firm punch in my bicep from my friend.

"I mean those five stars!" Ophelia sighed, before giggling at her own frustration. "Do they have a name?"

"I believe that's the constellation Cassiopeia," I said. "Why, exactly?"

"Ophelia Cassiopeia Love," my friend suddenly said, extending her gloved hand for me to shake. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Jacinta Amelia Hanley," I replied, gently shaking my 'new' friend's hand. "Likewise."

"I shall see you tomorrow at college, Jacinta Amelia Hanley!" Ophelia said with another giggle as she got into the car, waving at me as she was driven away.

With a loud sigh, I returned to the house, where I smiled sadly as my eyes were drawn to mum's urn beside the fire. Just as my friend had done minutes earlier, I knelt down in front of it, smoothing my dress over my lap as I lowered myself.

"...So, that was Ophelia," I whispered. "And I guess... I'm your daughter. In fairness, the clues were always there, having only female friends at primary school. And secondary school. And now college. And the fact that I'm only attracted to men- not that that means a whole lot, I guess... And the fact that I love wearing women's clothes, and make-up, and I think like a woman, and- gah, mum... I really wish you were here. If just to shut me up. How about this- if I'm making the wrong decision, if I'm not meant to be a woman, just give me a sign. Any sign." I paused briefly and held my breath in the silence of the room, almost expecting there to be a sign- but of course, no sign was forthcoming.

"...Thanks, mum," I whispered, leaning forward to give the top of the urn a gentle kiss before removing my high-heeled shoes and carefully tiptoeing to my bedroom.

As I removed my make-up and my clothes, though, I was overcome by an overwhelming wave of sadness, like I didn't want the night to end- and that was precisely because I didn't. I'd tasted a world of pure femininity, where I was just another one of the girls, and I wanted more, so much more. I wanted the padding on my chest to magically become real breasts. I wanted the padding on my hips to be flesh and blood, I wanted the falsetto I'd been using all evening to be my real voice and I wanted me- I wanted me to be the REAL me. Not Jason 'natural born loser' Hanley, but Jacinta 'beauty and grace' Hanley. Just like my best friend wanted to be the real her- not Mandy 'cycle of poverty' Lowe, but Ophelia 'smart, creative and unique' Love.

However, just like Ophelia's family weren't going to let her go without a fight, the sound of dad's snoring from the other room reminded me that there were always going to be obstacles that would prevent 'Jacinta' from being as real as I wished she was...

The following morning, I dragged myself into college while trying to fight off my very first hangover. Nonetheless, I had a smile on my face all throughout the morning, a smile that widened when I saw my best friend in the cafeteria- even if it took me a while to recognise her.

"...Ophelia?" I asked as I sat down next to the brown-haired girl.

"You were expecting someone else?" My BFF retorted.

"Well I usually sit next to someone who doesn't wear extra-thick make-up," I replied. "Or any make-up at all. Or a very tightly laced corset over her dress. Are- are you feeling alright?"

"You of all people should appreciate that a person can change," Ophelia said, before letting out a long sigh. "J... Last night- last night, when I arrives back at my home, my mother was waiting up for me."

"Okay...?" I asked.

"She took one look at my costume and laughed like a donkey," Ophelia spat. "She thought that because I wasn't dressed like a prostitute, I deserved to be ridiculed. She didn't care that I made the costume myself, she only cared about whether or not I would become a baby factory like her."

"I- I'm sorry," I mumbled. "Are- are you okay?"

"Better than okay," Ophelia said with a smile. "Now I know that nothing I do will ever please her. Therefore, I no longer need to care about what she thinks. Or what anyone else thinks, either. I want to be my own person. I want to be Ophelia Cassiopeia Love. If that means wearing no make-up, then so be it. If it means wearing excessive make-up, then so be it."

"And a torturously tight corset?" I asked, making my friend roll her eyes.

"This from the GIRL who's still wearing HER hip and backside pads," Ophelia retorted, making me blush as I squirmed under the tight embrace of my underwear.

"Okay, touché," I sighed. "Are these easy to wash, by the way? I- I kinda want to wear it as much as I can..."

"To bring you closer to being Jacinta," Ophelia whispered. "Just as my corset brings me closer to being Ophelia."

"If you say so," I said with a smile. "I still reckon you're in danger of pooping out all your internal organs, though."

"Normally I would punch you for that," Ophelia said as we rose from our seats and prepared to head back to class. "However, I have been informed of what you said at the party last night, to Hayley and to the other girls."

"Okay..." I said. "Umm, and?"

"And," Ophelia said with a wide grin. "Prepare to be hugged." I stood in shock as Ophelia wrapped her arms around my torso and gave me as tight a squeeze as her slender arms could manage.

"Umm..." I mumbled. "Everyone- everyone's kinda looking."

"Do you care?" Ophelia asked. Naturally, the only reply I had was to giggle and hug Ophelia right back as the entire cafeteria stared in a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

Over the next few weeks, Ophelia and I began to noticeably change, both in appearance and attitude. We were virtually inseparable wherever we went, and whilst this was usually just Ophelia's bedroom, on occasion- when Ophelia's mother or sisters weren't around- we ventured out of the house too, with me of course only wearing 'Jacinta's clothing. 'My' wardrobe grew to include more skirts, more dresses, more girly tops and bodysuits and plenty of underwear- all of which was, of course, 'padded', and a lot of it I wore underneath 'Jason's clothes too so that I didn't have to let go of the 'feel' of Jacinta. I even wore my corset a few times- both underneath 'Jacinta' and 'Jason's clothes!

Ophelia's change, though, was even more dramatic than my own. She wore her corset almost 24/7, always lacing it down to at least 22 inches, and her make-up style became even more eccentric, mixing colours of eye shadows and lipsticks so much that she often looked psychedelic. She began styling her long hair into elaborate braids, and always wore brightly-coloured or elaborately-patterned tights with her dresses instead of the usual sheer black tights that all the other girls (and 'Amanda' in years past) wore. When I say 'other girls', I of course include myself in that category!

Eventually, the end of the first term at college rolled around, and brought with it two important occasions. One of those occasions was obviously Christmas time, but eight days beforehand was Ophelia's birthday, and even though she had insisted that I shouldn't do anything special- or anything at all- for the day, I felt that I owed her so much for what she'd done throughout the year that I bought her a couple of gifts anyway.

Little did I realise that by doing so, I would do more harm than good.

In 2013, Ophelia's birthday fell on a Tuesday, so after college, on the pretense of working on our assignments together, I followed Ophelia back to her home. I didn't know what to expect when she opened her front door- at the very least, I would've expected a few cards to be on the mantlepiece, or a cake, but instead there was... Nothing. The Lowe 'family' hadn't even put up any Christmas decorations, despite it being December 17th, and Ophelia's mother's only reaction to her daughter returning home from college was to grunt, before turning her full attention back to the trashy reality TV show she was watching.

"Umm... Ophelia?" I whispered as my friend led me straight up the stairs and into the bedroom that had become our sanctum over the previous few months.

"We should get on with our work," Ophelia said, and as hard as she tried to make her voice stoic, I could tell that on the inside, she was suffering.

"But- but your birthday..." I mumbled.

"What about it?" Ophelia asked, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "I don't- I don't feel like celebrating, J. I'm sorry."

"...Do you really feel that way?" I asked in as soft a voice as I could manage. "Umm, what I mean is, is it YOU that feels-" Before I could finish my sentence, I was interrupted by Ophelia wrapping her arms tightly around me and squeezing me as hard as she could whilst bawling her eyes out onto my chest. I tried my best to comfort my friend, but her behaviour was so uncharacteristic for her that all I could do was stand in a state of shock until she was calm enough to sit down on her bed.

"Umm," I mumbled. "We- we should do some work..."

"No- no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Ophelia sniffled.

"Do- do you want to talk about it?" I asked.

"More than anything," Ophelia sighed. "You know, I've never actually had a birthday present, not a single one? Mum always said 'my birthday's too close to Christmas', and 'I should be grateful for what I get then'."

"Ophelia..." I whispered, shocked by what I was being told.

"And even then," Ophelia moaned, "all I get are a few pairs of underwear and a packet of fags. And I don't even smoke! My sisters usually end up nicking them."

"That- that's awful," I said, wrapping an arm around my friend and only realising a few moments later that even though I'd hugged her without warning, Ophelia wasn't complaining.

"It's okay, it's okay," Ophelia moaned.

"It's hardly okay," I said, pulling the bag of gifts out of my backpack. "These- these are yours. It's not much, but-" Again, I was silenced mid-sentence as Ophelia gave me another long, tight hug.

"Thank you so much," Ophelia said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You know, every year, there's always a piece of me, deep down inside that tries to persuade me that this year, this birthday will be different..."

"This year, it was," I whispered, earning another hug from my best friend as she 'unwraps' her presents. "It's just stuff you mentioned you wanted, a few different-coloured lipsticks, some make-up... Got some interesting looks in Boots when I went in there to buy them. The looks got even weirder when I said that they were for me, heh."

"Hehe," Ophelia giggled as she rooted through the make-up for a mascara brush, which she used to repair the make-up that was destroyed by her tears.

"There are some fake eyelashes in there too," I said. "I didn't know how you felt about them, whether they were TOO fake... I tried them out myself, though, and they ARE good. Might be a fake eyelash girl for life, heh."

"Show me," Ophelia commanded, making me giggle as I took a pair of the fake eyelashes from the pile on her bed and gently teased them to my own lashes, giggling as I playfully batted my eyelashes as my friend.

"Thank you," Ophelia whispered, taking several deep breaths to try to compose herself. "I am terribly sorry that I burdened you with my problems, Jacinta. I feel thoroughly embarrassed at acting the way I did."

"Don't," I said. "I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed things the way I did, forced you to celebrate your birthday when it's a sensitive thing for you."

"I am glad that you did," Ophelia said with a grin. "Now, shall we get on with our work?"

"Of course," I said, having learned better than to argue further.

For the next two hours, we completed college assignments, which happily for me involved modelling several of Ophelia's creations as she altered them, before the time came for me to pack away my books and get ready to leave.

"Jacinta..." Ophelia said with a sly grin as she repeatedly blinked at me.

"Ophelia...?" I asked, before rolling my eyes and removing my fake eyelashes. "God... Really wish I didn't have to take these off..."

"Then I know what I shall be getting you for Christmas," Ophelia said with a smug grin. "Speaking of which, when do you want to get together to exchange presents?" I opened my mouth to begin to respond, but before I could say a word, I was overwhelmed by the thought of what Christmas in the Lowe household would be like, with Ophelia facing indifference and ridicule from her so-called mother and her so-called sisters... And after all she's done for me, she deserves at least some happiness.

"...How about next Wednesday?" I asked with a sly smile.

"Next Wed-" Ophelia replied. "But- but that's-"

"Christmas Day," I said.

"Do you not spend that day with family?" Ophelia asked.

"Only dad," I shrugged. "He'll be happy with you coming around, I know he will. He's been miserable every Christmas since- since mum, you know..."

"I would be honoured to accept your gracious invitation," Ophelia said, making me smile as I gave my friend one final hug before heading home.

In actuality, dad took some persuading, but was ultimately happy to share Christmas with Ophelia. Just after 10am on the 25th of December- after opening my predictably disappointing presents of clothes, shaving kits and deodorants- a knock came at our front door, which I answered to find my best friend stood holding a bag full of presents.

"Merry Christmas, Jacinta," Ophelia said with a genuine grin.

"Merry Christmas, Ophelia," I replied. "Hug?"

"As it is a special occasion, then yes, we can hug," Ophelia replied, smiling as we shared a brief cuddle.

"Don't leave her out in the cold, Jase!" Dad yelled from the living room.

"...Come in," I said, chuckling as Ophelia entered the house, removing her extra-tall high heeled shoes and long, patchwork coat to reveal a short gingham dress, her usual elaborately patterned tights and, of course, an extra-tight corset around her waist. "You look... Great."

"I look like Ophelia Cassiopeia Love," my friend replied. "'Greatness' has nothing to do with it."

"If you say so," I said as I opened the living room door, causing dad's eyes to go wide as he saw Ophelia- and her royal blue coloured make-up- for the first time.

"He- hello," dad said, cautiously standing up and approaching my friend. "You- you must be Aman-"

"Ophelia Cassiopeia Love," my friend said, giving my dad a light handshake. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Hanley."

"...Mike will be fine," dad mumbled. "So you- you know Jason from college, right? You um, know that he's-"

"I am fully aware of the situation regarding your son," Ophelia said, giving me a wink to let me know that she actually knew more than dad himself did!

"I'm the 'gay best friend'," I explained. "Ophelia and I... We, um, we 'help' each other."

"Like those three girls you hung around with primary school?" Dad asked with a smile that widened as I nodded in confirmation. "Well, as long as you're a friend of Jason's you're a friend of mine. Come on, I'll get you a drink. What d'you want?"

"Whatever you have to offer will be fine, thank you," Ophelia said, sitting down next to me on the sofa as dad headed into the kitchen. "Your father is delightful."

"He's okay," I shrugged. "I doubt he'd be okay if he saw the contents of that bag of presents in the hall, though."

"You might be surprised," Ophelia said with a grin.

"Did- did you get away okay?" I asked. "From home, I mean."

"I doubt mum will even notice that I'm gone," Ophelia spat as dad returned with tall glasses of sparkling wine for the three of us.

"I know you're only seventeen, both of you," dad said. "But I figure it's Christmas, and one glass isn't going to kill you. If you'd rather have something non-alcoholic-"

"This will be absolutely fine, thank you," Ophelia said, sipping her wine. "Shall I bring in your presents?"

"You didn't have to get us anything!" Dad chuckled.

"Nonsense," Ophelia said. "You are my hosts, it is only fair that I present to you a gift as a token of my esteem." As Ophelia left the room to fetch her bag of gifts- and sort through the ones that were and weren't 'dad-friendly', my father turned to me with a look of confusion on his face.

"Is this the girl you've been hanging out with for the past few months?" Dad asked.

"Yep," I replied. "Problem?"

"She- she's a bit weird, isn't she?" Dad asked.

"Yep," I replied. "Problem?"

"Well- none, nothing, I guess," dad said, before sighing. "I should've known when you said you were bringing a girl home not to expect- well, what I'd have meant if I said I was bringing a girl home."

"She's not exactly had an easy life," I said. "She- she just wants to express herself. There's nothing wrong with that, right?"

"Well- I guess not," dad sighed. "As long as it doesn't hurt anyone else, anyway." So much for getting my hopes up and dashing them, dad, I thought to myself as I took a big sip of my sparkling wine.

"This is for you, mist- Mike," Ophelia said, handing a small, bottle-shaped gift to dad. "And this is for you, Jason."

"Thanks," I said, opening the gift to find a small tub of men's hair gel within- however, the rattling sound made by the tub when I shook it told me not to expect men's hair gel when I opened it up, which I intended to do later on.

"Aww, thanks, Ophelia!" Dad said as he opened his gift to find a small bottle of whiskey. "I'm guessing that you had a family member buy this for you, then?"

"Yes, my sister," Ophelia said.

"...Candice?" I whispered to my friend, who tried her hardest to suppress a giggle.

"Who else?" Ophelia replied as I handed her her gift, which she opened to find a bottle of dark blue hair dye. "This is perfect. Thank you very much, Jason."

"Blue hair dye?" Dad asked. "Bit extreme, isn't it? Sorry, I don't mean to criticise, but-"

"It is a desire to express myself," Ophelia explained. "Obviously, I was not always called Ophelia Love. My name, at birth, was Mandy Lowe. But that is a name I do not, and cannot associate with."

"...So as well as changing your name, you're changing, what your image to match?" Dad asked.

"I am changing my image to match who I always was, deep down inside," Ophelia said, casting an aside glance at me to let me know that her words were for my benefit alone. "Is it not a good thing to live the life you always wanted, rather than pretending to be someone who you are not and making yourself miserable?"

"...If it makes you happy, then who am I to judge?" Dad replied with a shrug, bringing smiles to both my and my friend's faces. "Now come on, need your help cooking dinner. Try not to get too much blue in it!"

"My pleasure, Mike," Ophelia said as we stood up and followed dad into the kitchen.

The dinner was a success, of course, and all three of us had a great time for the rest of the day as we talked and watched TV. By the time 7pm rolled around, it was time for Ophelia to leave- and as she was putting her shoes and coat back on, I could see in her eyes (which were, of course, covered by dark blue contact lenses) a look of reluctance I was all too familiar with- it was the same look I had in my eyes every time 'Jacinta time' came to an end.

"Thanks for coming," I said as Ophelia fastened her coat.

"No, thank YOU," Ophelia whispered. "This has been the best Christmas ever."

"Until the next one," I said. "Hug?"

"Hug," Ophelia replied, giving me a gentle cuddle before making her way back home through the dark and gloomy streets.

"You know," dad said as I returned to the living room, "she may look weird but she's obviously got a heart of gold. I'm glad you've found a girl like her, Jason."

"FRIEND like her," I said. "We're not an item. 'Incompatible' would be putting it mildly!"

"Still waiting for a handsome prince to come and sweep you off your feet?" Dad asked with a chuckle that turned into a full-blown laugh when I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Maybe," I retorted.

"Well I do hope you find him," dad said with a grin. "There's enough misery in this world. Now come on, we need to catch Doctor Who on IPlayer, it's Matt Smith's last one before he turns into that Scottish guy from that show with all the swearing."

"Maybe later," I said as I fiddled with the pot of 'hair gel' Ophelia had given me, before remembering the bag of presents still sat out in the hall. "I'm, umm, I'm going to head up to my room for a bit."

"Okay," dad shrugged. "You're doing the washing-up, though."

"I won't be long," I replied as I grabbed the 'hair gel' before taking Ophelia's bag of presents up to my room, where I hastily unwrapped all of them, sighing happily at what was inside- cosmetics, women's underwear (including more of my 'special' underwear), even a bottle of dark purple nail polish. I sighed happily as I spread the presents on my bed, before finally twisting the top off of the 'hair gel' to find a small, handwritten note inside.

'If you open the other presents in front of your father,' the note read, 'you'll get what you REALLY want for Christmas.'

"...You're probably right, Ophelia," I sighed. Dad's reaction to my eccentric friend had been to shrug and go 'live and let live'- but that was to another person's teenaged child. If I'd shown up in the living room wearing what Ophelia had worn, he wouldn't have reacted as calmly... But then again, if I'd shown up at Ophelia's house wearing what Ophelia had worn, her mother would probably have reacted even worse.

Nonetheless, I had myself a brand-new 'stash of Jacinta' available to me at home whenever I wanted it, and based on that alone, it was already the best Christmas I had ever had.

The 'stash' saw plenty of use over the Christmas holiday, not least on New Year's Eve. With dad out of the house at a party, I'd been left alone to do whatever I wanted, and this of course meant pulling on a bra, a pair of hip and bum-enhancing underpants, a tightly-laced corset, a pair of black tights, a long-sleeved top, a tight black miniskirt and a pair of high-heeled shoes. I had applied a full face of make-up, and I'd even painted my fingernails using the new nail polish Ophelia had given me for Christmas.

Of course, sat next to me on my sofa was my BFF, who was dressed up just as elaborately as she had been at Christmas, with the exception that her hair was now, of course, a dark blue colour.

"How did your mum react to your hair, then?" I asked my friend, grimacing as she scowled in response.

"How do you think?" Ophelia snorted. "But her scorn is all the more reason TO dye my hair as I see fit."

"Damn right!" I chuckled as I handed Ophelia a glass of sparkling wine, which she clinked against my own.

"How did your father react to the 'real' present I got you?" Ophelia asked.

"...How do you think?" I asked, making my friend's frown even deeper.

"He did not react, because he doesn't know about his daughter," Ophelia correctly guessed.

"Can- can we just watch TV, please?" I asked. "It's about to turn midnight..."

"The end of 2013," Ophelia said. "A year in which I changed more than I ever thought I would."

"You said it," I laughed, clinking Ophelia's glass again as the chimes of Big Ben rang in the New Year. "Wonder how much things will change in 2014..."

As it turned out, 2014 would be a year of more change than either of us could possibly have predicted.

"...I think people might be staring," I whispered to Ophelia as we walked through the cramped shopping centre.

"What they wish to do with their eyes is their business, not ours," Ophelia replied, holding her head high even as every head we passed turned to look in our direction.

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled as I tried not to let my cheeks go too red.

It was a few weeks after Christmas, and Ophelia and I were on one of our regular shopping sessions, where we'd visit all the local charity and second-hand shops, looking for old clothes- women's clothes, of course- to expand my wardrobe or for Ophelia to experiment with.

Naturally, following the success of Halloween and Christmas, I was very much dressed as Jacinta, and not Jason. I had on a full face of make-up and my hair had been brushed into the most feminine style I could manage. I was wearing a grey ankle-length skirt with a high slit up one side and a tight, navy blue long-sleeved bodysuit, underneath which I was wearing translucent black tights and my usual foundation wear of a tight waist cincher, a padded bra (into which I had slipped extra-large forms to draw attention away from my broad shoulders) and a new 'control' panty, which had a thong back that sent tingles of excitement up my spine with every step I took on my 3" wedge-heeled ankle boots. When my modest jewellery and a light spritz of perfume were factored in, I looked and felt just like any other teenaged girl out shopping with her friend- albeit a girl who was being stares at by everyone in the mall.

"It is easy for me to say," Ophelia retorted. "As I'm the one everyone is staring at."

...And, of course, Ophelia was right. As self-conscious as I felt, being a boy dressed as a woman, I could at least rest easy in the knowledge that anyone looking at me would probably think 'that's an oddly masculine-looking girl'... Before looking at Ophelia and thinking 'what IS that girl wearing?’

Ophelia was dressed in a lacy black knee-length dress, on top of which she wore her obligatory excruciatingly tight corset, and underneath which she wore a pair of blue and black striped tights and three petticoats that rustled with every step she took- and given that her shoes had 5" high and very narrow stiletto heels, she was taking a LOT of steps. Her arms were covered in bicep-length opera gloves, her face was covered in an extra-thick layer of blue-tinged make-up and her royal blue hair had been styled into braids and tied away from her face. As with every time she set foot outside her house lately, Ophelia turned heads everywhere she went- and not always for good reasons.

"Ugh," an older man spat, letting out an exaggerated shudder as we walked past the bench where he was sitting.

"...He lives in Brighton," I sighed as we headed to our next destination. "The LGBT capital of the UK. What was he expecting us to wear, a twin set and pearls?"

"He was expecting the entire world to miraculously become cisgender and heterosexual," Ophelia explained. "That is what he prefers, therefore it is what everyone else should prefer as well."

"He'll have a hell of a wait," I snorted.

"Maybe if he learned that the object of his scorn is neither L, G, B nor T, it would change his mind," Ophelia mused.

"Yeah," I said. "It'd probably make him hate cishet people too."

"Not that I 'embrace' my heterosexuality," Ophelia said with a sly grin.

"You're certainly embracing your birth gender, though," I said, widening my friend's smile. "Seriously, you should let me put some of your pictures on a blog, or on Facebook or somet-"

"You are fully aware of my feelings toward that site, and toward the internet in general," Ophelia said in a stern voice as we arrived at our next charity shop.

"Oh come on," I pleaded. "I have, like, seven followers on my blog. I put some of your designs up-"

"-And they would not be YOUR followers," Ophelia said, before sighing. "Jacinta... I appreciate your frustration. But even I know that internet followings do not simply happen overnight."

"Jamie-Lee Burke's did," I mumbled. "Nikki Thomas's is growing a hundred times faster than mine."

"Both of those women have one thing in common," Ophelia said softly as I moaned in frustration. "It is not something that you cannot have too."

"I know," I moaned as we looked through rack after rack of vintage dresses.

The 'thing' Ophelia mentioned was, of course, that both women had come out to their parents and were openly transgendered, rather than 'in hiding' like I was.

Ever since Christmas, my dressing as Jacinta had seriously increased in frequency. Even when wearing male outer clothes, I wore my foundation wear almost constantly (even if it did mean I suddenly took charge of doing all the washing in our house), and when dad wasn't around, I would spend every possible second dressed as Jacinta, and I always cried when the time came to strip away my make-up and my clothes and pretend to be Jason again... And every time I told Ophelia how I was feeling, she would always respond the same way.

'Tell your father how you feel'. That was the advice, and seemingly Ophelia's answer for literally everything. She pointed to her own transformation as evidence that I should take the plunge... Except in her case, it was a change that could be reversed. She had the option of abandoning 'Ophelia' and writing everything off as a 'phase'. If I told my father that I wanted to be a woman, there wouldn't be any easy way- or any way whatsoever- to 'untell' him.

"If you are to tell your father," Ophelia said, "You must do it soon, if it is your wish to be a girl... And not a woman."

Once again, Ophelia was right. Wikipedia defines 'girl' to mean 'a female human from birth through childhood and adolescence to attainment of adulthood when she becomes a woman'. The attainment of adulthood takes place on a person's eighteenth birthday... And at the time of my conversation with Ophelia, mine was just eight days away.

"Nothing wrong with being a woman," I mumbled as I examined a slender pencil dress.

"Of course there isn't," Ophelia said. "But do you really wish to become a man?"

"Bite me," I retorted, making my friend roll her eyes as she paid for her purchases.

"That is the reality you face, Jacinta," Ophelia said matter-of-factly. "In eight days’ time, you shall become an adult. Whether you become a man or a woman is a decision that can only be made by yourself."

"Yes, yes, yes, I know," I complained.

"I, of course, have only purchased gifts for Jacinta, and not Jason," Ophelia continued.

"And I WILL be grateful for them, I promise," I said.

"I very much believe that you will," Ophelia replied. "It is just that-"

"Topic change!" I suddenly announced, silencing my friend. "What are you planning on doing with those dresses you got?"

"One of them shall become a long-sleeved playsuit," Ophelia announced, obviously put out by my rudeness. "The other one shall remain a gown, but shall be altered in some manner that I have not yet decided."

"I look forward to modelling them for you," I said, feeling bad for snapping at my friend every step of the way back to her home.

At Ophelia's house, I went through the usual ritual of removing any visible trace of 'Jacinta' from my body, which consisted of stepping out of my shoes and my clothes, removing my make-up... And crying like a baby when I saw 'Jason's face staring back at me in the mirror.

"It's never too late to step through the door," Ophelia whispered as I dried my eyes with a tissue.

"But I'll never be able to step back through," I sighed. "Even if I wanted to."

"But would you want to?" Ophelia asked.

"If I was forced to choose between Jacinta and the only family I have... Yes, yes I would," I sighed, prompting a sad sigh from my best friend as I pulled 'Jason's clothes back on and headed home.

As the days counted down to my birthday, I grew more and more miserable. In addition to the obvious reason- that it'd be 'Jason's birthday and not 'Jacinta's- there were two other things that contributed to my misery. The first was that I was still very much without a Prince Charming, and the second was that other than Ophelia, I wasn't really swimming in 'princesses' either.

As I'd discovered at the Halloween party, neither Ophelia nor I were popular with the other teenagers at college. We weren't outright bullied, sure- anybody bullying me would face immediate accusations of homophobia, whereas anyone bullying (or rather, trying to bully) Ophelia would probably have gone away more confused than whatever feeling bullies usually get. But at the same time, nobody was going out of their way to make friends with us. Or even engage us in conversation. If it hadn't been for the fact that there weren't that many teachers at our college, I get the impression that everyone else at college would go out of their way not to be in the same room as us... And that included all the hot guys.

This didn't concern Ophelia, of course- any boy going anywhere near her was told in no uncertain terms that she was NOT available. I didn't have any such reservations. Then again, I didn't have any cute boys waiting in the wings... Until two days before my birthday. It was Friday afternoon, Ophelia and I had just finished college for the week and we were preparing to head back to our respective homes, when behind us I heard...

"Jason!" A young man called, causing me to pause briefly and reflect on how odd it was to be called by my legal name, rather than 'Jacinta'.

"Oh- Dylan! Hi!" I said to the short, blond man. "'Sup?"

"Umm... It's your birthday this weekend, isn't it?" Dylan asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, on Sunday," I replied. "Why?"

"I- umm..." Dylan mumbled as he started to wither under my and Ophelia's gazes.

"You do not need to be nervous around me, Dylan," Ophelia said, though her cool smile did little to set the young man at ease. Hell, it did little to set ME at ease, let alone Dylan...

"I, um, I have a card for you..." Dylan mumbled as he handed me a card- which, gratifyingly, was in a light pink envelope. "I, umm, also wondered if, umm, you know..."

"If you're asking me out," I said, subconsciously biting my lip and crossing my arms in a very feminine manner, "then the answer is YES."

"Oh- oh, umm, great!" Dylan said with a nervous giggle. "When- when do you-"

"I'm free tomorrow," I shrugged, before instantly kicking myself as I realised that I wasn't free tomorrow- 'Jason', who was the person Dylan no doubt thought he was asking out, had plans to spend the whole day not even existing.

"That's great!" Dylan said. "Want to meet in town for, you know, a coffee or something?"

"Sure!" I giggled. "You've got me on Facebook, right?"

"Yep!" Dylan giggled. "I'll message you tomorrow morning!"

"Great!" I said, before grimacing as Dylan walked away. "...Shit."

"Might I assume that my services will not be required tomorrow?" Ophelia asked, deepening my grimace.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"There is no need to apologise," Ophelia said with a smile. "He is an attractive young man. Even if he is less 'Prince Charming' and more 'Print Shop'."

"Nice pun," I sighed.

"In fact," Ophelia continued, "as he is even shorter than me in stocking feet, he would make an even more convincing woman than you would." Naturally, I didn't need to reply to what Ophelia said in words- my frown did all the talking for me. "...I apologise, Jacinta. My words were poorly chosen. Please forgive me."

"Yes, of course I forgive you," I sighed. "And you're not wrong. It's hard to be swept off your feet by someone six inches shorter than you. But..."

"...But?" Ophelia asked.

"But he's the first person to pay ANY attention to me in months," I sighed. "I know you don't 'get' the whole need to be with someone, but-"

"Oh, I 'get' the need for sex," Ophelia said.

"That's not QUITE what-" I said, before being cut off.

"It may surprise you to know that I actually masturbate quite often," Ophelia said candidly, making my eyes widen.

"'Surprise' would be way down the list, behind 'horrify' and 'disturb'," I retorted.

"I even employ the use of various devices-" Ophelia continued.

"Okay! Thank you! Nice meeting you!" I said, startling my friend. "And it's not really the 'sex' thing that's important. Okay, okay, maybe it IS important. But what's most important is, you know? The whole romance thing. I want to be swept off my feet. Treated like a princess, fall in love at first sight and live happily ever after..."

"And you believe that Dylan can fulfil these wishes for you?" Ophelia asked.

"Maybe," I replied. "Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know! All I know is that he's the first guy in forever to actually pay me any notice. I mean- HE asked ME out! I'm not just going to ignore that, you know? And maybe size doesn't matter."

"...I find that when I am alone at home, the size of my devices does ma-" Ophelia said.

"Nice meeting you!" I said, shaking my confused friend's hand before heading back to my home- but not before wondering exactly how Ophelia could safely masturbate when her nails were as long as they were.

The following morning, I was woken by my smartphone- but it was a Facebook message that woke me, rather than my alarm.

'Hey Jason,' the message, which was from Dylan, read. 'Want to meet up at lunchtime? Need to do a bit of shopping first.'

'Sure,' I replied. 'See you at twelve at the Costa on North Street?'

'It's a date!' Dylan replied with a winking emoji that made me giggle in a very effeminate manner- right up until I realised what, or rather, who I was giving up to be with him.

These feelings were only hammered home as I got ready for the day, ensuring my face was clean shaven and my hair was carefully combed, before returning to my bedroom... And instinctively reaching for 'Jacinta's clothes. It was only as I was browsing my meagre selection of skirts and dresses that I realised I was wearing my hip and bottom pads- something that Dylan probably wouldn't see as a turn on. I fought the urge to shudder as I eased the padded undergarment off, before stepping into a very plain pair of trunks and sliding a pair of loose jeans up my legs. I completed my look with a smart long-sleeved button-up shirt, before grabbing my coat (it was the start of February, it was really cold) and examining myself in the mirror.

It was only then that it hit me that I was indeed about to go on a proper date- and that yet again, rather than going WITH Prince Charming, I was going AS Prince Charming.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck," I moaned as I pulled on my coat and tried not to dwell on how utterly WRONG I felt.

However, as hard as I tried, I couldn't put myself into the mindset of 'Prince Charming'- the guy Dylan was undoubtedly expecting to sit down next to him. I probably didn't help myself by choosing Nikki Thomas's blog as my reading material for the bus ride into the city centre, digesting her latest tales of passing her ballet exam and her latest exploits with the group of friends she'd dubbed the 'New Angels' (after Jamie-Lee Burke's 'regular' Angels). It was actually a relief when I received a text message, which distracted me from Nikki's blog . A very large part of me even hoped that the message was from Dylan, cancelling our date- though all that did was cause a huge wave of guilt to wash over me.

Naturally, the guilt only got worse when I read the text message.

'Hello J,' the message- which was, of course, from Ophelia- read. 'Hope your date goes well today. I will be around to talk after if you want. Jacinta is always waiting here if you want her. O.'

"Fuuu-" I moaned, before remembering that I sat on a packed bus and I didn't want to have to pretend to have Tourette syndrome all the way into town.

Every step that brought me closer to my dates made me feel more out of place. I'd grown so accustomed to walking around town as 'Jacinta' that being 'Jason' just felt... Wrong. I tried to remind myself that 'Jason' was never really the 'Prince Charming' type, that Dylan probably knew this and was probably not expecting to be swept off his feet, but the effeminate wave and giggle he gave me as I walked into the coffee shop only served to make me more uneasy.

"Hi!" Dylan said in a near-squeak as I sat down next to him. "God, I am SO nervous..."

"...Sorry," I mumbled, a grin creeping across my bare lips.

"Oh- no, you REALLY don't need to apologise," Dylan giggled. "First date jitters... I'm sure you know all about them, hehe!"

"Ugh, totally," I replied, subconsciously flicking my shoulder-length hair out of my face- and grimacing at the look of discomfort that action brought to Dylan's face. Hoo, boy, I thought to myself, are YOU going to be disappointed with this relationship... "So, umm, did you- did you, you know, get all your shopping done?"

"Yep!" Dylan giggled. "May have got you a little present for tomorrow too..."

"Oh- seriously, you didn't have to..." I mumbled.

"It's just a little thing," Dylan giggled. "Something small and sweet, a bit like me, hehe!"

"Heh," I giggled as Dylan- clearly more relaxed than he was yesterday- leaned forward in a very effeminate way. Of course, he then grimaced at the look of discomfort that brought to MY face.

"You're- you're not, you know, allergic to nuts or anything, are you?" Dylan asked. "'Cause I'm kinda addicted to Choccywoccydoodah, and I figured-"

"Nope, no allergies," I said with a laugh. "So, umm... You still live at home? You know, with your parents?"

"Sadly, yes," Dylan sighed. "I'm going to university in September though, spreading my wings and all that."

"Anywhere nice?" I asked.

"Manchester," Dylan responded. Ah, I thought to myself. Another reason why this relationship is doomed from the start... "Studying graphic and web design. You?"

"Not really looked into it yet," I mumbled. "I'm only on the first year of my course as I did resits last year... I'd kinda like to go uni, I guess? But, you know, it's just me and my dad at home, I'm kinda worried he'd get lonely..."

"Ugh, he must have FLIPPED when you came out to him!" Dylan snorted, before biting his lip as I regarded him with an angry glare.

"Actually he was cool with it," I said with a smug grin. "Absolutely 100% cool. I still remember the day I came out, he seemed more irritated that I was interrupting his watching the Olympics than me, you know, preferring boys."

"LUCKY you," Dylan sighed. "My dad FLIPPED when I came out. And the dumb son of a bitch doesn't even live with us. I dunno, maybe he expected me to be a big, tough car mechanic like him. Umm, hello? 5' 4" and stick thin? The dumbass."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I mumbled.

"It's SO good to hear that that isn't always the case," Dylan said. "That there are some fathers who don't fly into a rage if they find out their son isn't a big, macho heterosexual moron." Try replacing 'heterosexual' with 'cisgender', I self-pityingly thought to myself, which brought a question to the front of my brain- something I'd wanted to ask later in the date, but which I was almost desperate to ask immediately.

"Dylan..." I mumbled.

"Jason...?" Dylan replied.

"How- how do you feel, you know, about, umm, trans girls?" I asked. "Or, um, trans guys, people born a woman but living as a man?"

"To each their own," Dylan shrugged, rebuilding my damaged confidence. "Why do you ask?"

"I- umm," I mumbled. "I- I kinda got asked out, umm, by a transgendered girl. You know, a couple of weeks ago... I said no, of course."

"Probably best," Dylan shrugged. "I've got nothing against transgendered people, I'd just, you know, prefer not to have any 'thing' against them, hehe!"

"Really?" I asked, my confidence once again deflating.

"Well, yeah," Dylan said with a chuckle. "I mean, if it's a trans girl, I'd always be thinking 'but you're not really a guy, I don't fancy you', and if it's a trans guy, as, you know, 'realistic' as they might seem, when it came down to the sex... Ew."

"Fair enough," I shrugged.

"Not that either of us need to worry about that, hehe!" Dylan giggled. "I mean, we're both two very male, very GAY guys, right?"

"Right!" I said, forcing myself to giggle as I clinked my coffee cup against Dylan's.

Needless to say, I had to force a smile on my face all throughout the rest of the date, and all throughout the following day, which was, of course, my eighteenth birthday. The day I finally became a man. I got up early in the morning to unwrap my gifts of deodorant, clothes and vouchers, thereby getting the disappointment out of the way early.

My smile became very genuine, however, when a knock came from our front door- only for it to once again fade when I realised that it was Dylan standing there and not Ophelia.

"Dad..." I said nervously as I led the short young man into the living room. "This is Dylan, the boy I was telling you about. Dylan, this is my dad."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hanley!" Dylan said with a nervous giggle that dad, to his credit, didn't seem even remotely fazed by.

"Likewise," dad said, before shooting an accusing gaze at me. "Jason, what did I say about bringing boys home?"

"'Not until I was eighteen'," I retorted. "How old am I today?"

"Fair enough," dad shrugged with a smirk as he gestured for myself and Dylan to sit down, before grilling my new 'boyfriend' about his life.

Thankfully, Dylan only stuck around for half an hour- he had to join his parents at church- and as he left, I let out a long sigh of relief, which didn't go unnoticed by my father.

"I won't bother adding him to my address book, then," dad quipped as I sat back down.

"...It's early days," I replied. "We've only been going out a few days, haven't even got physical yet..."

"Don't need to know about the physical side!" Dad laughed. "Though on that subject- or near enough, I suppose- he doesn't really seem like your 'type'.

"How do you mean?" I ask.

"Well- and no offence- I always..." Dad said cautiously. "I always kinda thought that, you know, in your type of relationships, it was always, like, one person playing 'the woman'. And I don't know why, but- but I always picture you in that role. That's probably not going to happen with you going out with Thumbelina there."

"...Kinda stereotyping, dad," I said.

"Sorry, sorry," dad sighed.

"Though you're right in saying he's not EXACTLY my type," I said. "Or, you know, even close to my type." As I spoke, my phone chimed to inform me of a new text message- and this time, the smile returned to my face and stayed there.

"Speaking of walking anti-stereotypes," dad said with a smug grin as I rolled my eyes at him.

Half an hour later, Ophelia greeted me with one of her rare, gentle hugs as she stepped into the house, her dark blue cocktail dress, spiked stiletto heels and black opera gloves (and, of course, tightly corseted waist) contrasting with my jeans and sweatshirt. The bag of presents in her hand, however, was enough to reassure me that I wouldn't be dressed the way I was for long.

"Good morning, Mike," Ophelia said as she dropped the bag of presents in the hallway, retrieving one from the top to bring with her into the living room.

"Good morning to you too, Ophelia!" dad chuckled. "I would ask why you're overdressed, but from what I gather, this is you UNDERdressed, heh!"

"I merely wear what I feel most adequately reflects the person whom I choose to be," Ophelia retorted, making me giggle.

"Good job you didn't say 'I merely wear what feels comfortable'," I said. "Dad would've had a field day with that corset alone!"

"Emotional comfort is more important than physical comfort," Ophelia retorted, and to my surprise, this brought a genuine smile to my father's face. I was very much aware, though, that her words were intended for me alone.

"You can't do that without turning your waist inside out, though?" Dad asked. "Or a hairstyle and colour that makes you look like Sonic the Hedgehog?"

"...I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought the same thing," I mumbled, making my blue-haired friend roll her eyes.

"Is this any way to treat a guest?" Ophelia protested.

"No, no you're right, it isn't," dad chuckled as he headed into the kitchen. "Fancy a cup of tea, Ophelia?"

"That would be most welcome, thank you Mike," Ophelia replied, before turning to me with a look of disdain in her eyes. "Sonic the Hedgehog?"

"...He's a videogame character, dad used to play-" I explained.

"I know who he is," Ophelia sighed, her posh affected accent making way for her natural working-class way of speaking. "One of my sisters had a Sega when we were growing up. But- you couldn't have told me earlier?"

"...If it makes you emotionally comfortable," I shrugged. "You being comfortable in your skin is more important than wondering if you'll shoot gold rings out of your arse if you stub your toe, right?"

"Says the woman sat on the sofa wearing men's clothing," Ophelia retorted, effectively ending the conversation.

"Here you go," dad said as he returned seconds later with two hot mugs of tea.

"This is the perfect opportunity to present you with this," Ophelia said, handing her (public) present to me, which I opened to find a very smart-looking diary.

"Ah, thanks Ophelia!" I said with a happy giggle. "Never owned a diary before..." My smile faltered, though, when I opened the diary on the February 2nd page and saw that Ophelia had already written an entry- 'Told my father about who I really was'.

"Jason's not really one for writing down feelings," dad said with a quiet chuckle. "Or talking about them. Or even, you know, having them. Like father, like son, I guess. I bit my lip and tried to hold back a tear as I quickly looked back and forth between dad and my mum's urn beside the fire. Yeah, dad, you DO have feelings... That's what makes this so difficult.

Ophelia stayed for a couple of hours, chatting with me and dad, before leaving just after lunch. Immediately after she went, I took my other presents from her up to my bedroom to open later, before returning to the living room, where dad regarded me with a quizzical stare.

"...Dad?" I asked.

"...Jason?" Dad replied. "Don't take this the wrong way, but- and I'm trying NOT to sound too, you know, toff, but..."

"But...?" I asked.

"Are- are you sure you're gay?" Dad asked. "I mean, Dylan comes round and you look desperate for him to leave, Ophelia comes round and it's like you're desperate for her to stay. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were in love with the girl."

"But you DO know better," I said, before sighing. "Okay. Yes. I DO love Ophelia. But I'm not IN love with her. She's- she's like my sister. More than a best friend, you know? I can share things with her that I can't-" I immediately stopped talking and bit my tongue as dad stared at me with a confused look on his face.

"What 'things'?" Dad asked. "I mean, you've already told me that you're gay, what else is there that's so bad you can tell Ophelia but not me?"

"...Nothing," I mumbled. "Just- just forget it, okay?"

"It's your birthday," dad shrugged. "But I bet I know who we'll be seeing here next out of Dylan or Ophelia..."

Dad was, of course, correct. Even though our relationship had only started on the 1st of February, by the time Valentine's Day rolled around on the 14th, I was single once again. And when I stepped out of Ophelia's house on Saturday the 15th, wearing (amongst other things) the off-the-shoulder top and asymmetrical skirt Ophelia had made me for my birthday, I resolved that Dylan would be the last boyfriend that 'Jason' would ever have. It wasn't fair to Dylan to string him along in a relationship that I knew was doomed from the start, and it wasn't fair to me to pretend to be the man- or even A man- in the relationship when all I wanted was for the world to see me as the woman I was, deep down inside.

The world, however, wasn't the problem- it was my father. As I was eighteen, technically I could transition whenever I wanted. I could change my name without dad's consent, begin looking at treatments without dad's consent, do anything I wanted without dad's consent... But what I craved, more than anything in the world, wasn't just dad's consent, but his blessing to become Jacinta, and for him to love his daughter the way I knew he loved his son.

As winter changed into spring, I wasn't any closer to plucking up the courage to come out to dad, even as my dressing became more frequent and more thorough. I made sure I was clean-shaven every day, and even began regularly shaving my arms and my legs- once going with Ophelia (whilst in 'Jacinta mode') to a salon to have them waxed, which even brought a tear to my normally stoic best friend's eye! I almost never wore boy's underwear, preferring thongs, and even wore my corset under 'Jason's tops on several occasions- though, of course, it wasn't laced nearly as tight as Ophelia's ever-present corset!

Easter was very late in the year in 2014, meaning that the Easter holidays were later as well, but I made sure to take the opportunity presented by them and dressed as Jacinta virtually every day I could- usually at my own home, and usually with the company (and expert fashion sense) of my best friend. On the Thursday after Easter, though, something unexpected happened- something that would end up changing my life forever.

As usual, Ophelia had dropped round just after 9:30 (just after dad had gone to work) and as usual, she had helped me with my hair and make-up as I changed from my jeans and t-shirt into a short, smart skirt and a stripey short-sleeved bodysuit. As we sat down in the living room to start our college work, I happened to flick through my twitter feed on my phone, and by sheer luck, the first one I read was from Nikki Thomas- and read 'going on Jeremy Kyle was SO terrifying, but I'm so glad I did it!'. My eyes went wide as I read the tweet- she would only have written it if she'd been on the show that day, and as it was almost 10:30am, I could even watch it on ITV's 'plus one' channel...

"Umm, Ophelia..." I mumbled.

"Jacinta...?" Ophelia replied.

"Umm..." I mumbled with a grimace on my fully made-up face. "Can- can we- you know..."

"Can we... What?" Ophelia asked, confused by my behaviour. I took a deep breath, before replying.

"I want to watch the Jeremy Kyle show," I announced, making Ophelia roll her eyes and spit disgustedly.

"Are you sure, Candice?" Ophelia retorted, making me roll my eyes.

"...Nikki Thomas was on it today," I said, making my blue-haired friend's jaw drop.

"Re-really?" Ophelia asked. "As in THE Nikki Thomas, the girl whose blog you've been following all year?"

"THAT Nikki Thomas, yes," I said.

"Well," Ophelia said. "Then by all means..." I smile as Ophelia reached for the remote control (naturally having a hard time leaning forward due to her corset) and quickly found the channel in question, where the show's opening credits had just ended and its controversial host had stepped out on stage.

“Welcome to the show,” the host said into the camera.

"If she isn't the first guest, I will never forgive you for making me sit through an episode of this garbage," Ophelia said, though the barely-concealed grin on her face told me that she wasn't being entirely serious.

“My first guest today," Jeremy Kyle continued, "says her grandparents have disowned her because- get this- they refuse to accept that she’s transgendered and insist that she goes back to living as a boy! Nikki’s on the Jeremy Kyle Show!” My heart rate increased as the young woman, who I felt like I knew intimately even though we'd never met face to face, stepped out onto the stage looking as feminine as any genetic girl in her tight blue top, black skirt and black tights.

“Welcome to the show, Nikki,” Jeremy said as he sat in the seat next to the terrified-looking teenager. “I understand you contacted our researchers because you want help repairing your relationship with your grandparents?”

"Yes," Nikki whispered.

"Poor girl must be shitting herself," I mused as- much to my surprise (and probably hers too), Ophelia concentrated hard on the action onscreen.

"Tell us a little about the situation," the host asked.

“Well,” Nikki began. “I was originally born a boy, but I’ve known all along that I was a girl trapped in a boy’s body. Last May, I came out to my parents, and began living life full-time as a female.”

"A familiar sounding story," Ophelia said with a warm smile on her face.

“You’re undergoing hormone replacement therapy, is that right?” Jeremy Kyle asked.

“Uh-huh,” Nikki replied. “I want to, you know, ‘go all the way’ and have gender reassignment surgery.”

"Is that something that you have considered before, Jacinta?" Ophelia asked.

"Sometimes," I whispered, trying to sniff back tears as I cupped the (very fake) breasts hanging from my chest- breasts that could easily become real after just a few years of taking female hormones.

“How did your parents react when you came out as transgendered?” Jeremy Kyle asked, piquing my interest.

“They were shocked,” Nikki replied with a nervous laugh. “They wanted to make sure this was what I really wanted, but afterwards I had their full, 100% support.” The applause from the audience warmed my heart- they were clearly on Nikki's side, which gave me confidence that many in the general public would be on 'Jacinta's side. However, it wasn't the general public who bothered me...

"Ultimately, what do you want to get out of today?" the host asked

"I want my grandparents to understand that this is who I NEED to be," Nikki replied. "I just... I just want to be Nikki."

“Chris is your father, right?” Jeremy Kyle asked, causing my heart rate to increase even further. “Okay, let’s get him out here. Chris is on the Jeremy Kyle show!” I watch intently as Nikki's father walks onto the stage, and the first thing he does is hug his daughter before greeting the host and sitting down.

"What a thoroughly decent man," Ophelia mused.

"I wish I had a father like him," I said.

"How do you know that you do not?" Ophelia asked, totally silencing me.

“Welcome to the show,” The host greeted Nikki's father. “How does a father react when their son suddenly announces one day ‘I want to live life as a girl’?” That's the $64 000 question, I thought to myself.

“It came as a shock,” the middle-aged man sighed. “Like Nikki said, we wanted to make sure it was what she really wanted…”

“Because for the first 16 years of her life, you must have thought you were raising an ordinary boy?” the host rudely probed further.

“Yes,” Nikki's father replied, “but looking back on it, there were some clues, Nikki never really took an interest in sport, she always had longer-than average hair…”

"Sounds familiar," Ophelia said.

“But I assume there’s a difference between being having long hair and being a full-time girl?” Jeremy Kyle asked.

"Or being 'gay'," Ophelia interrupted as I became more and more lost in thought.

“There is,” Nikki's father answered. “Fortunately, Nikki had signed herself up to a counsellor who helped her through her issues. We have a written diagnosis of gender dysphoria, so there’s ‘proof’ that it’s not just a whim, Nikki is, from a medical standpoint, a girl trapped in a boy’s body.”

"How do you suppose your father would react if he came home now and found you dressed like this?" Ophelia asked.

"I- I wish I knew," I sighed. "If I knew for sure, I wouldn't have to panic and stress anymore... I hoped he would act like him on the TV."

"Parents should always love their children," Ophelia whispered, causing my heart to sink as I remembered that Ophelia herself had never been shown such love from her mother- and had never so much as met her father.

My heart sank further as the TV programme continued and Nikki's grandfather stepped out onto the stage and immediately turned his back on the young woman, calling her every derogatory name under the Sun and erasing what little self-confidence I had built up from seeing the love Nikki's father clearly had for her. Even though the three people left the stage together as a family and agreed to work to mend the rift between them, I still felt no better at the end of the segment than I did at the start of it.

"...You're right," I sighed as Ophelia switched off the TV. "That show's crap."

Nonetheless, I found it difficult, if not borderline impossible to remove the skirt and the bodysuit I'd worn throughout the day, even as dad walked in through the front door. All I wanted to do was skip down the stairs and present myself to him as his daughter... But the risk that I might then be forced to skip out the front door- or worse, have to watch as dad cried at losing yet another member of his family- was far too great a risk.

And yet, over the following few months, 'Jacinta' became more and more prominent in my life. By that point, I hadn't had a proper haircut (only light trims) in almost 24 months, my diet, exercise and waist training regimes had narrowed my waist, my mannerisms- even when it was just me and dad at home- became more effeminate and I spent as much time as I could dressed as 'Jacinta', even if it was just in the privacy of my own bedroom. Some days, I would even sleep in 'Jacinta's day clothing, just so I could experience it as much as possible.

On some days, it even made me physically sick to get dressed as 'Jason'.

Eventually, the school year ended, freeing myself and Ophelia up for six long summer weeks, during which I intended to spend as much time as 'Jacinta' as I could. A couple of weeks into the holiday, though, I was handed one of the best gifts I had ever received when dad announced that he was going away for four days with a group of his old friends from university, leaving me home alone for the first time in my life.

"I'm trusting you to make sure the house stays clean and tidy," dad said as he packed a small suitcase.

"I do most of the housework around here anyway," I retorted.

"And no, I repeat, NO parties," dad said. "Especially as I won't be able to come to them."

"Okay," I said. "But can-"

"Yes, Ophelia can stay over if she wants," dad said. "Frankly I'd actually prefer that she stays here than in that shithole she lives in. And yes, she can sleep in my bed if she wants. As long as she doesn't turn the bedroom into some kind of medieval Disney princess castle or something." Mind if I turned MY bedroom into a Disney princess castle? I thought to myself.

"I'll pass it along," I said.

"And make sure you have fun, okay?" Dad asked with a warm smile.

"Umm, dad..." I replied. "You- you're the one going on holiday, shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

"...Piss off and let me finish packing," dad chuckled as I left him in peace.

Naturally, less than twenty minutes after seeing him off in his taxi, Ophelia was in my house and I'd changed into a skimpy baby pink tank top and a very short denim skirt (it was the middle of August, it was warm)

"So tell me, Jacinta," Ophelia asked as she fixed my make-up for me. "How does it feel, today?"

"...How does what feel, exactly?" I asked.

"How does it feel to know that at the end of today," Ophelia asked, "you WON'T have to change back into Jason?"

"I- I'd never really thought about it," I confessed. "I mean, I guess I knew, but- but it's just dawning on me, you know? I go to bed as Jacinta, I wake up as Jacinta... Like this dream never has to end. Not for a few days, anyway..."

"It is fortunate that I made this, then," Ophelia says, removing a small, delicate nightdress from her bag and handing to me.

"Ophelia," I gasped as I took the dainty garment and held it to my body. "It- it's beautiful, thank you SO much..."

"Now you can truly be 'Jacinta' for 24 hours each day," Ophelia said with a proud smile. "Even when you are sleeping."

"Thank you," I whispered again as I examined the nightdress and fought the urge to pull it on right then and there.

"So how do you intend to enjoy your 72 uninterrupted hours of being Jacinta?" Ophelia asked, causing my mind to race.

A better question would've been how DIDN'T I intend to spend it. Relaxing on the beach in a swimsuit or a bikini, heading around town shopping with my best friend, maybe even going to a bar or a club later, as I had ID to prove that I was eighteen- even if it did also say that my name was 'Jason'.

"I- I dunno," I sighed. "There's so much I want to do and, like, no time to do it in..."

"It's YOUR holiday, Jacinta," Ophelia said with a warm smile that I've only seen her use on very rare occasions. "What was the first thing that you thought of when I asked?"

"...Going to the beach," I mumbled. "Hanging out in a bikini or a swimsuit..."

"Perfect," Ophelia said, her smile not wavering. "I shall go to my home to fetch our swimwear and return shortly." I smiled in bewilderment as Ophelia suddenly left me alone in my bedroom, returning just under an hour later with a shopping bag. In the meantime, I had taken the opportunity to tidy up my bedroom, finally finding a proper space for my clothing and make-up collection rather than dumped in suitcases and bags underneath my bed.

"You were a bit longer than I expected," I said, handing Ophelia a tall, cool glass of water as she lowered herself onto my sofa. "Bus late or something?"

"I took the opportunity to change my own clothing," Ophelia said, suddenly standing up and removing her knee-length blue dress to reveal her own navy blue one-piece swimsuit. "Do you like it?"

"A better question would be 'would I like it'," I said as I examined the skin-tight garment. "And the answer would be yes. To both questions!"

"I am pleased you said that," Ophelia said, handing me the bag she brought. "Because I-"

"Wait, wait a second," I interrupted as I examined Ophelia's swimsuit more closely. "Are- are you, you know, actually wearing your corset underneath that thing?"

"No, the corset would show through the fabric," Ophelia answered. "And besides, it would not react well to the water. Instead, I customised the swimsuit and added in some boning to mimic the same effect. I also cut the legs slightly higher than they were originally."

"Wow," I gasped as Ophelia traced the outline of the boning with her finger. "You really are a talented, you know, clothes maker..."

"Thank you, Jacinta," Ophelia said with a well-earned smug smile.

"Does my swimsuit have any boning in it?" I asked, making my friend giggle excitedly.

"Not as much as mine," Ophelia replied. "As I know that you do not like your corset to be tied as tightly as my own. I have also sewn in padding to help enhance your figure, like the foundation garments that you wear."

"This is amazing," I whispered as I held up the heavily engineered teal one-piece swimsuit. "Thank you so much, I- I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. I don't even know who I'd be without you!"

"You're going to hug me, aren't you?" Ophelia asked, her smile fading.

"...I'm pretty sure I couldn't hug you in that thing without causing about five different sex offences," I retorted, earning a snort of laughter from my friend.

"Then put your swimsuit on first," Ophelia ordered. "Unless you'd prefer to wear the bikini I brought? It shows off more skin, but there's nowhere to include any boning or any padding..."

"...Better stick with the one-piece," I whispered, making Ophelia giggle again as I headed upstairs to change.

As Ophelia promised, the swimsuit not only cinched in my waist slightly and enhanced my figure, but the enclosed 'pocket' also tucked away my groin, giving me a fully flat front and hiding any trace that I had ever been a boy. After I pulled my skirt back on and slipped my feet into a pair of flip-flops, the illusion was 100% complete.

"Beautiful," Ophelia- who had pulled her dress back on- said as I walked down the stairs. "Now, I believe you wanted to spend the day at the beach, is that correct?"

"Hope you've brought some sunscreen!" I giggled as Ophelia grabbed her handbag and put on her (surprisingly plain) sunglasses. "You don't look like you tan easily..."

"It would surprise no one to learn that the sun and I are NOT best friends," my naturally pale-skinned friend said. "Besides which... I prefer the best friend that I already have, anyway." I giggled as I followed Ophelia to the bus stop, and soon, the two of us were laid under the sun on the packed beach.

Naturally, the two of us attracted a LOT of male attention on the beach (and, with it being Brighton, more than a bit of female attention as well). And naturally, I paid a lot of attention back at the tanned, chiselled bodies of the young men who walked past us, some of whom wore little more than a speedo (and as such, weren't nearly as 'tucked away' as I was in my swimsuit).

However, every time I tried to pluck up the courage to speak to one of the potential Prince Charmings walking past- even when it was obvious that they were interested- a voice at the back of my head reminded me that in three days’ time, 'Jacinta' would be back in her closet and I would, once again, be plain, boring 'Jason'.

It was almost a relief at the end of the day when Ophelia and I returned home, and- after applying some Eucerin to my friend's painful-looking skin- I got ready to change into the delicate nightgown Ophelia had brought with her. Sure, 'Jacinta' only had a few days left, but that was still longer than I had ever had before- and there was no reason why I shouldn't enjoy every last second of it- especially as my best friend was sleeping in the next room to me.

The following day, Ophelia and I went on a brief shopping trip- the second item on my 'list'- before returning to the beach on the Monday to top up our tans.

"If I may make an observation," Ophelia said as she pulled on her dress at the end of our day in the sun, "you will have a difficult time explaining to your father how you gained suntan lines in the pattern of a one-piece swimsuit."

"...I'll cover up with a t-shirt or something, he won't see them," I mumbled.

"Or you could show him your tan lines," Ophelia suggested. "And when he asks, you could tell him the truth." Ophelia's suggestion caused a wave of nausea to wash over me- I had less than 24 hours of 'Jacinta time' left, and the prospect of going back to being Jason the following day horrified me. Naturally, this didn't go unnoticed by my friend.

"I wish it was that easy," I sighed.

"I wish you realised that it isn't as hard as you believe it to be," Ophelia said.

"Easy for you to say," I snorted.

"Yes, yes it is," Ophelia said, before taking a deep breath. "We will return to my house tonight before going back to yours."

"Umm... Why?" I asked.

"You will see," Ophelia said, taking her phone out of her handbag and quickly tapping out a text message.

Half an hour later, the two of us walked up the overgrown path of Ophelia's mother house, my heart rate increasing with every step I take.

"But- but they've seen me before!" I protested. "They'll know who- what I am!"

"Do you honestly believe that my mother or my sister care enough about my life to remember as little as the identity of my best friend?" Ophelia asked with a derisive snort.

"Well- no, I guess not..." I mumbled as Ophelia let herself into her home. "Everyone, I have returned."

"Ooh, Lady Snot's back," Francine- Ophelia's youngest sister- scoffed. "And who the fuck's this?"

"Watch your fucking language!" Ophelia's mother chastised the teenaged girl. "She's a guest! You don't fucking swear around guests!"

"Hi, I'm, umm," I mumbled as I felt the eyes of everyone in the room fix on me- not just those of Francine and Ophelia's mother, but three other, older women I quickly realised were Ophelia's older sisters.

"This is Jacinta, my friend from college," Ophelia said.

"What, YOU have friends?" One of the other sisters scoffed in a barely coherent voice as I began to tremble with nerves- though my nerves didn't even come close to those of my friend, who was so tense I could almost feel it standing next to her.

"Why we here anyway?" One of the other sisters spat.

"I am here to make an announcement," Ophelia stated.

"What, that you're a lezza?" One of Ophelia's sisters snorted.

"More loser than lezza!" Francine said, before almost wetting herself laughing at her own joke.

"From now on," Ophelia said, "I do not wish to be known as 'Amanda', and certainly not as 'Mandy'. For months, I have possessed forms pertaining to a change of my name by deed poll. Tomorrow, I shall post them. From now on, my name shall be Ophelia Cassiopeia Love." The room fell silent, before Ophelia's mother and all four of her sisters burst into loud fits of laughter at Ophelia's announcement.

"You shall either accept me, or you shan't," Ophelia said with a shrug, before leading me back to her front door.

"Get out of here, you fuckin' freak!" Francine shouted after her sister as we walked out of the house.

"...I think you need a hug," I whispered.

"I think you're right," Ophelia said, sniffing back tears as she all but jumped into my waiting arms.

"And I think everyone in that room deserves a punch right in the middle of their smug, arsehole faces," I spat. "I'm sorry, Ophelia, I know they're your family but-"

"No, YOU are my family," Ophelia said with a smile. "And you're right, they do, they absolutely do. I hope- I hope that helped you, Jacinta."

"I don't see how," I sighed.

"By showing you that all you need is a little confidence," Ophelia whispered. "Do you honestly believe that your father would react in the same way as my so-called family?"

"Well- ugh, I don't know. I really, truly don't know," I sighed. "Can- can we just go home, please?"

"Of course," Ophelia said, gripping my hand for support as we headed back to my home, where we spent the rest of the evening watching TV in near-silence, deliberately NOT talking about what had happened at my friend's house.

The following day, for the third morning in a row, I woke up to the feeling of the soft, smooth material of my nightdress clinging to my chest, and if it wasn't for Ophelia stirring in the other room, I would happily have stayed in bed all day- especially as it was the best chance I had of remaining in 'Jacinta mode' all day.

"Jacinta?" Ophelia called, knocking on my door. "Are you awake? Your father will return in under an hour."

"I know," I moaned. "Just- just leave me alone, please..."

"You will have to get up at some point today," Ophelia said.

"No I don't," I groaned, my groans only growing louder as Ophelia entered my bedroom, uninvited- and looking very different than usual with her make-up free face and bed hair.

"You do," Ophelia said softly. "You have to make a decision, Jacinta, and you have to make it now." As if to punctuate her point, Ophelia reached into my clothes drawers and withdrew two outfits for me, placing them at the end of my bed. One of the outfits was what I was no doubt 'supposed' to wear today- a very plain boy's t-shirt and a baggy pair of jeans. The other outfit was a low-cut short sleeved white bodysuit and a floaty knee-length skirt, both of which I've worn before and absolutely loved.

"Ugh," I moaned as I stared at the two piles of clothes.

"I will let you have some privacy," Ophelia said, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

On the one hand, it would be so simple to just climb into Jason's clothes and pretend to dad that nothing was wrong- but that would be precisely what I was doing, pretending. As something WAS wrong. Very wrong. Merely touching 'Jason's clothes made me shiver, made me feel physically ill at the thought of denying myself the life I so badly wanted, so badly NEEDED.

Or maybe nothing was wrong, maybe something was actually very, very right. The mere feel of the skirt and the bodysuit in my fingers lifted my spirits, made me feel like I could pull them on and take on the world, conquer any obstacle put in my path... Just as Ophelia had done the previous day. There was one obstacle, though, that could be insurmountable...

I don't know how long I was sat in my bedroom, torn between the two piles of clothing, but the sound of dad opening the front door snapped me out of my 'trance'.

"Hello?" Dad called, causing my heart to race with nerves. "Jason? You still in bed? Actually, no, ask a stupid question. Are you planning on actually getting out of bed at some point today?"

"Umm, yeah," I replied, using my 'male voice' for the first time in three days and musing on how utterly foreign it sounded coming out of my life. "Just give me a sec..." Instinctively, I reached toward 'Jason's pile of clothes, but as I picked up the jeans, my entire body froze.

All of a sudden, eighteen and a half years of my life flashed before my eyes- from starting primary school, to making friends with Caitlin, Jessica and Noor, to starting secondary school, to my first sexual encounter with Martin, to meeting Ophelia, to the last three days of blissful femininity... And in that moment, something inside me snapped. It's nothing I can describe in words, but in that instant, I knew without a shadow of a doubt the direction my life would- or rather, the direction my life MUST take.

"Are you in the living room?" I asked as I skipped down the stairs.

"Yes, why?" Dad asked, his eyes going wide as I walked into the room and stood in front of him, my face made-up, my hair brushed and my body clothed in the bodysuit and skirt Ophelia had laid out for me earlier.

"Dad..." I said in my practised feminine voice. "I- there's something I want to tell you..."

TO BE CONTINUED

"Dad..." I said in my practised feminine voice. "I- there's something I want to tell you..."

"Yes, I can see that," dad replied, still in a state of shock at my appearance.

"I- I'm transgendered," I said confidently as Ophelia walked through from the kitchen, a mixture of shock and pride on her face. "I want to be a woman. I feel like a woman inside. I want to live the rest of my life as a woman." What felt like an eternity passed as dad tried to process what he had just been told.

"...Okay," dad shrugged, before reaching for the remote control. "Want to get out of the way of the TV now?"

"What, really?" I asked. "I'm stood hear wearing make-up, a bodysuit and a skirt and THAT's your reaction?"

"Oh, god no!" Dad suddenly wails in an overdramatic voice, before hurling the remote control clear across the room. "My only son has turned into a sissy! Why, cruel fate, why!?"

"...That wasn't funny," I sighed.

"Would you have preferred that reaction or my first one?" Dad asked, snorting with laughter as I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not sure your first reaction even counts as a reaction," I retorted.

"Answer the question, one or two," dad commanded.

"Well, one, obviously," I said. "But you could have been somewhere in between, you know? You can have, like, questions, your options aren't limited to 'Brian Blessed telling you you're overdoing it' or 'coma patient'."

"Oh, believe me, I have questions," dad said softly. "Quite a lot of them. But the most important one... I think I know the answer to it. Is this really, truly what you need to make you happy?"

"Yes," I answered without hesitation.

"That's what I thought," dad sighed. "Jason- ah. That's not going to be your name anymore, is it?"

"I hope you weren't too attached to it," I mumbled. "I wasn't particularly."

"I could lie and say that your mum was a huge Jason Donovan fan," dad sighed as he glanced at mum's urn beside the fire. "But in truth, we just thought 'name beginning with a J' and Jason came top of the list."

"What- what would I have been called if I'd been a girl?" I asked as a euphoric feeling started to fill my body. Despite my months of panic, it seemed that dad was actually prepared to accept his daughter without reservation!

"Karen," dad said softly. "...What name have you chosen for yourself?"

"Umm, Jacinta..." I mumbled.

"Seriously?" Dad asked. "Have you ever met someone with that name who wasn't Australian or from Portugal or somewhere?"

"Umm..." I mumbled, before taking a deep breath and looking my father defiantly in the eyes. "Well YOU have now!"

"Okay, 'Jacinta' it is," dad sighed, before looking up at where Ophelia was stood in the kitchen doorway. "I suppose you've known about this for ages? Things you can tell a friend that you can't tell a parent, that sort of thing?"

"Jacinta confided in me at the start of the college year last September," Ophelia said as she lowered herself into the seat next to mine.

"Eleven months ago, heh, of course he- of course SHE did," dad sighed.

"No offence," I mumbled. "I- I, um-"

"You were afraid I'd go all 'Brian Blessed on Red Bull' on you?" dad asked, smirking as my cheeks turned red. "Jas- sinta. JAY-sinta. Jacinta. Jay. Son. Daughter. My child. When you came out as gay, I told you something along the lines of 'I've always wanted you to be your own person, and if it makes you happy, isn't illegal and doesn't hurt anyone, then I'll be happy for you'. That hasn't changed in the last two years."

"...Thanks," I squeaked, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.

"Gay or straight, man or woman, you'll always be my child, and that's what's most important," dad said. "I'll always love and support you... I just fear that you'll need a lot of both. Been keeping up with the news?"

"Unless it involves cute guys or celebrities, not really," I said. "Why?" I bit my lip with worry as dad fished his tablet computer out of the pile of magazines next to his chair and opened up a news article to show to me.

'Transgendered child kidnapped,' the headline read. 'Twelve year old Laura White was abducted on the afternoon of Sunday the 9th of August from a busy supermarket in west London. Police have launched a nationwide manhunt for Robert White, the child's father, who is the primary suspect behind the kidnapping. Any witnesses or anyone who can shed light on the location of Robert and/or Laura White are asked to contact the metropolitan police on-'

"Shit," I whispered. "That- that's horrific!"

"That's the sad reality of what some transgendered people have to go through in their lives," dad said in a soft voice.

"I will admit..." I mumbled. "If- if I'd seen this, I probably wouldn't have come out to you..."

"Hence why I prevented you from seeing it," Ophelia said in a quiet voice, withering as I shot her an angry glare.

"...Thanks," I sighed. "I probably should be angry, you keeping this from me, but- but thanks."

"You are very welcome, Jacinta," Ophelia said.

"Obviously I'm not going to kidnap you," dad said. "I mean, you're 5' 10", I'd probably slip a disc trying."

"If anything, I'm UNDERweight!" I protested, making dad chuckle.

"Yeah, you're still bigger than a twelve year old," dad laughed. "Point is, you should be prepared for some kind of backlash."

"I've had two years of being in the 'G' category of LGBT, I know all about backlash," I retorted.

"That's because on the outside, there's no difference between a gay man and a straight man," dad said. "A transgendered woman and a, you know, nor- reg- umm, not-transgendered woman, on the other hand..."

"Are you implying that all non-transgendered women are inconspicuous?" Ophelia asked, gesturing to her own extravagant outfit- which stood out a lot more than my plain, casual clothes.

"...No bloody winning with you two, is there?" Dad sighed.

"I know you're only trying to play devil's advocate," I said. "And I do appreciate it. But I've thought long and hard about this. Umm, pun not intended..."

"Does that include the physical side of it?" Dad asked. "I mean, like that Jamie woman on that ITV2 show you two like, the one who had the, you know, snippity doo dah done a few months ago?"

"...YOU follow the Angels?" I asked, giggling as dad rolled his eyes.

"It was on the news," dad argued. "You know, that show that you claim never to have heard of?"

"Entertainment news, maybe," I laughed. "Doubt it was on the six o'clock news..."

"Shut up," dad mumbled, which even earned a giggle from Ophelia. "Point I'm trying to make is that to make this, you know, 'official', there's a lot of hoops you'll have to jump through, a lot of forms to fill out- something I know you hate- doctor's appointments if you want the medication to change your hormones..."

"Whatever it takes," I said confidently. "I want this. I really, seriously want this. Will- will you help?"

"Anything I can do to help, just ask," dad said with a warm grin. "All I ever wanted was for you to be healthy and happy. If you can't do that without wearing a skirt, well, then you wear that skirt."

"And you know that you always have my full support as well," Ophelia said, making me cry tears of joy once again.

"Group hug?" I asked.

"Don't push it," dad retorted, making me giggle as I relaxed back into my seat.

All my fears had been for nothing. Dad had not only accepted me, he had been happy for me to make my change and would do everything he could to support me. It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders... Only to come crashing back down again as I realised that whilst I'd just taken a first step, the road ahead was very, very long.

As I went to bed that night, once again wearing the loose nightdress Ophelia had given me, I was also overcome by a feeling of regret. Regret that I hadn't had the courage to come out to my father two years earlier, when I had wanted to. There was no doubt in my mind that he would have accepted me then with as much love as when I told him about Jacinta for real- and the last two years of misery, frustration, fear and- and 'Jason' could all have been avoided.

I experienced a moment of panic the following morning when I woke up still wearing my nightdress, before the memories of the previous day came flooding back to me. I smiled as I showered and got dressed, realising that not only would dad not be surprised if I went downstairs wearing a skirt, he'd be surprised if I WASN'T wearing one. With that in mind, after I brushed out my hair and applied a light layer of make-up, I slipped on a comfortable padded bra and control thong, before pulling a loose summer dress over my head.

"Good morning, daughter!" Dad said cheerfully as I headed downstairs to find him hard at work on his laptop- and my BFF sat on the sofa in the exact same position she'd been sitting yesterday.

"Morning, dad," I said, scratching my head. "Hi Ophelia, umm, when did you get here?"

"Approximately one hour and thirty minutes ago," Ophelia replied, making my eyes go wide.

"And- and you didn't wake me?" I asked.

"Figured you earned a lie-in after yesterday," dad replied. "Also I like how the strangest thing about Ophelia isn't her fashion sense, but the fact that she's a seventeen year old girl who actually likes getting up before 11am!" I let out a small giggle at dad's teasing, which turned into a big giggle when Ophelia rolled her eyes in response.

"So it WASN'T a prank, then?" Dad asked as I sat down next to Ophelia with my legs pressed tightly together.

"I did try to tell you, Mike," Ophelia replied.

"Good," dad said with a proud grin.

"...So you'd actually have been disappointed if I HADN'T come downstairs wearing a dress?" I asked.

"It'd have meant that I'd have wasted the last hour and a half of work," dad chuckled as he handed me his laptop, on which he has almost ten internet browser windows open.

"What- what's this?" I asked as I read the first window, which was titled 'how to change your name by deed poll'.

"Everything you need to live your life as a woman," dad replied. "Google's such a wonderful thing. I've already arranged an appointment for you with Doctor Thomson later this afternoon."

"Whoa- wait, wait a minute, this- this is too fast," I gasped.

"If you want me to call and cancel, I will," dad said. "If that's what you REALLY want."

"Jacinta," Ophelia said softly. "Is this not the life you always dreamed of living? Did you not always suffer from depression and misery every time you had to become male again? Did you now always wish that you could become a woman permanently?"

"Well- yes, yes and yes," I sighed. "But seeing the doctor about this?"

"You can't get a formal diagnosis of GID from the postman," dad shrugged.

"GID?" I asked.

"Gender identity dysphoria," dad explained. "Think it's the third or fourth tab on there. And you WILL need a formal diagnosis if you're to begin hormone treatment- fifth tab. And the college will want some sort of official paperwork before you go back there next month."

"Whoa, PLEASE slow down," I said, setting the laptop to one side. "This- this is all overwhelming, seriously!"

"Jacinta," dad sighed. "That IS the name you want to be known by, right?"

"Well- yes, of course," I said.

"For the rest of your life?" Dad asked.

"Yes," I replied firmly.

"Would you like me to wave a magic wand that instantaneously turns you from a man into a woman and alters every computer record everywhere to match?" Dad asked.

"If you could, that'd be great," I snorted, earning a giggle even from Ophelia.

"Unfortunately Hogwarts confiscated my wand after I left," dad replied. "So we're going to have to do this the slow way. Which unfortunately for you, will involve lots of talking to doctors and lots of filling in forms."

"If this is what it takes to become a woman," I sighed as I picked the laptop up and began studying it again.

"It's more that this is what it takes to become an adult," dad whispered as he handed me his iPad, on which was a new site with a headline that brought a smile to my face- 'Laura White returned to family'. "They found her last night. Thought you could use a little encouragement."

"Just sitting down here dressed like this is encouraging by itself," I chuckled. "But it IS good to hear about Laura."

"She's got her happy ending," dad said with a grin. "Your turn next. Only difference is, you're going to have to earn it."

"...Okay," I sighed. "So what do I need to do first?"

First, it turned out, was the doctor's appointment later that afternoon. Doctor Thomson had been the family doctor ever since I was ten, and even though I hadn't been injury or illness prone as a child, he still knew me better than anyone bar family (and by family, I of course include Ophelia). However, he was even less surprised than dad was when I walked into his consulting room wearing a dress and make-up- or if he was, he did a good job of disguising it behind a look of professionalism. Then again, when you stick your finger up men's arses all day, it must take a lot to truly surprise you...

"Hello, good to see you again," Doctor Thomson said, skillfully avoiding using my deadname as he obviously didn't know my new one yet. "I imagine I could take an educated guess as to why you wanted to see me today."

"Probably," I said with a giggle. "You're probably also going to want to update my records."

"Of course," Doctor Thomson chuckled, before taking a deep breath. "I feel I should say up front that I'm not going to be able to just provide you with a diagnosis of gender identity dysphoria right here and now. That needs to be given by a trained psychiatric professional- and that's not me."

"I figured as much," I sighed. "I just- I just wanted to get the ball rolling, you know? I've spent the last eighteen years constantly feeling like who I was wasn't who I was supposed to be. Umm, if that makes any, you know, sense..."

"More than you might suspect," Doctor Thomson said softly. "You're far from the first transgendered person I've 'got the ball rolling' for. Umm, pun NOT intended..."

"R-really?" I ask, shocked by the notion that my 'situation' might not be as unusual as I'd thought.

"Brighton might be more famous for the first three letters of LGBT, but I've had plenty of T people sit in that chair before," Doctor Thomson explained. "You really, truly aren't 'the only gay in the village'. Or 'the only transgendered person in the city', in this case. Everybody who sat where you are now felt nervous, alone, afraid..."

"And- and are they, you know, 'complete' now?" I asked. "Umm, physically, I mean..."

"Obviously I can't discuss individual cases," the doctor said. "But I can say that there are plenty of people in this city- and across the country and around the world- who are successfully living their life as the opposite gender to the one into which they were born. Do you- do you truly want to be in that group?"

"Yes," I replied without hesitation. "All I want is to live as a girl and be accepted as a girl." I bit my lip as I felt tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes. "It's all I've ever wanted- god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm so emotional, it's just- sorry..."

"It’s okay, it's okay," Doctor Thomson said softly. "Of course, I'll do everything I can to help. I'll refer you to a gender identity specialist I've worked with in the past, who'll get in touch with you to organise an initial meeting followed by a regular counselling program. She'll be able to offer any help you need. I'll also print off details of support groups for transgendered people, both online groups and face to face ones. They, umm, also have support groups for family members... How is- how's your dad taking it?"

"Amazingly," I replied with a wide grin. "Better than I ever could have hoped for, actually."

"I'm pleased to hear that," Doctor Thomson said. "You know, he has mentioned to me a few times that he's wondered whether or not there were any, for want of a better word, 'deeper issues'."

"Heh, if he'd just mentioned that to me a few years ago..." I sighed.

"The important thing is not to dwell on any past regrets, but to move forward," Doctor Thomson said, handing me the information he'd just printed out. "If you have any queries of a medical nature, I'm only ever a phone call away. But the specialist I'm referring you to will be able to help you absolutely every step of the way. She can prescribe you the hormones you'll need to complete your transition. I reckon you've got a good chance of being on them by Christmas, maybe even earlier."

"Wow," I breathed. "Thank you, thank you so much for all of this."

"It's my pleasure," Doctor Thomson said with a warm grin. "Oh, you, umm, you didn't tell me how you wanted me to update your record."

"...My name is Jacinta," I said confidently. "Jacinta Amelia Hanley."

"It's nice to meet you, Jacinta," Doctor Thomson said as he made the appropriate changes to my patient record. "Hopefully, the next time we meet, things will be, well, 'better' for you."

"They will," I said with a wide grin as I shook the doctor's hand and returned to the waiting room, where dad and Ophelia were sat waiting for me.

"Did it go well?" Dad asked.

"Better than 'well'," I said, showing him the print-out. "Got a lot of information to read up on. There's, umm, also support groups for families..."

"Why would I need 'supporting'?" Dad asked. "You're the one going through this change, I should be the one supporting you!"

"Yeah, but, umm, you know..." I mumbled.

"I 'know' what?" Dad asked.

"...Nothing," I sighed.

"...Would like to think I know a LITTLE more than that," dad mumbled, earning a giggle from Ophelia as the three of us headed back to his car. "I know we're far from done for today, for starters!"

"Umm... Why, exactly?" I asked.

"Because you need an expansion to the selection inside your wardrobe," Ophelia explained, making me roll my eyes.

"You two had a good chat while I was talking to the doctor, then?" I asked.

"With me doing most of the talking, obviously," dad said, making Ophelia roll her eyes at his gentle teasing. "But Ophelia's not wrong, you DO need more clothes, right?"

"Well- yes," I said as I stared at the loose dress covering my body. "And more shoes."

"Well- okay, I guess," dad said, bristling at the additional expense he hadn't considered.

"And underwear," I continued. "Wearing a thong for more than one day-"

"Okay, okay, more underwear it is," dad said, trying his hardest not to grimace. "Don't need any more details, thank you very much."

"...And more cosmetics-" I mumbled, before being interrupted by a long sigh from my father.

"...Fine," dad sighed. "Whilst we're in town we'll also see if we can't find you a Saturday job so you can stop torturing my credit card..."

Later that evening, the three of us returned with carrier bags full of clothes, shoes, underwear and even a little make-up. Ophelia had, of course, done a raid of the usual charity shops for clothes to customise, whilst even dad had bought a few things for himself. At dad's suggestion, Ophelia and I had also clubbed together to buy a book on how to write a good CV, and even collected application forms from several shops looking for weekend workers.

By the time we arrived home- after a quick dinner at a fast food restaurant- the three of us were all utterly exhausted from the day's events. Little did I know that the night was far from over.

"Thank you both SO much," I sighed as I collapsed onto my sofa, my dress stuck to my body from spending a whole day outside in the August heat. God only knows how Ophelia felt in her torturous corset...

"Anything for my beautiful daughter," dad said, his pride obvious in his voice.

"Anything for the best friend that I have ever had," Ophelia said, her voice somehow not betraying her obvious fatigue. "Now, if you must excuse me, I should return to my home. I would say that my mother would be worried about me, but I hardly think that that would be the case."

"Before you go," dad said, rising from the chair he had just sat down in, "there's one more thing I bought today. A gift- for you, Ophelia."

"You really did not need to purchase a gift for me, Mike," Ophelia said with a tired chuckle.

"No, after all you've done for Jacinta, I really did," dad whispered as he reached into his pocket and handed Ophelia a small piece of metal.

"What- what is this?" My BFF asked as she examined the gift.

"...It's a front door key," dad said. "For this house. After everything you've done, I want you to know that you're welcome in this house whenever you want."

"Oh- my-" Ophelia gasped, before bursting into a flood of tears. Needless to say, I was in tears myself mere seconds later as I wrapped my arms around my BFF and gave her a long, tight hug.

"That's includes overnight," dad said, trying to hide the emotion also present in his voice. "Tonight, even, as long as you don't mind sleeping on a sofa."

"Your invitation is most-" Ophelia whispered, trying and failing to maintain her affected accent. "-Thanks. I accept. Thank you so much!" I giggled as Ophelia unwrapped her arms from around my body and gave dad a tight hug.

"It- it's just a key," dad laughed.

"No," Ophelia insisted. "It is much, much more than that. Just as Jacinta's dress is more to her than just a piece of cloth that has been shaped a particular way, this is more to me. Thank you, Mike. Thank you so, so much."

"...You're welcome," dad said, awkwardly hugging Ophelia before sitting back down again, clearly also emotionally drained by his own gesture. "...Shall I get a spare set of sheets out of the airing cupboard?"

"Please," Ophelia said, making no effort to hide the joy in her voice.

Needless to say, over the course of the rest of the holiday, Ophelia spent more time at our house than at her own, only returning to get more clothes or work on her college projects. Her family barely noticed, of course- but it made the world of difference to me to have my 'sister' with me as much as possible, especially after dad returned to work following his holiday.

Not that Ophelia and I spent the whole of the summer lazing about, of course- we put the CV-writing book we bought to good use- both of us would have Saturday jobs before returning to college in September, Ophelia in a 'goth shop' (where I imagine her interview lasted all of thirty seconds) and me in a city centre newsagent, where the owner seemed to care more about me being over eighteen than being transgendered.

Most importantly, though, I had my first meeting with my counsellor, a middle-aged woman named Dr Turner. I told her everything that I told Dr Thomson, everything about how much happier I'd been since I started living full-time as a girl... And she told me how my story wasn't just 'not out of the ordinary', but it was practically commonplace. Within a few meetings with her, I had myself a prescription for medication to suppress the testosterone produced by my body, and for oestrogen tablets that would transform my body into the one I wanted- or at the very least, begin that process.

By the time Ophelia and I returned to college in early September, I was on the biggest high I had ever been on in my entire life. My veins were flowing with oestrogen, my face was covered in make-up and my body was covered in a tight girly top, a cute pleated miniskirt and a pair of shiny black tights. At my side, my 'sister' was clad in her usual short, petticoat-enhanced dress, a pair of fishnet tights, a pair of spike-heeled stilettos and of course, her favourite corset, laced as tightly as it would go. We both strolled toward the front entrance of the college with confidence (not to mention oestrogen) filling out bodies... Only for that confidence to evaporate the second we entered the vast building and realised that we had both come crashing back down to reality... And neither of us were even remotely 'normal' anymore.

"Okay, I'm nervous," I whispered to my BFF as I suddenly became aware that many of the young men in the lobby of the college had taken an interest in my nylon-covered legs.

"There is no need," Ophelia said confidently, leading us to the college registration area. Even though we were returning to the same college and studying the same subjects that we had last year, as we were studying for a different level of qualification, we had to effectively register as new students, which at least let us off the complication of explaining why we're not registering under the same names we'd had the previous September. As Ophelia headed toward the fashion design area of the college, I headed toward the photography wing, where I bit my lip to stop myself from worrying as I began to recognise some of the faces walking alongside me.

When they began to recognise my face was when I really started to panic. Unlike Ophelia, I don't have a moral aversion to Facebook, but I don't have many friends on there, and certainly none from college. That's why the boys who recognised 'Jason' underneath the make-up were first shocked, then stunned, then adopted one of three reactions.

A few- a definite minority- were appalled. Ironically, many of them were boys I knew to be gay, but I hadn't found any of them particularly attractive so their disapproval was really no great loss. The bulk of the people who recognised 'Jason' simply shrugged and went on with their lives as though it was none of their business. Which it of course wasn't. The final reaction- which I only got from a handful of boys, maybe three at the most- was a smile of approval, and in one case, a supportive wink. Needless to say, I made a mental note to speak to those boys more closely once we'd got settled in at college!

What was most surprising, though, was the reaction I got from the girls at the college. Sure, there was some whispering behind my back, and a little giggling, but the vast majority of the girls- who obviously sensed that the 5' 10" newcomer had a little something 'extra' about her- had supportive smiles on their faces, almost as though they were welcoming me into their fold.

Indeed, once I'd collected my student ID for the year and entered the classroom for the first lesson of the day, I found myself drawn much more toward the tables of giggling girls than the tables of the boys (all of whom were still, flatteringly enough, fixated on my legs). For the first time in my educational career, I suddenly felt like I slotted into place, like I finally 'got' was school (or in this case, college) was about. No more being an outcast, or a loner, or a loser. I didn't have to pretend to be someone I wasn't just to fit in- I could finally be who I really was, and still fit in.

"Umm, hey," I said to the smiling (and in some cases, giggling) group of teenaged girls as I approached them. "Mind if I, umm, sit with you?"

"Sure!" The group's sole blonde girl, who appeared to be their 'leader' or their 'alpha' said with a giggle.

"Thanks," I said with a nervous giggle as I sat down, keeping my knees pressed tightly together and subconsciously smoothing my short skirt underneath me as I lowered myself into place. "I'm Ja- I'm Jacinta, by the way."

"Oh, we know who you are," one of the other girls said with a knowing smirk that caused my nerves to jangle yet again. "Well, we know who you WERE, anyway!"

"You really didn't think we'd recognise you?" The blonde 'alpha' said with an equally smug grin. "We were on the same course last year, you know?"

"Though we get why you'd need to introduce yourself again, hehe!" One of the other girls giggled- though her giggle seemed not to be one of condescension or cruelty, but of genuine happiness at having made a new friend. Naturally, that same giggle came out of my mouth mere seconds later.

"Yeah," I laughed as my nerves gave way for genuine relief. "So you- so you, umm, you know, don't have a -a problem, you know, with-"

"We'd be living in the wrong city if we did, hehe!" the blonde girl giggled. "Seriously. We don't care that you're transsexual. It's 2014, you know? Not the stone age!"

"Though some of us ARE disappointed," one of the other girls- a shorter girl with ginger hair- sighed overdramatically. "'Jason' was CUTE!"

"Sorry, girls," the blonde 'alpha' said with a giggle. "I have it on good authority that JACINTA is only into boys, hehe!"

"I'm happy to confirm that yes, that is the case!" I said, earning my own group giggle from the other five girls.

"Oh my god, this is SO cool!" One of the other brown-haired girls sighed. "Oh my god, I just realised- you probably don't even know OUR names, hehe!"

"Then let's change that!" The blonde alpha said, introducing my new friends one by one. "This is Ally, this is Grace, this is Ellie, this is Carla, and my name is Jamie-Lee Bur..." Despite myself, I found my eyes widening and my jaw dropping- and my new friends all giggling at my obvious surprise. "...Ton. Jamie-Lee Burton. Were you expecting me to have a different name?"

"Don't tease me like that!" I playfully admonished Jamie-Lee, who simply giggled smugly in response. "Even though you don't really look all that much like the 'real' Jamie-Lee Bur..."

"Huh, 'thanks'," Jamie-Lee snorted, making me frown in confusion.

"You- you actually want to look like a transgendered woman?" I asked.

"When that woman looks like Jamie-Lee Burke? Shit yeah!" Jamie-Lee (Burton) replied.

"...Sorry," I mumbled, earning sighs and 'aww's from the other girls.

"S'okay," Jamie-Lee shrugged. "I'm actually kinda glad you got the reference, didn't know whether it was, like, going with a stereotype to, you know, think that a transgendered girl would automatically be a fan of the Angels."

"I LOVE the Angels," I said, making the other girls all giggle.

"Who's your favourite?" Ellie asked, making me giggle and sigh.

"Okay, you got me- I'm a stereotype!" I said, holding my hands up in mock-surrender as my new friends all giggled.

"That makes two of us!" Jamie-Lee giggled, before gasping. "Oh my god, I just realised- we- the six of us- we are now a proper Angel-like group, aren't we?"

"Jamie-Lee, don't say that just because we've now got a transgendered friend," the ginger girl- who I'd learned was named Grace- admonished the blonde girl, whose cheeks began to turn red.

"It's okay, I don't mind," I shrugged. "Though there wasn't anything stopping you from being Angels, you know, without me, right? Like, it doesn't matter if you're five girls, or six or seven, or if you’re transgendered, right?"

"Hell yeah!" Ally cheered. "Oh my god, that's what we should call ourselves- the 'non-stereotypical Angels'!"

"What, exactly, is wrong with, you know, 'Brighton Angels'?" Grace asked, making Ally overdramatically sigh as I tried desperately to restrain my giggles at my new friends' mock-arguing.

"Okay, fine!" Ally said with a long, loud sigh. "'Brighton Angels' it is!"

"The Brighton Angels!" Jamie-Lee cheered, holding her hand in the middle of the table for the rest of us to cover with our own.

"The Brighton Angels!" We all cheered with a loud 'whoop' that startled the other teenagers in our class.

"Oh, this is SO cool," I sighed. "I was really worried, you know? About today? Like, I was panicking that I'd come here and I wouldn't be accepted-"

"Jacinta!" Jamie-Lee giggled. "It's okay. O-kay, okay? Like, I said before, if we're going to be prejudiced against transgendered people- or any kinda of gay people, you know? We're kinda in the wrong city?"

"Yeah, I know, but-" I sighed as the course's instructor arrived to begin our first lesson of the year. "I'll, umm, finish my sentence later."

"At lunch?" Jamie-Lee asked, giggling as I nodded. "That'll be cool!" I giggled along with my five new friends as I breathed a sigh of relief at just how lucky I'd been to sit with this group on my first day of a new college year. I could've sat with a group of total transphobes, or airheads who didn't 'get' what being transgendered meant, or a group of snobs... Instead, I found myself sitting with five of the coolest girls in the college.

...At least, that was what I thought, right up until Jamie-Lee said one final thing to me before the lesson started.

"Maybe then," the blonde woman said with a sneer in her voice, "you won't have to keep hanging out with that freak with the blue hair." I bit my lip as I felt my blood boil- how dare this blonde bitch talk that way about my sister! She'd never even met Ophelia, and yet she was willing to write her off as being a 'freak' simply for refusing to conform. Even more willing to write her off than she was me for being transgendered...

I tried to put Jamie-Lee's insult to the back of my mind and concentrate on my work for the next few hours, until the clock read 12:30 and we were all dismissed for lunch. All of a sudden, I felt my nerves increase again as the six of us made our way to the cafeteria- and much to my surprise, I was feeling even more nervous than I was at the beginning of the day as I stepped through the front door of the college. There, in her- or rather, our- usual seat, was Ophelia, picking at her food as she inevitably waited for my arrival.

"Ugh, look at her," Jamie-Lee spat, making me clench my hands into fists. "Who's she trying to impress, wearing that corset and those shoes?"

"Not me," Ally snorted. "Come on, Jacinta."

"You know," I said, trying to remain as calm as possible, "if you just got to know her, you'd realise she's actually pretty cool, you know?"

"Duh- no?" Jamie-Lee spat. "If I hear her talk to me even once in that stupid fake posh accent, I'll pull her hair out."

"You won't even try to get to know her?" I pleaded.

"Why are you being so defensive of her?" Grace snorted. "Like, you don't HAVE to hang around with her anymore, you can hang around with us!"

"Like, Ophelia isn't even her real name anyway!" Ellie said with a derisive snort of laughter.

"...It's as much her real name as Jacinta is mine," I said, suppressing a smirk as my argument momentarily silenced the other five girls.

"Yeah, but-" Ally stammered.

"You NEED to live life like the way you are," Jamie-Lee retorted. "SHE doesn't. She's just being an attention whore, and you're just being stupid for giving her any attention." This time, I didn't suppress my laughter.

"Yeah... Thanks, but no thanks," I said, turning my back on the girls as I headed toward my sister.

"Fine, be like that!" Jamie-Lee scoffed. "You know, I WAS going to set you up with a guy I know, a guy who's cool with dating a transgendered girl..." I paused briefly- which no doubt caused the blonde bitch to smirk- before resuming my stroll toward where Ophelia was sat. This 'Cinderella' isn't going to any 'ball' without her best friend in the world. Prince Charming will just have to wait for now.

"Did you make some new friends, Jacinta?" Ophelia asked as I sat down next to her with my meal.

"As it turns out, no," I replied. "They- we- there was a conflict of opinions, let's leave it at that."

"That is a pity," Ophelia said. "I have often wondered what it would be like to be a part of a true friendship group, like the Angels."

"Oh, trust me, they are NOT angels!" I snorted. "God... You know, this would be so much easier if I was a lesbian." I grimaced as my sudden statement caused Ophelia to nearly choke on her salad. "...Sorry. You okay?"

"I'll be fine," Ophelia said between uncomfortable-sounding coughs. "What- why would you say that, Jacinta?"

"That way you and I could be together," I said with a shrug. "Boom. Happily ever after. The end."

"It would also require me to be a lesbian," Ophelia reminded me. "Though there's no reason I couldn't fall in love with someone similar to you."

"'Similar'?" I asked.

"Well," Ophelia explained. "You would need to be a few inches taller, for one. And you would need to have a larger chest, firmer muscles... And most of all, well..."

"...'Well'?" I asked.

"...You would need to be male," Ophelia said with an uncharacteristic smirk. "Something that you are most definitely not!"

"Hehe," I giggled as I picked at my plate of chips. "Tall, muscular, able to sweep me off my feet... Yeah, that sounds pretty good right now."

"You will find him," Ophelia said confidently. "I like to believe that we both will."

"Totally," I said with a happy sigh.

"What was this 'conflict of opinions' you had with the girls with whom you came into the cafeteria?" Ophelia asked, making me sigh and roll my eyes. "I would hate to think that it was something to do with myself..."

"It's nothing," I replied, trying not to look into the teal-coloured eyes of my BFF, who clearly saw through my lie the instant it left my mouth. "They're not important. Bollocks to them."

"Well, if you insist," Ophelia said, bristling somewhat at my use of profanity. "There are many more girls in the college with whom we could form a friendship group like the Angels."

"ALL of which- sorry, all of WHOM would be lucky to have such an amazing friend as Ophelia Cassiopeia Love!" I giggled, making my sister blush as she finished her meal.

Needless to say, over the next few weeks, both Ophelia and I tried to form our own 'Angel group', and needless to say, on each occasion, we ended up right back where we started. Any potential friends I made were immediately put off by Ophelia's eccentricities, and any friends she made- well, she wouldn't come out (pun not intended) and say it, but I got the distinct impression that they weren't willing to be friends with a non-conformist like Ophelia AND a transgendered girl like me. We didn't even attend a Halloween party this year, instead 'celebrating' by ourselves at home.

Naturally, neither Ophelia nor I found our 'Prince Charming' during this time either.

As Autumn turned into Winter, and I began to notice the first physical signs of the transformation my body would undergo as the oestrogen worked its magic, it seemed like Ophelia and I would forever alone, only able to count on each other for company and friendship. And then, at the start of December, Ophelia received a letter that made me doubt that even THAT would be the case (especially with my mediocre grades)- she received her university application forms...

I grimaced as I walked into the shop, having to squint to adjust my eyes to the dim lighting within. The place felt like a dungeon, or worse yet, a bondage lair, with leather clothing and accessories adorning every wall and shelf.

"...Ophelia?" I asked nervously.

"I am behind the counter, Jacinta," Ophelia's voice called from the other side of the small shop. I took a deep breath as I walked through an aisle of dark-coloured, distressed-looking clothing before arriving at the counter, where my blue-haired, pale-skinned friend was stood in front of a black light that just highlighted the contrast between her skin and her hair.

"Oh, hi," an older man- maybe in his mid-thirties- said, and I was forced not to wince at the sight of the multiple piercings in the man's face, or the long, forked beard extending from his chin. "You must be Jacinta, Ophelia's talked a lot about you."

"...Ophelia's 'talked'?" I replied, making the pierced man giggle as my BFF rolled her eyes.

"Not much, I admit," the pierced man said. "I'm Darryl, Ophelia's manager. Nice to finally meet you!"

"Likewise," I replied as I exchanged a limp handshake with the bearded man. "You're... Not like the manager at the shop where I work."

"I bet," Darryl laughed. "Where do you work?"

"Oh, um, just at a newsagent near the shore," I replied. "Mostly get just older customers looking for a newspaper. The Mail, usually..."

"And the mere sight of me would give them a heart attack, heh," Darryl said with a laugh.

"Hell, most of them have a heart attack at the sight of ME," I sighed as I remembered some of the disapproving looks I'd received from some of the older men and women who had 'clocked' me during my time at the newsagent.

"Some people just can't accept that others needs to live their lives the way they see fit," Darryl sighed.

"That's why us 'different people' have to stick up for each other," I say, making both the people behind the counter smile. "On that topic, Ophelia, when's your shift end?"

"It just has," Darryl says.

"But my shift is not due to finish for another twenty minutes," Ophelia protested in her usual calm, stoic manner.

"I can hold the fort for the next twenty minutes," Darryl said with a grin. "Go on. Call it an early birthday present. Speaking of, happy birthday for Wednesday!" I grimace at Ophelia bristles at the mention of her upcoming birthday- it's not really a surprise that Ophelia hasn't told Darryl what a sensitive subject it is for her...

"Thank you," Ophelia replied coldly.

"Got anything planned?" Darryl asked. "It's a big one, your eighteenth... I know you're not really the type to go out on the razz, like, but, you know?"

"...Just staying in with family," Ophelia said, clearly getting more and more upset by Darryl's questions. "Thank you for the early finish."

"You're welcome," Darryl shrugged. "Make sure you're here nice and early next Saturday, last Saturday before Christmas and all that."

"I will make sure I am here on time," Ophelia said, before letting out a long sigh of frustration as we left the shop.

"You didn't tell him, then?" I asked, sighing as Ophelia shook her head. "Don't blame you, seeing how upset it made you. And, umm..."

"...Yes, Jacinta?" Ophelia asked.

"...When you say you'll be spending your birthday with family," I asked cautiously, "which- which 'family' do you mean?"

"My unimportant family," Ophelia sighed. "My biological one."

"...I really want to give you a hug now," I sighed sadly- though I felt a little better as the corners of my friend's mouth began to turn upward.

"You may consider it to be part of my birthday present if you do NOT give me a hug," Ophelia said, making me giggle as we headed toward the nearest bus stop.

One short ride later, the two of us were walking up the garden path toward Ophelia's house's front door, and with every step, I could sense my friend getting more and more uncomfortable. Naturally, I also felt uncomfortable at setting foot in the squalid house- but unlike Ophelia, this house wasn't also supposed to be my home.

"Good evening, mother," Ophelia said, trying desperately to hide the anxiety in her voice as she let us into the house.

"Wages!" Ophelia's mother demanded, holding out her hand without even rising from her chair- or even looking her daughter in the face. I felt my hands ball into fists as Ophelia withdrew £40- half the money she earned this week- from her vintage purse, placing it in her mother's hand before leading me up to her bedroom without exchanging another word with her mother.

"God, that makes me so angry," I spat as I kicked off my shoes and sat down cross-legged on Ophelia's bed, whilst she removed her torturously high stilettos and set about removing her elaborate make-up.

"She is the one who pays the bills," Ophelia sighed. "When my sisters lived here, they had to turn over ALL of their social security. As will Candice, once her baby is born."

"I still can't believe she's pregnant at fifteen," I sighed as I thought about Ophelia's younger sister- who was almost identical to her mother in attitude.

"I still can't believe it took her until fifteen to become pregnant," Ophelia sighed, blinking as she removed her fake eyelashes and her contact lenses.

"At least your mum didn't seem to notice me come in with you," I sighed. "THAT's an argument I didn't need..."

"My mother," Ophelia sighed. "A firm believer that immigrants have stolen her job, whilst never making any effort to actually acquire a job of her own. But I do not wish to discuss politics tonight."

"Or any night," I sighed, before groaning as I heard a loud yell from outside Ophelia's bedroom door.

"Mum!" Candice yelled, the spite evident in her voice. "Mandy's got the ladyboy here again!"

"What's he doin' in my house?" Ophelia's mother yelled, making me sigh.

"SHE is here as SHE is my friend," Ophelia replied in a raised voice, and for a second, I almost feared that Ophelia would get angry. Ophelia had difficulty expressing her emotions at the best of time, and I had never seen her actually get angry before- but I was sure I wouldn't want to be in her way if she ever did.

"HE is a freak and a- a- I don't want him in my house!" Ophelia's mother replied, and for a brief second, I almost thought I saw Ophelia's eye twitch, as though she was holding back a burning rage.

"She has such a way with words, doesn't she?" Ophelia asked, making me giggle.

"I've already texted dad," I sighed. "He'll be picking me up in a few minutes. There's- ugh. You know, you REALLY should move in with us, I mean, we can always get a sofa bed-"

"This is my home, for better or for worse," Ophelia interrupted.

"Would you mind telling me what constitutes 'for better'?" I retorted, frowning as my friend remained silent, unable to answer my question. "...Sorry."

"I shall see you tomorrow at college, Jacinta," Ophelia whispered.

"See you tomorrow, Ophelia," I whispered as my colourful friend flopped down on her bed, rolling over to face away from me- a sure sign that she was either already crying or would be before too long.

I sighed as I left Ophelia's bedroom, though I instantly grimaced when I came face to face with Ophelia's younger sister, whose mouth immediately contorted into a sadistic smile at the sight of me. Seconds later, Candice's gnawed, dirty fingernail was in my face, and she was doubled over in a fit of laughter. I felt something inside me snap at the sight of Candice's cruel, spiteful eyes, and despite the fact that I knew it would only make matters worse, I leaned in toward Candice and let rip with the loudest, fakest laugh I could manage, startling the teenaged girl into silence.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-" I yelled, before abruptly stopping and staring deep into the now silent teenager's eyes.

"Fuh- fuckin' laughin' at fuckin'..." Candice grunted as she slinked toward her bedroom, leaving the landing of the house in deathly silence- silence that was broken only by the sound of a gentle giggle coming from behind my best friend's bedroom door...

Needless to say, Ophelia was in better spirits than usual the following day at college, and the day after that, though when Wednesday rolled around, bringing with it Ophelia's eighteenth birthday, she was once again morose as we walked into college together.

"Hi Ophelia," I said to the blue-haired girl, whose face was covered in its usual thick make-up... And what had come to be its usual frown. "I won't say 'you know what'..."

"Thank you, Jacinta," Ophelia replied.

"So..." I said hesitantly. "I'm- I'm guessing, you know, that- that today was, you know, exactly like it was 365 days ago? At your house, I mean?"

"There was no reason for it to be any different," Ophelia replied. "Other than that I had to make breakfast today for my mother and my sister."

"They couldn't get off their lazy arses to do it themselves?" I asked, making Ophelia giggle. By December 2014, I'd come to know Ophelia well enough that the usual 'your momma' jokes didn't offend her- quite the opposite, in fact.

"Candice cannot because she is with child," Ophelia replied.

"Two months pregnant," I retorted.

"And my mother could not as she is 'too depressed to do any work'," Ophelia said- though the sarcasm in her voice made it clear what she really felt about her mother's 'illness'.

"Come with me tonight," I said softly. "You deserve to spend your birthday with people who actually care about you."

"My mother would undoubtedly accuse me of being selfish if I did," Ophelia said in a cold voice.

"The only selfish person I know is her," I retorted, frowning as Ophelia gently shook her head.

"I will return to my own home tonight," Ophelia said with a twinge of regret.

"...Then I'll go with you," I immediately offered.

"I'm... Not sure that's such a good idea," Ophelia replied with a grimace. "After the way mum and Candice reacted to you on Sunday..."

"It's your party, isn't it?" I asked. "And you pay toward the upkeep of the house. I saw that with my own eyes. Surely that entitles you to some privileges?"

"Try telling that to my mother," Ophelia said, before letting out a long sigh. "You just took that as an invitation, did you not?"

"I did indeed," I said with a smug grin. "See you tonight, Ophelia!"

"See you tonight, Jacinta," Ophelia said, looking almost terrified as she headed to her class.

Naturally, I felt terrible for Ophelia all throughout the college day, and at lunchtime, I was all but prepared to take back the invitation (which I admittedly had issued to myself), but by then, Ophelia was a lot more confident than she had been earlier. So confident, in fact, that when we left college together, she was almost smiling at the prospect of going home.

"...Ophelia?" I asked as the two of us walked together to the nearest bus stop. "Are- are you okay?"

"I am fine, thank you Jacinta," Ophelia said in an unusually upbeat voice.

"It's just you're- you're- well, you know, happy..." I murmured.

"And why should I be unhappy?" Ophelia asked. "It is, after all, my birthday, is it not?"

"Yeah, but- we're going back to your house," I reminded my blue-haired friend.

"And why should that make me unhappy?" Ophelia asked. "Is it not the place where I should feel most comfortable?"

"Yeah, but-" I said, before sighing. "Ophelia, it's me you're talking to. You don't need to put on a brave front for me."

"I am not putting on a brave front for you, Jacinta," Ophelia said, before letting out a tired sigh. "I'm putting one on for me."

"O- Ophelia?" I asked.

"What you said before, it- it was right," Ophelia explained. "I should not be made to feel miserable, not on my birthday, not on any day. I am now legally an adult. I deserve to be respected as one."

"You've said a lot of 'should's and 'deserve's," I sighed. "Do- do you really believe that will happen?"

"...I want to," Ophelia whispered. "I have to believe that it will get better eventually." I wiped away a solitary tear at my friend's unexpected- and extremely uncharacteristic- confession, and I resolved at that point that no matter what, my friend would have my full support when confronting her family- even if- or rather, when- they decided to confront me instead.

Ophelia and I simultaneously took a deep breath as she unlocked her front door and we stepped inside, trying not to wince at the house's usual smell of rotten food and stale cigarette smoke.

"We have returned, mother," Ophelia announced, causing her mother and her sister to snort with laughter.

"What, think you're the fuckin' queen with this 'we'?" Ophelia's mother snorted. Ophelia and I both rolled our eyes at each other, but it didn't take long for us to tense up when Candice- cigarette in hand, despite being both fifteen years old and pregnant- looked up and saw the pair of us. Almost instantly, the sadistic smile she'd worn days earlier returned to her face.

"MUM!" Candice yelled at the top her lungs, despite the fact that her mother was sat just a few feet away from her. "MUM! THE GAY BOY'S HERE! MUM!"

"What's that fuckin' thing doing in my house!?" Ophelia's mother spat through her crooked, yellow teeth. "I want that thing out of my house now!"

"No," Ophelia said defiantly. "It is my birthday, and I choose to celebrate it with my best friend."

"It's a freak!" Ophelia's mother screeched. "Gay people cause floods! That politic-un said so!"

"Jacinta is not gay," Ophelia said, her defiance increasing with every word she spoke. "She is heterosexual, she is only attracted to men."

"All gays are fuckin' paedos!" Candice yelled. "It'll rape me when I'm not lookin'!"

"Ugh!" I instantly spat, causing Ophelia to suppress a giggle. "Trust me, I really, really won't!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Candice growled.

"It means that Jacinta would rather copulate with a warthog," Ophelia said with a smug grin.

"What's a copper plate mean?" Candice retorted.

"If you don't get that thing out of my house now, I'm calling the police!" Ophelia's mother yelled, which made me giggle as I caught the distinct smell of the smoke coming off of her cigarette and realised that it was definitely not tobacco. "What yer fuckin' laughin' at?"

"Last time I checked, being LGBT wasn't a crime," I replied, glancing at the 'cigarette' in the older woman's hand.

"It is in this house!" Ophelia's mother shouted, spittle flying from her chapped lips.

"If Jacinta leaves, then I leave too," Ophelia said, causing my laughter to instantly stop. "Forever."

"O-Ophelia," I whispered. "What- what are you-"

"Fine!" Ophelia's mother yelled. "I never wanted yer anyway!"

"No, you only wanted the child benefits that come with having a child," Ophelia retorted.

"Yeah," my best friend's 'mother' spat. "And now yer eighteen I ain't gettin' them, so yer can sling yer hook!"

"Goodbye, then," Ophelia said, making my jaw drop. "I shall send someone around for my possessions in the next few days." I stood in shock as Ophelia turned her back and walked toward the front door of her house, before immediately following her, not wanting to be left alone with my friend's gruesome family. When I got outside, I wasn't surprised to find that Ophelia was already in tears, nor was I surprised that- despite her usual aversion to being touched- Ophelia eagerly returned the hug I gave her.

"God, Ophelia..." I sighed. "You- you shouldn't have stood up for me like that, I should've left, I-"

"No," Ophelia said, wiping her tears from her eyes and taking as deep a breath as her corset would allow. "I wanted you there. I like you a lot more than I have ever liked any member of my family."

"But- but to actually invite them to kick you out like that?" I asked. "Ophelia, that was-"

"No more than you would do for me," Ophelia whispered. "No more than you DID do for me at the start of the year, when you rejected Jamie-Lee in favour of me."

"Umm... Those circumstances were a LOT different," I said. "I just turned down the friendship of a bunch of airheads, I didn't risk homelessness!"

"You stood up for me no matter what," Ophelia announced as she caught her breath and led me on the short walk toward my home. "As I shall always do for you."

"Oh- god, Ophelia..." I sighed as my arms instinctively reached to encircle her waist.

"One hug will be enough for tonight," Ophelia said, making me giggle as we continued onwards. "Would you please ask your father if he would mind me staying overnight at your house?"

"Of course," I said as I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialled the number for home.

Needless to say, dad didn't mind Ophelia staying overnight- or, indeed, for as long as she wanted.

"Kicked out on your eighteenth birthday," dad spat. "That's just- that's just heinous! Obviously, stay as long as you need, I'll take you to get your stuff at the weekend."

"That is most generous," Ophelia replied. "Thank you, Mike. I shall try my best not to be a burden to you or to Jacinta."

"Trust me, you'll NEVER be a burden to me," I said, making Ophelia genuinely smile.

"What my daughter said," Mike shrugged. "And besides, it'll only be until you go off to university in September." My own smile faded as I was abruptly reminded that in just a few months' time, the friendship I'd come to rely on so much would either be a long-distance one- difficult for someone as social media-phobic as Ophelia- or would cease to exist altogether.

"In the meantime, though," dad said, reaching behind his chair and producing a small gift-wrapped package. "Happy birthday, Ophelia."

"Oh- oh I couldn't-" Ophelia protested, before being immediately silenced.

"Yes you can," dad said firmly. "Now open it." Ophelia smiled as she opened the package, and gasped when she saw the collection of multi-coloured lipsticks within.

"It's perfect," Ophelia said with a sniffle. "Thank you so much, Mike."

"More where that came from at Christmas," dad said with a proud grin.

"...And plenty for me too, I hope?" I asked, giggling as dad playfully threw a cushion at me.

"When it's your birthday, yes," dad laughed as the three of us whiled away the evening relaxing and chatting- though every time the topic of conversation shifted to Ophelia's impending university study, I found myself feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

My discomfort must have been obvious, too, because when Ophelia excused herself to get ready for bed, dad turned to me with a look of concern on his face.

"Okay, let's have it," dad sighed.

"Let's have 'what'?" I retorted.

"Jacinta..." Dad sighed. "Ever since you started transitioning, you've- you've been happier than I've ever seen you. You're more relaxed, more confident... More 'alive' than you ever were as Jason. And I love seeing you like that, I really do."

"Okay..." I said.

"But tonight, you- you've been frowning a lot," dad continued. "Probably for the first time since you started living life as a girl, and I think I know why. You don't want to lose Ophelia, do you?"

"That- ugh, no..." I sighed.

"Do- do you love her?" Dad asked.

"Yes," I confessed. "But not- not as, you know, a lover... She's like the sister I never had. We're like, I dunno, Rachel and Monica, or Charlotte Hutchinson and Jamie-Lee Burke, or Ant and Dec, you know?"

"I think I get it," dad said softly. "...Ant and Dec? Really?" Dad laughed as I 'forcefully returned' the cushion he'd earlier thrown at me. "But seriously though, why aren't you looking at university as well? Your grades aren't THAT bad, are they?"

"I dunno," I sighed. "It's probably too late now anyway. And besides, I- I don't want, umm..."

"You don't want... What?" Dad asked.

"I don't- I don't want to leave you all alone," I sighed.

"Oh- Jacinta..." Dad sighed, rising from his chair to sit next to me and give my hand a supportive squeeze. "You can't live your life around my- for want of a better word- schedule. You have to be your own person."

"But-" I said, barely getting that one word out before dad continued.

"And besides," dad whispered. "Your mum wouldn't want you to hold yourself back on my account. I know I don't."

"...Not fair, mentioning mum like that," I mumbled.

"Maybe not," dad conceded. "But it's true, though. Your mum only ever wanted the best for you. So do I. She'd be over the moon if she saw how happy you've been these last four months. I know that I am. And she'd be over the moon if you went to university. I know I would be. Are you SURE you've left it too late?"

"I- I dunno," I sighed. "Maybe. Probably. I- I haven't actually looked into it, you know?"

"Now might be a good time to start," dad advised as Ophelia returned, wearing a nightgown I was happy to lend her, along with one other unexpected item of clothing. "...You really wear a corset to bed?"

"It is not laced as tightly as it was during the daytime," Ophelia explained. "It is merely for comfort purposes."

"If you say so," dad sighed. "We'll let you get comfortable on the sofa. Happy birthday again, Ophelia!"

"Thank you, Mike," Ophelia said as she laid down on our large sofa and pulled a blanket over her slender body. "And thank you, Jacinta."

"No, no, thank YOU," I whispered as I followed dad upstairs. "...Thanks, dad."

"Thanks, Jacinta," dad said with a chuckle. "And don't forget what we were talking about."

"I won't, I promise," I replied.

And I didn't forget... Though I didn't exactly go out of my way to look into it, either. Every time I looked at the university application process (which I hadn't missed out on, it turns out) I thought about dad all alone in our house with only mum's ashes to keep him company, and I paused. After all, what kind of princess abandons the king in his time of need? Sure, dad had said he'd be alright, but that's what fathers are supposed to say, and I knew for a fact that he was lonelier than he let on. Why else would he be so eager for Ophelia to move in with us?

These feelings were only enhanced eight days after Ophelia's birthday on Christmas Day, which the three of us celebrated together as though we'd always been a family. Although her present pile was the smallest of the three of us, Ophelia still received a generous amount of gifts from me and my father, certainly more than she would have if she still lived with her 'family'. As promised, dad dropped round to Ophelia's mother's home to collect her possessions, and actually enquired about Ophelia's Christmas presents, only to be told that Ophelia's mother and sisters had drank it all (they'd apparently decided that as Ophelia was eighteen, all she wanted for Christmas- and probably from life in general- was booze). Sometimes I wonder who the real 'Cinderella' of this 'story' is- me or Ophelia...

Needless to say, after returning from the Lowes' house, dad also jumped underneath the shower for about forty minutes and put all of his clothing (even his belt) in the wash. Then, once it was 'clean', he put the clothes in the wash again, just to make extra sure.

I didn't resent Ophelia for the attention she was getting, of course- quite the opposite, actually. She HAD had a terrible first eighteen years of her life. She deserved better, and if it meant that I had to make some sacrifices, then I was more than okay with that, because it meant that I would have my 'sister' in my life.

Over the Christmas holiday, Ophelia and I grew even closer than we had been before. I'd worried that having Ophelia around on a permanent basis might mean that I'd eventually grow sick of her, but if anything, I grew even fonder of the blue-haired girl- which made the thought of losing her come September even more heart-wrenching. Almost has heart-wrenching as the thought of leaving dad all alone.

I was caught between a rock and a hard place, and true to form, I did the only thing I can do when faced with an impossible decision- nothing. I allowed the deadline to pass, thinking that once the decision was taken out of my hands, I wouldn't fret over it so much. Naturally, I was completely wrong in thinking this- if anything, it made me fret even more- and my new, expanded family were quick to pick up on this as early as the day after the deadline for applications.

"So then," I asked, trying not to sound TOO interested as Ophelia and I painted each other's nails. "Where have you applied to?"

"Four places," Ophelia said. "Salford, Bath and Leeds. My preferred choice, however, is the London College of Fashion."

"...Didn't fancy Brighton Uni, then?" I asked.

"It did not appeal to me in the same way as the other universities," Ophelia explained. "And I have no particular connection to this city." Not even me? I thought to myself.

"...London's close enough," I mumbled. "And it'll obviously be better, umm, connected than the other cities..."

"It will," Ophelia said. "So where have you applied to, Jacinta?" I frowned as Ophelia asked me the question, obviously not knowing about my decision- or rather, my lack of decision.

"I, umm, haven't applied anywhere," I mumbled.

"Don't you want to go to university?" Ophelia asked.

"It's not that I don't want to go," I explained. "It's just... Ugh, I dunno. You say you have no connection to this city. I only have connections to this city. And I'm the only connection for someone else in this city..."

"You don't want to leave your father alone by himself," Ophelia whispered. "It IS understandable, Jacinta."

"I'm all he has," I sighed. "And I know he'll never try to find another girlfriend, he barely has any friends from work... And after all he's done to support me, I- I owe him everything. I mean, don't get me wrong, I owe you everything as well. I mean, I- I love you, Ophelia. Like a sister, I mean. You're like the sister I never had..."

"You're like the sister I always wanted," Ophelia whispered. "And I love you too, Jacinta. Like a sister. But we must all follow our own paths. With any luck, my path will lead me towards London."

"Whereas my path's leading me around in a circle?" I asked as Ophelia finished applying the deep red polish to my nails, and I began coating her extra-long talons with her preferred metallic blue colour.

"Only you can determine where your fate shall lead you, Jacinta," my 'sister' said.

"Yeah, I'll get back to you when I figure out where the hell that is," I sighed.

"If you ever require any help, you know that all you need to do is ask," Ophelia said softly. "However, in the meantime, I have been invited to an interview at the London College of Fashion next Wednesday. I would like it if you were to attend with me."

"Umm, kinda got my own course to worry about?" I reminded my BFF.

"A course you do not intend to use to enter higher education," Ophelia retorted, before her face dramatically softened. "...Please, Jacinta? I've- I've never actually travelled away from home by myself before..." I let out a long sigh as the blue-haired girl seemingly pleaded at me with her eyes.

"Fine," I said, before a smile spread across my face. "Decided what you're wearing yet?"

"Naturally," Ophelia replied with a smile as wide as my own.

The following week, Ophelia and I boarded a train bound for London, and both of us drew a lot of attention from the other passengers. The one thing about going out in public with a woman like Ophelia is that few people will pay attention to a 5' 10" broad-shouldered woman, when they can instead pay attention to the blue-haired woman wearing a custom-made suit made out of shiny blue satin. Everything about Ophelia's suit for the day was tweaked to scream 'individual'.

Her jacket was fitted (having obviously been made to her exact measurements), opened just low enough to show the top of the (also homemade) lace bodysuit- underneath which she of course wore one of her tightest corsets, and on top of which she wore a wide belt of the same fabric. Her skirt was knee-length and extremely straight, hugging her figure closely. If it wasn't for the rear kick pleat, I doubted that Ophelia would even be able to walk. The 5" spike-heeled stilettos she wore on her feat did nothing to ease my worries. When you added in her lace gloves, her two pairs of tights (a pair of blue fishnets on top of a shiny taupe pair) and her usual extreme make-up, there was literally no way anyone could ignore the vision that was Ophelia Love.

Needless to say, I felt comparatively underdressed in my striped grey turtleneck, button-fronted knee-length denim skirt, opaque black tights and black flats.

"I SO want that suit," I whispered as we took our seats on the train, making my BFF giggle.

"It takes a certain look to be able to make a suit of this nature work," Ophelia replied as she rested her vintage handbag on the table in front of us. "Not that I am saying that you are not feminine, of course. I merely meant-"

"I know," I said with a smile.

"If you would like me to make you a suit, then I would be more than happy to," Ophelia said. "Your body type would be more suited to an A-line skirt than a pencil skirt, though. This is not a criticism, just a desire as a designer to make the suit as suitable- and, of course, as feminine- as possible."

"Sure, I understand," I reassured my friend. "I haven't really got a posh suit, come to think about it. I haven't really got a smart skirt... I wore trousers to my interview with the newsagent, heh."

"You have my sympathies for having to wear trousers," Ophelia said, making us both giggle. "But I must ask- to what interview would you wear your new suit?"

Naturally, I had no answer for Ophelia. Even after we arrived in London (and surprised the hell out of the commuters on the tube) I didn't have an answer, and as I looked around the campus whilst Ophelia attended her interview, I realised that I'd spent so much time obsessing over becoming Jacinta, that I had no idea what I wanted Jacinta to become. I was reminded of a quote from The Dark Knight- I was like a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it. The thing was, I had caught my car. Five months earlier. I just didn't know where I wanted to drive it. Ophelia had a direction, a path she was powering along in top gear. I truly was going around in circles. It was all well and good saying I'd stay in Brighton to keep dad company, but would he really have wanted to me to do that at the expense of my own life?

Worse yet, would mum have wanted that?

I was so twisted up in my own thoughts as I perused the university's library that I didn't notice the young woman stood staring at me until she coughed, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.

"Oh- god, sorry," the brown-haired girl said, looking almost as anxious as I did. "I- I didn't mean to startle you, but- but you kinda looked a little lost..."

"Yeah, that'd be one way of putting it," I sighed.

"Are- are you here for the interviews?" The girl asked.

"Umm, no, just accompanying a friend," I replied. "I- I am allowed to be here, right? I mean, they just gave me this badge at reception and didn't ask-"

"Yeah, yeah, you're fine," the girl said. "So, umm, your interview next week, then?"

"No," I sighed. "Didn't apply. And missed the deadline now anyway. I- I dunno, maybe uni just isn't for me."

"You at sixth form at the moment?" The girl asked. "At an FE college?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Studying fashion photography. Nearly applied here, but- guess I'm just too attached to my hometown."

"Well if you change your mind, LCF does a GREAT fashion photography course," the girl said with a smile. "I should know, graduated with a first last year, hehe!"

"Cool!" I laughed. "But, you know, the deadline..."

"There are usually a few spaces left in clearing," the girl shrugged. "You can always apply in the summer. Anyway, I've, umm, I've got to go, I'm meant to be in charge of making sure everyone gets to where they need to be today. But you never know, I'm applying to do a masters here next year, maybe we'll run into each other again!"

"Yeah..." I said as I watched the shorter girl walk off to greet another smartly-dressed teenager. I should've been stressed out- the decision that I thought had been taken out of my hands had been thrust straight back into them. It was like I'd been thrown a lifeline, and I knew I shouldn't squander it.

Little did the girl- or for that matter, I myself- know that in that one brief conversation, she was indeed helping me make sure I got to where I needed to be.

Naturally, Ophelia was quietly confident as she strolled out of the interview. Her face may have worn its usual stoic expression, but I could tell from the twinkle in her eyes that she knew the interview went well.

"You want to start looking at flats before heading home, then?" I asked my friend, who simply giggled and rolled her eyes.

"I do not know yet whether or not I have been accepted," Ophelia said. "However I feel that it is a distinct possibility!"

"Great," I said, forcing a smile on my face as I contemplated the prospect of life without my 'sister'. "D'you know when you'll find out?"

"It can sometimes take weeks for the letter to come through," Ophelia said as we headed back to the tube station, again attracting the attention we had en route to the university.

"Well you worked day and night on that portfolio," I said. "They can't ignore THAT."

"I should hope not," Ophelia replied. "And thank you again for your assistance in compiling the portfolio. Sometimes I thoroughly despise my brain..."

"You can't help the way you were born any more than I can," I shrugged.

"I wish there was a way to repay you for the help," Ophelia said.

"Oh- believe me, you have," I chuckled. "Helping you with a few spelling and grammar checks is nothing compared to- well, to this." Ophelia giggled as I gestured to my skirt and top. "If it wasn't for you, I'm pretty sure I'd never have had the courage to go outside wearing this. I'd probably never have ever worn anything like this at all..."

"You are very welcome, Jacinta," Ophelia said with a grin as we boards our tube train.

"...So weeks, eh?" I asked. "I'll keep all my fingers crossed..." Crossed for what, exactly, I couldn't say- but as it turns out, they weren't crossed for long.

On the morning of Monday the 2nd of February 2015, I woke up at 7am as usual to get ready for college, but there was one significant change to me. I had gone to bed the previous night as an eighteen year old girl, and woken up as a nineteen year old girl. It was my first ever birthday as 'Jacinta', and I couldn't have been more excited for the day- until I went downstairs to see a massive pile of presents on the sofa, which made my excitement levels grow even higher!

"Oh my god!" I squeaked. "This- this is too much..."

"Bollocks it is," dad laughed, rising from his chair to give me a hug and a paternal kiss on my forehead. "'Jacinta' didn't get anything for her first eighteen birthdays. Only fair she gets spoiled on her nineteenth, right Ophelia?"

"Absolutely, Mike," Ophelia said, holding her arms open with a wide grin on her already made-up face. I giggle as I slowly stroll into her arms, wrapping her in a tight hug as she practically squeezes the life out of me!

"I hardly know where to start," I chuckled as I sat down next to the massive pile, idly fiddling with the presents (virtually all of which seemed to be clothes of some description).

"WHEN to start would be a better question," dad said, rudely snatching the present out of my hands and tossing it back onto the pile. "As most of the things on that pile will need trying on, they can wait until after college."

"Aw- but dad..." I pouted, making both my father and my 'sister' roll their eyes at me!

"...Okay, fine," dad sighed, handing me a package that obviously had a rigid box under the wrapping paper (and as such obviously wasn't clothes). I didn't need to be told twice to tear off the wrapping paper, and when I did, I sighed happily at that I saw inside the box.

"These are PERFECT," I said, taking out the pair of fashionable 4" wedge-heeled sandals. "You, Ophelia?"

"Me, actually," dad said. "I kinda overheard you one day, telling Ophelia that you preferred wedges to heels..." My father's speech was interrupted when I jumped off the sofa and wrapped him a long, tight hug.

"Thanks," I whispered, blinking back tears.

"...It's just a pair of shoes, Jacinta," dad chuckled.

"To you, maybe," I retorted. "I, um, I should probably get ready for college..."

"We both should," Ophelia said, following me to my bedroom as I changed into my outfit for the day- my typical look of long-sleeved bodysuit, sheer black tights, ankle-length skirt and ankle boots.

"This is so unbelievable," I whispered as I applied my make-up for the day and brushed out my hair, making sure that the cute fringe I'd been growing was perfectly symmetrical.

"I do not see why," Ophelia retorted. "Did you not get many feminine presents at Christmas?"

"Well- yes, I guess," I sighed. "But I never get THAT many presents for my birthday. It was always the same old crap- jeans, deodorant, vouchers..."

"I do not wish to spoil the surprise," Ophelia said, "but there is a very good chance that you may receive cans of deodorant for this birthday as well."

"...Cans of Lynx Africa?" I retorted, making my BFF giggle.

"...No," Ophelia bluntly retorted, before giggling again. "And some of it may technically be perfume rather than deodorant."

"Even better," I said with a grin. "Hope dad didn't spend TOO much, though..."

"Many of the presents are from me," Ophelia said.

"...I hope you didn't spend too much either!" I laughed. "God... After all you've both done for me the past few months, I'm going to feel guilty just opening ONE present, heh..."

"Then you will just have to spoil your father and I on our birthdays," Ophelia said.

"'Your father and I'," I snorted. "No offence, Ophelia, but if you were my stepmother, I'd probably have myself committed. To an asylum in Antarctica." I sighed as rather than blush and apologise- as the old Ophelia would've done, as 'Amanda' would've done- my friend instead stood up, took my bottle of HRT pills from my dresser and popped one onto her hand.

"Do not sass back to your stepmother," Ophelia said, shoving the pill in my face. "Have you taken your tablet yet today?"

"YES," I replied, shaking my head as Ophelia giggled and returned the pill to its bottle. "I do it first thing every morning, you know that."

"I am sorry," Ophelia giggled as she carefully replaced the pill bottle on my dresser. "But that was a joke I could not resist making."

"Eh, no offence taken," I sighed. "Come on, sooner we get to college, sooner I can get home to open my presents!"

"Indeed!" Ophelia said, her smile not fading as we grabbed our coats and headed out of the door. "Today is a first and a last- your first birthday as Jacinta, and your last as a full-time student..." And my first and last with my sister, I thought to myself.

Naturally, that thought coloured the way I felt all day at college. I should've been happy- well, as happy as I could be in a place where I had literally only one friend- with it being my birthday, but all I could think about was the family that I was almost certainly going to lose... And the family I already had lost.

I've no doubt my mum would've given me a slap on the back of the head and told me to stop feeling so sorry for myself, but that was much easier said than done. I'd come a long way with dad and Ophelia's help, but I'd be guaranteed to lose the full-time assistance of one of them within a matter of months, and I still had a long way to go. As I gazed into the mirror of one of the college's toilets, I realised just how far I had to go.

With my long brown hair, my carefully-applied make-up and my overwhelmingly feminine clothing, I undoubtedly passed for female from a distance, and close-up, it was hard to tell that there was anything 'different' about me unless you knew what you were looking for. Even underneath my clothes and my make-up, my body was changing. Six months on oestrogen had started to redistribute my weight from my waist to my backside and my hips, meaning I no longer wore the extra padding I'd bought to give myself extra 'figure' down there. I still wore a padded bra, but even that was becoming less and less necessary with each passing day. My skin was soft, smooth and blemish-free, and it felt that even my hands and my face were becoming more feminine. And yet, as I looked at myself in the mirror, all I saw was what everyone else at college saw- a boy who wanted to be a girl, and a girl who wouldn't be anywhere near as feminine as she was without the help of her hyper-feminine best friend.

I'd no idea how long I was lost in thought as I examined my appearance, but I reckon I'd have been there forever if I hadn't been interrupted by a fellow student opening the door to the toilet block and startling me.

"Who- oh- shit, sorry," I moaned, packing away my make-up and getting ready to leave. "I'll get out of your way..."

"There's no rush," the other girl- a girl on my course called Cassie- replied.

"Yeah, don't need to be accused of being a pervert for being 'somewhere I don't belong'," I snorted.

"'Somewhere you don't belong'?" Cassie snorted. "What, are you supposed to take a dump in the car park or something? Don't worry, Jacinta, I'm not going to go complaining because there's someone with a dick in the girls' toilets."

"Umm... Okay," I said hesitantly.

"I mean, that- well, you know..." Cassie mumbled hesitantly. "That 'thing' is covered by a pair of tights and a skirt, right?"

"...And the gusset of a bodysuit," I said, making the blonde girl giggle.

"Thought so," Cassie said. "So as far as I'm concerned, you have as much right to be here as I do. Anyone else who has a problem, well, THEY can go and take a dump in the car park, hehe!"

"Thanks," I said with a giggle. "You probably don't realise it, but that's probably the best present I've received all day..."

"Present?" Cassie asked. "Is- is it your birthday?"

"Guilty as charged," I playfully sighed, earning a squeak of delight from the blonde girl.

"Oh, that's so cool!" Cassie giggled. "Oh my god- is it- is it your first since you came out?"

"Yep!" I laughed.

"Even cooler!" Cassie squeaked, finishing her 'business' before washing her hands. "Well, I hope you have fun tonight, whatever you're doing to celebrate. Think I might have cause to celebrate too..."

"Oh?" I asked.

"Got a text from my mum," Cassie said. "There's a letter waiting for me when I get home from Leeds College of Art..."

"Heh," I said, trying not to sigh at being reminded yet again of my impossible decision. "Well, good luck..."

"Thanks!" Cassie giggled, giving me a playful hug as we left the toilets. "And happy birthday!"

"Thanks," I said, letting out an invisible sigh as we headed back to class.

I forced a smile on my face as I met up with Ophelia for our trip back home, though the promise of presents when I got home soon made the smile genuine- especially when I opened them to find dresses, skirts, more shoes, cute girly tops, bodysuits, even some ('dad-friendly') underwear, all of which I modelled for my father and my sister (well, apart from the underwear, anyway). The best outfit I received, however, was the bespoke suit Ophelia had made me. As she promised, it had a knee-length A-line skirt and a fitted jacket that 'hugged' my torso closely and showed off my fledgling curves to their fullest. As I modelled the suit (and the matching heeled shoes) for my family, I let out a genuine giggle as I did a twirl and felt the skirt whip around my nylon-covered thighs.

"This is so cool," I sighed happily, placing one hand on my hip as dad took a photograph of me. "Thank you both SO much for this..."

"Thank you for being such an amazing daughter!" Dad laughed, giving me a hug before sitting back down in his chair. "You know, that suit really- well, pun not intended- suits you, Jacinta?"

"Thanks," I said as I played with the hem of the suit's skirt. "Kinda feel like a stewardess, though..."

"You would make a wonderful air stewardess," Ophelia said with a warm smile. "I believe there is a flight company in France that hires stewardesses who are mostly transgendered, actually."

"I read that somewhere too," dad concurs. "Soixante-Neuf Airlines or something. Not the sort of name you'd willingly send your daughter to..."

"It's Soixante-TROIS," I corrected my father. "After the year it was founded, I think."

"You know about them, then?" Ophelia asked. "I believe it would be a good career for you, Jacinta."

"...Don't speak French, or any other language," I sighed. "That's one of the entry requirements."

"So- so you have been looking, then?" Dad asked. "For jobs for after you finish college?"

"...A bit," I sighed, sitting down on the sofa and pressing my knees tightly together. "I- I dunno. I'm still not sure exactly what it is I want to do, I mean, I enjoy photography, but I dunno if that's all I want to be... Kinda need to go to university if I want to work for, like, a magazine or an agency..."

"Your grades are good enough, aren't they?" Dad asked, smiling as I nodded. "Thought about applying somewhere through clearing?"

"...A bit," I shrugged.

"Yeah, that's always been the issue, hasn't it?" Dad sighed, startling me with his sudden hostility. "You always do things 'a bit'. I can count on two fingers the amount of times you went all-out with something. When you told me that you were gay and when you told me that I had a daughter. And you know what?"

"What?" I asked.

"Both of those things worked out," dad said bluntly. "For the better. For the VERY better. And you need to make a decision soon. Neither of us can make it for you."

"Yes yes yes, I know," I sigh, leaning back on the sofa and groaning. "Can- can I please just celebrate being nineteen for one day before laying out plans for what I'll be doing when I'm ninety?"

"Of course," dad whispered, rising from his chair to finish preparing my birthday dinner as I change out of my suit and back into the bodysuit and skirt I'd worn earlier in the day.

The topic of my future employment (or lack thereof) was off the table for the rest of the day, and for a while, I was able to relax... Though that 'while' turned out to be just 24 hours, as when Ophelia and I returned home from college the following day, Ophelia found a letter waiting for her with the initial 'UAL' on them- 'UAL' standing for 'University of the Arts London', the 'parent' university of the London College of Fashion.

Thirty seconds after opening the envelope, Ophelia was literally whooping with excitement, while I tried my hardest to look happy for my friend. However, when dad took over and began to offer his help to Ophelia in looking for student accommodation in London, and to drive her up on her first day, my stomach began to sink. Even the promise of having Ophelia home to live with us during the holidays didn't console the fact that for the second time in my life, I'd started a countdown that would end with the inevitable departure of a family member.

Months passed as Ophelia prepared for her life in London, labouring away to get her grades up to their very highest, while I did the same, partly in case I did decide to apply for a university place in clearing, and partly to distract myself from the fact that my life was about to change, and I had no other friends, no other family, no job... No Prince Charming...

As spring changed into summer, though, college commitments finally eased off. Our final assignments were submitted, and all that was left was to wait for our grades to come through. Well, that was all that was left for Ophelia, at any rate- I still had little idea exactly what it was I'd be doing with my grades, whatever they turned out to be...

"Good morning, Jacinta!" Ophelia yelled, waking me from my slumber and pulling back the curtains to let the warm July sun shine into my bedroom.

"Mmph," I moaned as I slowly blinked my eyes open. "Why, exactly?"

"Because you and I are two young women with more spare time and energy than we know what to do with," Ophelia said. "And there is something I have wanted to do for a very long time as a way to repay you for your hospitality."

"...Why am I suddenly nervous?" I asked, making my 'sister' roll her eyes.

"Get up and shower," Ophelia ordered. "And make sure you wash your hair. You'll be needing it for what we have planned today."

"I'll be needing... My hair?" I asked, confused as Ophelia shoved me toward the shower.

When I emerged fifteen minutes later with a towel wrapped around my growing chest and another around my long, brown hair, I found Ophelia stood at my dressing table, her long teal-coloured hair (she'd got bored of blue by May) tied back into a ponytail and hidden underneath a white hat, while her corseted figure was hidden underneath a white tunic dress and her legs were covered with opaque white tights (and, of course, matching platform heels) despite the outside heat.

"...So, nurse or hairdresser?" I asked as I slipped on the thong that had been offered to me.

"Beauty therapist," Ophelia said, sitting me down in front of my dresser before untying my towel and fussing with my hair. "As neither you nor I can afford a proper spa treatment, and your father has guaranteed us the use of the house for the whole day, I felt it was only fitting to give you the makeover you deserved."

"Well, okay, but-" I said, before pausing as my eyes went wide. "Wait, wait, YOU'RE giving me a makeover?"

"Yes, I, Ophelia Cassiopeia Love, am giving you a makeover," Ophelia said matter-of-factly as she began to tie my hair into tight, slender braids.

"I'm going to end up looking like a cliché, aren't I?" I sighed. "I don't want to be a drag queen. I mean, no offence to drag queens, but- but I just want to look like, you know, a girl."

"And are you implying that I do not look like a girl?" Ophelia asked. "Or are you implying that I look like a drag queen?"

"Well- no..." I sighed.

"Nor will you," Ophelia assured me. "You shall, however, look unique and individual. By which I of course mean that you will look uniquely feminine, and individually feminine."

"Feminine like you?" I asked.

"If that is what you wish," Ophelia replied, finishing her work on my hair and moving on to covering my face in a thick layer of gold-themed make-up. "However, what I had planned was giving you your own unique, individual look."

"So... Not exactly like you?" I asked.

"Why would you want to look like me?" Ophelia replied.

"...Kinda going down a 'self-loathing' route here, Ophelia," I retorted, making the colourful girl roll her eyes yet again.

"I am me," Ophelia said. "You are you. I should look like me, and you should look like you."

"Even though neither look is exactly what you'd call 'normal'?" I asked.

"Why on Earth would I want to be normal?" Ophelia asked, making us both giggle happily.

"Normal isn't always bad," I mused as my beautician finished my make-up and glued extra-long gold-coloured false nails to my fingertips. "If I was a 'normal' girl, I probably wouldn't still be single..."

"Then you and I will have to redefine what 'normal' is," Ophelia said matter-of-factly, ignoring my derisive snort of laughter. "I fail to see why we cannot do this, you and I."

"Two versus seven billion?" I retorted. "Don't fancy those odds..."

"Nothing's impossible," Ophelia said, finishing my nails and ordering me to stand up. "You may remove your towel now, Jacinta."

"Umm... And flash my tits at you?" I asked.

"It is nothing I have not seen before," Ophelia said.

"They're growing so fast I'm not sure I'VE seen them before," I retorted. "...Okay, fine... Guess I should be thankful that I even HAVE tits to be shy about..."

"You certainly have changed a lot in the last eleven months," Ophelia said, producing a long-line corset from my bed and giggling as I groaned at the sight of it.

"So I'm going to follow SOME of your style, then?" I sighed, moaning as I fastened the heavy garment in front of me.

"You shall be unique," Ophelia explained. "Very few people wear corsets anymore."

"Can't imagine why," I snorted, wincing as each pull of the laces narrowed my waist further. "I hope I'll have something to fill these cups a little more?"

"Of course," Ophelia said, passing me padding to put on top of my budding breasts before holding out a pair of dark stockings for me to step into.

"Really?" I asked. "Stockings instead of tights?"

"I always feel happier when I'm wearing stockings instead of tights," Ophelia explained. "I feel more... Fashionable this way."

"And less likely to sweat a swimming pool into your crotch?" I asked, laughing as Ophelia gave the laces of my corset a swift yank.

"...That too," Ophelia giggled, before allowing me to step into the short, lacy dress she'd made for this occasion. With a short skirt that barely covered my stocking tops, cap sleeves and a low-cut neck that showed off far more cleavage than I actually had, it was one of the most beautiful dresses I had ever seen, let alone worn.

"Gorgeous," I sighed, before my eyes widened in horror at the footwear Ophelia produced for me. "What. The fuck. Are those!?"

"...NOT the shoes that you will be wearing today," Ophelia giggled, handing me one of the shoes to examine. The shoes were heeled- boy were they heeled- but rather than the rest of the weight being supported on the ball of the foot, the shoes were curved so that the wearer would be walking on the tips of their toes, with their feet pointed straight downward, almost like a ballerina's.

"These are called ballet heels," Ophelia explained as she sat down on my bed and replaced one of her platform shoes with the painful-looking device. "They are obviously not designed for everyday use. But they do make for some... Extreme fashion statements."

"Can you even walk in those?" I asked, examining my sister's pointed foot with her.

"With the proper training and practice," Ophelia replied. "Training and practice that I, sadly, do not have. However, when I go to university, hopefully I shall meet someone with the necessary... Training..." I bit my gold-coloured lip as mention of Ophelia's imminent departure quickly lowered the mood in the room.

"...Anyway," I said. "Where are my actual shoes?"

"Here," Ophelia said, handing me a pair of only slightly more comfortable-looking platform stilettos, which I dutifully attached to my feet.

"Guess I won't be able to repay you for this day," I laughed as I fastened the dainty ankle straps on the shoes. "Or 'get you back' for it, which sounds, you know, more appropriate..."

"We shall enjoy today," Ophelia announced, removing her ballet shoe and slipping her feet back into her 'normal' shoes. "Where shall we go?"

"Seriously?" I asked, standing up and trying to get steady on my stilt-like shoes. "You dressed like that and me dressed like this?"

"You would rather dress 'normally'?" Ophelia asked, and despite myself, a wide grin crept across my face.

Naturally, we attracted a lot of stares, and even some frowns and snorts of disapproval on our short walk through the city centre in our 'costumes', and as we ate lunch, and went shopping in Ophelia's favourite charity shops... By the time we arrived home, though, we were both glad to slip our aching feet out of our torturously high-heeled shoes!

"You don't fancy slipping on your ballet shoes and trying that, then?" I asked Ophelia, who giggled in response.

"Black shoes do not go with my mainly white outfit," my sister retorted. "You must admit though, today WAS fun."

"Immense fun," I laughed. "And I don't just mean the clothes, or the make-up... I mean us hanging out together."

"I meant that too," Ophelia whispered, turning to me with a smile on her face. "And I am sure we will have many such days again, during the holidays, or if you choose to visit London..."

"Assuming you don't get a better best friend in London," I say, frowning as Ophelia remained silent. "Or a boyfriend..."

"I am not the one obsessed with finding 'Prince Charming'," Ophelia reminded me. "Though London is a much larger city, I have no doubt that there may be SOMEONE there who might meet my requirements... I doubt, however, that I will find someone as willing to wear the type of corset, dress and shoes that you are wearing now..."

"Well, you never know..." I mused.

"If I have read her blog correctly, I believe that Nikki Thomas's partner may even be on the same course as me," Ophelia said, piquing my interest.

"...Really?" I asked.

"You have seen the pictures on her blog," Ophelia replied. "Many of the dresses she is modelling were designed and made by her partner."

"...Cool," I shrugged as the indecision I'd felt all year began to reach boiling point. "Do- do you want something to drink?"

"Please," Ophelia said as I slowly rose from my chair (my corset still hindering my movement). "Maybe we will become friends on Facebook..."

"Facebook!?" I snorted. "You hate Facebook!"

"I despise Facebook," Ophelia said. "But if it is the only way that we will be able to communicate whilst I am in London..." Ugh, I thought to myself. I don't want to be the reason Ophelia's forced to sign up for Facebook... As I glanced back into the living room, though, my eyes were drawn to the urn sat by the fireplace. Do I want to be the reason dad spends the rest of his life alone with only a collection of ashes for company, though?

Naturally, when dad arrived home, he was somewhat confused by my appearance (even more confused than I was when I saw myself in the mirror for the first time), but shrugged it off in the way he'd consistently done for the previous eleven months. As Ophelia made dinner for the three of us (we took it in turns to cook), I turned to the middle-aged man with a serious look on my face.

"Dad," I whispered.

"Jacinta...?" dad replied.

"What... What are you planning on doing the next few years?" I asked.

"...Umm," dad replied. "I- I'm not the one who's unemployed."

"No- ugh, I didn't mean like in a job..." I sighed.

"Jacinta..." Dad said softly. "What- what is this about?"

"I need-" I stammered. "I need- I need to know that you'd be okay if- if I, you know, left..."

"Planning on going somewhere?" Dad asked.

"...London," I mumbled. "For university... There are places in clearing at Ophelia's university, on the- on the photography course..."

"Then you should go," dad said bluntly, catching me by surprise.

"But- but-" I stammered.

"Jacinta..." Dad sighed. "Just looking at you is all I need to know that it's where you belong. That Ophelia is who you belong with, that London is where you'll find your life, friends... Maybe even that man you're so obviously desperate for!"

"But you-" I babbled. "You've lost- you've lost everything! Your parents, your wife... Your son..."

"NO!" Dad said firmly, making me jump. "Don't ever say I 'lost my son'. Because I didn't. My son... 'He' did with 'his' life precisely what 'he' wanted. And I will always have nothing but love and respect for that decision. And the same applies for my daughter, whom I love and respect just as much. Don't ever, EVER put my happiness before yours, Jacinta. It's my job to be your parent, not the other way around."

"...But you'll be lonely," I mumbled. "Alone in this house..."

"I will make friends," dad sighed. "I will hang out with work colleagues more. Go to more football games. Take up darts, I dunno. All I know is that I could never live with myself if I thought that you were holding yourself back on my account. And I know that she'd feel the exact same way." I blinked back tears as dad gently caressed the lid of mum's urn.

"Thanks," I sniffled.

"Will it take some time to adjust?" Dad asked. "At first, yes. But I guarantee it'll be more of a change for you than it would ever be for me. So if you need to go to London- well, I'll drive you there myself. You and Ophelia."

"... You really are the best dad in the world," I sniffed as I rose from my chair and gave my father a long, tight hug.

"And you're the best daughter in the world," dad whispered, giving me a kiss on the forehead. "I'll always love you, Jacinta, no matter what city you're living in. Never forget that. And I'll only ever be a phone call away."

"Thanks," I whispered, my voice growing hoarse with emotion.

"But first things first," dad said. "You need to prepare for an interview, right?"

"Right!" I chuckled as I sat back in my chair, happy that my decision was- for now- made.

A few weeks later, I strode into the same office that Ophelia visited in January, dressed in the suit that Ophelia had made me for my birthday. In my arms was a portfolio of all my photography assignments, and in my stomach were a flock of butterflies... Butterflies that I later realised were completely unnecessary, when I was unconditionally accepted onto the fashion photography course at the London College of Fashion.

On the Saturday of the 26th of September 2015, dad drove myself and Ophelia up to the tiny, cramped flat that would be our London base for the next few months as we embarked on our courses. Naturally, there were plenty of tears, even some from dad- and even a few from Ophelia! Our offer to dad to stay over anytime he wanted was 'politely' refused (I believe his exact words were 'I'd rather sleep on a bed of nails than on the floor of a student shithole'), and that night, for the first time ever, I fell asleep as an independent woman. Three years of anxiety, two years of confiding in Ophelia and thirteen months of living life as Jacinta had all boiled down to that one night when I was finally flying free- though as the gentle snoring of my sister in the adjacent bed reminded me, even though I was free, I wasn't alone. I never had to be alone again if I didn't want to be- I would always have my family with me, blood-related or otherwise.

And now, as I stand in front of the main entrance of the London College of Fashion, my bag bulging with books and stationery, my stomach full of excitement and anticipation, and my body covered in a modest black miniskirt and jumper, I feel like I can take on the world.

"Ready?" I ask my sister, who has eschewed 'modest' in favour of one of her homemade dresses, multiple petticoats, teal-coloured tights, spike-heeled stilettos and, of course, a tight-laced corset.

"I am ready for anything," Ophelia replies. "New experiences, new knowledge, new friends..."

"Maybe even a Prince Charming," I wistfully muse, before confidently striding into the building with a wide smile on my face. "Okay, let's go!"

“Nervous yet?” I ask my best friend as we may our way through the college to the vast lecture hall for our official ‘welcome’.

“A little bit,” Ophelia replies. “Yourself?”

“Shitting myself,” I confess, bringing a brief smile to the teal-haired girl’s face.

“Perhaps a thong was not the best idea today, then,” Ophelia muses.

“Actually…” I say as I look around at the countless unfamiliar faces, all of whom look at me and see a girl- but some of whom clearly see something behind the ‘façade’. “It was definitely the RIGHT idea.”

Last year, when I returned to my further education college as Jacinta, I was around people who’d already grown familiar with ‘Jason’. And whilst I was already known to be the ‘G’ part of LGBT, and living in one of the most LGBT-friendly cities in the world, showing up to college wearing a skirt, wearing make-up and calling myself ‘Jacinta’ got some seriously mixed reactions from the other students. Here, however, no one- with the obvious exception of Ophelia- knew about ‘Jason’. All they see is ‘Jacinta’, which is the way it should be, the way it must be. However, when they look more closely at ‘Jacinta’, they’re bound to see that something’s a little ‘off’ about ‘her’… I’m just thankful that Ophelia’s drawing a lot of the ‘attention’ I inevitably would if I’d come into university by myself.

Nonetheless, I still feel uneasy as Ophelia and I take our seats in the middle of the lecture hall. There are a surprising amount of people here today, and given that there are only other first year students in the lecture, that means that there’ll be even more students in the university as a whole. More people to potentially see through me…

“Good morning, everyone,” the chancellor of the university says with a wide grin. “I’d like to welcome you all to the London College of Fashion.” I try to pay attention to the welcoming lecture, which is very basic in nature- just going into fire drill procedures, the security arrangements and so forth. After the lecture, Ophelia and I head to reception to get our university ID cards printed, before the moment comes that I’ve been dreading all morning.

“Now I must head to my first class,” Ophelia says with a nervous smile. “I shall see you at lunch, Jacinta.”

“See you there,” I whisper, trying to catch my breath and ease the butterflies in my stomach before turning and walking away from Ophelia. “Okay, Jacinta, you got this. There’ll just be a load of older teenagers in the class, same as you, you’re all there for the same reason, no need to panic…”

Naturally, I feel a moment of panic as I step into the small classroom and sit down at one of the free desks. For the next three years, I’ll be working closely with the people I meet in this room, and as they say, you can only make a first impression once… This is going to be the make or break moment, whether university will be the best three years of my life or whether I’ll be banging my head against a wall for the next three years.

“Ex- excuse me?” I hear a nervous voice ask, snapping me out of my reverie. I look up to see a slender girl with long, mousey hair tied into a ponytail and a lot of freckles staring down at me uneasily. “Can- can I, umm, sit next to you?”

“Umm, sure,” I say, looking around at the rest of the classroom. With only 18 people in our class, it’s not like it’ll be cramped in here, but then again, no one wants to be on their own, I guess. “There- there are plenty of other seats, though…”

“Oh- would- do you want me to sit somewhere else?” The girl asks, and I find myself pausing to think. She seems friendly enough, and there’s a good chance that if I push her away, I could end up sitting next to someone a lot worse- as proved when two girls walk into the class who look eerily like Ophelia’s younger sister with their excessive fake tan and their obviously bottle-blonde hair. Then again, there is only one reason why this brown-haired girl would have automatically gravitated toward me when she saw me in the class… The question is, is she only sitting next to me to make sure, and if so, what will she do when she makes sure?

“I don’t mind you sitting here,” I say, trying to smile as the freckled girl grins and sits down next to me, straightening the translucent tights underneath her denim shorts before getting her books out of her bag. Better the devil you know, I guess- or in this case, barely know… “I’m- I’m Jacinta, by the way. Jacinta Hanley.”

“Katie Henderson,” the freckled girl replies as we exchange a loose, feminine handshake. My smile widens as, for some reason, I feel like I know the name from somewhere. “So… You from London, or come here for uni, like, the ‘real student lifestyle’?”

“’Real student lifestyle’,” I reply, making us both giggle. “I’m originally from Brighton, I’m here with my best friend, we’re sharing a flat, living off of Pot Noodles, the whole works.”

“Heh, sounds SO cool,” Katie laughs. “I’m from London so I’m still living at home with my parents, and even worse, my little brothers. Want to move out soon, though, get my own place with my best friend, you know?”

“Is she studying here too?” I ask.

“Yep!” Katie says with a grin. “She’s doing fashion design, along with another friend of ours.” My tension almost immediately disappears as Katie tells me this- this is almost too much of a coincidence.

“Oh my god, so’s my best friend!” I say, making Katie almost squeak with excitement.

“Ah, so cool!” Katie giggles. “So there’s, like, five of us in a ready-made group?” Just like Jamie-Lee last year at college, I think to myself as my smile starts to fade.

“Yeah,” I laugh. “Assuming- well, umm, I’m sure you’ll like Ophelia, heh.” It’s either both of us or neither of us, I defiantly think to myself.

“Ophelia?” Katie asks, making me internally sigh. “Cool name, hehe! She must’ve had some ‘interesting’ parents, then?”

“Umm… She actually chose the name herself,” I say. “Changed it by deed poll.” And she’s not the only one who did…

“What was it before?” Katie asks, making me bite my lip.

“…Not important?” I mumble, breathing a sigh of relief as Katie giggles.

“Good answer!” The freckled girl laughs, before we’re both silenced as our tutor arrives to start the class.

Naturally, with it being our first day, we don’t really get any significant work done- the class is more about getting to know everyone on the course, setting out the timeline for the next three years, our assignments and our required reading. All throughout the class, though, all I can think about is whether or not Katie and her friends will like Ophelia- and how lonely the two of us are likely to be if she doesn’t. Even worse is that Katie doesn’t yet know about me being transgendered yet, god knows how she’ll react to THAT.

The relative lack of sexy guys on the course- and in the whole university, for that matter- doesn’t help matters either. ‘Prince Charming’ seems further away than ever…

Eventually, after three brain-melting hours, Katie and I are finally dismissed from the class, and with both of our stomachs rumbling, we head straight to the university’s vast dining hall. However, hunger isn’t the only thing that’s causing my stomach to make some very troubling noises…

“Okay, THAT was a lot to take in in one morning!” Katie giggles. “Feeling like running back to Brighton yet?”

“Felt like that every second of today,” I reply making Katie giggle.

“Ah, hope I’m not part of the reason!” The freckled girl says with a nervous-sounding chuckle. That’s up to you, Katie, I think to myself.

“Nah, you’re cool so far,” I say.

“’So far’?” Katie asks. “Are- is there a reason I might, you know, become UNcool?” Like you don’t already know, I think to myself while trying not to roll my eyes.

“Umm, well…” I say with a grimace, before taking a deep breath. “I- I’m transgendered. Been transitioning now for about a year…”

“Oh my god, again,” Katie mutters to herself, before turning to look at me with a wide grin on her face. “That- and you- are perfectly, 100%, cool. I’ll put that in writing if you want?”

“No, that’s okay!” I say, breathing a sigh of relief and letting out a happy giggle. “You- you really have no problem with it?”

“I’d be living in the wrong century if I did,” Katie says. “And I know for a fact that Lauren and Sarah will be cool with you as well. I guarantee it, hehe!”

“Thanks,” I say, taking another deep breath to try to return my heart rate to normal. As I smile, though, a thought occurs to me- Katie DID seem to gravitate toward me as she entered the class… “Did- did you, umm, did you already know?”

“…I suspected,” Katie sighs, making me frown. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry, I don’t mean anything by- I- I just, umm, kinda- kinda know what to look for…”

“It’s okay,” I mumble, subconsciously lowering my fringe to hide more of my face.

“Honestly, you DO pass,” Katie blurts, clearly as embarrassed as I am. “Like I said, I-“

“You ‘know what to look for’?” I ask, trying to smile as Katie’s cheeks turn bright red. “So, umm, do- do you have other transgendered friends?”

“…You might say that,” Katie says, a smile returning to her face. “I’ll let Lauren and Sarah explain further. I can’t wait to introduce you to them!”

“Yeah,” I chuckle nervously as my thoughts suddenly return to my sister, who is inevitably sat on her own in a corner of the dining hall… And when we arrive, a quick glance around the room reveals that the teal-haired girl is indeed sat on her own in a corner of the room, quietly picking away at her lunch. My anxiety begins to rise again as Katie quickly located her two friends- a short, curvy girl with jet black hair and a slightly taller girl with light brown hair tied back into a tight ponytail.

“Hey girlies!” Katie squeaks as she exchanges tight hugs with both the girls.

“Hey Katie!” The black-haired girl says. “Soo… Made a new friend, then?”

“Umm, hi!” I say, nervously giggling and waving to the two girls. “I- I’m Ja- Jacinta Hanley. It’s nice to meet you!”

“I’m Lauren Burnett,” the black-haired girl says, giving me a gentle hug.

“Sarah, Sarah Phillips,” the brown-haired girl says, exchanging a hug with me as I muse on how both the girls’ names and faces seem familiar. “So are you doing photography too?”

“Yep!” I say, hesitating as my three friends all sit down while I remain standing.

“Jacinta?” Katie asks with a confused look on her face. “What’s u- oh, right, your friend!”

“Another new friend?” Lauren asks with an excited giggle.

“Yep!” Katie giggles. “Though I think I’d better let Jacinta explain, hehe!”

“Thanks,” I laugh, nervously scratching my head. “Yeah… I- I kinda moved up from Brighton with my best friend, we now live together and we study here… She’s doing fashion design.” I grin as Lauren and Sarah’s eyes light up at the mention of their course. This is going better than I could’ve imagined…

“Oh- oh, cool!” Lauren squeaks. “Who is she? Can we meet her too?”

“As long as she’s not the weird girl with the multi-coloured hair and dress,” Sarah giggles, making my heart sink and my face fall. “…Oh.”

“Yeah,” I say, letting out a long sigh. “I- I’ll see you back in class, Katie.”

“Wait,” Sarah sighs, a pained expression on her face. “I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that about your friend, especially as I haven’t even spoken to her yet.”

“Invite her over,” Lauren says, an obviously forced smile on her face.

“Are- only, umm, only if you’re, you know, sure,” I hesitantly mumble.

“I’m sure,” Sarah says, before allowing her face to slump forward onto the table. “Goddddd... I can’t believe what a Dannii I just was…”

“What a- a what?” I ask.

“Bit of a long story,” Katie giggles. “Go and get Ophelia and we’ll clue you in.”

“Okay,” I say with a nervous, hesitant smile as I head over to where my BFF is sat in the corner of the room.

There’s a very large part of me that just wants to park myself down next to Ophelia and forget all about Katie and her ‘gang’, just write them off as yet more close-minded Mean Girls wannabes, but if Sarah’s genuine about wanting to apologise, and Katie is obviously cool with me… I don’t want to push away friends who are willing to accept me for who I am. But only, ONLY if they’re willing to accept my sister for who she is as well.

“Hey,” I say quietly as I approach the teal haired girl. “Umm…”

“I see you have made some new friends,” Ophelia says, and her voice sounds so hurt it actually makes a tear form in the corner of my eye.

“Yeah, they’re… Okay,” I say with a slight grimace.

“If you would rather sit with them, then by all means, please do so,” Ophelia says, not looking up from her food.

“I would,” I say, taking a deep breath. “But only if you’re sitting there too.”

“I- I am comfortable where I am,” Ophelia mumbles, her affected accent audibly slipping.

“Come on,” I say. “The last time you made a friend on the first day at a new place, it worked out well, didn’t it?” I giggle as a wide smile spreads across Ophelia’s face.

“That is because that girl was drawn to me,” Ophelia said, casting a glance over at where my three potential friends are sat. “The black-haired girl and her friend were repelled by me during our first class. And besides which… They’re on the other side of the dining hall. I would have to walk past everyone…”

“So will I,” I shrug. “And Sarah and Lauren… They do want to talk to you. Well, they want to say one thing, anyway.” Ophelia nods, before letting out a long, tired sigh.

“I’m really starting to wish I’d just worn a plain top and skirt today,” Ophelia whispers, smiling as I place a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“Chin up,” I say with a smile. “Let’s walk across there the way we should. With pride.” With a nervous smile, Ophelia nods, picks up her meal and follows me back to the table where my- or rather, our three new friends are waiting.

“Girls, this is Ophelia Love,” I say with a proud grin. “Ophelia, this is Katie, Lauren and Sarah.”

“Hi!” Sarah says with a nervous grin, gingerly standing up and approaching Ophelia for a hug, only to settle for a loose handshake instead.

“Erm, Oph- Ophelia’s not really a hugger…” I grimace.

“Meh, sometimes I think people hug too much nowadays anyway,” Sarah says with a snort of laughter. “Hi, I’m- I’m, um, Sarah, Sarah Phillips… I- I’m sorry if we were, you know, distant during our first class, me and Lauren…”

“Your apology is accepted,” Ophelia says as she elegantly sits down next to me at the table. “Though it was also unnecessary. I am keenly aware of the… Image that I project.”

“Just as long as you’re not embarrassed by it,” Sarah says. “You- you do look weird. But weird is- it’s good, you know?”

“Yeah,” Lauren concurs. “Who wants to be normal, anyway?”

“…Dannii, for one,” Katie scoffs, making Lauren and Sarah giggle as she dramatically rolls her eyes.

“Ooh, yes,” I say with a giggle. “What is this ‘Dannii’ thing, anyway?”

“’Thing’ is the best word for her,” Sarah spits. “She’s the sort of girl who rarely has anyone say ‘no’ to her, and when someone does say ‘no’, god help them.”

“Used to be my best friend in secondary school,” Lauren says. “Emphasis on ‘used to be’.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t see the video that went viral over the summer?” Katie asks. “The one of the girl getting dunked in the swimming pool?”

“Umm… Thing I might have seen it,” I say. “Was- was that you?”

“Well, us, Dannii and my girlfriend Nikki,” Sarah says, and all of a sudden, the final piece of the puzzle slides into place.

I have seen the video the girls mentioned- on a blog I regularly follow. A blog belonging to a London-based transgendered girl named Nikki Thomas, who happens to regularly talk about her girlfriend named Sarah, her friends Katie, Lauren and- occasionally, anyway- Dannii. And her job as the PA to one of Britain’s biggest modelling cliques… What are the odds I’d just happen to run into Nikki’s ‘gang’ here, of all places?

“This ‘Nikki’,” I say hesitantly. “It- would it- would she, umm, would she be Nikki Thomas, by any chance?”

“Ooh, looks like somebody’s got a fan…” Katie teases, making me blush. “We’re SO going to have to introduce you two when she eventually shows up!”

“Wha- Nik- Nikki’s coming here?” I ask, blushing harder as the other girls- Ophelia included- have a good-natured giggle at my expense. I barely have the chance to remember Ophelia telling me that she thought Nikki's partner was going to be on the same course as her before the conversation continues almost like a runaway train.

“I’ve got her well trained,” Sarah says with a playful wink. “Doubt she’ll be bringing any of the Angels, though!”

“Doesn’t matter, this is just TOO cool,” I sigh happily.

“It is,” Ophelia confirms with a shy smile. “You’ve always talked about how much you would like to talk with Nikki.”

“True,” I say, earning quizzical looks from both Lauren and Sarah- clearly Katie didn’t clue them in whilst I was away from the table. “…Really? You- you don’t know?”

“’Know’ what?” Sarah asks.

“You, of all people?” Katie giggles, before her face contorts into a grimace. “Ehh… Sorry, Jacinta… Know this might still be kinda sensitive for you…”

“Know what is kinda sensitive?” Lauren asks, clearly as confused as Sarah.

“…That when I was born, my name was ‘Jason’,” I confess, trying not to blush as my two newest friends’ jaws both drop. “Oh come on… Katie ‘spotted’ me instantly…”

“Well- not ‘instantly’,” Katie mumbles. “I kinda- kinda had my suspicions, you know?”

“Is there a transgendered equivalent of a fag hag?” Lauren teases, before grimacing as her grey eyes meet mine. “Ehh… Sorry, Jacinta…”

“You don’t need to apologise to me for everything you say,” I chuckle. “Trust me, I’ve heard everything already, even after growing up in Brighton, heh.”

“Still though, it’s not pleasant,” Sarah sighs. “And I should know, you know, same-sex relationship and all… Though I guess this means I WILL have someone to go to LGBT society meetings with, hehe!”

“Are- are you two…?” Lauren hesitantly asks, pointing at myself and Ophelia.

“Oh- no, trust me, no!” I laugh.

“We are… Incompatible,” Ophelia says. “I know you would not think it to look at me, but I am both cisgendered and heterosexual.”

“So…” Lauren asks. “Do- do either of you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” I sigh. “Single, looking, came to the big city to find my ‘Prince Charming’, heh.”

“Ah, SO cool,” Lauren giggles. “Welp, Katie, looks like you and I are going to have to play ‘fairy godmother’ to these two…”

“There is no need on my account,” Ophelia mumbles.

“There’s someone out there for everyone,” Katie giggles. “No matter how ‘unique’ you are, hehe!” I smile happily as Katie’s use of the word ‘unique’- a word Ophelia has long since used to describe herself- brings a grin to my BFF’s face.

“Perhaps,” Ophelia mumbles, leading to an awkward silence at the table.

“So, umm,” Sarah says. “Have- have you ever, you know, sold any of your designs, Ophelia?”

“No,” Ophelia whispers. “I… I mostly just design for myself.”

“The dress is Ophelia’s own design,” I say with a proud smile as my BFF starts to blush. “And yes, so is the corset!”

“So cool,” Lauren says, taking out her phone. “Sarah and I have an online store, if you want to look?”

“Please,” Ophelia says, looking at some of the designs on the phone Lauren hands her. “Your designs are very good. They are also well-modelled too.”

“Ooh, speaking of which…” Lauren giggles, looking toward the corner of the room, where a young woman wearing a tight red turtleneck and a black miniskirt has just walked in. It doesn’t take her long to find our table, prompting Sarah to jump up and greet the newcomer with a kiss.

“Nikki!” Sarah squeaks. “Girls, this is Nikki. Nikki, you already know these two, but I’d like you to meet Jacinta and Ophelia!” I smile as Nikki nervously waves at us, before standing up and trying not to let my jaw drop at the sight of the girl- and despite her genetics, despite the way she was born, there is no mistaking her for anything other than utterly, 100% female.

“Oh my god, YOU’RE Nikki!” I say as I exchange a gentle hug with the slightly shorter girl. “I’m SUCH a huge fan of the Angels, it’s SO good to meet you!”

“Um, likewise!” Nikki giggles nervously, making me grimace.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I say with a nervous laugh. “I- I’m Jacinta, Jacinta Hanley!”

“Nicola Thomas, nice to meet you!” Nikki laughs. “Do- do you study fashion design as well?”

“Nope,” Katie says with a smug chuckle. “She’s a photographer, just like you and me!”

“Just like I used to be,” Nikki laughs, before turning to Ophelia and- having obviously not been ‘warned’, exchanging a gentle hug with her. “And you’re… Ophelia?”

“Ophelia Cassiopeia Love,” my BFF says with a shy smile. “So delighted to meet you.” I try not to giggle as Ophelia- obviously feeling some peer pressure- leans in to Nikki and exchanges air kisses with her.

“Now Ophelia IS one of us,” Lauren laughs as the six of us all cram around the one tiny table- something that my BFF clearly isn’t happy about.

“Unsurprisingly, she made that dress,” Sarah says.

“AND that corset!” Lauren giggles. “I’ve been dying to make a proper tight-lacing corset for ages now…”

“I would be quite happy to help you,” Ophelia says, and I wince as Sarah and Lauren are clearly struggling not to giggle at her voice. “Nicola, Sarah showed me some of the dresses you modelled for their internet store, it would be delightful if you could model for our assignments.”

I grin widely as Ophelia and Nikki begin chatting, and soon it’s like they’re old friends- and before too long, the same could be said of Nikki and myself, especially when the lunch period ends and both Ophelia and I send Facebook friend requests to all four of our new friends, all of which were quickly accepted. Despite my initial anxieties, the six of us have quickly bonded as a group, and as I walk back to class with Katie, my heart is deeply warmed by the sight of Lauren and Sarah walking back to their class side-by-side with Ophelia.

“I knew you’d like them,” Katie says with a smug grin. “Knew they’d like you, too.”

“Yeah, they’re cool,” I laugh. “I’m glad they like Ophelia, too…”

“Yeah, that was a bit shitty of Sarah,” Katie grimaces. “Though you have to admit, Ophelia IS weird…”

“I have a penis and I'm wearing a skirt, some people would call that weird,” I retort. “We’re both, you know, just being who we’re supposed to be. If that’s me wearing a skirt or Ophelia wearing a corset, then so what?”

“…Can’t argue with that!” Katie giggles. “Though there is one thing that surprises me…”

“…Yes?” I ask.

“That you and Ophelia are both still single!” Katie says, making us both laugh as we head back to our class.

After an afternoon of browsing the university’s library, looking at the various societies (including the LGBT society, which Sarah and I immediately sign up for) and reading through the brief of our first assignments, Katie and I pack our bags and head to the front entrance of the university, where our friends- all three of them- are waiting for us.

“One down!” Sarah giggles. “Terrified yet?”

“Bring it on!” I reply, earning giggles from all of my friends as I bid farewell to Katie, Lauren and Sarah before walking side by side with my BFF to the nearest tube station. “I dunno about you, Ophelia, but that went better than I expected!”

“It did,” Ophelia said, though her voice being even quieter and more reserved than usual is a definite hint that she may not be entirely honest in what she says.

“…Ophelia?” I ask. “Are- are you okay? Do you not like Lauren or Sarah?”

“They are perfectly nice young women,” Ophelia replied. “As are Katie and Nikki. And when we were all sat around the table talking, it- it reminded me of when I was younger, at home with my sisters…”

“Oh- oh god, Ophelia…” I sigh, gently placing a hand on my friend’s shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry, sometimes I just forget- gah, I dunno. But you have to know that Lauren and Sarah are nothing like your family, right?”

“They are as opposite as it is possible to be,” Ophelia says with a smile. “But they are still teenaged girls.”

“So are you,” I remind my ‘sister’.

“So are WE,” Ophelia whispers, a wide smile creeping across her face. “I just… I just dislike peer pressure. I’ve face it my whole life, I thought here, at university, I’d be allowed to be who I am, allowed to be individual. I don’t see how I can do that if I’m going to be part of a group. Or worse…”

“’Worse’?” I ask.

“…You might prefer being their friend to being mine,” Ophelia mumbles, and this time, despite her dislike of being touched, I do give the teal-haired girl a gentle, sisterly hug.

“Never,” I say with a grin. “I like Katie and the other girls. But I LOVE you. We’re sisters forever, okay? Other friends can come and go, but that won’t change.”

“Thanks,” Ophelia says with a shy giggle, clearly embarrassed by both her confession and by the very public hug. “Please don’t ever tell anyone-“

“My lips are sealed,” I say, giggling as Ophelia smiles at me. “Did- did you chat much during the afternoon? With Lauren and Sarah, I mean.”

“Not much,” Ophelia says. “They mostly told me about their lives, I shared with them what I wished. Both come from very upper middle-class families, Lauren’s parents are accountants and Sarah’s mother is a psychiatrist. Who specialises in gender identity issues, believe it or not.”

“I think I remember reading that on Nikki’s blog,” I say. “God, what are the odds of that, eh? I follow her blog for years and within hours of starting university, I meet her… Guess I’ll have to thank Katie for that properly at some point, heh, find out when her birthday is, maybe…”

“I suppose I will need to get to know Katie as well,” Ophelia says with a smile. “And Nikki as well.”

“I’m sure we’ll get the chance to get to know each other over the next few years,” I shrug. “Friends for life, maybe?”

“That would be nice,” Ophelia says. “But I was thinking that instead of the next few years… We- we are yet to hold a flat-warming party, aren’t we?” I grin and start to giggle as Ophelia beams a wide, toothy grin at me.

Naturally, when we get home, we begin ordering supplies for tomorrow’s party- most of which contains alcohol, naturally- before settling down for an evening of reading for our courses and checking out our new friends’ Facebook profiles. Naturally, I give Nikki’s profile the most attention, especially when I find photographs on her page of her partying with all six members of the Angels, as well as all five members of the new band Out of Heaven- and it doesn’t escape my attention that both groups contain a transgendered member. Nikki is so lucky to have had such an amazing network of friends… But as I look at Ophelia curled up on her oversized, plush chair, I realise that I’d had more than my fair share of luck when it comes to friends… And if today is anything to go by, I’m just going to get even luckier.

Of course, when we tell Katie, Lauren and Sarah about the party the following day, they immediately sign up, as do a handful of other students on both our courses- some of whom happen to be attractive young men, much to mine and Katie’s delight! In total, about ten people (not counting myself and Ophelia) sign up for the party throughout the day, and by the time the five of us head to the cafeteria for lunch, our excitement level is high- though for one of us, our anxiety level is also unfortunately high.

“Eee!” Lauren squeaks, bouncing up and down in her chair like a five year old girl. “So cool, our first proper student party!”

“How many of the Angels’ parties have we been to before?” Sarah asks with an excited giggle of her own.

“Ahh, this is different, though!” Lauren laughs. “It’ll be, like, our party, you know?”

“Well…” I say with a sly grin. “Technically it’ll be OUR party, hehe!”

“Oh- oh my god!” Lauren nervously giggles. “I am SO sorry…”

“Bring along booze tonight and I’ll forgive you,” I say, earning giggles from everyone at the table- well, all but one person, anyway…

“Are you- are you alright, Ophelia?” Sarah asks. “You’ve been kinda quiet all morning…”

“I am fine, thank you,” Ophelia replies in a quiet, nervous voice that clearly isn’t fooling anyone.

“No, you’re not,” Sarah sighs.

“I thought your mother was the shrink?” Katie asks, making Sarah roll her eyes. “Seriously, Ophelia, if something’s up, you can tell us, we won’t judge, I promise.”

“I am… Just a little nervous about the party, that is all,” Ophelia says, and it takes all of my willpower not to lean toward her and give her a hug.

“…It IS your home,” Katie sighs. “If you feel that you’re not up to it-“

“No,” Ophelia says defiantly. “I have come to London to make new friends. This is the best way to make new friends. The party will go ahead.”

“Good girl!” Lauren says with a giggle.

“And as for MAKING new friends…” Katie says with a knowing smile, “I’d say you’ve already MADE them, hehe!”

“Damn right,” Lauren laughs, bringing a wide, genuine smile to Ophelia’s face.

“Especially if you share some of your designs with us!” Sarah asks, making Ophelia actually giggle. Unsurprisingly, this is one of my favourite sounds.

“That can be arranged,” Ophelia says. “As long as you both share yours!”

“Deal!” Sarah and Lauren giggle simultaneously, each playfully shaking Ophelia’s hand.

“Ah, I SO can’t wait for Halloween,” Katie giggles. “You must be AWESOME at designing costumes, hehe!”

“Oh god, and how!” I giggle as I remember Ophelia’s catsuit from two years ago. “’Category four’ clothing, hehe!”

“’Category four’?” Sarah asks. “What’s ‘category four’? If you don’t mind me, um, asking…”

“I’d kinda like to know what categories one, two and three are too,” Lauren says.

“Category one is casual clothing,” Ophelia explains. “Similar to what you are wearing now. Category two clothes consist of uniforms, clothing worn for a purpose. Category three clothes are costumes, clothing worn solely for the purpose of fun. Category four… Category four is clothing worn specifically to derive pleasure from the act of wearing them.” I grin as Ophelia explains her ‘theory’ to the other girls, but my face quickly falls when I see the three of them fidget awkwardly in their seats.

“…What?” I ask.

“Clothing specifically to, umm, derive pleasure…” Katie mumbles, glancing in my direction- specifically at the tight sweater, pleated miniskirt and black tights that are covering my body. I let out a long sigh as I immediately cotton on to what Katie’s referring to.

“Trust me, this isn’t ‘category four’,” I say. “None of this is. Not even the thong, hehe! I’ll admit, at first, it WAS, you know, ‘category four’… But the more I dressed, the more- the more it became a part of me, you know? Right now, this skirt, it- it’s category one. I barely even know I’m wearing it, heh. Clothes don’t make the girl… It’s the girl who makes the girl.”

“Nikki says the same thing a lot,” Sarah says with a smile. “Definitely helps that the girlier she gets, the cuter she gets, hehe! Though I am DEFINITELY going to have to tell her about ‘category four’…”

“Yeah,” Lauren muses, a wide grin spreading across her face. “Yeah, too right! I mean, just because we were born girls, it doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy dressing like girls, right?”

“That- that isn’t exactly what I meant by the categories…” Ophelia says with a grimace, before sighing. “Though I will admit, there is overlapping in the categories. I mean, most casual clothing doesn’t include a tight-laced corset, for starters.”

“So…” Sarah teases. “Category four underwear under category one clothing?”

“Category four underwear under a combination of category one and three clothing,” Ophelia says, giggling loudly along with the rest of the table.

“Ah, birthday parties from now on are going to be AMAZING,” Katie sighs. “Not that they weren’t before, hehe! Oh my god, we need to know whose is next! When are you two’s?”

“February 2nd,” I reply.

“December 17th,” Ophelia replies, smiling for the first time ever at the thought of celebrating her birthday.

“Looks like you win, Miss ‘November 27th’!” Katie says toward Sarah, who giggles bashfully.

“…I think Jamie and Charlotte already have something in mind for… Ah, shit,” Sarah says, before sighing heavily.

“Something up?” I ask the brown-haired girl.

“It’s- it’s one of the Angels’ partners’ birthdays today, I promised Nikki I’d go to that party,” Sarah sighs.

“…Not exactly your best friend, then?” Katie asks.

“Nikki will be going, she can’t get out of it,” Sarah shrugs. “And she IS my best friend.”

“Aww,” I sigh happily.

“Now you know why we call them ‘Snikki’,” Katie says with a smug grin as Sarah cringes.

“You know I hate that name,” Sarah mumbles.

“Only because it has one letter from your name and five from Nikki’s,” Lauren retorts, giggling as Sarah sticks her tongue out at her. “Don’t blame me that ‘Nirah’ or ‘Nikah’ didn’t roll off the tongue as well.”

“Or ‘Sarki’,” Katie says, before her eyes suddenly light up. “Ahh, it’s such a pity you two aren’t in a relationship.” I look on in confusion as Katie, Lauren and Sarah all look in my direction.

“Umm… What?” I ask.

“Because ‘Jacelia’ is the greatest couples name EVER!” Katie giggles.

“Oh Jacelia, you’re breaking my heart…” Lauren sings, making myself and my BFF roll our eyes.

“Simultaneous eye rolls!” Katie giggles. “I knew it, they’re meant for each other!”

“Unfortunately, there is one major thing that prevents me from being attracted to Jacinta,” Ophelia says with a sly grin. “She is not male.”

“Girl life forever!” Sarah cheers, before letting out another long sigh. “…I can live without Nikki for one night, I guess. I’ll be there. I’ll text Nikki when I get back to class, explain why I won’t be there.”

“Atta girl!” Katie cheers. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll find your ‘Prince Charming’ at tonight’s party?”

“You never know…” I giggle as I finish my lunch.

Naturally, neither Katie nor I get much work done for the rest of the day due to our excitement about the party- especially as Wednesday is a free day, meaning we can party as long as we like tonight and not have to be up early tomorrow! Unsurprisingly, this is what ends up happening, with all of us partying until gone midnight- even Ophelia, though as the party is being held at her flat, it’s not like she has much of a choice!

Even with just a dozen people, our flat is packed almost full with people chatting, dancing and flirting- with plenty of the latter being directed toward me! Everybody attending the party has fun, and everyone compliments me and Ophelia on our home and our hosting ability, but as the party ends, I’m still as single as I was at the start of the evening. This is despite Katie & Sarah’s best efforts to set me up with literally every guy at the party, and whilst they are admittedly very cute, none of them are what you’d call ‘Prince Charming’ material, even through beer goggles.

When I wake up on Wednesday morning, I am alone and in my own bed, and I feel like somebody’s using a pneumatic drill on the inside of my skull.

“Ugh,” I weakly spit as I slowly open my eyes, wincing at the sight of the sunlight streaming through my curtains. “Ophelia? Are you up?” A quick glance over at Ophelia’s bed reveals that she is indeed up, as does the sound of the television coming from the living room and the heavenly smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting into my bedroom.

Taking several deep breaths to steady myself, I head through to our open plan kitchen and living room, where I’m not surprised to see that Ophelia is already fully dressed and made-up and making breakfast. What is surprising, however, is the sight of Katie and Lauren cuddled up together under a blanket on our sofa bed.

“So then, Katren?” I tease as I sit down in Ophelia’s usual chair. “Or ‘Lautie’ maybe?”

“Shut up, we’re hungover and cold,” Lauren moans.

“Did- did you guys sleep here all night?” I ask, letting out a tired laugh as Katie nods.

“Technically speaking I think I passed out rather than fell asleep,” Katie moans. “Woke up to find that Ophelia had set up the sofa bed and thrown a blanket over the two of us. So thank you again for that, O!”

“You are very welcome, Katie,” Ophelia replied with a wide smile.

“Sarah not here too, then?” I ask.

“Think she went back to her mum’s house,” Lauren says. “Think I remember her calling Nikki and panicking ‘cause she wasn’t answering her phone…”

“Ugh, that’s more than I can remember,” Katie moans.

“Don’t blame me just because you weigh 2 stone and you drink like a fish!” Lauren admonishes the freckled girl, making me giggle despite my hangover- and much to my surprise, making Ophelia giggle as well.

“I’m blaming these two,” Katie snorts as she pulls the blanket over her head. “Their flat, their booze, their bad influence!”

“My ‘bad influence’ of drinking two glasses of wine all night and tidying up after you two?” Ophelia retorts, and I actually feel a tear form in the corner of my eye as my sister and my new friends tease each other like they’ve been friends their whole lives.

“She’s got you there…” Lauren says, making Katie moan and roll over on the sofa bed.

“FINE,” Katie says with a dramatic huff, before breaking into a fit of giggles. “But seriously though, it was a GREAT party.”

“I thought you couldn’t remember any of it?” I ask, making Lauren giggle at Katie’s embarrassment.

“That’s how I know it was great,” the freckled girl shrugs, smiling gratefully as Ophelia hands her a mug of hot coffee. “Just wish I was a bit more immune to morning afters…”

“What time is it, anyway?” I ask, squinting at the clock on the television.

“Ten past nine,” Ophelia replies. “I got up early as I wished to prepare the flat for the day ahead.”

“And be our nurse!” Lauren giggles.

“Hope you’ve got more planned for today than just the two of us nursing the two of you, heh!” I laugh.

“I dunno,” Katie sighs. “We SHOULD be at our ballet class today…”

“Ugh, room’s spinning enough as it is,” Lauren chuckles. “I’ll text Krys to apologise, kinda sucks, I mean, she DID move the lesson from Monday to Wednesday just to accommodate us, but still…”

“I was planning on heading to the library later today to do some reading,” Ophelia says, earning a sympathetic smile from myself and Lauren- obviously, with Ophelia’s dyslexia, she’ll need to set aside more time for reading than any of the rest of us.

“…I could read today,” Katie shrugs. “Need to head home to change first, though.”

“Speaking of,” I say with a concerned look on my face, “I hope you’re at least wearing underwear underneath there!”

“So do I,” Lauren says, before giggling as Katie lets out a long sigh. “It’s okay Jacin- Jacelia, hehe! We’re both clothed. Though these clothes will DEFINITELY need a wash tonight…”

“You may use our bathroom to freshen up if you want,” Ophelia says. “Shall I see you at the library later today?”

“Sure,” Lauren says, letting out a pained moan as she stands up and stretches her hungover body. “Can you text Sarah, get her to meet us there?”

“Of course,” Ophelia says, reaching for her phone to send the message.

“I’d better freshen up too,” Katie moans. “Feels like I’ve swallowed a cactus…”

“I’ll see you at the library, then?” I ask the freckled girl, who smiles and nods before climbing out from underneath the blanket.

“Jacinta, could you tidy up the sofa bed, please?” Ophelia asks. “I struggle to bend down and lift when I’m wearing a corset.”

“Sure,” I say, folding up the blanket and turning the bed back into a sofa. “Reckon we’ll get houseguests a lot the next three years?”

“I hope not,” Ophelia says with a sly grin. “Then I might not find another pair of buttocks in MY chair…”

“…Not sure I like this more confident Ophelia,” I mumble, making the teal-haired girl giggle as she elegantly lowered herself into her armchair and put her feet up on the coffee table I’d just moved back into position.

45 minutes later, after changing into a comfortable turtleneck sweater, a knee-length black skirt and a pair of really comfortable ribbed black tights, I walk into the university’s library alongside my BFF- who is, as always, dressed in her own ‘unique’ style. Today’s outfit consists of an ankle length, form-fitting dress in dark violet satin, spike-heeled stilettos and, of course, a tight-laced corset.

“…You know, purple actually suits you,” I say to the colourful girl, who turns the heads of everyone as she strides through the library.

“Thank you, Jacinta,” Ophelia says with a smug smile. “Perhaps next year, I shall change my hair colour to purple.”

“Why not change it now?” I shrug. “You’ve never been shy- yeah, ironic, I know- about changing your look in the past.”

“I have only just changed it to teal,” Ophelia explains. “I do not wish to waste the money I spent on the dye. And-“

“’And’?” I ask.

“…Never mind,” Ophelia mumbles, but I know my BFF well enough to know what her real reason is.

“’And’ you don’t want to change your look before our new friends have had a chance to get used to it?” I ask, making Ophelia sigh.

“You know how I hate peer pressure,” Ophelia mumbles, her cheeks starting to redden.

“It’s only peer pressure if it’s not your idea,” I shrug. “If you were really concerned about it you’d never have gone teal in the first place.”

“Very true,” Ophelia says with a light chuckle. “Though I do still wish to not waste money.”

“Meh, understandable,” I shrug. “But take it from someone who knows from experience- do NOT waste time being someone who you don’t want to be.”

“You are probably the only person who knows that better than I,” Ophelia muses.

“I dunno,” I say as we approach a table at which is sat the partner of the transgendered girl I briefly met yesterday. “There might be a few other people who know…”

“Oh, hey girlies!” Sarah says with a grin as we sit down next to her with our books, but I can’t help but notice a tinge of sadness behind her grin.

“Everything okay?” I ask the brown-haired girl. “Hungover?”

“Had worse,” Sarah shrugs. “Just- just had a bit of an argument with Nikki this morning. It’s nothing serious, we’ll be fine.”

“Well- if you’re sure,” I say. “Wouldn’t you rather be with her?”

“Oh, pretty much constantly,” Sarah laughs. “But she’ll be at our ballet class this morning, and after last night I’m REALLY not feeling up to that, heh, so figured I’d put the time to SOME good use.”

“Yeah, Katie and Lauren said the same thing,” I say.

“Did they get home okay last night?” Sarah asks.

“Neither of them got home AT ALL,” Ophelia replies, giggling along with Sarah. “They spent the night together on our sofa bed.”

“…’Together’?” Sarah asks with a twinkle in her eye.

“Don’t think anything happened,” I say with a giggle. “They’ll be along in a bit if you want to tease them about it, though.”

“Oh, that WILL be arranged,” Sarah laughs. “And thanks for the party last night- don’t think I’ve said that properly yet. Or soberly, for that matter.”

“You are very welcome, Sarah,” Ophelia says with a smile. “Hopefully Nikki will be able to attend any that we hold in the future.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Sarah says with a tired-looking grin. “Oh, by the way, Nikki wanted me to ask you- long shot, I know- whether the two of you would be interested in attending our ballet lesson sometimes? Only we kinda get to recommend-“

“We would be delighted to,” Ophelia says, earning looks of surprise from both myself and Sarah.

“…Really?” I ask.

“Why does this surprise you?” Ophelia asks. “I was never able to attend dance classes when I was growing up. You know this, Jacinta. And neither were you. Why would we NOT want to take up such a gracious offer?”

“Well, umm,” Sarah says, clearly taken aback by Ophelia’s enthusiasm. “You- you kinda have to wear a uniform, for starters. You don’t strike me as, well, a ‘category two’ kind of person…”

“How strict is the uniform?” Ophelia asks.

“Umm… it’s a pair of pink tights and a black leotard,” Sarah says. “Beyond that, the style doesn’t matter much…”

“Perfect,” Ophelia says with a twinkle in her own eye.

“Ah, I know that look,” I say with a giggle. “Think Ophelia’s already got about 10 different ways of interpreting ‘leotard and tights’ flowing through her brain… I’ll be happy just to wear the ‘proper’ uniform, though. For obvious reasons, heh!”

“Yeah, I- I kinda know,” Sarah says with a sympathetic smile. “Nikki was so excited before her first lesson, even if it was originally my idea. Though it wasn’t just because of the uniform, it’s a really great way to keep fit, to learn balance, elegance…”

“We’re sold!” I laugh. “Sounds like you’d rather be there than here, heh.”

“…I kinda would,” Sarah confesses.

“I assume that this would be just a regular dance class,” Ophelia asks. “And not the one that you and the Angels attend?”

“Well…” Sarah teases. “I may be able to have a word or two, hehe!”

“So cool!” I giggle, and much to my surprise, Ophelia is excitedly fidgeting in her chair as well. I knew she admired the Angels, and fashion models like them, but I never realised she was THIS big a fan of them…

“I’ll see what I can do,” Sarah says as she pushes her current book to one side. “I need to go and hit the uni’s magazine stores, great thing about our course, we’re actually encouraged to sitting around reading fashion magazines all day!”

“Same here!” I laugh. “Of course, I don’t personally know anyone likely to be in any of them…”

“Give it some time,” Sarah teases as she and Ophelia head to the ‘fashion design’ section of the library, while I head toward the photography section.

I spend the next twenty minutes browsing through magazines and books for information necessary for my course, deliberately trying to avoid any magazines with the Angels in them out of fear of getting too excited! I eventually accumulate an armful of reading material to take back to our table, but as I’m on my way back there, I run into an unexpected face- not one of my current friends, but a face from long in the past…

“T-Tom?” I ask, my jaw dropping. “Tom Randall?” I bite my lip as the tall, black-haired man turns to look at me- it HAS been a long time since I last saw him, but if it isn’t him, then he definitely has a doppelganger.

“Who- who are you? How do you know my name?” Tom asks, making me breathe a sigh of relief- it WAS him after all…

“You- you don’t recognise me?” I ask, before my eyes go wide as I realise that he almost certainly wouldn’t recognise ‘Jacinta’, when the last time he saw me, I went by a different name entirely.

“You- you do look kinda familiar,” Tom says. “Did you go to Frank Bridge School? In Brighton?”

“Yeah, yeah I kinda did,” I say. “I’m, um, I’m Jacinta, Jacinta Hanley.”

“I don’t recognise the name,” Tom says. “I knew a Jason Hanley from school, and you look a little like him. Are- are you his sister?” I bite my lip before answering- I must’ve played a scene like this- where I meet an old friend from school- out in my mind a dozen times since I came out to my father and started living full-time, and each time, it went differently. Sometimes, I’m accepted as an old friend and we reconnect. Sometimes I’m yelled at, called a ‘freak’ and left crying in a heap on the floor. Sometimes I even meet Prince Charming…

When I left school, I thought I’d put my old life behind me, and that went especially so when I moved to London. All of my hypothetical scenarios were exactly that- purely hypothetical, my imagination running away with me. Now here I am, for the first time ever, about to present ‘Jacinta’ to someone who only knew ‘Jason’. And I am TERRIFIED. I know I shouldn’t be- Tom and I weren’t exactly friends, and were barely acquaintances, and the university is fiercely LGBT-friendly so any rejection I get would reflect extremely badly on Tom- but my legs still quiver as I try to form the word to explain the situation.

“…Not quite,” I eventually say, my tongue almost numb with nerves. “I- I am Jas- I mean, I WAS Jason Hanley…”

“…Oh,” Tom says, his face going blank as he tries to process the information. “So, umm, then…?”

“Yeah,” I say with a nervous giggle.

“How- how long?” Tom asks. “If, um, you don’t mind me asking…”

“Just over a year,” I reply. “Well, just over a year full-time, on and off… Pretty much my whole life, heh. So, umm, are- are you studying at LCF?”

“Yep!” Tom laughs. “Doing PR and communications, in my second year now. You?”

“Just started fashion photography,” I say with a giggle. “God… Of all the places to run into each other, eh?"

“Yeah,” Tom says, fidgeting as I try not to unconsciously flirt with him. “Umm… Anyone- anyone else here? From Brighton, I mean?”

“Just a friend I met after school, you probably wouldn’t know her,” I reply. “And trust me, you would know if you knew her, hehe!”

“Oh, the- the blue haired girl who was here a few minutes ago?” Tom asks.

“Well, teal, actually!” I giggle.

“The one who was hanging out with one of the Teen Angels?” Tom asks, making me frown with confusion.

“Yep!” I say with a grin. “That was a bit of a surprise, when one of them sat down next to me on my first day, heh!”

“We’d heard that a group of them was starting LCF this year,” Tom says. “If you’re in their social circle, you’ve REALLY done well in your first week, heh! Who knows? You might even end up getting famous yourself…”

“Umm, sure, if you say,” I laugh. “Why do I get the impression this social ‘circle’ is a lot more complicated than I first thought?”

“It’s not THAT complicated,” Tom giggles. “Not like you’ll need to have, say, your own wiki in order to just live your life or anything.”

“Still, though,” I say. “Weird that you, a straight guy, knows more about Heavenly Talent than me, a transgendered girl, hehe!”

“I applied to do work experience there last summer,” Tom shrugs. “Didn’t get the spot, obviously, but did the homework nonetheless.”

“And now you’re hoping that I could get you an ‘in’ with the agency?” I tease.

“…Well I am NOW!” Tom says, making me giggle girlishly. “Though it was you who approached me, not the other way round…”

“…Yeah, it was!” I giggle. “Umm… So, umm… Do- do you fancy, you know, getting a- getting a coffee, maybe? Or lunch? Or, like, a coffee for lunch?”

“Umm, sure,” Tom says, nervously scratching his head as he looks for- and, thankfully, fails to find- a way to brush me off. “Want to get these books home first, though. See you at, say, 12:30pm at the Costa near the tube station?”

“It’s a date!” I say with a wide grin that makes Tom nervously laugh again as he walks away, leaving me with a VERY wide smile on my face as I return to where Ophelia and Sarah- and the recently-arrived Katie and Lauren- are sat.

“Ooh, after you with that one!” Katie says as she sees the magazine on top of my pile.

“That’s a hell of a smile you’ve got there,” Lauren teases, making me blush. “Don’t tell me that after all our hard work last night, you just happen to run into Prince Charming here in the library?”

"...Maybe," I tease, earning giggles from all four girls.

"Sooo..." Katie asks. "Who is he?"

"And more importantly," Lauren interjects, "where are you meeting him, hmm?"

"He's someone I know from school in Brighton, and none of your business," I reply, earning giggles from all of the girls- Ophelia included.

"Ooh!" Katie retorts with a mock pout. "Girls, I kinda get the impression we're not wanted here!"

"Well- ugh, no, it's not THAT," I sigh.

"It's okay," Lauren says with a grin. "First week in the big city, running into someone you know, of course you're going to want time alone with him."

"Just a case of how 'alone' they get," Katie teases, making everyone giggle and me roll my eyes as I return to my reading.

Naturally, I don't get much reading done during the morning, thanks to my mind being obsessed with my upcoming ‘date’. Despite my best efforts to slip away early to go home and get changed, the rest of the girls (especially Katie) insist that I stay and study with them until just before 12:30, meaning that I practically have to run to the coffee shop where I’m meeting Tom- much to the others’ amusement.

Fortunately, by the time I arrive, I manage to catch my breath just in time for the arrival of the attractive young man- which almost causes me to start hyperventilating again!

“Hi,” Tom says nervously as he sits down opposite me. “Have- have you, umm, ordered yet?”

“Not yet,” I say with a goofy-sounding giggle. “Was, umm, was waiting for you…”

“Umm, okay,” Tom laughs as we both stand up and head to the counter. “So, umm…”

“Yeah,” I giggle awkwardly. “Umm, you- you still live in Brighton? I mean, when you’re not at uni…”

“Yep,” Tom says. “Still live with my parents, heh.”

“Me too,” I say. “Well, my dad, but, well, you know…”

“Yeah,” Tom says quietly as he orders our coffees. “I- I remember hearing about your mum when you were, well…”

“…A boy?” I ask.

“Younger,” Tom clarifies, earning a giggle from both of us. “Though- umm, what- what you said also, kinda, you know, ‘counts’…”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Kinda feel guilty leaving him alone, I don’t have any brothers or sisters and he doesn’t have another partner, probably won’t ever get another serious partner…”

“Yeah, I’ve got one brother but he’s, like, eight years older so he moved out ages ago,” Tom chuckles.

“I kinda consider Ophelia to be my, you know, ‘sister’, actually,” I say. “She got kicked out of her parents’- well, her mother’s house, anyway- so she’s lived with us the last few months before coming to uni. I know dad likes her a lot too.”

“Oh, umm, that’s cool,” Tom says. “So, umm, are- are you two, you know…”

“What, me and Ophelia?” I ask with a giggle. “No, heh. We- we’re both straight. Umm, as in, only interested, you know, in guys…”

“Yeah,” Tom says, fidgeting a little as we collect our drinks and sit back down.

“Are- is, you know, umm,” I mumble. “Are- are you okay with me being here? I mean, because you used to know ‘Jason’-“

“No, no that’s not it at all,” Tom reassures me. “You… Everyone at school, you know, kinda knew that there… There was something, you know…”

“’Wrong’?” I ask.

“’Unusual’,” Tom says. “Though even that word is probably, you know, too discriminatory, heh. You know I’ve got no problem with transgendered people. I wouldn’t have applied to work with Heavenly Talent if I did. And it’s not like I knew ‘Jason’ that well, anyway, heh.”

“Okay, then…” I say. “So, umm, so what- you know, you’re kinda acting, you know, ‘uneasy’…”

“I- ugh,” Tom sighs. “It’s good catching up with you, Jacinta. Kinda nice to have a familiar face here in London, even if I’m not used to the face being covered in, you know, make-up…”

“So- umm, so, you know, what- what is it?” I ask.

“I kind- I kinda already have a girlfriend,” Tom sighs, making my heart sink. So much for ‘Prince Charming in week one’, I think to myself, before taking a deep breath and smiling. After all, it IS only week one, I’m in London for three years, there’s bound to be plenty more fish in the sea, especially one as big as London.

“Oh, okay,” I say, shrugging and trying not to look nonchalant.

“Back in Brighton,” Tom clarifies. “You might know her from school, her name’s Caitlin, Caitlin Gunn?” My heart sinks further as I hear the name that I haven’t heard in a long time- the name of the girl who I was so close to as a child, but who I haven’t spoken to in years…

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Yeah, I know her. Is- is she studying in London too?”

“No, works at Primark back in Brighton,” Tom says. “Think I remember now that you used to be friends with her back at the start of school? That you went to the same primary school, right?”

“You remember correctly,” I say, before letting out a long sigh. “Used to be me, her and two other girls, Jessica Campbell and Noor Iqbal. They… They used to treat me like another one of the girls, heh.”

“No wonder you hung out with them so much, then,” Tom says softly. “Cait- Caitlin, umm, hardly talks about you, though… Though I guess I don’t really talk about my primary school days either, heh.”

“Is- ugh, this’ll sound like a stupid question,” I moan.

“No, go on,” Tom says.

“Is- is Caitlin a fan of the Angels too?” I ask, trying not to blush at the question.

“She definitely watches the show, dunno if she’s a die-hard fan,” Tom shrugs. “Why?”

“Just figured that if she was a fan of Jamie-Lee Burke… Ugh, not important,” I sigh. “She really doesn’t mention me?”

“’Fraid not,” Tom says.

“She still talk about Jessica and Noor?” I ask.

“Umm, think they went their separate ways after school,” Tom says. “I know Noor’s at uni in Birmingham, think Jessica works at some shop in Eastbourne now, I dunno. I’ll definitely tall Cait I ran into you next time I see her. Heh, she’ll probably be surprised!”

“I dunno about that,” I giggle. “I would be GREAT to speak to her again, though.”

“Even though you’ve now got celebrity friends?” Tom asks. “Well, minor celebrity friends, anyway?”

“Assuming they don’t get sick of me before too long,” I chuckle. Like Caitlin, Jessica and Noor did, I think to myself.

“Can’t see that EVER happening,” Tom says with a grin, making me giggle as we finish our coffees and go to get another drink. Okay, so maybe I haven’t found my ‘Prince Charming’ today, but that doesn’t mean Tom and I can’t be friends, and I have a wide grin on my face when I return to my flat just after 3pm.

“I take it that the date went well, then?” Ophelia asks with a smug grin.

“It wasn’t a ‘date’,” I retort. “I just knew him from school, I wanted to catch up…”

“Of course you did,” Ophelia says with a sly grin. “When shall you be seeing him again, and how much of him shall you be seeing?”

“I don’t know and we’ll both be fully clothed,” I scoff. “I’m not THAT guy-hungry, for god’s sake…”

“I shall be sure to let Katie and Lauren know that they CAN continue to look for a suitable young man for you, then,” Ophelia giggles. “But that shall be tomorrow, I still have much to read tonight, as do you!”

“Yes, yes, I know,” I sigh as I pick the borrowed books and magazines out of my bag and prepare to while away the rest of the evening reading.

Naturally, Ophelia’s smirk doesn’t leave her face for the rest of the evening, and when I walk into college the following day, the grin on Katie’s face tells me that news of my ‘date’ has spread quicker than I would have imagined.

“Sooo…?” Katie asks as I sit down next to her.

“You know,” I sigh, “Ophelia used to HATE Facebook? Flat-out refused to sign up for it for ages, now she’s gossiping on it like a pro…”

“What makes you think it was Ophelia who told me about the date?” Katie asks, before giggling as I sigh at her. “Okay, so maybe it was, but she did say you had a BIG smile on your face when you came home yesterday…”

“I was just meeting up with a friend,” I sigh as I get out my notebook and pen.

“If you say so…” Katie teases, giggling as our tutor arrives to begin our class.

Naturally, when Katie and I arrive at our usual table for lunch, my freckled friend’s grin is mirrored by the other three girls, who all have to suppress a giggle as I sit down with my meal.

“Hey girlies!” Katie squeaks excitedly, before her head slowly turns to face me, which only widens my other friends’ grins.

“Oh, please,” I sigh.

“What?” Lauren protests. “Not every day one of us has a first date…”

“Ugh,” I spit, taking a deep breath. “So, girls, what were you doing in your class?”

“Other than gossiping, you mean?” Lauren giggles. “Still just getting to grips with the basics, the software programs we’re going to be using, that sort of thing.”

“We’re ‘getting to grips’ too,” Katie says. “And not just with the software is Miss Hanley’s grin yesterday afternoon is to be believed, hehe!”

“Oh- for the-“ I moan.

“Girlies,” a slightly subdued Sarah says, “I think we may be touching a nerve…” I sigh softly as Sarah turns and looks at Ophelia, almost as though she was looking for permission.

“No nerves have been touched,” Ophelia says with a smug grin, and I prepare myself for a barrage of teasing from the brown-haired girl when all of a sudden, she looks over my head at the latest arrival to the table.

“Nikki!” Sarah squeaks, jumping out of her seat to give her lover a kiss and a long hug.

“Aww,” Katie sighs, her attention having thankfully been distracted. “Love watching ‘Snikki’ together…”

“You two ARE so cute,” I giggle. “Kinda wish I had a hunky guy I could, umm, ‘have a couples name’ with…” Way to go, Jacinta, I think to myself.

“Hey, we tried to set you up on Tuesday, didn’t we?” Sarah says, making me giggle.

“And did I or did I not see you spending a LOT of time with Tom yesterday afternoon?” Lauren asks, making my cheeks redden.

“For the last time, we’re just friends,” I say with an exasperated giggle. “We knew each other from school, Ophelia, back me up here, please?” Even though you didn’t go to the same school as me…

“They do indeed know each other from school,” Ophelia says with a sly grin. “That’s all I’m willing to say.”

“You never fancied any guys, Nikki?” I ask, hoping to deflect attention away from myself.

“Umm, no, never,” Nikki says with a happy smile. “Only ever Sarah.”

“Oh, that is just so sweet,” I sigh, staring at the tight black miniskirt clinging to the slender young woman’s body. “Trust me when I say, though, that you could EASILY get any guy you wanted, especially in that skirt!”

“Aww, thanks!” Nikki giggles. “My skirt thanks you too!” Nikki and I share a genuine giggle, and all of a sudden, I’m reminded of the years I spent as part of Caitlin, Jessica and Noor’s ‘group’, the times when we were young kids when we’d get together and talk about trivial stuff- games, music, toys, all manner of childish nonsense. I realise now that it doesn’t matter what we were talking about back then, what matters is who you’re gossiping with- and from the smiles on all of my friends’ faces- both old and new friends- I know that Tom was right when he said that I struck it lucky when Katie sat down next to me on Monday morning.

Especially lucky as many girls her age would look at a transgendered girl, or a teal-haired eccentric cisgendered girl and run a mile. If they saw both together, they'd run a light year. But not these girls. Katie actually sought me out purely because she believed I was transgendered, and thought nothing of crashing at mine and Ophelia's flat less than 48 hours after meeting us for the first time. And now, three days on from our first meeting, I'm being teased by the girls like we've been friends our whole lives.

Of course, my first attempt at finding the 'Prince Charming' I'm being teased about didn't go exactly according to plan, but that's not a problem- there'll be plenty more opportunities to find 'the one', especially with Katie and Lauren promising to play 'fairy godmother' for me on literally every night out (or in) we have! It's going to be a mad three years... But a damn fun three years!

It'll be especially fun if Katie & co introduce me to their celebrity friends- not that I'd pressure them into doing so, of course, but it certainly wouldn't hurt. Ironically, though, the one thing I think about every time I picture myself attending an 'Angel' party is Caitlin sending me a message on Facebook, wanting to reconnect, and my old gang meeting my new gang.

An even bigger irony is that Ophelia would probably be more excited to attend those parties than I would! I've said before and I'll say again that Ophelia is worth a million 'other' friends. Now, thanks to Katie & co, I don't have to make that choice.

And last but not least, I now have a friend I didn't have in Brighton- a T-girl just like myself. I haven't got to know Nikki as well as I'd hoped- well, not yet, anyway. I was disappointed that she didn't come to the flat warming, but to be fair I'd probably have picked the celebrity party too if given the choice. Her fledgling fame and her successful job makes me realise that there's nothing a T-girl like us can't do. Nikki and Sarah sporting fancy diamond engagement rings on their left hands the following week just serves as proof of that.

One chapter of my life has ended, and another has begun- and I can't wait to see what it'll bring!

“Okay then,” I say to myself as I stare at the mountain of paperwork in front of me. “One written assignment, one practical assignment and about two hundred photos, and roughly a week in which to do them. Easy.”

“Umm… They don’t have to be in until December,” Katie reminds me. “Unless you plan on spending all of next week working and all your free time AFTER next week partying? Because, you know, I can kinda get behind THAT, it’s just- you know? I’m probably going to be either drunk, hungover, or a little thing I like to call ‘drunkover’ for basically every second of this coming week!”

“The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can stop worrying about them,” I retort. “Besides, I’m going home this week, to see dad… He’s not exactly the biggest party animal in the world. Neither’s Ophelia, actually…”

“Oh, I dunno about THAT,” Katie giggles. “She’s had fun on all our nights out, hasn’t she?”

“Well- yeah…” I concede with a giggle. “Though I reckon- ugh, this’ll sound silly…”

“All the more reason to say it,” My freckled friend teases.

“…I know I have fun on our nights out because I’m with a gang of girls who I know like me for ME,” I mumble. “I’m 99% certain it’s the same for Ophelia too.”

“Aww…” Katie coos, ambushing me with a playful hug. “Well, for what it’s worth, the same DEFINITELY goes for me and Lauren. And Snikki too! I know Nikki is REALLY happy she’s got another friend like- umm, well, umm, you know…”

“Meh, you should know by now that I don’t mind you saying it out loud,” I shrug.

“…In fairness, I HAVE only known you for a month,” Katie says with a smirk.

“I know, it feels like so much longer…” I say, before biting my lip as I realise my faux pas. “Umm, I mean-“

“I know what you mean,” Katie giggles, giving me a gentle hug. “Come on, don’t want to keep Lauren, Sarah and Ophelia- Lausarelia?”

“…Keep working on that,” I say, making Katie giggle again.

“If I get the time during the weekend,” Katie says. “Between all the partying anyway, hehe!” I share yet another giggle with the excitable young woman before heading to the front entrance of our university, where as predicted, our three friends are waiting for us.

“FINALLY!” Lauren says with a deep pout as she, Sarah and Ophelia tap their feet at us.

“Sorry…” I grimace, before sighing as the three girls all start to snigger at us. “…Okay, NOT sorry then!”

“We only got here a few seconds ago anyway,” Sarah explains. “SO looking forward to this week off…”

“And I wonder why?” Katie teases as she playfully grabs Sarah’s left hand- and the shiny diamond ring on its third finger. “Typical, eh? Sarah spends all of reading week in bed with her fiancée, while I spend it trying to fight off my idiot little brothers…”

“I’m not spending ALL of it in bed with Nikki,” Sarah retorts.

“So… Sofa, then?” Lauren teases.

“Bathtub?” Katie asks.

“Kitchen table?” Ophelia asks, the smirk on her magenta-coloured lips telling me that she’s having just as good a time as I am.

“…Yes, probably and maybe, in that order,” Sarah says with a sly wink. “First, though, we are five sexy, hard-working young women, and it’s Friday night, so you know what that means?”

“Party!” The five of us all cheer, startling our nearby classmates as we head to the nearest tube station.

As we walk, I can’t help but take in the appearances of the four girls, how different- but how unapologetically feminine- all four of them are. From Katie are her denim shorts with tights, to Lauren and her knee-length denim pencil skirt, to Sarah and her homemade A-line dress, to Ophelia in her usual eccentric gown, all of them- even my usually shy BFF- exude the kind of confidence you only find in a truly beautiful woman. And, much to my surprise… So do I.

In my tight black miniskirt, shiny black tights and striped long-sleeve top that’s cut just low enough to expose a titillating amount of cleavage, I am attracting just as much male attention as the other four girls, even from guys who know ‘the truth’ about me. As flattered as I am by the attention, however, I actually find that the thing that matters to me the most is the way Katie, Lauren and Sarah have unconditionally accepted me as ‘just one of the girls’… And the way they’ve accepted Ophelia as well.

Even though we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, the five of us are already close enough that we spend a LOT of our free time with each other, both working on assignments and for, well, more ‘extracurricular activities’. We’ve gone out clubbing every Friday night since we’ve met- with tonight obviously being no exception- and Katie and Lauren have stayed overnight in our sofa bed on more than one occasion. Neither girl has hesitated in the slightest when it comes to, for example, getting changed in front of me, or even discussing intimate things such as ‘lady troubles’, parts of their anatomy that I simply don’t have (well, don’t have YET, anyway). Even better is the way they actually go out of their way to include not just myself, but Ophelia in these conversations as well.

Despite their initial reluctance- and Sarah’s initial remarks about her- our three friends seem to like Ophelia more and more every time they see her, and it’s easy to tell that the feeling is mutual. Sometimes I forget that Ophelia had even fewer friends than I did when we were growing up, and this is her first time being part of a real ‘gang’, and as such, she often gets VERY enthusiastic about our little get-togethers. Well, until she realises how excitable she’s getting, anyway! Sarah and Lauren have already exchanged a lot of their design ideas with Ophelia and received a lot of her ideas in return, and even started work on their own tight-lacing corsets!

Of course, the fact that Katie, Lauren and Sarah have their own amount of fame certainly helps! Tom wasn't the only person excited by the fact that the 'Teen Angels' were studying at their university, and their fame has definitely helped make the start of our university career very smooth. I had worried that my bring transgendered would cause friction at the college, but it's very much a 'safe space' for LGBT people- especially those with famous friends!

The five of us are very much a proper little ‘clique’, and I’m loving every last second of it, but there is a part of me that feels guilty when I remember that our ‘five’ is in fact a ‘six’. Unlike Katie and Lauren, Nikki and Sarah have never slept overnight in our flat, and Nikki herself has only been in the flat a few times. Hell, I’ve only ever spoken to her on a few occasions, and on those occasions, I’ve always felt a little guilty, feeling (however wrongly) that Nikki thinks I’m intruding on ‘her’ gang or even replacing her, even though consciously I know that it was Nikki’s choice not to go to university, and Sarah clearly adores Nikki with all her heart (the engagement rings they were are kinda a hint of this). The one source of relief is that Nikki is as eager to be my friend as I am to be hers.

And, of course, the more time I spend in London, the more I feel guilty about leaving my father all alone on the coast. With our ‘extracurricular activities’ on Friday nights, our part-time jobs and our friends always being up for fun on Saturdays (and most Sundays too), Ophelia and I haven’t actually been back to Brighton since dad dropped us off at our new flat a month ago. I’ve talked to him loads on the telephone and on Facebook, and I know that Ophelia has chatted to him on Facebook as well (my BFF now embracing the website she despised for years), but it’s not the same as seeing him face to face and spending time with him. Then again, when we go back to Brighton, I’ll feel guilty for Ophelia, who obviously has no family she wants to see down in Brighton but will go there anyway…

Everyone has told me over and over again that I shouldn’t feel guilty about supposedly ‘letting people down’, and that as it’s impossible to please everyone all the time, I shouldn’t even try- especially as there are people in the world who believe that I shouldn’t even have the right to live my life the way I want, the way I love. And while THOSE people can obviously take a running jump, I still feel that I should do more for the people who have done so much for me.

Fortunately, whenever I feel like that, dad always reminds me of one piece of advice I’ve taken to heart- that enjoying myself and having fun is more than enough ‘reward’ for him. And tonight, I intend to do just that!

After a very quick microwaved dinner, Ophelia and I head straight to our bedroom, where we strip down to our underwear and immediately set about transforming ourselves from 'cute college girls' to 'sexy goddesses'. Extra-thick and extra-dark eye make-up goes on my face, followed by shiny lip gloss and a light layer of fake tan. I tease my hair to its maximum volume, before slipping my legs into a pair of shiny nude tights and squeezing my torso into my shortest, tightest clubbing dress. Finally, I slip my feet into my highest pair of platform stilettos, before grabbing my handbag and gazing at my reflection in the mirror... Before looking at my BFF, whose attire makes me look like I'm wearing pyjamas.

Of course, Ophelia's 'base' is her extra-tight corset (an overbust one with a built-in bra), which she has fastened shiny striped stockings to. Her dress is no more 'eccentric' than mine, but her accessories and make-up certainly are. Her extra-high collar almost looks like she's wearing a corset around her throat, her arms are covered in bicep-long black velvet gloves and her heels are an eye-watering seven inches high. Naturally, her eye make-up is much thicker and darker than mine, her lips are coated in shiny blood red lipstick, and instead of fake tan, Ophelia has gone the opposite route, smearing her face with a shiny pale foundation that gives her an almost ethereal look.

Nonetheless, I have a very sly, very smug smile on my face as I head down to the waiting taxi where Katie and Lauren are waiting, both wearing as much make-up (and as little clothing) as I am.

“God- tall enough?” The 5’ 4” in stocking feet Lauren protests as I slide onto the back seat of the taxi. “What, are you planning on pulling a basketball player tonight?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I have ‘bad genes’,” I retort, making Lauren bite her lip in a guilty manner. “Agh- sorry, sorry…”

“No, my fault,” the black-haired girl sighs.

“In fairness, Lauren is used to hanging out with a stupidly tall girl who still wears stupidly tall heels,” Katie says.

“’Stupid’ being the word there,” Lauren snorts.

“Ah yes…” I say. “Forgot our ‘super six’ was actually a ‘magnificent seven’. Reckon Dannii’ll be out tonight?”

“Ugh, doubt it,” Lauren sighs, before a smile creeps across her face. “Which just means more fun for the rest of us, hehe!”

“And besides, you both should know the real reason that Jacinta wears such high heels,” Ophelia says, flashing a brief grin at me.

“Because they’re sexy?” Lauren asks.

“Because they’re girly and gorgeous?” Katie asks with a smirk. “Especially THOSE ones, hehe!”

“Why thank you, Miss Henderson!” I giggle, playfully fiddling with my shoes to the delight of my friends. “May I be the first to say: your heels are DAMNED sexy too!” The four of us all giggle excitedly as our taxi heads to its next destination- Sarah’s house, to pick up her and her fiancée- before ferrying us into the centre of the city and to a very noisy, very crowded nightclub.

Once we step out of the taxi, however, I get a little surprise as Sarah and Nikki coolly stride past the long queue waiting to get in, instead striding straight up to the bouncer and showing him a small piece of paper. Seconds later, the six of us are ushered straight into the club by the bouncers, bypassing the queue entirely, and escorted to the fancy VIP area.

“What. The. Fuck!?” I exclaim, bouncing up and down excitedly. “I didn’t realise you were THIS famous!”

“Well…” Nikki says with a sly grin. “I’M not, but…” My jaw- and, much to my surprise, Ophelia’s jaw- drops further when seconds later, the six of us are joined by two women whose faces we know VERY well.

“Hey girls!” The smiling face of Viks Brooks- one of the ‘Angels’ that Ophelia and I idolise- squeaks excitedly, exchanging a hug with Nikki and Sarah as though they were old friends.

“Hey girlIES!” the equally excited face of Krystie Fullerton says, exchanging hugs with all six of us without a second thought.

“Oh my god!” I squeak as the tall blonde woman hugs me. “I am SUCH a huge fan of yours!”

“God, Jacinta!” Nikki laughs. “You HAVE met her before, you know? You signed up for her class? Well, the waiting list, anyway…”

“Which you two will be a little further up today,” Krystie says with a knowing wink.

“Nikki figured that you girls deserved a little treat, what with it being your first proper reading week,” Viks explains. “Heh, I remember my first reading week. Well, some of it. Well… Maybe a couple of hours of it, hehe!”

“So, we figured we’d come along, flash our… Celebrity status, hehe!” Krystie giggles. “And help get your ‘amnesia week’ off to a great start!”

“Oh my god, thank you all SO much!” I squeak.

“Many, many thanks to all of you!” Ophelia says, her own refined voice cracking with excitement.

“Well we’re not just here to be thanked,” Krystie says with a smug grin. “I’m 23, my boyfriend's busy with work, and I NEED to party!”

“Party!” The rest of us all cheer simultaneously as Nikki re-emerges with a tray full of expensive-looking cocktails, which naturally get drank within seconds, as does the second tray that Nikki brings up shortly afterwards.

The evening (and subsequent night) passes by in a haze of dancing and drinking. Naturally, I get more and more drunk with every passing minute, and when I wake up on Saturday morning, I’m not even remotely surprised to find that my head is in absolute agony. What is surprising, however, is that rather than being in my bed, I’m uncomfortably slumped in our shower cubicle with just a blanket to preserve my modesty.

“…Fuck,” I sigh as I wrap the blanket tighter around my shivering body and pad out into our living room, where the noise of the TV tells me that I’m not the only person awake in the flat.

“Ophelia?” I ask, before the scene in our living room brings a wide grin to my face and helps erase some of the pain of the hangover.

“Not so loud,” Sarah moans as she cuddles up next to her fiancée on our sofa bed, their hungover (and very obviously naked) bodies covered by a thick blanket.

“Sorry,” I whisper, grinning over to Ophelia who is, as always, hard at work in our kitchen area making coffee and toast for everyone.

“Who’s that?” Nikki mumbles, her face buried in Sarah’s neck. “Someone with a magical cure for hangovers?”

“Just me I’m afraid,” I reply as I sip my extra-sweet, extra-strong coffee. “Though if you have a ‘hangover fairy’ costume I’ll happily wear it, heh.”

“Ugh, we really shouldn’t have drank so much last night,” Sarah laughs. “Got a birthday party tonight to go to as well…”

“You’re only eighteen once,” I shrug. “Take it from someone the grand old age of nineteen, hehe!”

“If only we’d known you last year when we wanted booze,” Nikki giggles.

“We’d have learned our lesson early,” Sarah giggles. “And not woken up on your sofa bed, heh.”

“Better than where I woke up,” I moan as I try to stretch my stiff joints while still preserving some of my modesty. “Why DID I wake up in the shower, anyway?”

“Because I was sleeping on the bathroom floor,” Ophelia replies.

“…Why were either of us sleeping in the bathroom at all?” I ask, prompting giggles from the couple snuggled up on our sofa bed.

“Katie and Lauren are in your beds,” Sarah says. “We would’ve been but you only have singles. And obviously, fuck that.”

“As long as you didn’t fuck that on our sofa,” I retort. “My dad might have to sleep there in… Oh, shit!”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, your sofa is still fuck-free,” Nikki says. “Both of us were FAR too wasted last night.”

“It’s not that,” I moan. “My dad’ll be here to pick us up in just a few…” My sentence is interrupted by the sound of our flat’s doorbell ringing, which makes my stomach tie itself in a knot. “…Minutes.”

“Come on, Jacinta,” dad yells from outside the flat. “I can hear you in there, open up, it’s bloody freezing out here!”

“She’ll be right there!” Sarah yells despite her hangover, earning a death glare from me. After taking two deep breaths to compose myself, I rearrange my sheet and open the door, earning a long, loud sigh from my father.

“Good to see you’ve drank all your student loan already,” dad comments, visibly wincing at my breath as he walks into the living room. “Hello Ophelia. Hello random naked couple sleeping in my daughter’s sofa bed.”

“Hi Mr. Hanley,” Sarah says with a smug grin that, much like my grimace, only intensifies as Katie and Lauren drag their sheet-clad bodies out of my bedroom.

“…Next time, I’ll call ahead,” dad mumbles. “Try to avoid ruining your orgy.”

“This isn’t an orgy,” I moan. “Dad, meet Nikki, Sarah, Katie and Lauren, girls, meet my dad.”

“Ah, so YOU’RE Katie,” dad says, holding out his hand for Katie to shake before realising that there’s no way she can do that while preserving her modesty. “I always imagined you being a bit…”

“…Taller?” Katie asks.

“Less naked,” dad says, making Katie blush as everyone has a giggle at her expense.

“It was a Friday night, you expect us to stay in and watch QI?” I snort.

“It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you Mr. Hanley,” Katie mumbles.

“Friends of Jacinta and Ophelia can call me ‘Mike’,” dad says with a warm smile.

“…Mike,” Katie giggles nervously, leading to an awkward silence in the room.

“You- you girls DO know that it’s half past ten, right?” Dad says, making all of us grimace.

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around what day it is,” I sigh. “You- you all got a change of clothes with you?”

“We’ll be fine,” Sarah sighs. “Assuming my mum doesn’t kill me. Ugh, which will probably happen.”

“Good job I’m not due at work until 5pm,” Katie sighs.

“Good job I’ve booked the week off,” I say with a snort of laughter.

“…I can always come back later when you’re all a little less, well, corpse-like?” Dad says.

“That will not be necessary,” Ophelia says, earning angry stares from the rest of us that at first causes her to grimace, before a smug grin slowly creeps across her face. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mike?”

“Not as much as these five!” Dad laughs. “Assuming by ‘cup’ you mean ‘IV drip’. Good to see you’re still the sensible one, Ophelia. With your, umm, turquoise hair and all.”

“Thank you, Mike,” Ophelia says smugly, before handing yet more cups of coffee to those of us still suffering.

“Seriously, though,” dad says, “As excited as most men would be to be stood in the middle of a bunch of naked eighteen year old girls, I think I probably had better let you all get dressed. I’ll swing back around in about 45 minutes. With a packet of mints as well.” As my father departs, the giggles of my friends cause my cheeks to flush with embarrassment.

“Aww…” Lauren giggles. “Don’t be TOO embarrassed, Jacinta. Your dad’s cool! God knows my dad would probably have had a fit if he saw me like this…”

“Yeah, mine too,” Sarah chuckles. “My stepmother’s head would probably explode, heh. So would my actual mother, come to think of it.”

“My mother would probably wonder why we aren’t all already drinking again,” Ophelia muses, before grimacing as an awkward silence falls over the room.

“…Haha, Jacinta’s dad recognised my name more than you two so-called ‘celebrities’,” Katie teases Sarah and Nikki, who respond by rolling their eyes at the freckled girl.

“Whatever,” Nikki snorts, before letting out a long sigh. “We probably should get dressed, don’t want another bollocking from Jacinta’s dad.”

“Knock yourself out,” I shrug.

“…Privacy?” Sarah protests, making the rest of us giggle as we leave the couple alone in the living room.

“Just remember,” I warn. “That sofa stays fuck free, alright?”

45 minutes later, as promised, dad returns in his car, and as promised, Katie, Lauren, Sarah and Nikki are gone, and Ophelia and I are fully washed, made-up and dressed, and ready for our trip back to the south coast.

“Everyone gone?” Dad asks as he pokes his head around the door. “You’ve not another naked woman stuffed in the airing closet, have you?”

“…Why would I be interested in naked women at all, anyway?” I retort.

“Touché,” dad mumbles. “All packed?”

“We have everything we need,” Ophelia says. “Though I will miss this place while we are away.”

“Nothing like having your own place,” dad says. “I remember my first shithole. I mean flat. Moved in just before I met your mother for the first time…” I bite my lip as an awkward silence once again fills the room.

“Anyway,” I say. “Let’s get going, sooner we leave, sooner we’re home…”

“Yeah,” dad mumbles. “I, umm, don’t suppose you’ve been following Albion this season, have you?”

“…On and off,” I reply. “Kinda got, you know, other things on my mind, heh.”

“Clothes, make-up, boys and alcohol?” Dad asks.

“…And uni work,” I say.

“Good,” dad says with a grin. “That’s always been my dream. Well, my big three dreams, anyway. You graduating from uni, you getting married, and Brighton getting promoted to the premier league.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on those last two just yet,” I say, making dad snort with laughter. “Especially not number two.”

"Oh, I dunno," dad says with a smirk as we lock the door behind us and get into his waiting car. "Albion ARE top of the league. But I take it you're still single, then?"

“Ugh, that’s putting it mildly,” I sigh. “I’ve been to parties, got chatting to guys… Plenty of hotness on display. More than a little cuteness too, but no, you know, ‘Prince Charming’.”

“You’ve been at it a month,” dad says softly. “Give it time.”

“Not many parents who would encourage their male-born child to find ‘Prince Charming’,” I muse.

“What was number two on my bucket list again?” Dad asks. “Your mother and I always wanted a girl, you know that. Someone I could eventually walk down the aisle on their wedding day… Of course, the original plan was a girl as well as you, but I’ll settle for what I have.”

“So…” I muse. “Your entire bucket list is just me and football? No, you know, climbing Kilimanjaro? Or seeing an eclipse? I know you’ve always talked about THAT in the past, how you missed the 1999 one…”

“No way I’m lugging my fat arse up a mountain at my age,” dad chuckles. “An eclipse would be cool but there aren’t any decent ones in Europe for ages. Jacinta… Don’t worry about my bucket list. Get your own one written and start working on it, okay? I’ve already crossed off the two biggest ones on my list anyway.”

“Which were?” I ask.

“Marry the girl of my dreams and become a father,” dad whispers, making me bite my lip as I feel tears form in the corners of my eyes.

“…Have you got any music in this thing?” I mumble as I reach for dad’s iPod, which he’s hooked up to the car’s stereo.

“Knock yourself out,” dad shrugs as I scroll through the albums available, before gasping in shock as I find the one album I would NEVER have expected my father to own.

“…Out. Of. Heaven?” I ask my father, who simply shrugs in response.

“I liked their music when I heard it on the radio,” the middle-aged man- who is as far from Out of Heaven’s intended audience as it’s possible to get- says. “Bought the album on iTunes, thought it was pretty good.”

“Is this the band that Sarah and Nikki are friends with?” Ophelia asks.

“Ah, so I’m going to have a famous daughter soon, am I?” Dad asks, chuckling as I blush. “That should help with ‘Prince Charming’…”

“Music time!” I say, grinning as the familiar opening bars of ‘No More Lies’ fill the car.

Before long- but after the album has had the time to play one and a half times- dad’s car is rolling along the familiar streets of my hometown, and shortly afterward, we’re pulling onto the driveway of the house- no, the HOME where I grew up. I try (and fail) to suppress yet more tears as the three of us walk into the living room and I see my mum’s urn sat in its usual place- the surest sign yet that I truly am home.

“Good to be home, isn’t it?” Dad asks with a chuckle as he sits down in his usual chair.

“Ugh, you have no idea,” I laugh as I collapse down on the sofa, while Ophelia elegantly sits down next to me. “As much as I love London, I HAVE missed this place.”

“I bet,” dad says softly. “You know what’d make it feel even more like home? Unpacking all your shit.” Ophelia and I look at each other stoically, before taking the hint and unpacking our bags, me placing all my clothes, make-up and books in my bedroom whilst Ophelia dumps her limited possessions beside the sofa where she'll sleep over the next week.

With us both finally settled in, the two of us head back down to the living room, where dad greets us with a warm, wide smile.

“MUCH better,” dad chuckles as Ophelia and I sit down again. “Right then, what’ve you both got planned for the week?”

“Umm, probably working on my assignments,” I shrug. “Might… Heh, I dunno really. Thinking about it, it’s not like I have any friends in Brighton I really want to catch up with.”

“The same applies for me,” Ophelia says with a tinge of sadness in her voice. “Especially not my so-called family.”

”…Well don’t rely on me to entertain you all this week,” dad says with a snort of laughter. “Some of us have REAL work to do.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I sigh. “We might head out tonight, I guess, check out some of the clubs, see how they compare to London…”

“That’s an impressive commitment to the student lifestyle, considering you’re still drunk from last night,” dad chuckles.

“I’m not still drunk,” I moan. “…Maybe hungover. But still, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” dad chuckles, before reaching down beside him and throwing me the TV remote control. “Go on, put on whatever you want. Think I might still have season 2 of the Angels on the Sky Plus box. Meanwhile, I shall be at Falmer Stadium, watching the best football team in the world batter Preston."

“Perfect,” I say with a grin as Ophelia and I relax back into the sofa and set ourselves up for a lazy afternoon.

After our binge-watching session ends and we eat a light dinner, Ophelia and I head up to my bedroom, where- just like last night- we spend almost an hour transforming ourselves with our hair volumisers, our make-up bags and, of course, our vast wardrobes. I have a smug smile on my face as I emerge from my bedroom looking and feeling just as sexy as I did last night in my tiny black dress and platform heels, but I can’t shake the feeling that tonight’s clubbing session feels somehow… Wrong. Almost like it won’t be a ‘proper’ night out, even though my elaborately-dressed best friend will be by my side every step of the way.

“Ready?” I ask the teal-haired girl, who adjusts her elaborate dress (and even more elaborate petticoats) before smiling at me and nodding.

“Let us do this,” Ophelia says with a chuckle, before following me down to our waiting taxi. I can’t help but notice, however, that she looks almost as hesitant as I feel tonight.

Naturally, we’re soon queuing up to enter a busy-sounding nightclub in the city centre (queuing as we obviously don’t have any celebrities with us today) and shortly after that, having fun dancing and drinking the night away. After just an hour and a half, though, my feet start to ache, and despite the alcohol running through my veins, and the considerable amount of attention Ophelia and I are getting from the male patrons of the club, I find myself feeling REALLY tired- and it’s obvious that Ophelia feels the same way.

“Perhaps we should sit down for a bit,” my teal-haired BFF says, leading us to a nearby table.

“You read my mind,” I chuckle, breathing a long sigh of relief as I take the way off of my tortured toes. “We’re having fun though, aren’t we?” I force a smile on my face, but it quickly fades when Ophelia replies with a simple sigh. “…No, me either. I don’t know what it is…”

“Which is odd, as you are usually the perceptive one,” Ophelia says. “It is less fun when it is two of us when compared to when it is six of us.”

“…Yeah, I feel the same,” I sigh. “I didn’t want to say it. Didn’t even want to THINK it, but- ugh. Kinda feel really guilty now…”

“Why would you feel guilty?” Ophelia asks.

“Because you’re my very best friend,” I say. “And I’m not having as much fun as I would be if Katie and the others were here.”

“Neither am I,” Ophelia shrugs. “Some activities are more fun with more people. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, Jacinta.”

“…Yeah, same here,” I sigh, grinning as I link my fingers with my BFF’s. “But we used to be able to fun when it was just the two of us, didn’t we?”

“Of course,” Ophelia replies. “It’s just that that fun usually didn’t take place inside a nightclub.” My lips turn upwards into a wide grin as I immediately cotton on to what my BFF means.

Less than 45 minutes later, the two of us are snuggling under separate blankets on our sofa, me dressed in my favourite red and pink onesie and Ophelia in her usual ‘pyjamas’ of thick woollen tights and a long-sleeved leotard with sewn-in mittens. In our hands are mugs of hot chocolate, on our TV is Bridget Jones's Diary… And in the living room doorway, much to my surprise, is my father, looking tired and more than a little bit irritated.

“Evening grandma, grandma,” dad teases. “Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s only 11:15pm,” I shrug.

“Exactly,” dad says. “So why are you in here instead of out there? I was still awake when you came in, for god’s sake.”

“We discussed it,” Ophelia explains, “and we both agreed that we would prefer to spend the rest of the evening in each other’s company rather than the company of strangers.”

“…You know,” dad sighs, “it’s a damned shame you’re both straight, you’d be perfect soul mates for each other. I’m not even kidding, either.”

“I do not have to be sexually attracted to Jacinta in order to love her,” Ophelia says, making me blush and smile.

“Right back at you, ‘sis’!” I reply, making the teal-haired girl giggle.

“Right, well, invite me to the wedding next time,” dad sighs, before heading back upstairs to his bed. “And remember what I said- don’t waste your whole holiday indoors.”

“…I really, really do love this, though,” I say as I snuggle deeper under my blanket.

“I know that you would prefer having a ‘Prince Charming’ to cuddle, though,” Ophelia says, making me sigh sadly.

“Maybe,” I mumble. “Okay, probably. Dunno how many guys would be happy to spend a Saturday night cuddled together on the sofa watching a chick flick, though.”

“The only one I ever met turned out to be a girl all along,” Ophelia says with a warm grin that makes me giggle.

“Every day that goes by, I’m more and more glad that I’m transitioning,” I say, giggling quietly as I play with my extra-long brown hair. “Why would anyone ever deny themselves a life like this?”

“I certainly would never dream of ever giving this up,” Ophelia says, but I can instantly tell from her hesitation that there’s something she isn’t telling me.

“…But?” I ask, making my BFF sigh.

“…Sometimes I wonder what my ‘Prince Charming’ would be like, too,” Ophelia confesses.

“Nothing wrong with that,” I say. “You’re a heterosexual girl, same as me. That means there’s a guy out there for you. Same as me. Hopefully. Maybe…”

“I doubt I would ever be able to love him as much as I love you, though,” Ophelia sighs. “No matter how well hung he is.” My BFF chuckles evilly as I almost choke on my hot chocolate. “Why the surprise? Do we girls not have ‘needs’?”

“Your ‘needs’ are things I don’t ‘need’ to know!” I snort, making Ophelia laugh even louder. “It’s bad enough some nights when you hang your bra on the bedroom doorknob, sounds like you’ve got a chainsaw in there…”

“As long as you don’t explain to your father that this is why I asked him to get us a washing machine for Christmas,” Ophelia says, laughing even louder as I again choke on my drink.

“Ugh, what happened to that shy 16 year old girl who wouldn’t talk unless forced?” I snort.

“You happened,” Ophelia says, causing me to bite my lip as I feel tears form in the corners of my eyes.

“…Shut up,” I mumble. “’Soul mate’.”

“The soul wants what the soul wants,” Ophelia shrugs.

“Maybe- maybe we should make a pact,” I mumble, staring at the emulsified marshmallows in my drink.

“What kind of pact?” Ophelia asks.

“If we’re still single by the time we’re thirty… We marry each other,” I say.

“If we’re still single by then we would effectively be common law wives anyway,” Ophelia retorts.

“Exactly,” I say. “So, how about it? New Year’s Day, 2027, two weeks after your birthday gives us enough time to get a marriage licence?”

“…Agreed,” Ophelia says. “If only to encourage BOTH of us to try to find ‘Prince Charming’. And it should go without saying that this 'marriage' will be entirely sexless!”

“I’ll drink to that!” I say, taking a big slurp of my hot chocolate that makes my BFF laugh out loud as we continue to watch our film.

The following morning, I wake up and am immediately (and pleasantly) surprised by the distinct lack of a hangover- and the fact that I still have a smile on my face after last night’s fun with Ophelia. After a quick shower, I apply a very light layer of make-up today before pulling on a comfortable bra, thong, a pair of thick black tights and my outfit for the day- a very plain grey pleated skirt and a clingy black top that shows off my fledgling figure.

Naturally, when I head downstairs, I find that Ophelia is wearing one of her trademark home-made dresses, elaborately patterned tights, extra-high stiletto heels and, of course, one of her tightest corsets. Her face is also covered in her usual thick, multi-coloured make-up and her long hair tied into complicated (and in some places, painful) looking braids.

“…You do know we’re staying in doing uni work today, right?” I ask my BFF.

“You do know ME, right?” Ophelia retorts, making me and my father giggle.

“Welcome to category four,” I laugh as I head into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, where I’m swiftly joined by my father.

“She’s changed a lot in a very short space of time,” dad says quietly. “For the better, too.”

“Yeah,” I say with a grin. “I was worried she wasn’t going to fit in at uni- even OUR uni, a fashion school, for god’s sake- and our friends did take a while to get used to her, but- but I’m glad they did.”

“I can see how she can be an acquired taste,” dad chuckles. “But I’m glad she’s fitting in with Katie and the other girls. Hell, I’m glad YOU’RE fitting in.”

“Any reason I wouldn’t fit in with a gang of girls?” I ask.

“No GOOD reason,” dad replies with a smirk. “Katie and her gang kind of remind me of those three girls you used to hang out with in primary school, what were their names again?”

“Caitlin, Jessica and Noor,” I say with a smile.

“That’s them,” dad says. “God, whatever happened to them, eh?”

“Think Caitlin’s still in Brighton,” I reply. “Ran into her boyfriend in the first week of uni. He’s studying there, believe it or not!”

“Small world,” dad chuckles. “Maybe you should look her up while you’re down here? You’ve got the whole week, may as well put it to good use…”

“Eh… Maybe,” I shrug.

“Hey, your favourite celebrity’s always saying ‘you can never have too many friends’, isn’t she?” Dad asks.

“True…” I say. “But I’d rather go for quality over quantity.”

“Very wise,” dad says with a smile as I finish buttering my toast and head through to the living room. Before we go through the door, however, a thought suddenly pops into my mind.

“Oh, and dad?” I ask.

“…Yes?” My father replies.

“You know you’re getting us a washing machine for the flat for Christmas?” I ask

“Yes, I remember that, and so does my credit card,” dad replies.

“Can you make it something that’ll fit UNDER our kitchen counter, please?” I ask with a sly smirk.

With it being a dismal October Sunday, Ophelia and I spend the whole of our time today either relaxing, watching TV or working on our university coursework, with me and dad helping Ophelia with her written assignment every time her dyslexia threatens to get the better of her. For the time in as long as I can remember, I go the whole day without once setting foot outside my home, but I only realise this as I’m getting ready for bed late in the evening.

“Shall we go out somewhere tomorrow?” I ask my BFF as I pull on my warm, snuggly onesie.

“We may,” Ophelia says as she slides into her customary ‘pyjamas’. “However I still have a lot of work to do on my assignments, and I know you wanted to take photographs for your assignment tomorrow as well.”

“Well- true, yes,” I reply. “It’s just- you know? Just struck me that this is the first day in ages we haven’t been outside at any point. Hell, haven’t even gone into the GARDEN.”

“What reason did we have to go outside?” Ophelia asks. “The weather is unpleasant…”

“…And?” I ask, frowning as the teal-haired girl lets out a long sigh.

“…And we have no one to go out to see,” Ophelia says. “And your home is pleasant enough, isn’t it?”

“OUR home,” I say softly. “And yeah, I’ve missed the place, but it’s not like I spent all my time here when I lived here.”

“No, you spent a lot of it at my home,” Ophelia says. “Well, my mother’s home, anyway. And in London, you spend some time at Katie’s home, or at the university library, or socialising with the other girls. Or even at Charlotte Hutchinson’s house for a party.”

“…It’s Halloween on Saturday,” I muse. “We have SO got to get invitations to THAT party!”

“I am 100% in agreement with you,” Ophelia says with a smirk. “…Especially if we get to go with Lauren, Sarah, Katie and Nikki.”

“You thinking a group costume?” I ask, smiling as Ophelia nods. “…That would be really, REALLY cool! I’ve got to get onto them, see what they’re planning!”

“Tomorrow morning,” Ophelia says with a smile. “In the meantime, I am going to go to bed. Goodnight, Jacinta.”

“G’night, Ophelia!” I say, earning a giggle from my BFF has she heads back to her bed on our sofa.

I wake up early the following morning thanks to my eagerness to get on with both my uni work and planning for our upcoming Halloween party. Of course, neither me or Ophelia have even been invited to the Angels’ Halloween party yet, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed- and if Jamie-Lee believes her saying ‘you can never have too many friends’, well, you never know…

After showering and pulling on similar clothes to yesterday, I head downstairs and am unsurprised to find that dad and Ophelia are already awake- and I’m also unsurprised to find that Ophelia is excitedly sketching away in her notepad, only occasionally pausing to take a bite of her barely-touched breakfast.

“Ah, Halloween,” dad chuckles. “Because students don’t have enough reason to party, and fashion students don’t have enough reason to wear crazy clothing.”

“Get off our backs, it’s only once a year,” I retort.

“Though we will also be having a costume party for Sarah’s birthday in November,” Ophelia says.

“And yours in December,” I chuckle as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “And Katie’s in January.”

“Then yours in February,” Ophelia says.

“…Thank god March is free,” dad snorts, causing a memory to jump into my head.

“Ah, that’s right,” I say, snapping my fingers. “Nikki’s birthday’s in March, isn’t it?”

“March the third, I believe,” Ophelia says, both of us giggling as dad rolls his eyes.

“So are you two going to spend the whole day indoors again?” Dad asks. “You with your sketchbook and you with your camera?”

“That wasn’t the original plan,” I mumble. “I mean, you know, I do need to do some outdoor shoots for my project, you know?”

“…I know NOW,” dad says.

“Will you require me to model for you?” Ophelia asks, causing me to bite my lip.

“I will, actually…” I say, and the hesitation in my voice immediately makes my BFF close her eyes and sigh.

“What will you require me to model?” Ophelia asks with a tired voice.

Just under an hour later, the two of us are hard at work in a quiet part of the city, me with my camera and Ophelia in the outfit I picked out for her. It’s a look I’ve gone for myself on many occasions- a short, tight black skirt, almost opaque black tights, chunky platform shoes, a clingy low-cut black top and a loose denim jacket. Combined with modest make-up and a long, brown wig I’ve fixed to her head, my BFF looks just like any other 18 year old girl… And I can instantly tell just how much she HATES it.

“Make sure when you take your photographs that I don’t blend in with this wall,” Ophelia snorts as she leans back and pouts for my camera.

“Relax, you look hot,” I reassure my BFF.

“I look ordinary,” Ophelia spits. “These clothes suit you far more than they suit me.” I giggle and wipe a tear away from my eye as Ophelia pulls another pose for me.

“Heh, two years on and you don’t know just how much that means to me,” I mumble, making my BFF smile before she once again pouts for my camera.

“For some people, there is nothing wrong with being an ordinary girl,” Ophelia says. “Which is what you absolutely are, Jacinta.”

“Damn right,” I say. “Okay, got everything I want for this outfit.”

“PLEASE may I change into my corset and my dress now?” Ophelia asks.

“Just want one more outfit,” I say, trying not to giggle as my BFF whines at me. “The chunky sweater dress I brought along. Then you can change into your quote-very-unquote NORMAL clothes, I promise!”

“…I will have my revenge with your Halloween costume,” Ophelia mumbles as we head to the nearby public toilets we’ve been using as a changing room.

“’Revenge clothing’,” I muse. “Is that category 5 clothing, by any chance? Because whatever you come up with, I am SO making it category four!”

“Then I shall make it category FORTY,” Ophelia spits, taking the dress, a darker pair of tights and a pair of over the knee boots from me and heading into one of the cubicles while I take the opportunity to check and touch up my make-up.

As I’m removing and reapplying my eye make-up, however, I’m suddenly startled when the outside door of the toilets opens and I hear a loud shriek come from behind me.

“What the- what the fu-“ I stammer, turning around to see a woman in her mid-forties staring at me with a look of pure horror on her face.

“IT’S A MAN!” The woman screams, and all of my internal organs start to sink. “GET OUT OF HERE YOU SICK FREAK!”

“I. Am. A. Woman,” I reply, defiantly putting my hands on my hips. “I have as much right to be in here as you do!”

“Oh- my god-“ The woman gasps, looking past me to where I’ve put my make-up bag… And my camera. “Is- is that a-“

“A camera?” I ask. “I’m a photography student, so yes.”

“Are you filming women against their will!?” The woman howls. “You pervert! You monster! I’m calling the police!”

“What- what is happening?” Ophelia- who has changed into her dress and boots- asks as she emerges from her cubicle.

“Quick!” The woman yells, roughly grabbing my BFF by the arm and dragging her out of the toilets, almost causing her to stumble over on her heels. “Get out of here! This pervert wants to take photos of you!”

“This WOMAN is my best friend,” Ophelia growls, snatching her arm away from the obnoxious woman. “And SHE has been taking photos of me all week as SHE is a photography student!”

“You-“ The woman says, before letting out another long, exaggerated gasp. “You’re a man too! You trannies are everywhere!”

“You’d almost think this was the LGB and, yes, T capital of the UK!” I snort, but this isn’t enough to stop the woman from running out of the toilet, screaming down her phone for the police.

Sure enough, just over ten minutes later, a police car pulls up and two uniformed officers- both women, gratifyingly- get out and speak to the hysterical woman, who angrily gestures towards me and Ophelia. I brace myself as the officers approach us, but when one of the women rolls her eyes the second her back is turned to the moaning woman, I can tell that I’m probably not going to be in as much trouble as I think.

“Hello,” the shorter of the two policewomen says. “We’ve received a complaint that you were taking photographs in the ladies’ toilets, is that correct?”

“Umm… No,” I say, trying not to sound TOO defiant. “I’m a photography student, my friend and I have been taking a few fashion photos around the town. That’s all.”

“Okay,” the policewoman says. “Well, obviously, we’re going to need to take a look at the memory card, make sure everything’s above board. I’ll need your full name and address too, please.”

“Okay,” I say, inadvertently letting out a small sigh as I remove the memory card and hand it to the officers. “…Umm, not meaning to me, you know, umm, sarky or anything, but- is- is that, you know, it?”

“That was the complaint we received, we have to investigate it,” the taller policewoman says.

“But- but what about, umm,” I mumble.

“I’d be a bit of a hypocrite to arrest you for that,” the taller policewoman says with a laugh. “When she called she did mention something that wasn’t a criminal offence, so we’re going to ignore it.”

“Hy- hypocrite?” I ask, grinning as the tall officer nods. “So- so you-“

“Three years post-op this month,” the tall woman says with a grin. “You?”

“Fourteen months on HRT,” I say, smiling as the policewoman chuckles. “I’m only nineteen, so-“

“Ah, got your whole life ahead of you,” the transgendered policewoman laughs. “Well, I’m sure we won’t find anything on the memory card, we’ll take it back to the station, have a look at it, then call you to let you know when you can pick it up.”

“Thanks,” I say with a smile as the policewomen head back to their car. Before they take ten steps away from me, however, the same woman who harassed myself and Ophelia walks up to them with a look of pure fury on her face.

“Well?” The woman angrily demands. “Aren’t you going to arrest those perverts?”

“We’ve confiscated her camera’s memory card,” the shorter policewoman explains. “If we see evidence of a crime on there, we will investigate further.”

“But that THING followed me into the toilet and was perving over me!” The woman growls, and I can’t help but bite my lip in a mixture of anxiety and anticipation over what’s about to happen.

“The 999 call we received said that she was already inside when you arrived, is that not the case?” The taller policewoman asks.

“Well, umm, yes-“ the angry woman stammers. “But that thing’s a pervert! It doesn’t deserve to exist!” Ouch, I think to myself.

“I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice,” the taller policewoman says. “You’re creating a disturbance.”

“THAT PAEDOPHILE IS THE ONE CAUSING THE DISTURBANCE!” The woman screams, pointing her finger directly at me as I clench my hands into fists. “WHY DON’T YOU DO YOUR FUCKING JOBS AND ARREST THAT THING!?” Despite my best efforts, I find myself opening my mouth, ready to yell a retort, when the most wonderful thing happens.

"That's enough," the shorter of the two policewomen says, getting out a pair of handcuffs and restraining the suddenly shocked-looking woman. "I'm arresting you for breach of the peace. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Now come on and for god's sake, shut your mouth!" I allow myself a quiet chuckle as the crowd that had assembled all applaud as the bigoted woman- still screaming obscenities at both myself and the officers- is placed in the back of the police car and driven away, but once the car is out of sight, a wave of nausea flows over me.

“J- Jacinta?” Ophelia asks.

“I’ll be fine,” I gasp, before rushing back to the toilet and retching into one of the cubicle bowls.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ophelia says, standing beside me until I’ve finished emptying my stomach. “We- we should go home, let Mike know what happened-“

“No- no,” I moan. “Don’t tell him, he’ll just worry.”

“He’s your dad, he’s supposed to worry,” Ophelia says softly. “…And so am I. At- at least let’s get you home, okay?”

“…Okay,” I sigh. “Can’t take any more pictures anyway without my memory card…”

“Good,” Ophelia whispers. “Then maybe I can finally change back into my PROPER clothes!”

Naturally, within fifteen minutes of our arriving back home, Ophelia has shed her wig and donned the patterned tights, elaborate dress and extra-tight corset that makes up her everyday ‘category 1’ clothes, and the two of us are sat on the sofa, watching TV. A short while later, I get a call from the police station telling me that I can go and collect my memory card, and when Ophelia and I return home, dad is in his usual chair engrossed in his favourite quiz show.

“Hi girls!” Dad says. “Good day?”

“It was okay,” I lie, grimacing as Ophelia immediately punishes me with an elbow in my ribs. “…Okay, it could’ve been better.”

“What happened?” Dad asks, making me sigh as it sit down before filling him in on the confrontation, with Ophelia providing details and defending me every step of the way.

“…And that’s where we’ve just come from, picking up my memory card,” I explain. “Obviously, there was nothing on it for them to charge me with, but still- ugh.”

“It- I can’t explain how angry this makes me,” dad sighs, making my cheeks flush.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“Oh believe me, I’m not angry with you- the opposite, actually,” dad says reassuringly. “This is supposed to be 2015, the future. Hell, they had this whole thing last week about how Back to the Future 2 DIDN’T predict the future properly, the rise of smartphones… They sure as hell predicted that there’d still be arseholes in the future.”

"I suppose I'm always going to have to expect that this can happen at a moment's notice," I sigh.

"Doesn't mean you have to accept it," dad says. "Far from it. God, and this happening here of all places. Thought this was meant to be the most LGBT-friendly place in the country."

"Exactly," I say. "If it can happen here..."

"But it has never happened in London," Ophelia tells me. "The entire university is a safe space. There are numerous support mechanisms available to you there."

"...True," I say with a heavy sigh as I look over at dad, who's biting his lip. Clearly he's thinking the same thing I've been thinking all week- that maybe I belong there more than I belong here, regardless of how much this city is my home.

"Well, in any event, there was a happy ending, so to speak," dad sighs. "And you've got the rest of the week ahead of you. Just hope you won't use this as an excuse to shut yourself in again."

"Nah, I'll just go out and cross my legs the whole day," I snort, leading to an awkward pause in the room.

"...What's 'Back to the Future'?" Ophelia asks, earning puzzled looks from myself and my father.

"You- you've never seen Back to the Future?" I ask. "Seriously? Like, one of the best films EVER?"

"We did not watch many films in our house whilst I was growing up," Ophelia says, earning a sympathetic smile from myself and my father.

"Well, if ever there was an appropriate time for it," dad chuckles, heading to the bookcase and retrieving our boxset of the films. "Take it you girls have nowhere else you want to be?" Like London? I self-pityingly think to myself.

"I certainly don't," Ophelia says, making dad grin as he pops the disc in the DVD player.

"Excellent," my father chuckles. "Maybe now then, we can have a movie night where we can ALL enjoy the film."

Naturally, the first film is followed by parts 2 and 3, meaning that it's almost 11pm by the time the three of us head towards bed. As dad has to be up early for work tomorrow, we let him use the bathroom first.

"So," I tease my BFF as I clear away the DVDs and the takeout dinner we ate. "Did you enjoy the films?"

"They were very good," Ophelia says. "Really, I liked them. Very... Unique style. Especially in the 2015 scenes."

"If you like the style, I should show you Blade Runner one of these days," I chuckle. "Still can't believe you've never heard of the film before now."

"It is not the sort of thing my mother or my sisters would have enjoyed," Ophelia says, making me pause. "No swearing, no violence, no sex. You actually have to use your brain. Which my mother and my sisters don't have."

"...Fair enough," I whisper. "Are- are you still sure you don't want to see-"

"More than ever," Ophelia says. "They aren't my family, Jacinta. You are."

"Well- well I guess the choice is yours," I sigh.

"If only I could go back in time and persuade my mother not to waste her life," Ophelia muses. "Change the one thing that turned her into what she became..."

"Yeah," I whisper. "First time I saw the film was just after my mum died... I kept thinking about 'what if I could go back in time and warn her she'd become ill'... Then, of course, I kept thinking 'what if I could go back in time and arrange for me to be born a girl'. Or even go back in time to pluck up the courage to tell dad earlier than I did..."

"Well, we cannot change the past," Ophelia says.

"But we can change the future," I muse. "Try to make it a better one."

"I have certainly always tried," Ophelia says with a warm smile, before giving me a gentle (and very out of character) hug and heading down to her sofa bed to get settled in for the night.

Tuesday morning begins just as Monday had, with the three of us eating breakfast before dad heads to work and Ophelia and I settle in to do coursework. Less than two hours after dad leaves, however, he returns home, eliciting shocked looks from myself and my BFF.

"Umm..." I mumble as dad walks through the front door. "You been fired then, or something?"

"Nah, just told them I needed the day off," dad shrugs. "Besides, I'm expecting a delivery in a bit."

"Been overspending on Amazon again, then?" I ask, earning only a smug grin in response.

Sure enough, forty-five minutes later, our front doorbell rings, but despite being the one expecting the delivery, dad stays rooted to his chair.

"...I'll answer it, then?" I sigh, getting up and opening the front door... And getting the shock of my life.

"Hi Jacinta!" Katie, Lauren, Sarah and Nikki all cheer, before letting themselves into my house.

"Wh- what?" I stammer.

"Ah, looks like my delivery's arrived," dad says with a smug grin.

"Again, what?" I ask.

"We heard about what happened yesterday," Sarah explains.

"So, your dad sent us a message on Facebook," Katie continues. "When one of us is hurting, we ALL help out."

"...I'm not hurting THAT much," I mumble.

"No, but I know how much it must have hurt," Nikki says with a sympathetic smile. "It's something that'll never go away, sadly. All we can do is, you know, learn to rise above it."

"Any advice on how to do that?" I sigh.

"There's one trick I've learned," Nikki says with a devilish grin. "And that's to surround yourself with the most awesome friends you can find!"

"Friends who will ALWAYS accept you for who you are," Katie continues. "An awesome, 100%, girly GIRL!"

"...Thanks, you girls," I say with a giggle. "You didn't have to come all the way to Brighton for that, though."

"We wanted to," Lauren says. "I've never been to Brighton before, wanted to see the sights..."

"Though we may not be able to take it all in in one day, though," Katie says. "Hence why we've brought sleeping bags..." I laugh and roll my eyes at Katie's obvious implication.

"Dad, can my friends stay for a sleepover?" I ask, earning giggles from all of my friends- Ophelia included.

"Of course," dad says with a grin. "Come on, give me a hand in the kitchen, I'll get some snacks for you all."

"Thanks, Mike!" Katie giggles as she and the other girls make themselves at home.

"...Thanks, dad," I mumble quietly once my father and I are in the privacy of our kitchen.

"Hey, I figured you needed the kind of support I'm not really qualified to give," dad shrugs. "Besides... They're obviously as much family as I am."

"Hardly," I laugh. "I've only known them a few weeks..."

"And yet they hopped on a train with only a few hours' notice," dad says. "Jacinta... This place will always be your home, you know that. But it doesn't mean you can't call somewhere else your home, or your family. And it's obvious you fit in in London. You fit in REALLY well."

"...Haven't you liked having me back?" I ask, and I gasp in shock as dad responds by giving me a long hug.

"Of course I have," dad sighs. "I always love having you under this roof. But your life is in London now. It- it's where you belong. With those girls. They clearly care about you, Jacinta. And they always will, just as much as I do. Don't throw something like that away to cling onto something that can only take you so far."

"I know," I say with a chuckle. Dad's right- the more time I spend with my friends, the more time I spend in my new home, the happier I am. I love my hometown... But it'll also always be 'Jason's hometown. Caitlin, Jessica and Noor will always be 'Jason's friends. Katie and the other girls, and my home in London... That's 100% Jacinta's. It's the life I always wanted- and with my best friend at my side, I know I'll always have someone up in London with me who'll love me just as much as my dad does.

"If you want to head back to London early, I'll understand," dad says. "Don't worry about me. The guys from work have been inviting me down the pub, to quiz nights, to matches... I've had more of a life now than at any point in the last twenty years, heh!"

"Good," I whisper. "I- I probably will head back early, maybe tomorrow or Thursday..."

"Good," dad says, giving me another gentle hug. "And besides, you're more likely to find 'Prince Charming' in London!"

"...One thing at a time," I laugh as I return to the living room and my new 'extended family'.

“Urgh…”I groan as I’m awoken from a blissful slumber by a loud knocking on my front door. “Stop fucking banging…” I grab my phone to check the clock, only to roll my eyes when I discover that it’s gone 11am. Fortunately, today is Wednesday, meaning I’m not at uni today, but that also means that none of my friends are either, as I discover when Ophelia (who has obviously already been up for ages) opens the door.

“Helloooo!” Katie giggles loud enough for me to hear in my bedroom. “Flying solo today then, Ophelia?”

“If by ‘flying solo’ you mean ‘am I the only person awake in the apartment’, then yes,” my BFF replies, making me groan as I know what’s inevitably going to happen next.

Sure enough, twenty seconds later, Katie and Lauren burst into my bedroom, each bashing a saucepan with a ladle and sporting a wide, sadistic grin on their faces.

“Up and at ‘em!” The two young women each yell, their giggles only intensifying when I try to pull my sheets over my head.

“Ugh, leave me alone,” I pout. “I’m a uni student! I need my lie ins!”

“Huh, do you see any other uni students in this room, Miss Henderson?” Lauren asks.

“I believe I do, Miss Burnett!” Katie replies, before banging the saucepan next to my head yet again.

“Okay, okay! Fuck!” I yell, throwing back the sheets and pulling on a dressing gown over my long pink t-shirt. “I’m going to get you back for this, I swear.”

“Oh stop pouting,” Katie giggles. “And put on some clothes.”

“Oh- seriously?” I snort. “The way you two are dressed?”

“What’s wrong with the way we’re dressed?” Lauren pouts, placing her hands on her hips- which, like the rest of her (and Katie’s) legs, are encased in pink tights, while their torsos are covered in skin-tight black leotards with only flimsy see-through skirts to preserve their modesty.

“You look like you’re four,” I say, earning face gasps of shock from both girls.

“Well I never,” Lauren tuts. “And how, pray tell, are we supposed to look, having just come from a ballet class?”

“They have changing rooms there, don’t they?” I retort.

“I know what the problem is,” Katie giggles as she sits down on my bed and ties a pair of shiny satin dance shoes to her feet. “Jealousy that she can’t do this!” I roll my eyes as Katie stands up and- while grabbing onto my chest of drawers for balance- balances on the tips of her toes on one foot while stretching her other foot high above her head.

“…Never mind Jacinta, I’M jealous I can’t do that!” Lauren laughs. “Stupid curvy body…”

“Yeah, my body’s pretty ‘stupid’ too,” I say, instantly lowering the mood in the room.

“…To be fair, though, so was Nikki’s, and I think she can do a vertical split en pointe now too,” Katie says.

“Make me even MORE jealous,” Lauren giggles. “And make me jealous of a gorgeous, girly 5’ 10” goddess with plenty of her own curves too!” I blush at my friend’s teasing, but a smile creeps across my face as I head into the bathroom and the two women don’t let up on their playful compliments.

“And you’ve had a place held open for you at the ballet class for weeks now,” Katie reminds me. “You could be stretching your leg behind your head within weeks if you wanted…”

“Yeah, well ‘a space’ isn’t ‘two spaces’.” I reply, earning happy sighs from my friends.

“Oh Jacelia, you’re breaking my heart…” The two young women sing, making me roll my eyes as I jump under the shower and try to wash away my tiredness.

When I emerge, my friends have headed through to the flat’s tiny living room, leaving me free to get dressed in a plain grey hoodie, black tights and a knee-length black denim skirt, but the second I enter the living room, the teasing resumes.

“FINALLY,” Lauren says with a very loud, very fake-sounding sigh.

“Good AFTERNOON,” Katie giggles.

“It’s 11:48am, it’s not the afternoon,” I feebly retort as I crash onto my sofa. “And besides, aren’t students supposed to spend all day in bed?”

“I had always thought that that stereotype only applied to teenagers,” Ophelia says with a smug grin on her magenta-coloured lips.

“And I see three teenagers in this room,” Katie says, before giggling and picking up one of the birthday cards on the TV cabinet- one with a large ‘20’ on the front. “But Miss Hanley is not one of them!”

“…Fine,” I say, before letting out a giggle. “Okay, just let me get my laptop then we’ll get started.” The other girls smile as they dive into their coursework, while I think back to the events of my birthday eight days ago- and the many celebrations that happened in the weeks beforehand too.

First was Ophelia’s 19th birthday, a week before Christmas- which happily coincided with the end of our first semester of university, meaning that all the girls were more than in a mood to celebrate. Even though dad and I had tried to make her 18th birthday extra-special, it was nothing compared to her 19th for one very good reason- or rather, several very good reasons, each of whom donned their most elaborate make-up and tightest corsets and invaded our flat to treat the birthday girl like the princess she deserves to be. After the madness of that party, Ophelia (and I for that matter) were almost relieved to head back down to Brighton to spend Christmas with dad, but we were back in London for the New Year, and for Katie’s 19th a short while afterward. As good as those parties were from a personal perspective, though, the one held last Tuesday for my 20th was easily the best of the lot.

There was no special ‘theme’ or costume for the party- everyone simply came in their sexiest clothes- but for the duration of the night, I was treated like royalty. I received more gifts- and better gifts- than I ever had before, had far more attention lavished on me than I'm used to, and was even treated to an impromptu 'home makeover' from my friends in the morning, but the best thing about the party was definitely that I got to spend it with an amazing group of people who have quickly become true friends of mine. And also my dad, who came up for the party, stayed overnight and wouldn’t shut up about the untidy state of our flat.

One thing’s for certain, though- as much as we may tease each other (and it is a LOT), I know that in Katie and Lauren- and, for that matter, Nikki and Sarah- I have a group of friends I’ll always be close to, even if we do go our separate ways after university. Even though Ophelia and I are outsiders to this group, we’re just as much ‘members’ as the other girls, and slowly, but surely, we’re integrating into the famous ‘Angel family’ with the likes of Jamie-Lee Burke and others. Of course, as nice as the fame is, it’s the genuine friendship that’s more important, but getting my face on a few of the Angels’ Instagram posts certainly doesn’t hurt!

…But even despite all the parties, all the fame and all the friendship, there’s one thing I still don’t have in my life- the ever-elusive ‘Prince Charming’. I’ve been on date after date over the last few months, but none of them so much as ended in a, well, ‘fumble’, let alone any penetration, and certainly not anything long-term. The fact that most of my nights out are with the university’s LGBT society probably doesn’t help, either. Most of the men in the society are gay and believe they’re complimenting me when they say they’re not interested in me (and in a way, I suppose they are complimenting me), whilst I obviously have no interest in any of the women in the society (though a few of them have shown interest in me- which is also complimentary in a way!).

Fortunately, I’ll always have Ophelia in my life- who is of course still as single as I am- but it’s hard not to feel unloved and unwanted, especially considering what date is just around the corner…

“So…” Katie teases her blushing best friend. “Decided on your dress for Sunday yet?”

“Not yet,” Lauren mumbles.

“Maybe you should just skip the dress and have a private ‘dinner’ at home in just a teddy,” Katie teases, giggling as Lauren gives her a playful shove. “Retaliate all you want, I KNOW you’ve done that in the past with Michael!”

“Says the girl whose third date- and we all know what that means- with her current boyfriend just so happens to fall on the 14th of February?” Lauren retorts, making the freckled girl roll her eyes.

“So I’ve got needs?” Katie shrugs. “Been months since I split from Neil, there’s only so long you can run a washing machine for…”

“…And now you know why we don’t live together,” Lauren sighs.

“…Which make of washing machine do you prefer?” Ophelia asks, making both myself and Lauren cringe.

“Don’t tell me you’ve only had that one two months and you’ve already knackered it?” Lauren asks.

“It’s in surprisingly good condition,” I reply. “Given that very little of what Ophelia wears is actually machine-washable.

“I’ve gone through countless pairs of rubber gloves since Christmas,” Ophelia interjects, making the three of us cringe yet again.

“Hand washing things, I hope,” Katie chuckles.

“Emphasis on the word ‘things’,” I say, biting my lip as Ophelia rolls her eyes- while she’s almost as used to the teasing as I am, she is still the same shy young woman who spent the first part of her life being emotionally beaten down by her family, and sometimes I wonder whether or not I take the teasing TOO far…

“The same ‘things’ you have asked me to make for you on countless occasions?” Ophelia asks, making me roll my eyes (and breathe a quiet sigh of relief) as Katie and Lauren have a quick giggle at my expense.

“How many of them need washing, how many of them need cleaning, and how many of them need polishing?” Katie asks with a wicked grin on her freckled face.

“How many of them do you clean in the dishwasher?” Lauren asks, causing all of us- even Ophelia- to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Ah, knew she wasn’t so above it all,” Katie says, giggling even more as my BFF rolls her eyes. “Miss ‘Category four’…”

“I assure you that everything I am wearing today is category one,” Ophelia retorts. “Even the corset. And the nipple clamps.” I almost drop my laptop- as do Katie and Lauren- at Ophelia’s deadpan revelation, only to sigh and roll my eyes when a wide grin spreads across my BFF’s face.

“It’d be a bit rich for us to complain, given that we’re STILL wearing category two,” Lauren says, adjusting the neckline of her tight leotard.

“My undies on Sunday will DEFINITELY be category four, though!” Katie says with a twinkle in her eye, making me sigh as the conversation again returns to the topic I’d hoped to avoid. “…What’s up, Jacinta?”

“I- I think I know what the problem is,” Lauren mumbles. “All-, umm, you know, ‘all dressed up and nowhere to go’?”

“More like ‘all dressed up and no one to do’,” I sigh.

“Oh- Jacinta…” Katie sighs, leaning across to give me a hug. “You seriously don’t have anyone you can ask?”

“My dad,” I snort, making my friends roll their eyes. “Seriously. And- ugh, this’ll sound silly…”

“No, go on,” Katie urges.

“…I kinda want someone to ask me, you know?” I sigh. “Cinderella didn’t propose to Prince Charming, did she?”

“Normally I’d be all ‘girl power’ here, but under the circumstances I think you deserve a ‘pass’ on this one,” Katie says.

“Aren’t there plenty of guys in the LGBT society you go to?” Lauren asks.

“…GAY guys,” I say, sighing as Lauren blushes deeply at her faux pas.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lauren grimaces.

“Is- is that, you know, a, umm, a compliment?” Katie asks. “You know, the point where gay guys, umm, stop being attracted…”

“Gay guys stopped being attracted to me the second I put on lipstick and a skirt,” I chuckle. “And it kinda is, maybe when I’m in a ‘girl power’ mode, but when I’m in a ‘for god’s sake someone get me a man’ mode, not as much. And this time of year is worst of all.”

“There’s BOUND to be a guy out there for you somewhere,” Lauren says, before blushing again at her poor choice of words. “Okay. There are MILLIONS of guys who’d happily date you. You’re 5’ 10”, slender but curvy, you’ve got a really cute face-“

“And a great rack,” Katie interjects, earning a frown from her best friend. “What? She has.”

“Most of which isn’t flesh and blood,” I snort. “Well, not yet, anyway. Almost a year and a half on oestrogen and it’s getting there, though. I doubt THOSE are the parts of my anatomy guys would be fixated on, though.”

“I hope by that you mean they’ll be focussed on your great arse,” Katie says, before letting out a long sigh. “Jacinta- me and Lauren are going to get you a Valentine’s date.”

“We are?” Lauren asks, before smiling confidently. “That’s right, we are. For both of you, in fact.” My BFF- who has remained quiet as always throughout the discussion- suddenly looks up with a look of shock on her face.

“Umm, I- I don’t need a date, thanks,” Ophelia says, her affected posh accent slipping and her regular working-class Brighton accent poking through, meaning this must have REALLY shocked her…

“We’re not going to throw you into bed with a footballer or someone like that,” Katie says. “It’s funny, all your talk of washing machines and, well, ‘category four’, I’ve never seen you even look at a guy. Or a girl, if that’s what you’d prefer…”

“I do ‘prefer’ men,” Ophelia says. “But I- ugh.”

“I think we should drop this topic,” Lauren says softly, earning a silent ‘thank you’ from my BFF. “But you know, I reckon there IS someone out there for you too, Ophelia. Your own ‘Prince Charming’, you know?”

“He would have to considerably more than ‘charming’ to be my ‘prince’,” Ophelia says, her smile returning as the other girls- myself included- giggle at her joke.

“When you say ‘more’ do you mean length or width?” Katie asks, before grimacing and glancing in my direction. “Eesh, sorry Jacinta, I-“

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” I chuckle. “Sometimes I even forget, heh.”

“Yeah, but-“ Katie argues.

“No buts!” I interrupt. “How about this: from now on, no more being oversensitive about things like penises or vaginas. We’re all friends in this room, and more importantly, we’re all girls. So if you want to make a dick joke, you go right ahead, because as far as everyone’s concerned, I don’t want one, and the sooner I lose it, the better, deal?”

“…Deal!” Katie says, grinning widely at my outburst.

“Deal!” Lauren giggles. “…On that topic, though, you know Nikki’s going, well, ‘inside’ in a few months, right?”

“…And jealous again,” I say. “Well, envious, anyway. Is ‘vagina envy’ a real thing?”

“Nikki’s booked in with one of the best surgeons in London, I’LL probably be envious of it,” Katie giggles. “And I’m not going to take that back, because if dick jokes are on the table, then so are hoohah jokes.”

“Though if everybody could please keep their genitals OFF the table, I’d be much happier,” Ophelia interjects, making the four of us giggle as we get down to work on our university projects.

Our friends- who are still inexplicably wearing their ballet leotards- depart early in the afternoon, and as they go, I feel a twinge of sadness, closely followed by a pang of jealousy at the thought of their upcoming Valentine’s dates. However, I know the girls well enough to know that their offer to get dates for myself and Ophelia is not an empty gesture, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they’d started looking for guys for us the second they left our flat. It’s obvious, however, that my BFF isn’t quite as comfortable with the idea as I am.

“Fancy a cup of tea?” I ask my BFF as she continues her sketching.

“Please,” Ophelia replies, not looking up from her work.

“You- you alright?” I ask my friend, who simply sighs in response.

“A better question would be whether or not you are alright,” Ophelia replies. “With all this talk of Valentine’s Day…”

“I’m fine, honestly,” I say. “I mean sure, I’m dateless, but I’m not the only one, am I? Plenty other people out there who’ll be single on Valentine’s Day, unwanted… Unloved…” I feel tears trickle down each cheek, and within seconds, my BFF has wrapped me in a tight hug as I quietly weep onto her shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ophelia whispers as she holds me. “Let it out…”

“I mean five months, for fuck’s sake!” I wail. “Five months! You’d have thought that SOMEONE would have noticed me by now, said hi, maybe told me I was cute…”

“You ARE cute,” Ophelia insists.

“You’re straight, your opinion doesn’t count,” I retort, leading to an awkward pause that breaks when we both break down in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. “Ugh, damn hormones…”

“What you just said,” Ophelia says with a smirk, wiping a tear away from her own eye.

“Seriously, are you okay?” I ask Ophelia as we sit down next to each other on our sofa. “I know you’re not the most boy-hungry person in the world, heh. Or even on this sofa, come to think of it…”

“As with everything in my life, the situation is complicated,” Ophelia sighs. “You know the situation regarding my family. I am the only one of my sisters to have remained a virgin at the age of fourteen, and the only one to have not been a mother at the age of seventeen.”

“…Sounds to me like you’ve already ‘won’, then,” I say.

“Then why does it not feel that way?” Ophelia sighs. “For the first time in my life, I have a group of real friends, and all of them are either engaged, like Nikki and Sarah, in a long-term relationship like Lauren, or boy-hungry like Katie or-“

“Or me,” I interrupt. “I- I’m not going to apologise for having a sex drive…”

“Nor should you,” Ophelia says. “And it is not like I don’t appreciate that sex can be an enjoyable thing.”

“Our washing machine can attest to that,” I say, making my BFF roll her eyes.

“It’s the thought of, well…” Ophelia says hesitantly.

“Doing it with someone you don’t like?” I ask, sighing as Ophelia nods. “Nothing wrong with having some standards, everybody does.”

“Everybody apart from my mother and my sisters,” Ophelia snorts. “I- I don’t want to end up like them, that’s the problem.”

“Trust me, you won’t,” I say, giving my friend’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Like I said, you’ve already ‘won’. You are so unalike your sisters I still wonder whether or not you were adopted, heh.”

“I highly doubt anyone would have ever allowed Theresa Lowe to adopt a child,” Ophelia says, making me snort with laughter. “But thank you anyway.”

“And you yourself have said you wouldn’t rule out getting together with the right guy,” I say. “Provided he IS the right guy for you. And I’m sure you know that there’s only one way to find him- he’s not just going to drop into your lap…”

“Yes, yes,” Ophelia sighs. “Very well, if Katie and Lauren wish to find us Valentine’s dates, then I will allow them.”

“Excelle-“ I begin, only to be immediately cut off.

“But,” Ophelia says, raising one of her long, slender fingers. “But. They find dates for US. I am doing this for you, not for myself, so I shall only go on a ‘double date’ with you and the man they find for you.”

“Can’t think of a better way to spend a Valentine’s Day,” I say, making my BFF smirk. “Though if it does end up with my getting laid, you’re sleeping on the sofa, okay?”

“We have single beds and I wear a corset to sleep and have an extra-thick memory foam mattress,” Ophelia retorts, before gesturing to our (admittedly double-sized) sofa bed. “YOU’RE sleeping on the sofa.”

“…Okay, fine,” I say with mock protest, before bursting into a fit of giggles that my ‘sister’ happily shares with me.

We spend the rest of the evening watching TV and concentrating on our coursework, but as I head to bed, I can’t help but wonder what kind of guy Katie and Lauren will set me up with. Will he be tall or short? Will he be blonde or dark-haired? Might he even be ginger? And most importantly of all, will he be okay with the idea of dating a transgendered girl? I trust that Katie and Lauren wouldn’t knowingly set me up with a bigot, but there’s always the possibility that someone might lie to them in order to get close to me to ‘teach me a lesson’ or something ridiculous like that…

Fortunately, despite my anxiety (and, in fairness, excitement) about my potential impending date, I’m able to sleep through the night, and when my alarm wakes me and my BFF the following morning, I let out a tired yawn as I swing my slender, hairless legs out of bed… Before suppressing a giggle at the sight of Ophelia in the middle of her complicated morning routine.

I’ve often mused that my own morning routine- whilst far more intricate than ‘Jason’s ever was- is surprisingly straightforward for a girl. Pee, shower, blow-dry and brush hair (which I always wear loose to save extra time), apply make-up, pull on underwear and get dressed in the outfit I chose the night before. Even including the time it takes to make breakfast, eat breakfast and brush my teeth, some days I can be ready and out of the house in under half an hour.

Ophelia, on the other hand, requires a LOT more time than me. Her hair is even longer than mine, so like me, she ties it back to sleep- but rather than tie it into a loose ponytail, she styles it into an elaborate high bun atop her head, fixed in place with countless bobby pins, all of which she needs to remove before her hair can be washed. Removing her ‘pyjamas’ is also a performance- while I wear a very comfortable long vest and boy shorts set, in winter- which it is now- Ophelia sleeps in a pair of thick woollen tights and a long-sleeved skin-tight leotard with sewn-in mittens. Pulling on and removing these clothes takes long enough at the best of times, but Ophelia then wraps a tight corset around her waist that takes ten minutes to lace up and ten minutes to unlace every morning (Ophelia’s explained to me she can’t simply unclasp the corset as that risks damaging it). Ophelia then spends four times as long as I do in the shower- unsurprisingly, she’s become very obsessive about how she smells after growing up where she did- before applying a layer of pale make-up so thick that hardly any of the actual skin on her face shows through. Her underwear is also much more intricate than mine- a frivolously tiny lacy push-up bra and G-string set and a pair of intricately patterned suspender tights- and then comes the task of lacing her into her corset for the day, something I help her with as if I don’t, it can take her up to half an hour by herself. Buttoning her into her dress is a relatively straightforward task, but tying her petticoats around her waist isn’t, helping her fasten the numerous delicate clasps of her extra-high-heeled shoes isn’t either and helping her with her numerous accessories and jewellery CERTAINLY isn’t.

However, when the procedure is eventually complete, I always have a smile on my face- my BFF looks on the outside, as always, like the truly unique personality that she is on the inside. I, on the other hand, am happy just to look on the outside like the girl I am on the inside, in my very plain black tights, dark blue turtleneck and short pleated skirt.

“Ready?” I ask my teal-haired BFF.

“As always,” Ophelia replies with a smirk, before grabbing her elaborately-decorated handbag and her (obviously) vintage overcoat and following me out of the door and to the nearest tube station.

A short while later, Ophelia and I arrive at the front entrance of the London College of Fashion, where we’re greeted by our friends, including the one we didn’t see yesterday- whose absence hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Morning, stranger!” I tease Sarah, who response with a half-sigh, half-giggle.

“Yes, yes, okay,” The brown-haired nineteen year old woman sighs, sounding more tired than usual, almost like she's in some kind of pain. “Sorry I couldn’t make it yesterday, I was too busy babysitting Nikki’s sister, need a little bit of extra pocket money.”

“And how much exactly was your trust fund again?” Lauren asks, earning an eye roll in response.

“Not enough to live off,” Sarah retorts. “Not enough to avoid having to take out the same stupidly big student loan as the rest of you.”

“Not enough to make Mr. Corbyn not see seem like a really, really good idea?” Katie teases, making me and Ophelia- both of us having voted Labour in last year’s election- smirk.

“When hell freezes over and he promises not to bankrupt our business, yes,” Sarah retorts. “Enough politics! This is the London College of FASHION, not the London College of Politics!”

“Is there a London College of Politics?” I ask.

“Never heard of student unions?” Lauren asks with a snort of laughter. “EVERY college is the college of politics!”

“But we love them anyway, right?” I ask, giggling as my friends all respond with an enthusiastic cheer, before we go our separate ways- Sarah, Lauren and Ophelia heading to their class while Katie accompanies me to ours.

After being introduced to our topic for the day, our class is broken up into groups to discuss the matter at hand, and fortunately, Katie and I are placed into the same work group, giving me the perfect opportunity to grill my friend about the promise she made yesterday.

“Soo…” I say as Katie and I pore over our reading material.

“So…?” Katie replies.

“I- I figure it might be a LITTLE short notice,” I say, “but last night, you did say you’d be trying to find dates for me and Ophelia…”

“Oh- yep, we’re working on it!” Katie says with a smug grin. “Trust in your fairy godmothers, we’ll get you someone.”

“Me AND Ophelia,” I say. “We’ve decided we want a double date on Valentine’s Day.”

“…Could be trickier,” Katie says. “Both finding a guy willing to double date on V Day and, well, finding a guy suitable for Ophelia.” I bite my lip at my friend’s response- whilst what she says is true- Ophelia herself would probably agree with it- she could at least have worded it differently. And it’s not just Ophelia that she’s implying something about…

“…Are you saying that I’m easy, then?” I retort, smirking as Katie sighs and shakes her head. “Do you even know what my type is?”

“Male?” Katie replies, making me roll my eyes. “With a working dick? And need I remind you, by your own words, I’m not supposed to feel bad about making jokes like that anymore?”

“…Fine, you’re not THAT far wrong,” I say, making the two of us almost bend double with giggles, which earns us both a stern stare from our tutor! “About both of us, actually.”

“Nothing wrong with NOT jumping onto the nearest available dick,” Katie shrugs. “Sometimes think there are things we could all learn from Ophelia. Well, apart from how to breathe when your lungs are crushed down to the size of golf balls, anyway.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Thing is, though… I don’t, you know, want to leave Ophelia all by herself, you know? Especially on Valentine’s Day of all days. I know she wouldn’t have much of a problem of it, she’s not, well, as needy and desperate as I am, but, you know? We do this together or not at all.”

“D’aww,” Katie coos at my impassioned speech. “REALLY want to set you up with each other now…”

“Yeah, well, the lack of a working dick is kinda a turn-off,” I say, making Katie giggle yet again. “But, you know? Sisters, that sort of thing?”

“I get it, really I do,” Katie says. “So cool that you’ve got, like, a proper best of the best friend like that.”

“You’ve got Lauren,” I shrug.

“Yeah…” Katie says. “Only known her a couple of years, though, and we both had, you know, best friends from school. Lauren would probably still be closer to Dannii than me if Dannii hadn’t been, well… Yeah.”

“I still haven’t met her,” I say. “Not properly anyway. Get the feeling I’m not missing much.”

“You really aren’t,” Katie snorts. “Point I’m trying to make is that you and Ophelia really have something special, given how close you are. ‘Course, Nikki and Sarah ARE closer, but- well, yeah.”

“Kinda hard to get any ‘closer’ than ‘inside the other person’,” I say, causing another fit of giggles than earns me and Katie another stern stare from our tutor. “Think we should probably actually do some work now.”

“Probably,” Katie says. “And don’t worry about the V Day date. Your fairy godmothers have everything in hand!”

“Thanks,” I whisper with a smile as I turn back to my reading.

I try to immerse myself in my reading for the rest of the morning, but I’m only able to devote so much attention to my books before my mind again wanders to thoughts of Sunday, what my date will be like- by which I mean both the person I’ll be dating and the actual date itself- what we’ll be eating, where we’ll be going and, most importantly of all, what I’ll be wearing…

Naturally, my ‘distraction’ only increases when Katie and I head to lunch to discover not three, but four friends waiting for us- my fellow transgendered girl has arrived and is, much to everyone’s amusement, sat on her fiancée’s lap with her head resting on her shoulder.

“That looks comfortable,” Katie says with a sarcastic snort of laughter.

“It is,” Nikki purrs.

“Think she was talking to me babe,” Sarah replies, causing Nikki to pout- which, of course, results in a long, gentle kiss between the two women.

“Ahh, SO cute,” I sigh as Katie and I grab chairs for ourselves- and, much to Nikki’s dismay (and Sarah’s relief), one for our ‘guest’.

“I assume the two of you have planned something particular special for Valentine’s Day?” Ophelia asks, frowning in confusion as ‘Snikki’ reply with awkward giggles. “Have- have I said something inappropriate?”

“We- we’re not exactly big V-Day fans,” Sarah explains. “I always seem to get sick, or, well, ‘external factors’ always try to ruin it…”

“This year’s going to especially suck,” Nikki sighs, giving her fiancée an extra-tight cuddle.

“Yep,” Sarah sighs. “Guess who got a call from the hospital yesterday, telling her that she’s having her wisdom teeth out tomorrow?”

“Oh- seriously?” Lauren moans. “Kept that quiet. Um, pun NOT intended…”

“They’ve been giving me grief for weeks,” Sarah sighs. “Typical that they’d finally be dealt with now of all days.”

“Wow,” I whisper. “Suddenly don’t feel so bad about my own hideous V-Day history.”

“Or my non-existent history on that day,” Ophelia says softly.

“Fortunately, this year’s WILL be better,” Katie says. “You have our patented Henderson-Burnett guarantee!”

“What, you two getting dates for Jacelia for V-Day?” Sarah asks, perking up a little.

“That’s the plan!” Lauren giggles.

“Jacinta would NOT stop pestering me about it throughout the morning class…” Katie mock-sighs, giggling as I give her a playful shove.

“Fortunately, Ophelia was a little- well, okay, a LOT quieter about it,” Lauren teases.

“Hence why this is the first I’m hearing about it, then,” Sarah mumbles.

“My apologies,” Ophelia says quietly.

“Oh- I’m not having a go, honestly,” Sarah says. “Can’t all be as, well, ‘public’ about our love lives…” Sarah giggles as her fiancée wraps her arms around her and gives her a long kiss on her cheek.

“I don’t think ANYONE could be as public about their love lives,” Katie snorts, causing another kiss between ‘Snikki’ as the table giggles once again.

“We won’t expect the same from you, don’t worry,” Lauren reassures my BFF. “Obviously though, we’ll expect a post-mortem of the dates.”

“Hopefully not a ‘blow by blow’ description,” I say, making Lauren laugh so hard she almost chokes on her food.

“Not sure we should be talking like this in front of Ophelia,” Katie teases, making my BFF blush.

“I am fully aware what a blowjob is,” Ophelia says, before grinning widely as she greedily tucks into her sausage and mash.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s so much we DON’T know about you?” Lauren muses. “About either of you, for that matter.”

“I am sure that there is just as much that we do not know about you,” Ophelia replies, making the black-haired girl smile.

“Touché,” Lauren retorts. “Maybe we should make, I dunno, a resolution or something to get to know each other better?”

“Think you’re a month too late for that!” Nikki giggles.

“Nah, never too late to make new friends,” I say. “Or grow closer to the ones we already have. EXCEPT when it comes to intimate details of love lives! There are some things I simply do not need to know!”

“Agreed!” Katie giggles. “And like I said in class, don’t worry about the ‘big day’. Lauren and I will find you suitable guys, we promise.”

“And I know a few male models at Heavenly Talent,” Nikki interjects. “Can ask them if they’d want their contact details passed on.”

“Male models?” I ask. “Hell yes, please!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Jacinta ‘High Standards’ Hanley!” Katie teases, giggling as I give her a playful shove.

The rest of lunch passes by in a haze of giggles punctuated by very occasional eating- just like most of our lunches at university, especially when all six of us are present. After lunch, Katie and I spend the rest of the day in the library until the end of the uni day just after 3pm, but for me, the day isn’t over just yet, as after I bid farewell to my freckled friend, I head to the nearest tube stop and hop on a train that whisks me away to a small office in Islington. Once at the office, I take a seat in the waiting room, before being called through to the office of Dr Lisa Deakin- the gender identity counsellor I’ve been seeing ever since my relocation to London.

“Hi Jacinta!” The forty-year old woman says with a smile as I sit down on her comfortable sofa. “How have the last couple of weeks been?”

“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Uni’s going alright, dad seems happy, so does Ophelia.”

“Ah, we go over this every session,” Dr Deakin chuckles. “How are YOU feeling, Jacinta?”

“…I’m okay,” I confess, blushing slightly at having been ‘caught out’ and hoping futilely that I’m not ‘caught’ any further. “Really, I am. Okay, maybe not PERFECT…”

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” Dr Deakin says, making me internally sigh- I’ve never been the most ‘guarded’ person in the world, unlike Ophelia, and Dr Deakin IS a trained counsellor, so I basically have zero chance of hiding anything. Especially something like this…

“It- it’s Sunday,” I say. “This Sunday coming.”

“Ah, Valentine’s Day,” Dr Deakin says with a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, I remember being twenty and single and thinking that V-Day was NOT fun.”

“Seriously not fun,” I laugh. “Especially as all my friends have got plans, or boyfriends, or even fiancées, heh.”

“It’s important to remember that it IS only one day a year,” Dr Deakin advises. “On the 15th of February everyone will be back at work or university regardless of their relationship status.”

“I know,” I say. “And in fairness… My friends ARE setting me up with a guy for, well, Sunday…”

“Okay,” Dr Deakin said. “Obviously I’m not going to recommend you don’t go on a date, even though Valentine’s Day isn’t the date I’d pick for a FIRST date, but there’s no real harm in it, as long as you make sure that you don’t expect too much from it.”

“I know, I know,” I sigh. “I’m not expecting to get married by the summer or anything, heh. But I can at least be optimistic, right?”

“There’s a fine between optimism and overconfidence,” Dr Deakin reminds me. “As long as you’re realistic, there’s no need to be pessimistic. So tell me, what’s this young man like?”

“Umm…” I say hesitantly. “I haven’t- I haven’t actually met him yet…”

“Ah,” Dr Deakin says quietly. “Well, as I’ve just told you my usual policy about first dates on Valentine’s Day, you can probably guess how I feel about blind dates on Valentine’s Day.”

“Probably,” I say, trying to suppress a sigh.

“Jacinta,” Dr Deakin says, not even bothering to suppress her sigh. “Your transition is still at a delicate stage, even after eighteen months your body- and more importantly, your brain- is still adapting to the hormones that are changing it.”

“I know,” I mumble.

“And, of course, your body has barely had time to get over the flood of testosterone it had been subjected to,” Dr Deakin says. “There are reasons we have to tread very carefully when prescribing HRT to people as young as you.”

“You – you’re not going to-“ I stammer.

“No,” Dr Deakin says. “There’s no reason I can see to ever take you off HRT. Everything I’ve seen shows that this is 100% the correct course for you- umm, pun not intended, of course. But your emotions ARE still in turmoil, and what you’ve told me about your relationship anxieties… I want you to be cautious, Jacinta. Don’t go into this date expecting to be in a relationship on the 15th.”

“I won’t, I promise,” I say.

"I believe that you believe that," Dr Deakin says. "But one of the most common topics we cover in these sessions is your need for companionship- for want of a better way of putting it, your need for love."

"...Sometimes, maybe," I mumble.

"What concerns me the most is that you seem to be jumping into this date with both feet," Dr Deakin says. "It's not uncommon to feel a need to be with someone when you've been single for a while, but you ARE only twenty. Try not to forget that, Jacinta."

"I'm also the only single twenty year old I know," I retort.

"Then maybe you need to expand your circle of friends," Dr Deakin says bluntly. "Not that there's anything wrong with the friends you have, of course. Especially your transgendered friend Nikki- having someone you can relate to, someone with whom you can compare experiences is a definite positive."

"Experiences other than being single," I laugh. "She's one of the engaged ones, and she's only eighteen."

"She was lucky," Dr Deakin shrugs. "Even you know how unbelievably rare it is to be with someone at that age who you'll spend the rest of your life with. And even many engagements or marriages between people that young don't last long."

"Would that apply to any relationship I start, then?" I ask.

"Probably," Dr Deakin says, her tone growing blunter with every response to my questions. "Prince Charming isn't going to just fall out of the air, Jacinta. There's no reason to be pessimistic. But try not to let yourself get carried away in the moment- especially when you have so much in your life already. Your uni work, your friends..."

"I know," I say. "I- I guess it's just a bit of fun. And it IS only one day a year, heh."

"That's more like it," Dr Deakin says, prompting a smile from both of us.

Naturally, though, when I arrive home, my only thoughts are on the upcoming date, and while Dr Deakin's words of caution are ringing in my ears, it doesn't take long for me to start feeling optimistic again- especially when I hear the unmistakable sound of Ophelia’s sewing machine coming from our bedroom. She doesn’t have any outstanding practical projects, meaning that she’s making clothes for her own personal use, which she only does when there’s a special occasion coming up- and it doesn’t take a genius to jump to the end of this particular chain of logic.

“Hope you’re making a dress for me too for Sunday!” I yell, giggling as the sewing machine abruptly stops.

“…Remind me to inform Katie and Lauren that two of us already know each other EXTREMELY well,” Ophelia replies, making me giggle even louder. “And yes, yes I am making you a dress. Unfortunately I will have neither the time nor the materials to make either of us any lingerie, and certainly not any matching shoes.”

“Oh, I’m sure the dresses will be worth it!” I laugh. “What you want for dinner?”

“Just a sandwich, please,” Ophelia says as the noise of the sewing machine resumes. “I intend to work late on the dresses.”

“Don’t you have a written assignment to do as well?” I ask.

“I have time in which to complete that,” Ophelia replies.

“And a problem- that totally ISN’T your fault- that means you need to take extra time on it,” I retort, wincing as the sewing machine stops once again. “…I’ll get your sandwich. Be in there in a bit.”

Naturally, once I’ve made Ophelia her sandwich (which I make sure is very well-stuffed and garnished with greens so that she gets the proper nourishment), her sewing machine is going once again, and when I enter our bedroom, it’s not a surprise to find that it’s in full-on ‘workshop mode’, with swathes of fabric covering almost every surface. What’s most exciting, though, is the dress that’s hanging from my wardrobe door.

The dress is extremely short- coming to almost mid-thigh on the wearer- so low-cut that it’ll be a miracle if any of the wearer’s breasts remain in it for more than four seconds, and made of a stretchy dark purple fabric with royal blue thread throughout that will hug and accentuate the wearer’s curves beautifully. Easily the best thing about the dress, though, is that it’s designed for a taller girl- a girl of almost 5’ 10”- and a girl with a wider waist than Ophelia’s, and there’s only one girl I know who fits that description.

“This-“ I say as I gently stroke the soft, smooth fabric of the dress. “This is- Wow. Thank you so, SO much!”

“I was making it anyway, before I found out about the date,” Ophelia says with a smirk. “I thought it would be very… Exciting. For both yourself and your date!”

“Mission accomplished!” I say with an excited squeak. “Can- can I try it on now?”

“I am not happy with some of the stitching,” Ophelia says. “Perhaps tomorrow or Saturday. Of course, it will be completed long before Sunday evening!”

“SO amazing,” I whisper.

“As will my dress,” Ophelia says as she checks the stitching on the latest length of fabric she’d just sewn.

“You’re making a new dress for the date?” I ask. “Would’ve thought you’d alter an old one…”

“I will confess,” Ophelia says, “I am actually starting to look forward to the date, and the possibilities that it might bring.”

“Oh my god, really?” I squeak, biting my lip as my BFF’s blushing cheeks start to shine through her thick pale make-up.

“The main reason I am looking forward to the date is the opportunity to make a new dress,” Ophelia explains. “I have had several ideas in my mind that I have wanted to make a reality.”

“All dressed up and finally somewhere to go?” I tease.

“Something like that,” Ophelia whispers. “I never thought I would go on a proper ‘date’ like this, certainly not when I was younger.”

“There’s someone out there for everyone,” I shrug. “Every woman deserves romance, regardless of what they look like on the outside. And yes, that ‘outside’ comment applies to both of us, heh.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of what my family considers to be a ‘date’,” Ophelia says quietly.

“…Guessing there’s not much romance involved in THAT?” I mumble.

“You guess correctly,” Ophelia whispers, biting her lip as she continues her work.

“Well one thing’s for damned sure,” I say, gently sitting down next to my BFF. “Out of all the Lowe sisters, you’re the only one any of the guys from university would even look at!” As the words leave my mouth, I cringe at my inadvertent implication. “Ehh… Damned by faint praise… Sorry.”

“I know what you mean,” Ophelia says with a smile. “We ARE apparently psychically linked, aren’t we?”

“Do you know what I’m thinking right now?” I ask.

“I don’t need to read your mind to know THAT,” Ophelia retorts. “And I will have it finished and adjusted as soon as possible, I promise.”

“You’re the best,” I say with a giggle. “Now make sure you eat!”

“Yes, yes, I will,” Ophelia says, before a smug grin creeps across her face. “And yes, I am. One thing is for certain, though.”

“Oh?” I ask.

“With all the effort I am putting into our dresses,” Ophelia says, “the men will have a LOT to live up to!” I giggle as I leave my BFF to her work, which she continues until long after 9pm, only stopping when the time comes to begin her lengthy ‘getting ready for bed’ routine.

Naturally, with my date dress hanging on the wardrobe door mere inches away from my face, I don’t get much sleep, but when I wake up, I’m still buzzing with excitement about Sunday- especially as there’s only one weekday left before the big day, and Friday afternoons are always designated as ‘private study’ time anyway. Today, however, ‘private study’ is probably going to take on a slightly different meaning than the one our lecturers intended- and from the looks on Katie and Lauren’s faces when we arrive at university, it’s clear that they’re of the same mind as me and Ophelia.

“Hey girlies!” Katie squeaks, greeting me with a tight hug and Ophelia with a slightly gentler one. “Only two days to go to the big day… And to answer your inevitable question, yes, I may have heard from Miss Thomas that she may have found two EXTREMELY good looking guys for the two of you for Sunday…”

“Oh?” I ask, barely suppressing an excited giggle. “Do we get to see these hunks before flinging ourselves at them?”

“Depends on how quick you plan to fling yourself at them on Sunday,” Lauren says with a smug grin. “We’ve got pictures of them, don’t worry. Will show you during lunch. Or rather, after lunch…”

“What, you mean during the time when we’ll be hard at work in the library?” I ask, prompting all four of us- Ophelia included- to break down in a fit of giggles. “You had the same idea as us, then?”

“Need a new dress for the date,” Katie shrugs. “They don’t just appear out of thin air, do they?”

“You could always just wear thin air on the date…” Lauren teases, giggling as her BFF gives her a playful shove. “But yeah, same goes for me, need a new dress as I didn’t have the time to make one, what with all our assignments, heh.”

“Fortunately, I HAVE had the time,” Ophelia says with a smug grin, earning gasps of excitement from our friends.

“Oh, PLEASE tell me you have photos of them!” Lauren gasps. “Your other designs have been SO gorgeous…”

“Please tell me you’ve got enough spare fabric and time to make me one!” Katie giggles, making my BFF blush.

“Unfortunately, I have only had the time to make dresses for myself and Jacinta,” Ophelia says, biting her lip at the sighs of disappointment from our friends. “However I would be more than happy to make you dresses-“

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lauren giggles. “Got Sarah to lean on if I want free clothes. Well, once she gets better, anyway…”

“Ah, she already in hospital?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Lauren sighs.

“We should do something to help cheer her up,” Ophelia says, making me grin- twelve months ago, she’d have been the last person to suggest that. “Such as a party, or some kind of gathering.”

“Yeah,” Katie says with a smile. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Well, once she feels a bit better anyway, I remember having my wisdoms out, that was NOT fun. She won’t be able to drink for weeks either…”

“Fortunately, though, we will on Sunday,” Lauren says, raising the mood once again. “Which brings me back to this afternoon- in addition to new dresses, we’ll also need new shoes…”

“Ah, my kryptonite,” Katie giggles.

“Ditto!” I giggle. “Kinda gonna need some, umm…” My voice trails off as I realise that what I’m about to suggest is intimate in every sense of the word- and despite our newfound ‘openness’, possibly even TOO intimate.

“…Go on,” Katie teases.

“I kinda…” I say, desperately trying to stop my cheeks from flushing. “Need new… Lingerie?” Despite my best efforts, my face turns redder than a tomato as my friend’s jaws drop and they look at me with a mixture of surprise and excitement on their faces.

“…Oh. My. God,” Katie gasps. “I- I haven’t been to Ann Summers in AGES!”

“I- umm, I mean, we- we’ve never been at all,” I mumble, my embarrassment fading.

“Oh my god, we are SO taking you there after lunch!” Lauren says, looking almost giddy with excitement herself. “Do- do you remember that time we took Snikki there last June?”

“What, just before Dannii’s birthday?” Katie asks. “Yes. THAT will take some forgetting, hehe!”

“Share the joke,” I say to my freckled friend, who gasps and blushes at her own overenthusiasm.

“Oh- sorry, sorry,” Katie says, flapping her hands excitedly. “It’s just- last time we went there with Nikki and Sarah, they-“

“They may have been a little bit shocked by what they found inside that shop,” Lauren says, barely suppressing a giggle. “Sarah because of her middle-class upbringing, Nikki- well, you know. You of all people should know, heh.”

“That didn’t stop them from spending a LOT of money in there though!” Katie says with a devilish twinkle in her eye. “So I hope you’ve saved plenty of your student loan, heh!”

“Oh- yeah, trust me!” I giggle. “Got a reasonable idea of what goes on in THAT shop, hehe!” I giggle. “Ophelia and I never went to the one in Brighton, though.”

“I…” Ophelia begins hesitantly. “That is to say, my family, including myself, even though I had nothing to do with the incident in question…”

“Go on…” Katie says, smirking at Ophelia’s obvious discomfort.

“Umm…” My BFF mumbles, clearly embarrassed by the story.

“Oh come on, you can’t leave us hanging like that!” Lauren protests- and despite my usual protective attitude toward my BFF, I’m as eager as Katie and Lauren for Ophelia to finish her story- leaving me feeling a little guilty…

“…Maybe finish this later?” I suggest, earning a silent ‘thank you’ from my BFF.

“No, I can finish the story now,” Ophelia says, taking as deep a breath as her torturously tight corset will allow. “My- my sisters were caught shoplifting from Ann Summers, my mother caused a scene when she went to collect them, and the whole family was banned as a result.”

“Yikes!” I involuntarily say, making my cheeks redden once again.

“You didn’t know about this?” Katie asks. “Maybe you’re not THAT close after all…”

“It is hardly something of which I am proud,” Ophelia mumbles.

“I- I’m sorry,” I sigh. “But I have to know- which sisters? It- it wasn’t Candice, was it?”

“No,” Ophelia whispers. “It was Kylie and Sharon.”

“Both older,” I explain to Katie and Lauren.

“Though they were 15 and 13 at the time,” Ophelia says, almost making Katie and I double over with laughter as we head toward our first class.

“God…” Katie says once we’re out of earshot of Lauren and Ophelia. “You- you know Nikki’s been on the Jeremy Kyle Show, right?”

“Yeah, I actually remember watching it,” I say. “And no, there’s no way you’d get Ophelia on that show in a million years!”

“I was about to say,” Katie says with a snort of laughter. “The rest of her family sounds like the only people in the country too lower-class even for Jeremy Kyle!”

“Having met Ophelia’s family,” I retort. “…You’re right. Thank god Ophelia’s the ‘white sheep’, heh!”

“More like ‘only sheep’,” Katie says. “In a family of, I dunno, crocodiles or something…”

“Not the best comparison,” I say. “Ophelia’s mother doesn’t have nearly enough teeth to be a crocodile!” The two of us giggle happily as we head toward our first- and only- class of the day.

After a very, very quick lunch, the four of us pack our books into our bags, grab our coats (it’s February- it’s not warm outside) and take the tube to the centre of London and its many, many clothing stores. Ophelia and I have been living in London for almost five months now, but we’ve never been on any ‘big’ shopping trips, just the occasional visit here or there to a new charity or second-hand store that my BFF has had her eyes on. Today, however, will be different, as evidenced by the excited grins on Katie & Lauren’s faces when they lead us into a small but very posh independent clothing store that neither Ophelia nor I have ever heard of.

“Now THIS is one of my favourite shops,” Katie says with a smug grin. “Maybe a bit pricier than the likes of Primark but the quality is GREAT, the designs are really cool and the owner-“

“Is standing right behind you,” an older woman’s voice says, making Katie smirk and roll her eyes.

“Girlies, meet Denise Du Pont,” Katie says, making me smirk with confusion- Denise’s accent is probably even stronger London than Katie’s. “Denise, you already know Lauren, I’d like you to meet Jacinta Hanley, who’s on the same course as me, and Ophelia Love, who’s on the same course as Lauren.”

“A pleasure,” Denise says, exchanging air kisses with me and my BFF. “So, let me guess- big dates on Sunday, new dresses needed?”

“Kinda obvious, right?” Katie giggles. “I still get my staff discount, right?”

“Don’t push it,” Denise retorts, before heading off to greet another customer who’s just entered the store.

“You’ve worked here before?” I ask as I peruse the racks of gorgeous dresses, smiling at the feel of the various different fabrics running through my fingers.

“Kinda,” Katie says. “I did some freelance work for Denise over the summer. Probably more valuable is that I kinda abused my connections a bit, sent a couple of the Angels her way, let her get publicity shots of them trying on dresses and shopping in here, that sort of thing. Now THAT won me a lot of brownie points, hehe!”

“Can imagine!” I giggle. “Ah, shouldn’t get TOO distracted by these dresses when I know I’ve got a gorgeous one waiting for me at home…”

“You’ll have a second date, won’t you?” Katie shrugs, a devilish grin creeping across her face. Rather than say anything in response, I grab a beautiful-looking strapless dress with a fitted bodice and a long, flowing skirt and head to the nearest changing room, emerging a few seconds later to wolf whistles from my friends.

“Aww, that fits you SO well,” Lauren sighs as I lift my hair to let the girls examine the back of the dress. “So lucky, being 5’ 10”…” I bite my lip, and from the sound- or lack of sound- of the awkward silence behind me, I’m probably not the only one…

“…Remembering WHY I’m 5’ 10”, anyway,” I mumble.

“…Just makes you a 5’ 10” GIRL,” Katie says smugly. “Now get that dress off, it’s my turn!” I giggle as I return to the changing rooms and exchange my dress for the skirt and top I wore to university, but my giggle fades when I see Lauren looking at a nearby rack of skirts with a guilty look on her face.

“Hey, umm, Lauren,” I mumble.

“Hey Jacinta,” Lauren whispers. “I- umm, sorry about, umm, you know…”

“Honestly, I’m the one who should be sorry,” I sigh. “Me saying ‘don’t be afraid to make jokes’ then saying ‘oh everyone knows I’m only 5’ 10” because I'm transgender’… Yeah. So don’t worry about it. Honestly. If I have to say this a thousand times.”

“Thanks,” Lauren says, giving me a quick hug.

“And for what it’s worth, I am TOTALLY jealous of your curves!” I say, making the black-haired girl giggle appreciatively. “Who wants to be a tall stick insect anyway?”

“You’d be surprised,” Lauren says with a derisive snort of laughter. “Tall and curvy, though, now THAT’s the perfect body!”

“Are you saying my body is perfect?” I ask, giggling as my friend starts to blush.

“I know I’d kill for it,” Lauren shrugs. “Regardless of, well, ‘add-ons’. Doesn’t make it any less girly or gorgeous. ESPECIALLY in that dress, hehe!”

“You should see the one Ophelia made for me!” I whisper with a wink.

“Well we’re not going to see anything while SOMEONE hogs the changing room!” Lauren says loudly, earning a loud sigh from inside the changing room.

“Ta-dah!” Katie beams a few moments later as she emerges from the changing room wearing a very daring long-sleeved dress made of translucent dark red fabric with a built-in black leotard underneath and a high slit up one side. “Worth the wait?”

“Now THAT is an ‘Angel’ dress, hehe!” I giggle as Katie does a twirl, causing the light, floaty skirt of the dress to billow around her legs.

“It’s also £110, sadly,” Katie sighs. “But it shows just how amazing Denise’s designs are.”

“Not that I’m jealous, or anything…” Lauren says with a mock pout- but behind her, I can see that my BFF’s pout might be more serious than Lauren’s.

“Seen anything you like the look of, Ophelia?” I ask, earning a typically enigmatic look in response.

“A few items have taken my interest,” My BFF replies. “Will you be buying that dress, Jacinta?”

“For £35? Probably!” I giggle as I gently examine the strapless gown I’m still holding in my arms. “…Though of course, your dress is the one I REALLY want.”

“Of course,” Ophelia says with an obviously forced smile that makes me sigh.

“I mean it,” I say. “No need to be, you know, jealous… I’m a twenty year old girl in a dress shop, obviously I’m going to be a little bit excited!”

“I am not jealous,” Ophelia says, before her face falls into a frown. “Okay. Maybe I AM jealous. But not of the thought that I might ‘lose’ you.”

“Then- then what’s up?” I ask.

“These designs,” Ophelia explains. “They are far ahead of my own. FAR ahead. I would not blame you for wanting to wear that dress instead…”

“No- no,” I say. “YOU’RE the designer whose clothes I like the most. The BEST. Denise- she’s a professional, you know? Been at this ages, by the time you’ve been designing for as long as she has, I’m sure you’ll be a million times better.”

“Perhaps,” Ophelia shrugs. “Even though Lauren and Sarah are also better than me too…”

“I wouldn’t sa-“ I begin, before being abruptly cut-off by an unexpected voice.

“Forgive me for eavesdropping,” Denise says, making me cringe as I realise that she’s likely heard every word I’ve said- many of which weren’t very complimentary of her…

“Umm, hi!” I say with an overenthusiastic smile. “I LOVE this dress! Where do I pay?”

“Just a second,” Denise says, before turning to Ophelia with a smile on her face. “Did you say that you were a designer yourself?”

“Yes…” Ophelia hesitantly replies. “This- this dress is one of my designs.” I start to smirk as Ophelia does a slow twirl in her home-made dress, showing off the intricate pleats sewn into the knee-length skirt. “As is the corset I am wearing underneath.”

“Very interesting,” Denise says. “So you make underwear too?”

“When I have the time,” Ophelia replies. “I find it is often more difficult than making regular clothing, because-“

“Because it needs to fit a lot more snugly,” Denise finishes my BFF’s sentence for her. “Unless you use a lycra material anyway, but then you don’t get as much flexibility with the design- pun unintended, heh.”

“Precisely,” Ophelia says, her lips quickly turning upward into a wide grin. “Especially a corset, which must be custom-measured to the wearer’s size.”

“I’ve never actually designed a corset before,” Denise says. “I’d be interested in any tips you might have. In fact… I’d be interested in seeing your portfolio.”

“I- I would be happy to show it, hehe!” Ophelia replies- and it should go without saying that her giggle was EXTREMELY uncharacteristic of her.

“You girls have Wednesday free from university, don’t you?” Denise asks. “Drop back next week, I’ll take a look. Who knows, I may even feature some of your designs in the shop!”

“R- really?” Ophelia asks.

“Don’t have time to design ALL of this by myself!” Denise giggles. “I feature independent designers all the time. Sold a dress that Lauren and her friend made only yesterday, in fact. Though that one in your arms is all mine, heh!”

“I- I’m flattered,” I giggle as I examine the dress once again.

“That’s why it’s slightly less expensive than the other items,” Denise says. “No commission. So if you’ve got your £28 on you, I can get that checked out now if you’d like.”

“But- but the tag says-“ I say.

“20% employee discount,” Denise shrugs, making me frown with confusion.

“But- but I don’t work here-“ I stammer.

“Let me show you something,” Denise says, leading me toward a side wall of her shop. “You’ve seen all the boards around the store, right? Of famous customers?”

“Yes…” I reply.

“Take a look at this one,” Denise says, showing me the board, which has a faint sky blue and pink border. “Recognise any faces?”

“Is- is that Nikki?” I ask as I look at a picture of a dark-haired girl wearing a very short, very tight dark mauve cocktail dress.

“It is indeed,” Denise says. “And the girl next to her is Steph Abbott, from Out of Heaven. Above her is Jamie-Lee Burke, to the side of her is a model called Kelly Watson who I reckon will be a very big deal before too long.” Needless to say, the significance of these names isn’t lost on me.

“…You overheard me talking to Lauren, too?” I mumble.

“I hear everything that goes on in this shop,” Denise says with a warm grin. “I’d love to see your picture on this board. Call it a ‘modelling job’, hence qualifying you for an employee discount!”

“…I dunno,” I mumble.

“Okay, okay, I know most models get paid more than £7 per job, heh!” Denise says. “And trust me, you are more than beautiful enough to go on this board.”

“I- I’m just not, you know, comfortable being… Singled out,” I grimace. “I mean, I- I just want to be a girl, you know? Without anything going in front of the word ‘girl’.”

“And that’s what you are,” Denise says. “I understand that you might be concerned that I’m singling out transgendered girls, but the truth is, I see myself more as promoting them. You, sorry. How many girls do you suppose are living the lives they want because of the example set by Jamie-Lee Burke, or by Steph Abbott? How many girls gained the courage to come forward?”

“…I dunno,” I shrug. “Bound to be a few, I guess.”

“And what if there were girls who live the life they always wanted to lead because they followed the example of Jacinta Hanley?” Denise asks, making me smile.

Half an hour later- after trying on countless more dresses, of course- the four of us walk out of the shop each carrying a fancy bag that contains an even fancier garment- even Ophelia, who found a maxi skirt she intends to alter and wear in summer. Naturally, even though all of us now have sizeable holes in our bank balances, we all have wide grins on our faces- and my grin is probably widest of all, thanks to the new friend I made and the new opportunity I never expected to have a mere sixty minutes ago. Naturally, I obliged Denise’s request for a photograph, and even got a couple of extra copies to take home with me (one of which I’m definitely planning to frame and send to my dad). As the four of us head to our next destination, there’s only one thing on my mind…

“So, Katie,” I ask my freckled friend. “Know any other small business owners in need of a girly and gorgeous 5’ 10” model?”

“…Maybe,” Katie teases.

“First, though, we NEED new shoes!” Lauren giggles with an almost ravenous look on her face.

“Ahh… We are SO a bunch of stereotypes,” Katie giggles. “You are right though, we DO need new shoes. This shop’s going to be a high street chain shop, I’m afraid, don’t know any independent shoe makers. What it DOES have, though, is two large floors filled with footwear of every imaginable type!”

“And despite your sickeningly sexy 5’ 10” frame,” Lauren says, “you are NOT going on that date wearing a heel lower than three inches!”

“And even then, you’ll still be shorter than the guy Nikki’s lined up for you!” Katie giggles.

“You’ll not get any argument from me!” I say in an excited squeak as we head toward our next destination. “About the shoes OR the guy!”

Naturally, the four of us spend the next hour trying on countless pairs of shoes before we eventually settle on the pairs that we’ll be wearing to our date. Whilst we don’t get the personal treatment we got at Denise’s shop, that doesn’t stop us from having fun- especially when Ophelia tries on a pair of extra=high platform shoes and we spend almost twenty minutes trying to outdo each other with increasingly high heel heights! I eventually settle on a pair of dark pumps with a 4” extra-narrow stiletto heel and a closed toe (due to the shortness of my dress, I’ll need to wear tights with it), though I also pick up a pair of cute ballet flats for everyday use and a pair of reduced-price thigh-high boots that almost seemed to be screaming at me to buy them from the second I laid eyes on them- and that I immediately change into once I’ve bought them!

“Well then,” Lauren says, taking a long, hard look at my leather-clad legs as we leave the shop. “You’re definitely dressed appropriately for the last stop on our shopping trip, hehe!”

“I am so excited about this!” I giggle. “It’s hard to believe that a shop like this even exists, hehe!”

“Oh- trust me, it exists,” Lauren says with a smug grin. “I’d prepare yourself, though- you might get a teeny little shock when you go in there for the first time!”

“…Bring it on,” I say with a smug grin of my own as we head to our final destination of the afternoon.

Naturally, Lauren was right, as when the four of us step through the front door of the store, my jaw drops at the sight of all the unashamedly sex, all the unashamedly feminine adornments covering each wall and the numerous racks dotted around the floor. From the usual knickers and bras to all the sex toys of various shapes and sizes to more lingerie of varieties I've never even seen before, the shop is a nirvana for anyone wanting to explore their femininity- especially their feminine sexuality.

“What did I promise you?” Katie asks.

“…I already LOVE this shop!” I giggle, before heading to a nearby rack of lacy teddies and examining the skimpy, delicate fabric. “Just a few years ago, I’d never even have DREAMED of wearing things like this…”

“Obviously, it’s not what you’d call ‘everyday’ wear,” Lauren says. “Well, for most people…” I follow my black-haired friend’s eye line to where my BFF is stood in front of a rack of corsets, closely examining the stitching on each garment.

“Hey,” I say softly as I approach my BFF, barely distracting her from her examination. “I- umm, you- you’re not getting, you know, jealous again, are you?”

“Should I be?” Ophelia asks, a smug grin creeping across her face. “Of corsets that are far inferior to my own creations?” I grin widely as Ophelia leaves the corsets and moves to a different rack of items- ‘items’ that make my eyes widen as she nonchalantly picks up a terrifying-looking dildo and begins reading the instructions on the back.

“Umm, Ophelia…” I mumble, biting my lip as Katie and Lauren stare at us with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Why must they write the instructions so small?” Ophelia asks with a loud sigh. “Could you read this paragraph please, Jacinta?”

“This- this is because of your dyslexia, right?” I ask, gingerly taking the dildo from my BFF and holding it in my fingertips. “This isn’t some kind of prank, is it?”

“There are words on there I simply do not recognise,” Ophelia explains. “It is not my fault I struggle with the written language…”

“…Fine,” I sigh, shuddering as I look at the paragraph Ophelia’s pointing to. “The 'Big Satisfaction' Vibrator. Now in a gorgeous glitter finish, this classic vibrator really is designed to satisfy. Now firmer for better sensations, the vibe comes with satisfying ridges and contours, with powerful multispeed vibrations controlled with a twist of the base. Big Satisfaction comes with a slightly curved, round tip for G-Spot satisfaction and he feels amazing with lots of lube. Similarly to our Rampant Rabbits, the external arm is perfectly positioned to target your clit for breathtaking dual stimulation.” I bit my lip to stop myself from frowning as my cheeks turn bright red- not helped by my friends staring straight at me.

“Why are you so self-conscious?” Katie asks. “I mean, you’re already IN the store, aren’t you?”

“And Ophelia isn’t embarrassed, are you?” Lauren asks my BFF, who simply grins widely in response.

“I believe I shall buy two,” Ophelia says, grabbing another dildo from the rack.

“And here I was thinking we were here to buy underwear,” I say.

“Lingerie,” Katie corrects me. “We’re here to buy lingerie. Bit of a difference between that and the kind of underwear you’re wearing now! Allow me to demonstrate…” My smile returns as Katie directs me back to the main body of the store, where again I’m almost assaulted by the sight of every type of lingerie in every direction I look.

“Don’t need to ask if anything’s taken your fancy, do I?” Lauren asks.

“More like EVERYTHING’s taken my fancy,” I giggle, taking an almost see-through baby doll off the shelf and examining the delicate lace on the front of it. “Pity you can’t, you know, try before you buy…”

“Especially the ‘things’ Ophelia’s buying!” Katie teases. “That being said, though, there’s no reason you can’t try them on at home…”

“Oh- trust me, that IS the plan, hehe!” I giggle.

“Have you- have you ever heard of an Ann Summers party?” Lauren asks.

“…This sounds like something that’s possibly illegal,” I retort, making my black-haired friend giggle.

“No, nothing illegal,” Lauren says. “Well, maybe in Saudi Arabia. Or Alabama, or somewhere like that.”

“Figured that much,” I reply. “Funny though, as I thought you and Katie were both straight…”

“Umm- no…” Lauren says with a chuckle. “An Ann Summers party isn’t, you know, an orgy or anything!”

“But- but it’s still women wearing lingerie around other women, right?” I ask.

“Kind of,” Lauren says. “It’s- it’s kinda like a live-action catalogue with models showing off the lingerie and taking orders, that sort of thing.”

“Ah,” I say. “Okay, I can DEFINITELY get behind that idea!”

“Dunno how popular they are nowadays but I definitely remember my aunt telling me she used to host them in the nineties,” Lauren says. “Couldn’t hurt to ask if you could host one, get a bit of extra pocket money whilst wearing sexy lingerie!”

“Yeah… Kinda sounds like my dream job, hehe!” I giggle.

“That’s the whole idea,” Lauren says. “Half tempted to ask for an application form myself, heh. AFTER I decide exactly which bra and thong set Michael will be removing on Sunday evening!”

“Same here!” I giggle. “Might need the extra income, actually, as if I stay in this shop any longer I may well go bankrupt!” My friend and I both giggle excitedly as we browse through the racks of lingerie, both of us overwhelmed- but in a good way- by the variety on offer.

Naturally, the four of us remain in the store until just before closing time, eventually leaving with shopping bags crammed with delicate, intimate items of clothing (I picked up a see-through chemise and a lacy bra and thong set)- as well as a few other, more ‘unmentionable’ items in Ophelia’s shopping bag! All four of us are buzzing with excitement after our afternoon of shopping, and that goes especially for me and my BFF- neither of us had experienced an afternoon like this when we were living in Brighton. Then again, neither of us had friends like Katie and Lauren when we were living in Brighton, friend who accept both of us for exactly who we are- young, individual women who just want to be accepted for who we are. Neither of us had friends who’d set us up on dates with willing young men, either…

“So, Ophelia,” Katie teases. “Thinking of applying for a store credit card?”

“No!” I exclaim in mock-terror, making my friends giggle. “Not sure the foundations of our flat could take it!”

“…I am considering it,” Ophelia says with a devilish grin as she reaches into her bag, pulls out a packet of AA batteries and starts playfully fiddling with them.

“Still wish you knew more about us?” I ask, making Katie laugh so much she actually starts coughing.

“No ta, I’m fine,” Katie replies, reaching into her coat and taking a puff on her asthma inhaler. “Think we’re about as intimate as we’re ever going to get!”

“Says the girl who’s shared a bed with me on more than one occasion,” Lauren says, making us all giggle again.

“Sofa bed and that’s only because Jacelia don’t have an inflatable mattress,” Katie retorts.

“I’m afraid I think we shall be a bit out of pocket for the next few weeks,” Ophelia says, her face still sporting the grin she’s had ever since she left the shop.

“Unless you host any Ann Summers parties, anyway,” Lauren teases.

“Ann Summers parties?” Ophelia asks, clearly interested by the idea.

“I’ll explain when we get home,” I say, earning yet more giggles from my friends as we head to our respective homes.

Naturally, once I get home, the adrenaline thins a little in my blood and I find myself needing to crash on the sofa for a good fifteen minutes before getting up, starting a quick dinner for me and Ophelia and putting away my many purchases. As I examine the delicate fabric of my new chemise, I can’t help but chuckle at the thought of all the fun I had this afternoon, and what it was all in aid of- making the right first impression for a man I’ve never met and might not even like- or worse yet, might not even find attractive. The one consolation is that as it’s Nikki who’s arranged the dates, they will at least be okay with the idea of being with a transgendered girl- but the truth remains that this afternoon, I had the most fun I’ve ever had in my life, and there were zero boys involved. Maybe I shouldn’t be focussing on ‘Prince Charming’ as hard as I am doing…

After dinner, Ophelia and I opt for an early night rather than the traditional Friday night out, due to a combination of tiredness from our shopping expedition and a need to be up early tomorrow to spend all of Saturday on the other side of retail customer service.

Obviously, spending all of Saturday at work manages to take my mind off of things, even though every time a good-looking guy who’s over six feet tall and under 25 years of age comes into the shop I keep wondering ‘is this the guy?’. Before wondering what he looks like naked. One thing’s for sure, though- Saturday afternoon isn’t nearly as fun as Friday afternoon, and it’s a massive relief when my manager comes to me and tells me that my shift is over and I can go home. Not least because that means it’s only one sleep- and zero obligations- between now and the big date. When I get home, it becomes obvious that Ophelia’s thinking the same thing- the sound of her sewing machine coming from our bedroom being probably the biggest clue.

“Still not finished it yet, then?” I yell over the noise of the sewing.

“Almost,” Ophelia replies. “I just finished yours, if you want to come and try it on.”

“You need to ask?” I ask, giggling excitedly and already removing my top and tight feminine work trousers as I enter the bedroom. My grin only widens when Ophelia holds the dress out for me to step into, and once I’m zipped into the form-fitting garment, my knees actually start to wobble, I’m that excited.

As I look at myself in the mirror, I realise that maybe, just maybe, Dr Deakin had a point when she said I already have so much going for me in my life. Merely standing here right now wearing this dress is undoubtedly a ‘win’. My legs may not be as long or slender as Katie’s ballerina’s legs, but they are still soft and feminine. My curves may not be as, well, curvy as Lauren’s, but they are still undoubtedly a pleasing shape, and definitely feminine. Sure, I may not be able to get ANY man I want, and I suppose I never will, but any man who doesn’t want a woman who looks like this is a man who doesn’t deserve a woman who looks like this.

My confidence only increases on the afternoon of Valentine’s Day itself as Katie and Lauren drop around to get ready for our dates together. My three friends help me wash and style my hair into a long, bouncy, voluminous style that cascades over my bare shoulders. My make-up is applied with millimetre precision, from my thick mascara and eyeliner to my dark, smoky eyeshadow and my dark red lipstick. My nails are filed, shaped, treated with numerous different lacquers and coated in a deep red polish. Although my jewellery collection is limited, I make the most of it nonetheless, putting in my most elegant dangly earrings, a dainty silver necklace and wrapping a thin gold chain around my wrist. I finish by dousing myself in a cloud of sweet-smelling perfume, completing the illusion- not that it is an illusion, of course- that I am a beautiful twenty year old woman who any man would give their right arm to be with.

Once I’m made-up, I head into the bedroom for some privacy before pulling on my laciest bra and thong, followed by a pair of dark, shiny suspender tights. Once I’m happy with my ‘shape’, I return to the temporary salon that is our living room, where my friends are waiting with my dress and my heels. Once my look is complete and I’m practically sealed into my dress, I pose for my friends as they take photos of me for their Instagram, just as I’d taken photos of Katie and Lauren in their asymmetrical knee-length dress and clingy strapless dress respectively.

“Ugh, SO gorgeous,” Katie says. “You are going to knock Joey dead, you seriously are!”

“Thanks!” I squeak. “Not like the same can’t be said of you two, hehe! Make sure you’re not sat on opposite sides of the table or you might find all the food sliding into your lap!”

“Why-“ Lauren asks, before her eyes go wide in realisation. “Oh. You mean THAT.”

“Aka ‘the perfect end to a perfect evening’, yes,” I giggle. “Or I could always call for a ban on dick jokes again, if you’d prefer…”

“…Nah,” Lauren says, before letting out an excited giggle. “Ah, three down, one to go!”

“Helped by the fact that SOMEONE won’t let us do her make-up for her!” Katie teases my BFF, who smirks in response as the freckled girl gets out her nail kit and starts working on her extra-long fingernails.

“You would attempt to make me look ‘normal’,” Ophelia says, earning mock pouts from our two friends.

“As if we would EVER do that to you!” Lauren protests, before giggling. “But I do kinda get your point, your look, it- it is a personal thing. Don’t want anyone messing with it, especially on a night like tonight!”

“But you’re okay messing with MY look?” I pout.

“Your ‘look’ is ‘sexy’,” Katie retorts. “We can do ‘sexy’. Doesn’t take a lot of effort for you, actually!” I giggle with appreciation at my friend’s unusual compliment as I join in with Ophelia’s manicure, before the four of us help to tie her nearly-waist length teal-coloured hair into an elaborate updo that takes us almost twenty minutes due to its intricate braids and waves. Eventually, Ophelia’s hair is done, and she heads into the bedroom to get dressed… And when she emerges, all of our jaws are on the floor.

Ophelia’s dress is a true work of art. It’s slit high up both sides, with every step exposing virtually all of her legs, which are covered in elaborately-patterned tights. The bodice is very fitted, tightly hugging Ophelia’s corseted waist, but has a small ‘window’ at the top that exposes a tiny bit of cleavage and a high collar that covers all of her slender neck. Ophelia’s shoulders are bare, as are her arms- normally, with a ‘formal’ dress, Ophelia would wear opera gloves, but it’s clear that she wants to show off her new paint job tonight!

“…Seriously, HOW have you remained single your whole life?” Katie asks as my BFF does a slow twirl on her 6” platform stilettos.

“Zero sex drive,” Ophelia retorts.

“Says the woman with two new battery-powered boyfriends!” Lauren retorts, making my BFF blush.

“Ah, like I said before, nothing wrong with standards,” Katie says as we all take out our phones to photograph my blushing BFF.

“Everyone ready, then?” Lauren asks.

“Damn right!” I giggle as the four of us all grab our designer handbags and head toward the front door of our flat. Before I reach the door, however, my phone beeps to notify me of a new message.

“Ugh,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I am SO putting this on silent for the duration of the da-“ Before I can finish the sentence, however, I read the message… And my heart immediately splits in too.

‘Hey Jacinta,’ the message- from Joey, the boy Nikki set me up with- reads. ‘Sorry but won’t be able to make it tonight, I’ve been feeling ill all day. Sorry.’

“Ja- Jacinta?” Katie asks as I bite my lip to prevent tears from falling from my eyes. “What’s up?”

“Fuck every man ever,” I spit, handing Katie my phone (which still has the message displayed on it) before kicking off my heels and slumping down onto our sofa.

“Oh my god,” Katie sighs, her voice a mixture of disappointment and disgust. “That- that total fuckwad!”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” Lauren spits. “I am SO tearing his skin off when I see him next…”

“Are- are you okay, Jacinta?” Katie asks, sitting down next to me.

“No,” I sigh. “I mean, I really am all dressed up and nowhere to go!” I frown as tears start to freely flow from my eyes, and Katie leans in to give me a gentle hug.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, let it out,” Katie whispers as Lauren joins us on the sofa.

“You- you two should get going,” I moan. “You actually have guys who want to see you. Because you actually ARE gi-“

“NO,” Lauren says firmly. “Look at yourself, Jacinta! You’re the sexiest, girliest girl in this flat. End. Of. Story. And if Joey can’t recognise it, if that’s what the problem is, then he doesn’t deserve to have any girl EVER again!”

“Thanks for trying to cheer me up,” I sniffle. “Doesn’t change the fact that it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m going to be sat here by myself, though.”

“No, you are not,” Ophelia says, taking Katie’s place next to me and giving me a very uncharacteristic hug. “I have cancelled my date.”

“Wh- you- why?” I ask.

“You really need to ask?” Katie says with a giggle as she gets her phone out of her handbag. “I’m going to cancel mine too.”

“Same here,” Lauren says, making my head spin with confusion.

“No- no, you shouldn’t, not for me…” I say. “I- I-“

“Need a friend much more than I need a shag,” Katie says.

“But- no, honestly,” I say. “I don’t want to be responsible for ruining your Valentine’s Days, really.” Katie and Lauren both pause with their phones in their hands as I stare at them with a pleading look in my eyes.

“…Only if you’re absolutely sure,” Katie says.

“I will take care of her,” Ophelia says softly. “You two go. We’ll talk tomorrow at university.”

“Well… Okay,” Lauren says, leaning in to give me a tight hug. “Take care of yourself, Jacinta. That offer of a skinning is definitely still on the table.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Katie whispers, leaning in for another gentle hug. “Get some sleep. Take care of yourself. And for the next week?”

“…Yes?” I ask, my tears finally slowing.

“Try to forget that the male gender even exists,” Katie says with a wink, making me giggle as she and her BFF silently leave me alone in the flat with my BFF.

“…You should go too,” I whisper.

“We both know that will not happen, so don’t even bother trying to persuade me,” Ophelia says.

“…Okay,” I say, letting out a long sigh as the two of us relax back onto the sofa. “Serves me right for getting so worked up about it, I suppose.”

“No,” Ophelia retorts. “It does NOT serve you right. You deserve to be happy, Jacinta. Everybody does.”

“Yeah, but- so do you,” I say. “You put so much work into that dress, I could tell you were really looking forward to the date, too…”

“Some things are more important,” Ophelia says bluntly.

“’Sisters before misters’?” I ask.

“My ‘real’ sisters never thought so,” Ophelia snorts. “Sharon and Kylie once got into an actual fight when one stole the boyfriend of the other. But then again… They weren’t nearly as ‘real’ as sisters as you are, Jacinta.”

“…Thanks,” I say, sniffing back yet more tears as Ophelia and I relax back into the sofa. “…We really going to spend the evening watching Countryfile in our best dresses?” Despite my misery, I’m forced to smile as the corners of Ophelia’s mouth slowly curl upwards…

Twenty-five minutes later, the two of us are back in the living room, but having shed our fancy dresses and scanty underwear in favour of a comfortable onesie (for me, obviously) and a slightly less comfortable leotard/right/corset ensemble (for Ophelia, obviously). Both of us are tucked up under a blanket on our sofa bed- in ‘bed mode’- sharing a tub of triple chocolate ice cream and watching random shows on Netflix. It’s not the way I expected to end this evening. It’s not the way I WANTED to end this evening, and certainly not the person I expected to end up in bed with. And yet, I can’t say I’m too unhappy to be where I am right now.

Dr Deakin was right about one thing- I was overenthusiastic about the prospect of ‘Prince Charming’. I always imagined that I’d have a boyfriend within weeks of starting university, but it’s been five months and I’m still single. The thing is, though, those five months have been, well, fun. A lot of fun. Just as the weekend in the lead up to the ‘date’ had been. I had more fun with Ophelia, Katie and Lauren than I ever imagined I could with other women. I even made a contact in the industry I want to go into when I graduate, not counting the extremely well-connected friend I already have in Nikki. I have had a lot, a LOT of wins since coming to London. Not having a boyfriend shouldn’t be as much of a concern… And yet, the thought of ‘Prince Charming’ is never far from my mind.

One thing’s for certain- finding ‘Prince Charming’ isn’t going to be straightforward. It’ll be an uphill battle, and as today’s proved, there’ll be a lot of bumps along the way. It’s not like I need to find ‘Prince Charming’… But I sure as hell want to find him.

“You know,” I muse as I grab my morning coffee and relax on the plush, soft sofa in my father’s living room, “it may have been in a student shithole, but I miss our old sofa, you know? The whole flat, even.”

“I know precisely what you mean,” Ophelia says, reclining as far back into the sofa as her extra-tight corset will allow. “But we shall return to London soon, and our new flat shall be even better than our previous one!”

“And even more of a shithole!” Dad laughs, making me and Ophelia chuckle, but deep inside, there’s a part of me that’s missing our flat- and our new home in London- a lot more than I care to admit.

Having successfully completed our first year of university (both of us getting good 2:1 grades), at the start of July Ophelia and I packed our bags and moved out of our flat for the last time, returning home to Brighton… And before long, both of us were homesick even though we were both back in what’s supposed to be our hometown! We’ve both been back to London multiple times since moving back ‘home’, mostly to visit Nikki (who’s recovering from her SRS) but also to hang out with the rest of our ‘gang’. And make one or two trips to the Ann Summers store there, of course. After months of pressure from our four friends, Ophelia and I have even started beginner ballet classes at the dance school of Krystie Fullerton the Angel- and to keep our places there, we need to show up at least once every three weeks, giving us another excuse to return to London. It’s got to the point that if it wasn’t for my dad, we probably wouldn’t have any excuses to return to Brighton…

Of course, one reason I DON’T have to return to London is a boyfriend. Ten months later, I am no closer to my ‘Prince Charming’ than I was when I started my life as Jacinta, despite countless parties, nights out with the girls (including attending a proper celebrity birthday party for one of the girls from Out of Heaven) and social gatherings at the university. Sure, I attract the attention of men- two years on oestrogen has given me a very desirable figure, and between ballet and a gym membership I make the most of (and Ophelia trying to wrap a corset around my waist every opportunity she gets) I am, to use a word that gets overused quite a lot but is appropriate in my case, very ‘fit’. Even despite a student diet that my dad joke (I think he’s joking anyway) should’ve put me into toxic shock months ago.

However, I am only twenty years old, so it’s not like I should be in any rush. But every time I remind myself of that, I also have to remind myself that Nikki is younger than me, already engaged and the proud owner of a brand-new vagina. And I’m forced to wonder whether or not there’s a reason I’ve been so unlucky in love- and whether or not I’m the one at fault.

It’s not like I don’t have time to relax and reflect on it, though. It’s the first of August today, and we’re not due back at university until the end of September- though we’ll be moving back to London a few weeks beforehand, and this time, when we go, we’ll be staying. Rather than a student flat, dad’s helping us to locate a small, affordable flat with a long-term tenancy, and while I know I shouldn’t feel guilty about leaving dad by himself- especially as this is a discussion we’ve had loads of times in the past and continue to have- I still feel bad every time I long for London, especially when I glance at the fireplace and I see the urn containing my mother’s ashes. I then wonder whether or not giving dad the opportunity to walk me down the aisle at my wedding would ease my guilt, which brings me right back to square one as I find myself longing for Prince Charming.

“Maybe when Brighton get promoted we can visit each other when they play the big London teams?” Dad suggests. “Always wanted to visit the Olympic Stadium, and you’ve now got friends who support Arsenal and Chelsea, right?”

“The new season hasn’t even begun yet and you’re still clinging to that pipe dream, eh?” I sigh.

“Watch it, you,” dad chuckles. “You know, I actually painted your bedroom with blue and white stripes BEFORE me and your mum found out what gender you were? Gender you were, umm, born as, anyway. But my point still stands.”

“…What exactly IS your point?” I ask, making Ophelia involuntarily snort with laughter.

“Have some pride in your hometown,” dad advises. “Just because London is where you belong, doesn’t mean you can’t fly the flag for Brighton while you’re there.”

“And no better way to ‘fly the flag’ than wearing the local team’s kit, eh?” I ask.

“Exactly,” dad says with a smug grin, which fades quickly when I fix him with a withering stare.

“I study at a FASHION college, for god’s sake,” I say, causing dad to emit a loud, pained groan that’s quickly followed by a chuckle.

“Touché,” dad says. “What have you two got planned for today, then?”

“Everything beginning with ‘B’,” I reply. “Bikini, beach, bathing in the sun…”

“Boys?” Dad asks with a concerned look on his face.

“Chance’d be a fine thing,” I snort.

“Well, you two make sure you take care,” dad says. “I know nothing’s likely to happen on a crowded beach, but- but take care anyway. By which I mean Ophelia- watch over her.”

“I shall as always, Mike,” my BFF says with a smug grin that only widens as I roll my eyes.

After another cup of coffee, Ophelia and I head up to my bedroom, where we change into our swimwear. Nine months of sharing a bedroom with Ophelia has sort-of desensitised the both of us to stripping naked in front of the other, but as always, I feel a weird tingle pass through my body as I lower my panties and pull on my bikini bottoms, knowing that Ophelia can see that we don't exactly 'match'- even though she doesn’t comment, of course. We do, however, almost 'match' when it comes to the top halves of our body, thanks to two years of oestrogen- and another tingle passes through my body when I realise that from some angles, my boobs are even bigger than Ophelia's. This, of course, doesn't stop me from pulling on a padded bikini top. What’s probably weirdest is that I get a bigger tingle when Ophelia removes her thong and begins strapping herself into her home-made one-piece swimsuit. Not a tingle of desire, of course, but the feeling you get when you know you are unconditionally loved- or, in my case, unconditionally accepted by one of the most important people in my life.

I cover up with a denim miniskirt and a pair of flip-flops, leaving my top half bare save for the sunscreen that Ophelia liberally applied to my skin. She, of course, covers up with a (of course) home-made poncho made of a sheer fabric the same colour as her swimsuit, attaches a wide-brimmed sun hat to her head and slips her feet into a pair of cork wedges with a 4” heel that look like they’ll be especially uncomfortable on sand!.

“We are going to OWN that beach,” I say as I pack a small basket with some essentials. “Especially you, Miss ‘my name literally is Love’!”

“I am happy to share ownership with you,” Ophelia says with a wide grin. “In fact, I would be happy for you to be the only owner.”

“Says a woman wearing a swimsuit so tight that you could probably see goosebumps through it,” I retort. “And extra thick make-up, and heels… Seriously, Ophelia.”

“…’Seriously’, what?” My BFF retorts.

“You’re nineteen, you’re sexy, and you’re about to head to a beach filled with sexy young men in one of the most sexually liberal cities in the country if not the world,” I retort. “Unless you’re happy to keep knackering our washing machine?”

“I wear these clothes because I want to wear them,” Ophelia retorts. “They are for me, not for anyone else and certainly not for anyone who happens to be male!”

“Yeah, but-“ I protest.

“I am being the woman I am,” Ophelia explains. “Just as you are.”

“… I AM trying to pick up guys, though,” I say. “And don’t say that THAT’s the woman I am!”

“It is certainly part of it, do not deny it,” Ophelia retorts.

“Well- okay, maybe,” I sigh. “But this isn’t about me. There’s no reason why you couldn’t, or shouldn’t hook up with a guy. I mean, I know the history with your family, but if you do it on your terms, right?”

“I think you will find my ‘terms’ will be the problem,” Ophelia says quietly. “For a man to be appealing enough for me to wish to be with him, he would need to be perfect.”

“Pretty sure there’s no such thing as ‘the perfect man’,” I snort. “Hell, finding ‘the adequate man’ is tough enough most of the time.”

“Precisely,” Ophelia says. “Should I encounter Mr. Perfect, then you have my word that I will not reject him as I would any other boy. But until then…”

“Yes, yes, message received and understood,” I say. “Still though, you COULD wear a bikini rather than that- I hesitate to call it a swimsuit, ‘harness’ would be closer to mark. ‘Torture device’ would be another one. What category is that, six or seven?”

“Category one AND category two,” Ophelia replies with a roll of her eyes. “It's not technically a uniform but fulfils a function, and is casual wear. And I COULD wear a bikini. Just as you COULD wear a one-piece swimsuit instead.”

“Not if I want to show off my abs, I don’t,” I retort, chuckling as Ophelia fixes me with a stare. “Okay. Okay! Touché, then. I just reckon that, you know, you’d make the perfect girlfriend for some guy.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Ophelia says, smiling cryptically as she leads me down the stairs. “Now come along. The sun, the sea and the sand are waiting for us!” I giggle and roll my eyes as I follow Ophelia out of the house and to the nearest bus stop.

Before long, the two of us are relaxing on individual towels on the packed Brighton beach. Ophelia has propped herself up on her elbows and is reading a book on her Kindle, which was an ‘end of year’ present from dad, who knew of Ophelia’s struggles with literacy and loaded it with books that she could read to sort-of ‘practise’. When my BFF received the gift, she was so moved by its thoughtfulness that she was moved to tears- and I will confess, so was I.

Naturally, though, I’m not doing any reading myself, instead I’m laid out full-length on my towel, soaking up the Sun’s rays, and more importantly, soaking up the stares of the sexy young men on the beach! Each one that walks by puts a thousand different questions in my head. Is he ‘Prince Charming’? Does he maybe know ‘Prince Charming’? Would he have any issues in being with a transgendered girl? Is he even interested in girls at all? Is he interested in Ophelia, maybe?

Despite the numerous stares, and even a few ‘hi’s, Ophelia and I end the morning with as many potential ‘Prince Charming’s as we started it- namely, none. I try to hide my disappointment as we get lunch from a nearby food wagon, but as I’ve learned over the last few years, I can’t hide anything from my BFF.

“There is no need to be disappointed,” Ophelia says softly as we tuck into our burgers.

“Who said I was disappointed?” I ask. “…Okay, maybe a little. I dunno.”

“Are you not having fun?” Ophelia asks.

“I am, yeah,” I reply. “…Okay! Maybe I could be having MORE fun. Yes, before you ask, that sentence ends with ‘with a boy’.”

“There is still plenty of time,” Ophelia reassures me. “You never know what might be around the corner.”

“What, a group of boys is suddenly going to come over to offer to buy us ice cream?” I snort. “Nah… Give it another hour after lunch, then we’ll head home, if that’s okay with you?”

“Perfectly fine,” Ophelia says. “The heat and humidity is beginning to curl my hair, anyway…”

“If you didn’t coat it in bright turquoise dye, it’d probably hold up better to the heat,” I advise as we finish our meals and head back to the beach.

“Would you prefer a different colour?” Ophelia asks. “I’ve been thinking about purple for next year at university. Perhaps purple contact lenses as well…” I chuckle and roll my eyes at my BFF, even though I can’t tell whether or not she’s joking- her hair is something she takes VERY seriously. As is her make-up and her fashion sense, which I find out to my chagrin when Ophelia diverts to a nearby toilet, and after she’s done, takes almost fifteen minutes to reassemble her swimsuit!

“Is it actually possible to, you know, even swim in that thing?” I ask, making Ophelia giggle as we pick a new part of the beach on which to relax.

Naturally, the afternoon goes just as well as the morning did. I get stares, winks and giggles- and so does Ophelia, much to my amusement- but absolutely zero words of English are exchanged between us and any male member of the human race. We’re just about ready to pack away our things and head home when a group of people finally approach us- but much to my surprise (not to mention disappointment), the group are all female and slightly younger than myself and Ophelia.

“Excuse me?” The ‘leader’ of the group, a mousey-haired girl slightly taller than Ophelia, asks.

“Yes…?” I reply.

“Are- are you, umm…” The girl asks, making me sigh. Obviously I’m not as good at ‘tucking and taping’ as I thought… No wonder I’m going home ‘empty-handed’ today.

“I- I’m really not comfortable discussing that, sorry,” I mumble as I hastily fasten my skirt over my bikini bottoms. However, my response doesn’t offend the girls- if anything, it confuses them.

“No- umm,” the ‘lead’ girl replies. “I meant, are- are you Jacinta Hanley?”

“…Have we met?” I ask, confused by how this teenager might know my name.

“Well- no, umm,” the ‘lead’ girl mumbles.

“We- we follow your Instagram,” one of the other girls, a shorter girl who looks like she might be from India, says. “We were big fans of the Teen Angels, you see, and when they went to university and met you and Ophelia, well-“

“Ah,” I say as realisation dawns on me. “Yes, yes I’m Jacinta and that’s Ophelia over there.”

“Hello,” Ophelia nervously says, trying to hide her face with her hat.

“Oh my god,” the ‘lead’ teenager giggles breathlessly. “Can- can we get a selfie with you two, please?”

“…Sure, why not?” I laugh. “Ophelia?”

“Very well,” Ophelia mumbles, forcing a smile on her face as she and I pose with the girls for their selfie. Once the girls have left us alone, my BFF lets out a very long, loud sigh of relief, and it’s all I can do not to give her a hug.

“You knew this was a possibility,” I say softly. “When we became, well, ‘acquaintances of acquaintances’ with the Angels. And no offence, but-“

“But they probably recognised me before they recognised you?” Ophelia asks, frowning as I nod. “I would not doubt that for a minute.”

“So… Definitely purple next year, then?” I ask.

“Only because ‘invisible’ isn’t an option,” Ophelia scoffs.

“I feel it’s my duty as your BFF to point out that before you met me, you WERE invisible,” I say quietly, making the teal-haired girl pause.

“I was also left alone,” Ophelia retorts. “Nobody cared who I was. Apart from the people who truly mattered. By being who I truly am it exposes who everyone else is. Those who wish to reject me, and those who wish to accept me.”

“Seems to me like our ‘fans’ are all in that second category,” I say, making my BFF pause yet again. “They actually seemed genuinely thrilled to see us. Us! No Angels in sight, ‘teen’ or otherwise.”

“Poor them,” Ophelia says, making me chuckle. “However, you are right. If I wish to become an international fashion designer, I must learn to accept the fame that comes as part of that.”

“Atta girl!” I cheer, making my BFF roll her eyes. “Just remember me when you’re jetting off to Milan and New York, okay?”

“Always,” Ophelia says with a grin that warms my heart as we head back home.

Naturally, dad roared his head off laughing when we told him about our ‘encounter’ at the beach, actually asking for a selfie of his own (which may have embarrassed Ophelia more than the girls’ selfie!). Eventually, though, night draws in, and Ophelia and I both opt for an early night. As it’s a Monday night, there’s no point in heading out on the town, so just after 9:30pm, the two of us head up to my bedroom to get ready for bed.

With it being August, both Ophelia and I have opted for slightly lighter sleepwear than normal- though that doesn’t mean that Ophelia’s is any less elaborate. Whereas I opt for a pair of briefs and a comfortable crop top, Ophelia has crafted for herself a bodysuit made out of a breathable mesh fabric with corset-style laces at the back that she, naturally, pulls tight every night before she gets into bed. Though it could be worse- she actually wore her regular ‘pyjamas’ up until the start of June, when one day they caused her to badly overheat and gave her a fever. Though I still maintain that Ophelia was more upset about the sweat ruining her tights than by her actually being unwell.

I’m woken the following morning as usual at 8am by the sound of dad leaving the house to go work, which, as usual, prompts me to roll over and try to get back to sleep. However, I’m startled awake not five minutes later by the sound of my bedroom door opening… And my father rudely shaking my tired body until I swat at him to try to get him to stop.

“Mmph,” I moan as dad has a chuckle at my expense. “What the fuck are you doing back? Thought you were going to work?”

“Booked it off yesterday,” dad says. “How often do you come back to Brighton that you think I’m going to waste the chance to spend some time with you?”

“…Fair enough,” I say with a chuckle. “What do you want to do today, then?”

“Need to make a Tesco run,” dad announces, making my jaw drop. “Get up, get showered, we’re heading out at 9.”

“…THAT’s your idea of quality father-daughter time?” I ask, collapsing back onto my bed and letting out a loud groan.

“You used to love coming shopping with me in the school holidays,” dad retorts. “I remember a few summer holidays when I’d say I was going shopping and you’d jump at the chance of coming with me. Never any other time, but during the holidays, yes.”

“Yeah…” I grimace. “A lot of the time I was hoping we’d shopping for a new school uniform.”

“Ah, okay,” dad says.

“Which, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, means ‘I was hoping you’d buy me a girl’s uniform’,” I continue.

“Not THAT big a stretch of the imagination, no,” dad says, leading to an awkward silence. “…If you want, I could always buy you a girl’s uniform today?”

“Hilarious,” I snort. “Doubt you’d be able to get a girl’s uniform that’d fit me, anyway.”

“You don’t know until you try,” dad says with a grin. “Want me to drop you and Ophelia off at Uniform Direct after we hit Tesco? Reckon Ophelia would have a million designs in her head for a pleated skirt.”

“Pretty sure we’d get arrested if you do,” I snort. “You more than us.”

“Meh, offer’s on the table if you change your mind,” dad shrugs. “You’ve got 50 minutes before we leave, I realise that might not be enough time for you to get ready but-“ dad laughs as I hurl my pillow at him, silencing him (well, apart from his laughter, anyway).

“THIS is something I haven’t missed while I’ve been in London,” I say, which only intensifies my father’s laughter. “You’re having far too much fun…”

“You love it really,” dad chuckles, tossing my pillow back to me. “Breakfast will be ready in five minutes. Unless you prefer cold toast, anyway.”

“I’ll be right down,” I sigh as I lay back down, before allowing myself a quiet chuckle and swinging my tired legs out of my bed. As much as I hate to admit it, dad IS right- his teasing might be annoying (and slightly inappropriate for a father and his daughter) but I wouldn’t exchange it for the world for one important reason- it’s a clear sign that he’s loving having me back home.

Naturally, when I head downstairs, Ophelia is already awake and responding to dad’s teasing in her own bashful way, before turning to me with a smug look on her face.

“I understand that we will be getting new school uniforms today,” Ophelia says, making dad chuckle and me groan.

“I’m not wearing it in public if we are,” I retort. “I take it dad told you the whole story, then?”

“He did,” Ophelia said, before surprising me by sighing sadly.

“…O?” I ask. “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Ophelia whispers.

“A contraction?” Dad notes. “’I’ll’ instead of ‘I will’? Now I’m concerned. If you want to get something off your chest, Ophelia, go right ahead- you know I won’t judge.”

“I…” Ophelia begins, before letting out a long sigh. “I never really had a new school uniform. Or any new clothes of any kind. I have three older sisters- all the clothes I wore when I was younger used to be theirs. Even my underwear.”

“Eugh,” I spit. “That- that’s awful!”

“You’ve met my mother,” Ophelia shrugs. “Can you imagine her spending money on anything other than cigarettes and alcohol for herself?”

“No offence, Ophelia,” dad says with a heavy sigh. “But it’s a wonder that you and your sisters were never taken into care.”

“I am free of that life now,” Ophelia says with obviously forced confidence. “There is no need to look back.”

“Maybe not,” dad says. “But now I DEFINITELY want to take the two of you shopping for a new uniform!”

“Umm, arrested?” I remind dad.

“Oh-whatever,” dad scoffs. “I’ll send the two of you in, you can say it’s for a fancy dress party or something.”

“…That actually would sound like a lot of fun,” Ophelia whispers with a smile.

“Thanks for agreeing to let us host it here, dad!” I say, making my father nearly choke on his coffee.

“Now wait-“ dad argues.

“The party was your idea,” I interrupt with a smug grin on my face. “And I promise it’ll only be people I know from uni, I’m not going to put it on Facebook and invite half of Brighton or something.”

“You’ll be inviting boys though, I take it?” Dad asks.

“Duh,” I retort, earning an involuntary snort of laughter from my BFF.

“They will only be boys whom myself and Jacinta approve of,” Ophelia says.

“And Katie and Lauren approve of too, given that they’ll be coming with them,” I say. “Shall we say Saturday?”

“What, first day of the new season?” Dad asks.

“Gives you a good reason to not be here,” I shrug. “Though I suppose if we hold it a bit later, it’d give Nikki more of a chance to recover, I’m not sure she’d be up for an hour long train ride…”

“We will just have to hold one for her when we return to London,” Ophelia says. “Besides, you would not want them to stop partying when it’s your turn to be ‘recovering’, would you?”

“Hell no,” I say with a chuckle, before biting my lip as dad grimaces. As supportive as he is, there are still some things he’s uncomfortable with, and the thought of me having SRS is clearly one of those things. “But’s that AGES from now, heh. Party first!”

“Shopping first!” Dad reminds me. “Get dressed first! Unless you want to pad around Tesco in pyjamas and a dressing gown?”

“And we are right back to the class of people that contains my mother again,” Ophelia says, grinning as she sips her coffee.

Naturally, I don’t want to be part of that ‘class’ either, so I head upstairs to shower, put on my make-up and change into a loose grey t-shirt and a very short butt-hugging miniskirt that shows off a lot of the tan I got yesterday, and which earns just as much attention as I got yesterday, especially from the male shoppers at the supermarket!

Obviously, a supermarket isn’t the best place to pick up a guy, especially when I’m with my dad, so any flirting is kept to the occasional glance and giggle, but even this earns eye rolls from my father and, unsurprisingly, my BFF. It’s also no surprise that my BFF, with her waist-length aquamarine hair, neon blue tights, spike-heeled stilettos, home-made summer dress and excruciatingly tight corset, is getting a LOT more attention than I ever could. However, unlike me, she doesn’t even acknowledge any of the stares she receives- even when some of them very clearly approve of her ‘eccentric beauty’.

The three of us have just about filled our trolley (apart from our ‘new uniforms’, which we’ll be getting elsewhere) and are heading to the checkout when the sight of me and my BFF attracts the attention of two more people- the two people in the world that we least wanted to run into.

“WHAT THE FUCK YOU DOIN’ ‘ERE!?” The coarse, barely-coherent voice of Ophelia’s ‘mother’ shrieks, stopping the three of us dead in our tracks and causing my BFF’s face to grow even paler than usual.

“…We are shopping,” Ophelia says in a meek voice.

“You look like a fuckin freak!” Ophelia’s mother spits. “And why you still hangin’ out with that fuckin’ tranny!?”

“Mum! Mum! He’s gonna rape me!” Candice- who is presumably the ‘mother’ of the crying child in her mother’s trolley- yells in the same incoherent voice as the older woman, attracting the attention of all the nearby shoppers and creating an awkward silence inside the shop. I feel my cheeks start to burn with embarrassment as Candice’s finger remains pointed squarely at my face, making sure the whole shop knows my secret. I actually say a silent prayer, hoping for the ground to open up and swallow me whole, when I suddenly feel a familiar hand gripping mine.

“No,” dad says firmly, taking mine and Ophelia’s hands in his. “You do NOT talk to these girls like that!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Ophelia’s mother spit. “His bum chum or summat?” I growl with anger as the middle-aged woman shares a laugh with her youngest daughter, both apparently blissfully unaware that no one else in the shop found that funny.

“I am Jacinta’s father,” dad says proudly. “And more of a parent to Ophelia than you’ve ever been!”

“Who fuck’s a feel ya?” Ophelia’s mother spits. “Her name’s Mandeh!”

“For the first eighteen years of my life, all I was to you was a source of child benefit!” Ophelia says, her usually soft voice angrier than I have ever earned it. Undeterred by what is an undeniable fact, Ophelia’s mother opens her mostly toothless mouth to retort when one of the store’s security guards approaches us with a look of concern on his face.

“Is there a problem here?” The guard- a tall man in his early fifties- asks.

“That MAN tried to rape me!” Candice squeals, pointing her finger back in my face.

“No SHE didn’t, you lying cow!” One of the crowd yells, forcing me and Ophelia to bite our lips to stop from laughing.

“DON’T YOU FUCKIN WELL TALK TO MY DAUGHTER LIKE THAT!” Ophelia’s mother bellows, seemingly uncaring about the fact that she’s upsetting her screaming grandchild.

“After the way you spoke to your daughter just now?” Dad retorts, making the angry woman splutter incoherent expletives as the crowd quietly applauds.

“He raped me!” Candice spits, her finger still pointed straight at my face. “Arrest him!”

“I thought you just said she TRIED to rape you?” The guard asks, making me smirk by extending the word ‘she’.

“Yeah, and then he did!” Candice babbles, blissfully unaware that she was caught out in her lie.

“Wait a minute,” the guard says with a smirk on his face. “I’m sure I know your face… Are you Theresa Lowe?”

“What about it?” Ophelia’s mother snorts.

“The same Theresa Lowe that was banned from this store last year for shoplifting?” The guard asks. Despite myself, I let out a snigger as Theresa and Candice grab their trolley and literally run toward the front entrance, almost knocking over several shoppers along the way.

“Security to front entrance, we’ve got a runner,” the guard says into his walkie-talkie, before turning to the three of us as the crowd mercifully returns to their shopping, their excitement over for today. “Sorry about that.”

“Not the first time it’s happened,” I sigh, making the guard smile sympathetically.

“Not the first time I’ve caught them in here after being banned, either,” the guard snorts.

“I must apologise for my former family,” Ophelia says, nervously extending a hand for the guard to shake. “I am Ophelia Cassiopeia Love. Formerly known as Mandy Lowe.”

“Now YOU can shop here anytime you want,” the guard chuckles as he shakes Ophelia’s hand. “If you want to press charges for harassment, I’m sure we can get you a copy of the CCTV footage. That’ll also help to prove that your sister was talking bollocks.”

“I- I would prefer to forget that this ever happened,” Ophelia whispers.

“Me too,” I mumble, earning a sigh from dad.

“If you don’t challenge this sort of behaviour, it’ll only happen again,” dad advises. “It shouldn’t, obviously, but it will. And it’s the baby I’m most concerned about. Being raised in that kind of household… Not everyone’s as strong-minded as you, Ophelia.”

“Yeah, poor kid,” the guard concurs with a heavy sigh. “Still, can’t force you to press charges, I suppose. I’ll have a word with a manager though and see if we can’t get you a gift card or something by way of apology.”

“That’d be brilliant, thanks,” dad says, shaking the security guard’s hand as he moves away and lets us head to the checkout. “Ugh, Ophelia… I am really sorry you went through that. You too, Jacinta.”

“Yeah, remind me again which one of us is your blood relative?” I ask, smirking as dad gives me a playful push. “I know what you mean though, that can’t have been pleasant for you, Ophelia.”

“No, but there was one part that was pleasant,” Ophelia says. “The same part that was also true- when you said that you have been more of a parent to me than she ever was.”

“Well, umm, yeah,” dad mumbles, clearly close to tears. Needlessly to say, tears are already freely flowing down my cheeks, despite the fact that we’re in one of the most public places possible!

“Is nineteen too old to be adopted?” I ask, making my BFF and my dad giggle despite their emotional state.

“Probably, sadly,” dad shrugs. “On a related topic, I’m probably never going to stop thinking about that poor kid. Does your sister know who the father is?”

“My sister does not know who HER father is,” Ophelia retorts. “Let alone the father of her child. And neither do I.”

“You do now,” dad says, placing a comforting hand on Ophelia’s shoulder that makes me burst into tears all over again! “Now come on, let’s get this paid for, then we can go home.”

“Do we have to go straight home?” Ophelia asks, her voice filled with disappointment.

“Is there somewhere you’d rather go?” Dad asks.

“Yes,” Ophelia bluntly replies. “I would rather go shopping for a new school uniform. With my father.” Needless to say, many tears are shed as we pay for our groceries, before dad gives Ophelia and I a lift down the road to the school uniform shop.

The two of us emerge from the shop about fifteen minutes later, each carrying a shopping bag containing a navy blue girl’s blazer, two plain white blouses, a pleated black skirt, three pairs of opaque school tights and a generic school tie. However, that’s not all our bags contain- when we mentioned to the sales clerk that we were buying for a fancy dress party, we were told that we were far from the first people to go into the shop for that reason- and weren’t even the first people that day. Within seconds, I’d added five pairs of girls' briefs and a short-sleeved plain black leotard to my purchase, while Ophelia had bought a long-sleeved black leotard and a plain black swimsuit- both of which will no doubt be heavily customised before they ever touch her body.

“Both skint, then?” Dad asks as Ophelia and I return home and drop our bulging bags in the living room.

“Eh, my loan will cover it,” I shrug.

“And I can claim that it is for my course,” Ophelia says with a grin that makes dad chuckle.

“…You’re both feeling better, then?” Dad asks, smiling as we both nod. “I’m glad. I’m glad you’re both rising above it, not letting what they said get you down because if it’d been me… I dunno. What they said made me really, really angry.”

“I don’t even know what they hoped to gain by confronting us,” I sigh.

“Especially as they made it clear that they would rather not have anything more to do with me,” Ophelia says softly.

“People like that live in their own little bubble,” dad says. “Like people who voted for Brexit or are thinking of voting for Donald Trump. They have this complex whereby whatever they say and do is always justified, always right, and are deliberately ignorant of what the rest of the world says. Especially the way other people feel! Most of them are just plain divorced from reality. I’d go so far as to call a lot of them walking violations of common sense. And they will never, ever accept that they’re wrong. What they wanted from the two of you was an apology, an acknowledgement that you’re ‘wrong’ and they’re ‘right’, because in their world, their opinions are the only ones that matter.”

“...Ever thought of running for parliament?” I ask my father, who responds, as always, by hurling a cushion at my face.

“If only,” dad snorts. “Still worried about that little girl- your niece, I suppose. Gonna have a few sleepless nights thinking about her future.”

“She might turn out to be like her aunt,” I shrug, making Ophelia grin.

“If she’s really, really lucky,” dad says, changing Ophelia’s grin to a nervous smile as she- and I- struggle to keep our emotions in check. “Umm, anyway, you’ve got the rest of the day free, gonna head back to the beach, then?”

“Nah, I’m kinda ‘beached out’ after yesterday,” I say. “Might hang out in the garden a bit if I need to top up my tan.”

“And I turn into a tomato if my skin is exposed to sunlight for too long,” Ophelia says.

“You could always see if your friends are free, invite them to the party,” dad suggests.

“You- you really don’t mind us having it here?” I ask.

“Nah, it’ll be fine,” dad says. “It’s not like you trash the place every weekend, I figure you’ve earned it. Especially after today.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“And besides,” dad continues. “You’ve shown that you’re a mature, responsible young woman… Ophelia.” This time, it’s my turn to hurl the cushion at dad’s head as all three of us giggle happily, putting the events of earlier today behind us as we look to the future and what it will bring.

What the future brings first- well, four days later, anyway- is our party, and with dad down the pub with his friends, Ophelia and I spend the afternoon getting ready for the party, which consists of about twenty minutes of laying out nibbles and plenty of alcohol, and about an hour and a half of getting our costumes ready. Naturally, both of us have gone for a ‘demure’ look with our make-up, limited eyeshadow and eyeliner but thick pink lipstick, and both of us have tied our hair into girlish pigtails. We’ve both also customised our ‘uniforms’ heavily. With Ophelia’s assistance, I cut the bottom six inches off my blouse and I’m wearing it knotted at the bottom, showing off my tanned, flat belly and giving a lot of assistance to my strongest push-up bra (so naturally, I have the top three buttons of the blouse open as well). I’ve rolled the top of my skirt over several times so it only barely covers the top of my thighs, and I’ve put several strategic, stylish holes in my tights. Despite the collection of high heeled shoes in my bedroom, I opt instead for a pair of lace-up school shoes- they’re more in keeping with the theme, after all, and in context, are no less sexy!

Ophelia, naturally, has gone in a different ‘direction’ with her costume. As she (predictably) has a corset wrapped around her torso, she hasn’t customised her blouse, but still has it unbuttoned enough to show cleavage (and, if you look closely enough, the top of her corset). Her skirt, however, is worn high on her painfully tiny waist, and has had a high slit cut into it to show off virtually all of both of her nylon-covered legs- apart from her feet, which naturally have spike-heeled stilettos attached to them regardless of tonight’s theme.

The two of us are still working on our look, gussying ourselves up and applying a little more lipstick and hairspray when the doorbell rings, and we open the front door to be confronted by the sight of a dozen young men and women, each dressed in their own interpretation of a school uniform.

“Please miss, can we come in?” Katie asks, fluttering her heavy, fake eyelashes pleadingly. “…That would’ve worked much better if one of you had actually been dressed as a teacher.”

“It’s our party, we’ll dress how we want!” I retort. “And god knows, we’ve had enough practise there over the last two years, heh!”

“Enough practise to become experts, hehe!” Lauren giggles, giving me and Ophelia a hug as she and Katie lead the crowd into the living room and the party properly begins.

“Honestly, Ophelia,” Katie says as she grabs a drink, “I’d have expected you at least to be, you know, all ‘naughty schoolteacher’?”

“Am I expected to be a dominatrix simply because I like wearing a corset?” Ophelia asks. “…And because I own a whip?” Lauren, Ophelia and I all giggle as Katie almost chokes on her drink.

“Don’t do that to me!” Katie moans, wiping beer away from her nose and off of her scandalously short pleated skirt. “After all the people I invited…”

“Ah, we’re sorry,” I say, giving the freckled girl a tight hug. “Nikki not up for tonight, then?”

“Nah, still on the mend,” Lauren sighs. “And of course, that means that Sarah’s glued to her side, hehe! Reckon we’ll never see the two of them apart again- well, outside work and university, anyway.”

“So we shall have to endure Sarah’s panic all throughout next year?” Ophelia asks with a smirk.

“Yep, and you’re both sharing the load!” Katie giggles. “They send their love, though. Especially after we told them about what happened on Tuesday.”

“That really sucked,” Lauren sighed. “Half want to meet your family now just to slap some sense into them.”

“They are immune to ‘sense’,” Ophelia spits. “But I am grateful for the offer.”

“And I guess it makes sense that you’re ‘pupils’ like us, given what you said on Tuesday as well,” Katie says. “You know- and I’m not sure I should be sharing this, but as it’s you two, it should be okay- the first time Nikki was, you know, ‘Nikki’ with Sarah, she was actually wearing her school uniform?”

“Aww, that’s so cute!” I sigh happily.

“Yes, and so are you two!” Lauren giggles.

“Oh Jacelia, you’re breaking my heart…” Katie sings, with Lauren quickly joining in the impromptu ‘duet’.

“I can live with being called ‘cute’,” I giggle. “Though I’d rather hear it from a deeper voice, if you get my meaning, hehe!”

“There are six boys here tonight, take your pick!” Katie giggles.

“FIVE boys,” Lauren says, grabbing her boyfriend’s hand as he walks past.

“Nice move, did that without even looking!” I giggle.

“Not that good,” Lauren giggles as she links her fingers with the tall young man’s. “I was going for his cock, hehe!”

“Which makes it an even bigger shock that she missed,” Michael says, earning eye rolls from all four of us girls.

“Now now Mr. Yates,” Katie chastises, draining her beer bottle. “For that, you can get us another beer. You can get ALL of us another beer!”

“And when you return, you’d better be carrying it in your HANDS!” I shout after Michael, who- like his girlfriend- giggles as he walks away.

“…He’s not wrong, though,” Lauren says with a smug smile. “Let’s just say I’ve never had cause for complain!”

“Even when you’re not wearing a skirt two sizes too small?” I ask, pointing to the ridiculously stretchy fabric covering the top of the black haired girl’s thighs.

“Especially when I’m not wearing it!” Lauren giggles as she takes her beer from Michael and slides her hand into his back pocket, whilst he grabs a generous feels of her curvy bottom.

“Still hung up on being single?” Katie asks as Lauren and Michael sit down together and Ophelia starts to mingle.

“Ever known a time when I’m not?” I sigh as I swig my beer. “And thanks for not being, you know, sensitive around me when you were describing Michael’s cock.”

“Eh, you’re fine,” Katie shrugs. “You’d have deserved it this time though, I mean- god above!”

“What?” I protest, before giggling as Katie gestures toward my chest.

“Are you sure you haven’t always been a girl?” Katie sighs. “They’re almost as big as Lauren’s…”

“Aww, thanks!” I giggle. “I think. I’m taking it as a compliment anyway!”

“Compliment and jealousy,” Katie laughs. “How, exactly?”

“Really good bra, this knot in my blouse… And lots of padding, hehe!” I reply, before doing a quick ‘jiggle’ that makes my classmate snort with laughter once again!

“Not regretting your transition, then?” Katie giggles.

“Not for one second,” I giggle, before ‘jiggling’ again. My second ‘jiggle’, however, is cut short when I see a reasonably good-looking young man stare straight at me with a bewildered look on his face. I let out a quiet yelp and hastily cover my chest with my blazer as my friend beside me almost wets herself laughing.

“Think you’ve pulled there!” Katie says between breathless giggles.

“God!” I hiss as my cheeks turn bright red. “Who is that guy, anyway? I recognise everyone else here from uni, but I’ve never even seen him before!”

“Michael’s friend, we were on the train together,” Katie explains. “…So, then? Gonna introduce yourself?”

“Umm, what?” I retort.

“You’re the hostess,” Katie shrugs, leaning back into her chair. “And you did just shake your tits at him. It’d be rude not to at least say hi.”

“I dunno…” I mumble, still keeping my chest covered with my blazer.

“Oh for god’s sake,” Katie sighs. “Just because Cinderella is hosting the ball, it doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy it too! Now off your arse, woman!” With a heavy sigh, I stand up and approach the brown-haired boy. He’s certainly not bad-looking (despite his glasses), he’s got a fit body, he’s slightly shorter than me, which is a bit of a negative but hardly a deal-breaker… I suppose there’s nothing stopping him from being ‘Prince Charming’, even if I did always think I’d recognise him at first sight…

“Umm, hi…” I say nervously, attracting the young man’s attention.

“Hi,” the bespectacled boy replies. “Umm… Nice tits?”

“Hehe, thanks…” I giggle nervously. “I’m, uh, I’m Jacinta, by the way. This is kinda my house- well, my dad’s house, but I live here…”

“Yeah, umm, Michael told me,” the young man says, obviously as nervous as I am. “I’m, umm, I’m Simon, Simon Clarke. I came down with Lauren and Michael, and, umm, Katie…”

“Yeah, Katie said,” I say. “So, umm, you’re not, you know, ‘with’ Katie, then?”

“Oh- nah…” Simon replies. “Not really my type…” Okay then, I think to myself, internally sighing. Another person ‘Jason’ might have had a chance with, but ‘Jacinta’ probably won’t…

“Fair enough,” I shrug. “So… What is your- your ‘type’?”

“Women taller than me,” Simon says, causing me to involuntarily smile. “Dark-haired women, really girly girls… Doesn’t matter to me whether or not they’re transgendered?” My smile widens with every word Simon says, and when he subtly slides a hand onto my hip, it’s all I can do not to jump on him right here in the living room. However, a voice inside my head reminds me that the party has only been going for less than ten minutes, and Simon isn’t the only boy here- even if he is looking cuter and cuter with every passing second…

“Let- let me get you a new drink,” I say, heading back to the refreshment table where, annoyingly, Katie is already waiting for me.

“So…” Katie teases. “First impressions?”

“He’s okay,” I shrug.

“Seriously?” Katie sighs. “’Okay’?”

“Are you and Lauren deliberately trying to set me up with him?” I ask.

“No,” Katie immediately replies. “Yes. Ugh… He’s been single a while, you’ve been single a while, why not?”

“…Good question,” I say with a smug grin as I grab a drink and take it to Simon, before leading him to a (barely) quieter corner of the room.

“Thanks,” Simon says, grinning as I wedge myself onto the chair next to him.

“Just so you know, we’re being set up,” I say, making the young man snort with laughter.

“I did wonder why Michael was so determined to get me along to this party,” Simon chuckles. “So- so do you, you know, live in Brighton?”

“Not full-time,” I say. “I’m at the same uni as Katie and Lauren. Same course as Katie, actually, that’s how we met.”

“Oh- like the way Lauren and Katie met Nikki?” Simon asks.

“You know Nikki?” I ask. “I AM impressed, hehe!”

“We’ve hung out a few times,” Simon says with a smug grin. “Even gone to an Angels party once. Well, okay, it was for Lauren’s birthday, but still, you know?”

“If it was this year I’ll have been at that one too,” I say. “Surprised I didn’t notice you there.”

“Who’d notice a 5’ 9” plain speccy guy?” Simon snorts, making me roll my eyes.

“Oh, play EVERY card, why don’t you?” I tease. “Come on strong, then play the shy, self-degrading type?”

“…Sorry,” Simon mumbles. “I can come on strong again, if you’d prefer?”

“I’d… Prefer the ‘real’ Simon,” I say, smiling as the young man slowly slides a hand onto my thigh and starts playing with one of the holes in my tights.

“They did say you were funny,” Simon says. “And that your flatmate was, well, ‘unusual’.”

“Ophelia’s definitely unique,” I giggle. “’Funny’? Really? That’s the way they described me?”

“I think they meant it as a compliment,” Simon says, continuing his ‘exploration’ of my leg. “And they’re right, you’re definitely, you know, ‘funny’… Definitely cute, too.”

“For a transgendered girl?” I ask.

“For ANY kind of girl,” Simon says with a smile as I involuntarily lick my lips…

Fifteen minutes later, the two of emerge from the upstairs bathroom, both covered in a fine sheen of sweat. I hastily reapply my lipstick and Simon smoothes his costume before we both head downstairs, praying that our absence wasn’t too obvious. Fortunately, we’re able to mingle back into the crowd seamlessly enough… Right up until I run into Ophelia, Katie and Lauren, all of whom have VERY wide grins on their faces.

“So…” Katie says with a grin. “Did you, you know, ‘hit it off’?”

“Or would a word other than ‘hit’ be more appropriate?” Ophelia asks, making me roll my eyes.

“You too?” I ask my BFF, who giggles bashfully.

“I am simply happy to see you happy,” Ophelia shrugs.

“We all are,” Lauren says with a grin. “Who knows? This could be the start of something big…”

“Fingers crossed,” I say with a smile as my eyes again meet Simon’s from across the room.

Naturally, Simon and I repeatedly gravitate toward each other throughout the rest of the night, regularly cozying up but not heading anywhere more private- not after the way my friends reacted, anyway. At around 1:30am, as the party guests start to disperse (and Ophelia, Katie, Lauren and Michael make themselves comfortable for the night), I catch Simon as he’s about to leave with the rest of the boys.

“Hey,” I say to the boy with the glasses, who involuntarily giggles as I approach. “You- you off, then?”

“Yeah,” Simon says. “A bunch of us are staying at a friend’s… Not that I know the guy, of course, but they said I could crash on his floor.”

“Oh,” I say disappointedly. “Do- would- would you prefer, you know, a bed to sleep in?” Simon’s subsequent smile is all the answer I need.

The following morning, I wake up with a smile on my face, a pair of slender arms wrapped around my body, and a tingling in my anus reminding me that last night was VERY good.

“Hey,” I whisper, shaking the shorter boy awake. When that fails, I reach underneath the sheets and shake a different part of his anatomy- and THAT gets his attention!

“Mmm,” Simon moans, before opening his eyes and smiling. “Morning!”

“Morning!” I giggle, continuing my 'massage'. “I had a LOT of fun last night.”

“You should’ve done, it was your party,” Simon chuckles.

“I wasn’t talking about the party,” I say, giving the young man a long, soft kiss.

“Nor was I,” Simon says, returning my kiss, which gradually gets deeper, and deeper, until once again, our two bodies become one.

“Okay then!” Simon pants as he lays back on my bed, clearly deeply satisfied from our 'workout'. “Definitely a lot of fun, heh.”

“Yep!” I giggle as I cozy up next to the young man.

“Almost wish I didn’t have to go back to London, now,” Simon sighs.

“…Who says you have to?” I ask. “It’s Sunday, do you usually work on Sundays?”

“Yeah, but I’ve booked today off,” Simon replies. “Jacinta, I- I had fun, but-“

“Ah, ‘but’, my favourite word of the English language,” I moan. “When spelt with one ‘T’, of course.”

“Yeah…” Simon says. “Don’t get me wrong, I REALLY enjoyed last night. And this morning. I- I’m just not, you know, a ‘physical’ guy.”

“I would have to disagree with you there,” I say, making Simon chuckle.

“What I mean,” Simon clarifies, “is that I- if I was going to have a girlfriend, I- I’d want it to be more than just the physical, you know? Michael once tried to set me up with Lauren’s best friend, a girl called Dannii, and- well, she was fit. REALLY fit, like, six feet tall and blonde, but-“

“Kinda making me feel inadequate,” I say, frowning and rolling over so my back is to the brown-haired boy.

“If you’d let me finish,” Simon sighs, reach over me to grab his glasses. “She had about as much depth as an episode of Teletubbies. I’m not looking for a quick fuck- fun as it was- I- I kinda want, you know, a proper girlfriend?” Unsurprisingly, this grabs my attention and I roll back over to face the young man, who I’m slowly beginning to realise is a lot more sensitive than he let on last night.

“…Okay,” I say. “And- and you think I’m that ‘proper girlfriend’?”

“I think you’re more than just a quick fuck, that’s for sure,” Simon says.

“Wow,” I reply. “And here I was thinking that what Katie said about my tits yesterday was the greatest compliment I’d ever be paid.”

“No- I’m serious,” Simon says. “You’re cute- beautiful even. You’ve got an amazing sense of humour, you’re already friends with my friend’s girlfriends, you’re smart, you’re great in bed… You’re, like, the perfect girlfriend.”

“Even despite my ‘flaw’?” I ask, trying to maintain a stoic facial expression. This will be the deal-maker of the deal-breaker…

“What ‘flaw’?” Simon asks, bringing a wide grin to my face. “I guess what I’m trying to say is- well, Jacinta- will you go out with me?”

“…Yes,” I say, giggling and giving Simon another kiss as we disappear beneath the sheets yet again…

Simon and I have wide grins on our faces as we slowly stroll downstairs, me in my dressing gown and Simon in the shirt and trousers he wore last night, but our grins instantly vanish when we enter the living room and five pairs of eyes turn in our direction- Ophelia’s, Katie’s, Lauren’s, Michael’s and, worst of all, my father’s.

“Morning!” Dad says, making me inwardly grimace.

“M- morning,” I mumble, leading to an awkward silence.

“…I’ll just refer to him as ‘him’, then?” Dad asks, making my friends smirk and me roll my eyes.

“Dad, Simon, Simon, dad,” I say by way of introduction.

“It’s, umm, nice to meet you, mister- mister-“ Simon stammers as he shakes dad’s hand.

“Hanley,” I whisper.

“Hanley,” dad says simultaneously, making me and Simon cringe. “Nice to meet you. Hope you washed your hands before coming downstairs.”

“Yes,” I growl, which only intensifies dad’s smirk.

“Oh to be young again,” dad chuckles as Simon and I collapse on the sofa together.

“Is there any coffee on the go?” I ask with a heavy sigh.

“I shall pour you a cup,” Ophelia- who, unsurprisingly, is already awake and dressed for the day- says as she heads to the kitchen.

“Your friends filled me in about the party,” dad explains. “Happy to see nothing missing or broken. Bit surprised to see something ADDED to the household, though.”

“Yeah, umm,” I mumble.

“We told your dad about THAT as well,” Katie chuckles. “Well, not EVERY detail, but-“

“But enough to know that hopefully you’ll stop stressing out about being single from now on,” dad says with a warm smile. “And I’m sure I’ll grow to like Simon. Assuming I don’t kill him first.”

“Would prefer it if you didn’t,” I say, smiling as Ophelia hands me and Simon a strong-smelling mug of coffee each.

"WE should be heading off soon, actually," Katie sighs. "Got a train to catch, and I've got work tomorrow..."

"Still doing freelance work for that modelling group of yours?" Dad asks.

"Yep," Katie says with a grin. "And yes, I've tried to get some sent Jacinta's way. Not easy though when she's based down here and all the work's in London."

"Eh, I'll be moving soon enough," I shrug.

"So it won't be a long distance relationship for long, either," Simon says, leading to an awkward silence in the room.

"Anyway," dad says in an overly loud voice. "I'll run the four of you to the station, you don't want to miss your train, after all..."

"There are four trains an hour to London," I remind my father.

"Yes, but you heard what Katie said, work tomorrow, etc. etc.," dad says, rising from his chair and clapping his hands. "Chop chop! Finish your coffee. Jacinta- we WILL talk when I get back."

"Righto," I sigh, following my friends- including my new boyfriend- to the door. "I'll see you soon Simon, okay?"

"Sure," Simon says with a nervous giggle as I bid him farewell with a kiss. I have a smile on my face as I watch him and my friends depart in dad's car, but my smile soon fades when I turn around to see a VERY serious expression on the face of my BFF.

"...What?" I ask.

"You are not wasting any time, then," Ophelia says stoically.

"Well- I guess not," I shrug. "So I got laid last night? Big deal. And a relationship's got to start somewhere, right? People hook up at parties all the time. And besides, Katie and Lauren brought him down SPECIFICALLY to hook him up with me."

"I was not criticising," Ophelia retorts. "In fact, I think he's actually rather sweet."

"Get your own," I say with a playful smirk.

"Ah, another thing I'm used to hearing," Ophelia says quietly.

"What- what exactly is THAT meant to mean?" I ask.

"My sister Sharon said the exact same thing the first time I met her first boyfriend," Ophelia says, making me roll my eyes. "Three weeks later, she was pregnant."

"Okay, first, I'm not exactly going to get pregnant, am I?" I retort. "Second- seriously? You're comparing me to one of your sisters?"

"...I apologise," Ophelia sighs. "I- I simply don't want to see you end up like one of them. All four of them were hungry for boys throughout their entire lives."

"Nothing wrong with a healthy libido," I shrug.

"You've met Candice, you know that there is nothing healthy about her libido," Ophelia retorts. "I do not want to see you get hurt the way they were. Repeatedly."

"I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself," I say. "Besides, I'm taller than Simon. He tries to hurt me, I'll sit on him." Fortunately for my nerves, this earns a genuine snort of laughter from my BFF.

"I just hope you are not letting yourself get carried away," Ophelia says. "How much do you know about him, anyway?"

"More than you probably think," I reply. "His middle name is Jeffrey, he has a younger brother and a younger sister and he works at a cinema in north-west London."

"And I assume there are no... 'Problems'?" Ophelia asks.

"Now THERE he is a Prince Charming!" I reply with a warm smile. "No problem at all. Even without SRS, heh."

"Another thing," Ophelia muses to herself. "I had wondered how much Nikki's recent operation had been preying on your mind."

"...I'm not jumping into bed with a guy just because I'm upset I wasn't born with a vagina," I say. "Ophelia, I get that you're trying to look out for me. But honestly, I'll be fine."

"If you're sure," Ophelia whispers.

"And no matter what," I say, "we will ALWAYS be sisters." Naturally, this puts a smile on Ophelia's face, and on mine too.

Naturally, when dad returns from dropping my friends at the railway station, the conversation I had with Ophelia is repeated almost verbatim, and I try to assure him that I'm not taking it THAT quickly, but dad isn't convinced- and has one argument that Ophelia couldn't make, and that I can't refute.

"Just because you've found someone, it doesn't mean your search is over," dad says.

"...Umm, what?" I ask.

"What I'm trying to say," dad clarifies, "is that you can't rely on Simon being the one. He seems like a nice guy, I'll grant you that. And maybe you have waited long enough. But I didn't decide that my first girlfriend was the girl I wanted to stay with forever. And you know what? I'm glad I didn't." I have to blink back tears- and so do dad and Ophelia- as my father gently strokes the urn that's been sat beside the fireplace for almost fifteen years.

"The relationship has just started," I say. "It's a bit early to be thinking of the next one."

"So you're sure Simon is 'Prince Charming', then?" Dad asks- and I have no response for him. "Well, there's no need to be too pessimistic, I guess. Like I said, he IS a nice guy, and when you're back in London, you'll be able to spend more time together and properly get to know each other. Just don't give him ALL of your heart, okay?"

Obviously, I'm going to follow dad's advice. Simon isn't anything like I imagined 'Prince Charming' to be, and I don't just mean physically. I pictured 'Prince Charmin' as being an alpha male, into sports and things like DIY, while Simon is more of a film buff, doesn't follow any sport and is actually a closet fan of the Angels. But on the other hand, that just gives us more to talk about. And Simon is sweet, friendly, gets on well with Ophelia and is GREAT in bed... So what if he's shorter than me and average looking? I mean, looks aren't everything- and I should know, as someone with a male facial structure, a male skeleton and some other male 'parts' I'll be happy to see the back of sooner rather than later. And unlike many men, Simon's not just said that he has no problem with it, but 'demonstrated' it as well.

When Ophelia and I move back to London at the end of September (into a two bedroom flat, thank god), Simon is there waiting for me, and we waste no time in 'christening' my new bed and picking up the relationship from where we left off. Okay, so Simon's not perfect. But as Ophelia and I established, no man is. It's about time I had a little happiness, and there's no harm in being optimistic about Simon.

Right?

“…Wow,” Lauren breathes as Ophelia and I step out of her bedroom, dressed in our elaborate costumes.

“Sure you’re wearing enough make-up?” Katie teases.

“Is it ever possible to wear too much make-up?” I ask as I preen and playfully flick my hair away from my face, which has been smeared in a bright white foundation and ‘enhanced’ with thick black eyeshadow, long (and heavy) fake eyelashes and thick black lipstick.

“Think you’re missing the words ‘at Halloween’ from the end of your question,” Katie asks.

“Does it change the answer?” I ask.

“Depends on whether your ambitions include ‘geisha’,” Katie replies. “Or ‘character from Star Trek’.”

“Oh- damn it!” I say, snapping my fingers. “Oh well, I can always go as a Borg next Halloween, hehe!”

“Nah, you’re sexy as you are,” Lauren says with a grin. “AND scary, yes!”

“But as for you, the highly appropriately named Miss Love,” Katie says, making my BFF blush, “you are going to be THE star of the party, hehe!” Ophelia lets out a quiet giggle, before doing a slow twirl in her costume- which might be the single most elaborate Halloween costume I’ve ever seen anyone wear.

Mine isn’t bad, of course- I’m wearing a short, tight bandage dress that’s been covered in black and white sequins and glitter. It hugs my curves beautifully and shows off my (already impressive but still growing) breasts to their fullest. My tights are dyed so that one leg is jet black and one leg is a bright white, and I’m wearing opposite coloured stiletto heels on my feet. Katie’s going dressed in a catsuit that’s styled like a vampire ‘tuxedo’ costume, while Lauren is wearing a dress similar to mine, only ankle-length, much lower cut and covered in a cobweb pattern (and she has cobweb-like threads weaved into her jet black hair as well).

Ophelia’s costume, however, is one of a kind. It’s built on an opaque purple bodystocking (to match this year's hair and contact lens colour), and wrapped around Ophelia’s body (providing strategic ‘coverage’ where needed) is a strip of chiffon with a snakeskin pattern, making it look as though Ophelia is being constricted by a giant python- an illusion strengthened by the ‘snake’ being sewn into her obligatory corset. Pale, deathly make-up and spike-heeled stilettos combine to make Ophelia’s costume probably the most elaborate one I’ve ever seen, and will undoubtedly be the highlight of the party.

“Ready, girlies?” Katie asks with a determined grin.

“Ready!” I cheer, before following my friends out to our waiting taxi, the driver of which still does a double take at Ophelia’s costume despite the fact that he’ll have spent all evening ferrying people to Halloween parties (even though today is only the 29th).

Our cheerfulness only increases throughout the taxi ride, and hits fever pitch when we reach our destination for two important reasons- firstly, the destination is the vast London home of Charlotte Hartley and her family, and secondly, waiting for us (well, me and Lauren, anyway) are two very sexy young men in their Halloween costumes. I giggle as I jump out of the taxi and immediately rush over to give Simon a kiss, which the bespectacled boy eagerly reciprocates- even if it does feel as awkward as it always does, what with my heels causing me to stand six inches taller than him.

“Hey you,” I purr, giggling as I feel a familiar manly bulge push into my thigh.

“Hey me,” Simon says in a cool, sexy voice, before giving me another kiss. “You ready?”

“Not as ‘ready’ as you, by the feel of things!” I tease, making my boyfriend laugh and roll his eyes.

“It’s been ages since I last saw you, give me a break,” Simon moans.

“It’s been 12 hours,” I retort, making the young man giggle.

“Enough already!” Lauren- whose hand is firmly pressed into her boyfriend’s left buttock- moans. “Party now! Other things later!”

“Hell yeah!” I cheer as Simon grabs my hand and leads me into the already-bustling party.

It’s hardly the first time Simon and I have been out this month- or even this week- but I’m still excited every time I’m out with my ‘Potential Prince Charming’- and those occasions are getting more and more frequent.

Immediately after getting together with Simon in the summer, we spent virtually every day we both had free visiting each other in either London or Brighton. The latter visits were awkward at first, thanks to dad and Ophelia’s less-than-total approval of my boyfriend, but the more they got to know Simon, the more they grew to like him, and the more Simon and I got to know each other, the more we grew to like each other- and that’s putting it mildly. Simon is sweet, kind and funny, he’s genuinely interested in my life (as I am in his), and best of all, he’s not just okay in being seen out with a transgendered girl, he’s actually proud of it. When he introduced me to his parents, he said- and I quote- ‘this is Jacinta, who I am proud to call my girlfriend’. Fortunately, his parents like me just as much as my dad likes him. If anything, they were faster to accept me than dad was to accept Simon- which I assume, or at the very least, hope is something to do with the difference between girls and boys (something else Simon’s parents had no problem with).

In September, Ophelia and I returned to university, once again sharing a flat, though this time, it mercifully has two bedrooms. Not that I sleep in my room all the time, of course- many nights are spent at Simon’s house, which is always kind of awkward as he still lives with his parents- who aren’t a problem, as described earlier- and his younger siblings, who kind of are, especially his younger brother, who is all of eight years old and has a strange fascination with staring at me whenever he sees me. Though that's definitely an improvement on his younger sister...

However, it’s not Simon’s sibling’s approval that matters to me the most- it’s my own sibling’s approval. Every time I go on a date with Simon, there’s a niggling feeling at the back of my mind that I’m somehow letting Ophelia down. Every time she wakes up alone in the flat, I KNOW I’m letting her down. Ophelia's never lived alone before- even though her family are crap, they were at least always there. Ophelia says she doesn’t mind, of course, she says she’s happy I’ve finally found my ‘Prince Charming’. I just wish I could be 100% sure that Simon IS my Prince Charming…

“Hey girlies!” Nikki and Sarah squeak as they greet the four of us with tight hugs. “And guys too, I suppose!”

“Will try not to take that personally,” Michael says with a snort of laughter.

“Now THAT,” Sarah says, stroking Ophelia’s ‘snake’, “is probably the best costume I have EVER seen!”

“You have my thanks,” Ophelia says with a smug grin as she twirls and shows off her costume. “Yours is very good too, Sarah!”

“Thank you,” Sarah says with an equally smug grin, doing a twirl in her elaborate mermaid dress, causes the embellishments to splay out almost like tentacles.

“She’s been working on it for weeks,” Nikki says as she adjusts the cleavage of her skin-tight violet catsuit. “Though she found SOME time to work on mine, hehe!”

“Easier now we’re living together,” Sarah giggles.

“Even easier now that Sarah can make a catsuit or a leotard for me without taking certain ‘other’ things into account, hehe!” Nikki squeaks, pulling a sexy pose for us.

“Ahh,” I giggle. “SO can’t wait for mine!”

“Still waiting until after you finish uni?” Nikki asks.

“That’s the plan,” I reply. “Figure I’ll still only be 22 by then, plenty of time to, you know, ‘put it to use’, hehe!”

“Cheeky!” Lauren teases. “…And I think we’re about to make the boys cry with all this talk of vaginas, hehe!”

“Go and get us some drinks!” I order Michael and Simon, giving the latter a long kiss before letting him head to the bar.

“You two still steady, then?” Nikki asks me.

“Yeah,” I say. “We’re having a lot of fun…”

“But…?” My fellow transgendered girl asks.

“But…” I sigh. “I dunno, you know? Thought it’d be more, you know, ‘electric’…”

“Not everyone falls in love at first sight,” Nikki shrugs. “Give it some time. Hell, look at Jamie and Stuart- they started out as best friends, and they’re getting married next year!”

“I guess,” I shrug.

“She’s taller than him in heels, too!” Nikki says with a wink as our drinks arrive and takes a deep swig before leading her fiancée onto the dancefloor. Naturally, Simon and I soon follow, and as the alcohol ‘lubricates’ my tension, I find myself having more and more fun, especially when Simon and I retreat to one of the sofas and indulge in a brief public display of affection- which earns us a little attention from one of the party’s hosts!

“Get a room!” Jamie teases as she and Stuart (her fiancé) sit down next to us. “And no, you CAN’T have mine!”

“Sorry, sorry if we were a bit ‘obvious’!” I giggle.

“It’s Halloween,” Stuart shrugs. “Trust me, you’d have to work REALLY hard to be ’obvious’!”

“Which, in fairness, we were,” Simon says, making me giggle and playfully roll my eyes.

“More drinks, boys,” Jamie commands, giggling Simon jumps to his feet, followed by a slightly slower Stuart, before both men head to the bar.

“Great party!” I compliment the hostess, who smiles smugly in response.

“Thanks!” Jamie giggles. “Halloween’s always been our biggest party of the year. Hope the cameras aren’t too much of a nuisance?”

“No, not at all!” I reply. “Hell, I think even Ophelia’s enjoying the attention, and that NEVER happens!”

“She deserves the attention, thanks to that costume!” Jamie giggles. “And I mean that in a good way- it is AMAZING! Already seen, like, loads of the Angels get photos for their Instagram pages.”

“She’s been working on it for ages,” I say. “Our flat’s basically 10% living space, 90% workshop, hehe!”

“Even when you’ve got your fella staying over?” Jamie asks, making me grimace.

“…He’s only little, doesn’t take up much space,” I shrug.

“Let me guess- not exactly the type of guy you thought you’d end up with?” Jamie asks.

“He’s not exactly ‘Prince Charming’,” I say. “I mean yes, he’s cute, he’s got a huge heart, even if other parts aren’t, well, ‘huge’- though it’s not like he doesn’t, you know, ‘make the most of them’…”

“Stuart hasn’t been able to make ANYTHING of his- well, ‘his’ yet,” Jamie says quietly. “Don’t spread this around, as I know he’s sensitive about it, but- well, we’re both girls, right?”

“Last time I checked,” I reply.

“Stuart’s 5’ 7”,” Jamie says. “He’s got a slender build and has yet to use his ding-a-ling at all. Doesn’t mean I don’t think he’s the sexiest guy in the room. By miles. And not just because none of the things I mentioned are even remotely his fault. Know why?”

“Because you’re soul mates?” I ask.

“D’aww,” Jamie coos. “Well… Yes, there’s that too. But want to know why I know we’re soul mates?”

“Go on,” I say.

“I don’t know why,” Jamie confesses. “I only know that there is literally no one I’d rather spend my life with than Stuart.”

“Aww,” the transman playfully coos, making his fiancée roll her eyes as he hands her her drink. “You two coming to the wedding in May?”

“We’ll be there,” I say, smiling as Simon wraps his arm around my waist.

“Though we’re going to enjoy this party first!” Simon says, finishing his drink and waiting for me to finish mine before leading me back out to the dancefloor.

We stay at the party until just after 1am, at which point we head back to Simon’s house, where we spend the rest of the night indulging all of our most basic desires. When I wake up the following morning, I experience my customary moment of hungover panic as I find myself in an unfamiliar room, before turning over and discovering the sleeping teenager wedged next to me in the bed.

“Hey,” I whisper, gently shaking Simon’s shoulder and causing the young man to moan in pain.

“Hey,” Simon groans into his pillow, making me roll my eyes. He’s obviously worse off than I am- then again, he IS smaller than me. In height AND weight…

“So, we- we getting up today, then?” I ask, giggling as Simon FINALLY rolls over and wraps his arms around my waist.

“…Maybe,” Simon sighs, giving me a gentle kiss that makes me giggle. “I’d rather not, though…”

“…You still REALLY taste of booze,” I say.

“I know,” Simon moans. “Ugh, we HAD better get up, I’ve got work today…”

“I’m off today, thank god,” I sigh. “When do you have to be in work?”

“Midday,” Simon replies.

“Well, it IS barely 9am,” I say with a sly, sultry grin as I press my slick, naked body against my boyfriend’s, grinning as he gently kisses my shoulder, then my neck, then my mouth…

Half an hour, with both of us covered in a fine sheen of sweat, we both finally get out of bed, Simon changing into his work uniform while I pull on a clingy, long-sleeved striped top, a pair of shiny black tights and a tight black miniskirt. After last night, I opt for a pair of cute flats instead of the killer heels I wore with my costume (which has been unceremoniously stuffed into the same carrier bag I used to bring my clothes to Simon’s), though I still make sure my hair and make-up are immaculate before leaving Simon’s bedroom, as I know I’ll need all the confidence I can get…

“Morning, you two!” Simon’s mother says as we enter the small kitchen.

“Hi, Mrs. Clarke,” I say, trying not to grimace as Simon’s 8 year old brother immediately spins around in his chair, almost Exorcist-style, and stares straight at my made-up face.

“Jenson, it’s rude to stare,” Mrs. Clarke says, causing her son to lower his gaze, though within seconds, his eyes slowly start to raise until they are, once again, fixed on my face. Knowing a losing battle when I see one, I simply sigh and pour me and my boyfriend a cup of coffee each, bracing myself for the inevitable second round of ‘interaction’ with Simon’s siblings.

“Did you two have fun last night?” Simon’s mother asks.

“It was great!” I say with as much enthusiasm as my hungover brain can manage. “All the costumes were SO amazing, heh!”

“It was seriously crowded, though,” Simon says, placing his hand in front of his brother’s eyes, which averts his stare from my face- for all of ten seconds.

“Nikki says it always is at Halloween,” I say. “New Years is busy as well.”

“Which I plan on going to as well, just so you’re aware,” Simon says.

“Well, you’re an adult now,” Mrs. Clarke says with a heavy sigh. “It’s your life to live how you want. Just as long as you don’t let you know who know ab-“ Simon’s mother immediately shuts up when the kitchen door opens and Simon’s sister enters the room.

Like Simon, Ally is short, slender and wears glasses. Unlike Simon, however, she’s fifteen years old, clad in a pair of pink pyjama bottoms with an Angel wing design and a t-shirt proudly displaying the logo of Out of Heaven. More significantly, she’s not hungover, she knows exactly where Simon and I were last night, and when she sees the two of us sat at the kitchen table, I can actually see her heart rate increase.

“Oh my god!” Ally squeaks as she sits down next to me and stares at me in a way not unlike her younger brother. “What was it like last night? Were Out of Heaven there? Were any other celebrities there? What was Jamie-Lee Burke’s costume like? Who-“

“Ally!” Simon’s mother admonishes the teenaged girl, making her blush and visibly shrink in her seat.

“…Cool, all four of them, a few of them, and cool again, in that order,” I answer, making Simon snort with laughter.

“Did you get any selfies?” Ally asks, before a loud cough from her mother silences her. “Sorry…”

“As if you haven’t gone through every Instagram account you follow before coming down here,” Simon teases. “Jacinta’s included!”

“She might not have uploaded the photos yet,” Ally shrugs, before her face one again lights up with excitement. “Oh my god, do you have any photos no one’s seen yet?”

“…We ought to get going,” Simon says as his sister gets more and more fidgety. “Don’t want to be late for work…”

“Don’t want to be late for, umm,” I mumble as I look at the desperate face of Simon’s sister and the creepy, fixed stare of his brother. “Well… Bye!”

“See you soon, Jacinta!” Mrs. Clarke says, waving as I and her son leave the house, both of us breathing a loud sigh of relief once we’re outside.

“No offence, but I feel SO sorry for your mother,” I say.

“Feel sorry for me,” Simon says with a snort of laughter. “I’ve been living with them for years…”

“D’aww,” I say, giving my boyfriend a playful cuddle- which is, as always, awkward due to my being taller than him.

“…Thanks for wearing flats today,” Simon whispers, making me giggle awkwardly. “See you tomorrow after work?”

“Halloween party at uni,” I sigh. “It’s the LGBT society so kinda something I can’t get out of, being one of the committee there…”

“Are you still out with the society on Tuesday as well?” Simon asks.

“Yeah,” I sigh, before giving my boyfriend another kiss and giggling as he grabs a generous helping of my nylon-covered thigh. “And I definitely don’t want you running off with any of the boys there, hehe! We’ll work something out. Wednesday, maybe.”

“See you Wednesday,” Simon says, giving me another kiss before heading off to his work place, leaving me to walk the short distance to the nearest tube station for my ride home.

As always, I get a lot of male attention on my way home, and despite my ‘unavailable’ status, I can’t help but grin every time I catch someone staring at my chest, or my legs, or my waist- or even, sometimes, my face. No amount of make-up or hair styling can disguise the shape of my skull, or my jaw, or even my shoulders, or ribcage… But two and a bit years of oestrogen have given me the body I want, both on the inside and the outside, and it’s clear that for every person who ‘susses’ me and sneers at me for being who I really am on the inside, there’s at least one other person who wants my body as well- just in a different way than I ‘want’!

I pause as I walk up to the front door of my flat- there’s no sound of a TV or a radio coming from the inside, which there normally is at this time of day, especially if we’ve had people staying over, like Lauren and Katie said they would (hence why I didn’t feel too guilty about sleeping over at Simon’s last night). Sure enough, when I enter the living room, the lights are off and there are two semi-naked unconscious bodies sprawled out on our sofa bed, still wearing the make-up and some of the costumes they wore last night. A wicked smile creeps across my face as I tiptoe toward the living room light, which I slowly reach out for…

“Rarrrrrrr!” Lauren and Katie suddenly yell, sitting up in bed and making me sigh and roll my eyes.

“Oh- come on,” Katie pleads. “Nothing?”

“I was going to scare you!” I say. “I was already, you know, ‘adrenalined’.”

“Ugh, fine,” Lauren sighs.

“Besides, you were a vampire and you were a witch last night,” I say to Katie and Lauren respectively. “Zombie impersonations don’t make sense.”

“I could always be a zombie vampire,” Katie shrugs. “God, I felt like it when I woke up, heh.”

“You’d better not have puked in my sofa,” I warn my freckled friend. “Or got too much make-up on my pillows.”

“Oh whatever,” Lauren shrugs. “One night a year, you can let us off.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping in my bed anyway?” I ask as I head to the kitchen area to prepare a pot of coffee.

“It had two lesbians shagging in it last night,” Katie candidly replies, almost making me drop our coffee pot. “They’ll probably be up in a bit.”

“And Ophelia’s gone out to fetch breakfast from McDonald’s,” Lauren explains. “She was the least hungover of the five of us so, yeah.”

“Fair enough,” I shrug. “Should’ve texted me, I could’ve gone to meet up with her.” For some reason, this causes Katie and Lauren to exchange a knowing look.

“She’ll be back in a few minutes,” Lauren says. “And would I be right in assuming that Snikki weren’t the only ones enjoying ‘company’ last night?”

“I’m just surprised that you didn’t,” I say to the black haired girl, who simply giggles in response.

“Sisters before misters,” Lauren says.

“You’re only let off because your relationship with Simon is still new,” Katie informs me. “And Snikki needed somewhere to sh- sleep, hehe! If you were worried about US pumping bodily fluids into your upholstery…”

“I’ll make sure to burn those sheets, then,” I say. “And thanks, like, for keeping Ophelia company…”

“She’s fine,” Katie says. “She honestly is happy for you, Jacinta. Even if ‘happy’ does sometimes mean ‘concerned’.” I pause to think about how I’d respond to my friend, before we’re all interrupted by the sound of my bedroom door opening and two very dishevelled-looking teenaged girls emerging, ‘dressed’ only in my bedsheets.

“Ah, good morning!” I say to the young women, who simultaneously groan in response. “Hope my bed was comfortable?”

“Assuming you didn’t spend all night sleeping on each other?” Katie teases.

“Ugh, give us a break,” Sarah moans. “Got any aspirin?”

“Or morphine?” Nikki snorts.

“I’ve got coffee,” I shrug, pouring the two grateful girls a mug each. “And Ophelia will be here soon with some breakfast from the golden arches.”

“…I’d have preferred actual food for breakfast, but it’ll do,” Sarah sighs. “What’s everyone got planned for today?”

“Other than dying and becoming a zombie?” Katie says with a tired snort of laughter. “I dunno. Coursework probably.”

“Same here,” I say. “Because Miss Phillips and I will be right back at it tomorrow night!”

“And Miss Thomas as well!” Nikki interjects.

“You’re not helping to organise the party,” I say.

“For once!” Nikki giggles. “It’ll be nice to be more ‘demand’ than ‘supply’, heh.”

“This the LGBT society party?” Lauren asks, smiling as Sarah and I nod. “It’s pretty cool that you two are getting so into, like, the culture of the uni.”

“Um, hello?” Katie asks. “Who’s a part-time photographer for the university zine?”

“You spend at most an hour and a half a week doing that,” Lauren retorts, before letting out a loud sigh. “Looks like it’ll be coursework for me too today. Unless there’s anything good on TV?”

“Let me see,” Katie says, checking her smartphone. “There’s an American Football game at Wembley today if anyone’s interested?”

“Have a wild guess,” Sarah snorts. “Can’t think of anything worse, heh!”

“Rugby, maybe?” Nikki asks, sharing a knowing stare with me. “Especially if you’re forced to play it.”

“Ugh, you have NO idea there,” I assure my friends. “Especially as rugby players are, like, Picasso faces as well, with broken noses and teeth… American Football players at least wear helmets to protect the important bits.”

“Like this guy?” Katie asks, showing me a picture of a VERY attractive man in an American Football uniform.

“…Yes, very much like him!” I giggle. “Who is he?”

“Tom Brady, quarterback of the New England Patriots,” Katie replies. “Supposed to be, like, the Cristiano Ronaldo of the sport.”

“So rich as well?” I ask, my spirits quickly perking up as my friends share a good-natured giggle. “What? I’m not allowed to fantasise about a tall, rich guy who’s built like a brick shithouse?”

“Not when your current boyfriend’s a short guy who lives with his parents and is built like a doll’s house,” Katie says, making me blush and bite my lip. She has a point- especially because as much as I hate to admit it, I’m having a lot more fun with the girls than I usually do when I’m out with Simon… But wouldn’t that be the case for any guy? ‘Sisters before misters’, as Lauren puts it?

“Also can’t help but notice that you’re showing a lot more leg today than you did last night,” Katie teases, snickering as I tug down the hem of my skirt.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I retort, earning giggles from the other girls.

“Touché,” Katie giggles, before a wide grin spreads across her face as the front door of our flat slowly opens, allowing in the smell of hot fast food… And one of the most unexpected sights of my entire life.

There, carrying three bags full of food, is Ophelia… Dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain grey sweatshirt. She’s clearly wearing her corset underneath her sweater and a pair of heels on her feet- and her usual thick make-up- but she looks so plain it takes a while for me to register that it’s actually her.

“O… Phelia?” I ask.

“Here is your breakfast,” Ophelia says with a distinctive growl to her voice as she drops the bags on top of the still-supine Lauren. “Now if you will excuse me, I must change.”

“Wait a second,” Sarah says, grabbing her phone from where she must have left it last night on the kitchen counter. “Got to get a photo of this…” Ophelia’s frown deepens as she shoves her hands into her pockets and poses for Sarah’s photograph, before letting out a loud sigh and heading into her bedroom.

“I bet her that you’d be back before 10:30,” Lauren explains. “If she won, I’d have gone and got the food myself. As I won… Well, you saw.”

“And as you got back at 10:50, I’d say you kinda owe her,” Katie giggles.

“Is it still that early?” I ask.

“Time didn’t fly while you were with Simon, then?” Katie asks, before biting her lip as she realises exactly what she implied.

“…I can’t talk about girl shit with him,” I shrug.

“’Girl shit’!?” Nikki says with a giggle. “Char-ming!”

“What?” I shrug. “Boys are great for some things, but for others… You just have more fun with girls sometimes, you know?”

“Girls CAN be good for both things, of course!” Sarah says, playing wrapping her arms around her fiancée.

“Not saying that they can’t,” I reply.

“And in fairness, it’s not like cuddles here didn’t skip out on her fella entirely,” Katie says as she wraps her arms around a reluctant Lauren.

“…Though I may or may not have fucked him in Charlotte’s downstairs toilet,” Lauren says with a wink, which earns excited gasps and coos from the rest of us.

“Seriously?” Sarah asks. “Is it possible to be a slut if you’re in a committed monogamous relationship?”

“Oh- shut up,” Lauren moans. “So I wanted a bit of man flesh, whatever. Not like I’m you-know-who, shagging a random guy in a Spanish toilet…”

“Let me guess- Dannii, right?” I ask.

“Who else?” Nikki snorts.

“You know, as much as I miss her at times,” Lauren muses, “I had a LOT more fun last night without her, hehe!”

“We can still be naughty without being, you know, ‘Dannii’,” Sarah says with a grin, which only widens when my BFF emerges from her bedroom, dressed in an elaborate knee-length dress with puffy shoulders, as well as lacy black tights and stiletto heels. “And speaking of ‘naughty’…”

“I do not know what you could possibly mean,” Ophelia playfully protests.

“Exactly,” Katie concurs. “Hardly drinks, doesn’t smoke, no casual sex, Ophelia’s practically straight edge, aren’t you, O?”

“I am,” Ophelia says with a smug smile. “In public, anyway…” I grin along with the rest of my friends as my BFF teases us- something that would have been unthinkable for Ophelia as recently as a year ago, but nowadays, she’s just as ‘naughty’ as the rest of us- albeit only when it’s just the six of us in private.

“Girls behaving badly!” Nikki cheers, a cheer that the rest of us eagerly echo.

“’Bad behaviour’ including ‘coursework’ and ‘ironing’!” Sarah giggles.

“I dunno,” Katie says with a wicked grin. “Ironing could be bad behaviour, it just depends on whether or not Nikki does it, and what she wears while doing it…”

“Oh- like Sarah needs ideas putting in her head,” Lauren snorts as Nikki and Sarah both start to blush.

“I just want to know one thing,” I say with a sly grin. “…Can I borrow the ‘outfit’?”

Our four friends remain at our flat until mid-afternoon, which has the side effect of making my ribs hurt from laughing so much at the fun we have. We don’t ‘do’ anything other than chat, eat lunch and drink tea and coffee, but as always when it comes to having fun, the ‘who’ is far more important than the ‘what’, the ‘where’ or anything else. Ophelia is my best friend, and always will be, but I love Katie and the others almost as much, and I can’t (and don’t want to) imagine my life without them in it. They’re easily the best friends I ever had- though I am, of course, aware of the famous saying ‘you can never have too many friends’!

Another person who’s aware of that saying is my BFF, who- with a wide grin still plastered on her face- kicks off her shoes and carefully lowers herself onto our sofa once our friends have left.

“Tired?” I ask.

“I need to regain my breath,” Ophelia replies. “Laughing that much while wearing a corset is… Uncomfortable, hehe!” I half-giggle and half-grimace as Ophelia’s uncharacteristic giggle causes her to wince in pain.

“You could always loosen your corset,” I suggest, earning a tired look from my BFF. “Point taken. But the fun was worth the discomfort, right?”

“Without doubt,” Ophelia replies. “Sometimes I wish that all of us could live together all the time.”

“You’re not worried that it’d get really old really quickly?” I ask.

“No,” Ophelia bluntly replies.

“…Okay, then,” I say, moving Ophelia’s legs (despite her protest) and sitting myself down on the sofa.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Ophelia says with a sarcastic snort.

“Says the girl laid on her back,” I retort, making my BFF smile.

“…Sometimes I wish that I WAS a lesbian,” Ophelia says, making me frown with confusion.

“You could always, you know, give it a try,” I shrug.

“The… ‘Mechanical nature’ of it does not appeal to me,” Ophelia replies. “And more to the point, the same could be said of you.”

“I’m flattered, but I’ve got a boyfriend,” I reply, making my BFF roll her eyes.

“And do you have as much fun with your boyfriend as the six of us had today?” Ophelia asks, making me frown.

“There’s no reason why I couldn’t,” I reply. “No reason why YOU couldn’t, either.”

“I believe that,” Ophelia says. “If I were dating the right man…”

“Are you implying that I’m not?” I ask.

“I’m not implying anything,” Ophelia replies. “Shall we watch television?”

“Yes,” I bluntly reply as I pass my BFF the remote control.

We spend the rest of the evening watching TV and doing coursework, eventually getting to bed just after 10pm- though in my case at least, ‘bed’ doesn’t automatically equal ‘sleep’.

‘Hey,’ I type into my phone once I’m tucked up underneath my warm sheets. ‘You still awake?’

‘Course,’ my boyfriend replies with ‘smiling’ and ‘kissing’ emojis. ‘You?’

‘In bed but still awake,’ I type. ‘Uni tomorrow, got a lot of work this semester.’

‘You’ll be great,’ Simon types, making me grin. ‘You get up to much today?’

‘Just hanging out with the girls,’ I reply. ‘How was work?’

‘Long,’ Simon replies. ‘Getting ready for the new Harry Potter film in a couple of weeks. Not as bad as Star Wars last December but still pretty mental.’

‘Sure you can’t get away tomorrow and come with me to the party?’ I ask. ‘Won’t be a problem smuggling you in, especially if you’re in costume.’

‘I’ll be in costume but I’ll also have to be in work,’ Simon replies with a ‘frowning’ emoji. ‘They’re doing a horror movie marathon- Halloween and all- so it’s all hands on deck.’

‘Boo,’ I type with a ‘sad’ emoji. ‘Going as anything sexy?’

‘Assuming you call a beige boiler suit and a huge backpack ‘sexy’,’ Simon replies. ‘Not many Halloween costumes for guys with glasses!’

‘Who you gonna call?’ I type with a ‘laughing’ emoji. ‘I could always come wearing a nightgown? There is no Jacinta, only Zuul?’

‘Sorry Hanley,’ Simon replies. ‘I’m aroused beyond the capacity for rational thought.’

‘Lol!’ I reply with a ‘laughing’ emoji.

‘And I really am,’ Simon types. ‘Not many sexy girls who you can quote Ghostbusters to, even fewer would quote it back!’

‘I grew up watching my dad’s old VHS tapes from the eighties,’ I explain. ‘Must’ve seen Ghostbusters thirty times. And Back to the Future fifty times lol.’

‘Make me even more aroused will you?’ Simon types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji. ‘Gonna be hell waiting until Wednesday to see you again.’

‘It’s the right time of year for it,’ I reply with a ‘hugging’ emoji. ‘Better get to sleep. Talk soon sexy!’

‘Night babe xxxx,’ Simon types.

‘Night sexy xxxxx,’ I reply, before tossing my phone back onto my nightstand and letting out a long, happy sigh. Who says that I can’t have as much ‘fun’ with my boyfriend as I can with the girls?

Naturally, though, I have a grin on my face the following morning when Ophelia and I meet up with Katie, Lauren and Sarah at the front entrance of the college, with hugs being exchanged by all of us (even Ophelia, who’s become quite the hugger over the last few months) before we head to our respective classes.

“Still allergic to covering up your legs?” Katie teases as she gestures toward my nylon-covered legs and the same skirt I wore yesterday.

“Uh- you can talk?” I reply, gesturing toward my friend’s legs- which are just as exposed as mine, if not more so.

“It’s different rules for when you’re wearing shorts instead of a skirt,” Katie informs me with a smug grin.

“’Shorts’, maybe,” I retort. “How sure are you that they aren’t denim underpants?”

“Oh- shut up,” Katie snorts, before letting out a loud giggle. “What time’s the party tonight?”

“Starts at 7pm,” I reply. “Dunno how late it’ll go, being Monday and all… You’ll be there, then?”

“Uh- yeah!” Katie giggles. “Sure, I’m not L, G, B or T, but I’m still cool enough to come, right?”

“Sure!” I giggle. “All allies are welcome… Will be nice to have someone to go with, ‘cause Simon can’t make it.”

“I saw a picture of his costume on Facebook,” Katie says. “Him and the rest of the ‘ghostbusters’. Only saw the movie once but I always thought the one with the glasses was the tallest?”

“…Common misconception,” I shrug, trying not to let my friend see my scowl.

“Meh, either way, his loss!” Katie giggles as we head into our first class of the day.

Luckily, I’m able to immerse myself in my work so as to not get too hung up over what Katie was saying- I’m all too aware that physically, Simon isn’t the most ‘impressive’ guy I’ve ever dated, but he’s still funny, cute, great in bed- both in the ‘regular sense’ and ‘texting Ghostbusters quotes back and forth’ sense. The topic of Simon stays off the table at lunch, though plenty of laughs are exchanged between the five of us, especially when I told the girls about the ‘difficulty’ Ophelia had with her corset yesterday!

After an afternoon spent editing photos in the university’s computer lab, Ophelia and I head back to our flat, where we once again don our costumes for the party- though tonight’s costumes are very different from Saturday’s. One advantage of living with a fashion design student (and being friends with two others) is that you have unlimited access to someone with the ability and the will to create new items of clothing quickly without skimping on quality, and given how much Ophelia loves making ‘eccentric’ clothes, this year I had a wide choice of costumes to choose from!

“A good choice,” Ophelia muses as I step out of my bedroom in my chosen costume. Unlike Saturday’s short dress, tonight’s costume is based around a long-sleeved leotard, made of crushed velvet and embellished with cobweb-like fringing. Two pairs of tights cover my legs- the bottom pair is a shiny tan colour, the top pair is made of dark fishnet, and a pair of suicidally high platform stilettos complete my look. Naturally, my hair has been teased to maximise its volume (and it’s weaved in with the fringing of my leotard) and my make-up is a deathly pale colour. My favourite part of the costume, though, has to be the 3” long pointed black nails on my fingertips!

“Thank you, Miss Love,” I say in a playful, posh femme fatale voice as I pose in the elaborate (not to mention tight) costume. “Might I compliment you on yours as well?”

“Thank you, Miss Hanley!” Ophelia says as she poses in her costume. Like Saturday’s costume, it’s based on a bodystocking or a catsuit- when you’ve spent so many years torturing your waist to get a sexy figure, I suppose even Ophelia would want to show it off- only instead of a ‘snake’, Ophelia’s wrapped her body in white chiffon ‘bandages’ (which again hide her corset) that cover her whole body, including parts of her face. Her hair is completely concealed underneath the bandages, and her make-up, like mine, is pale and sickly.

With wide grins on our faces, the two of us head down to our waiting taxi, which whisks us the short distance to our university’s student union bar. The bar has been decked out in the usual Halloween decorations- tombstones, ghosts, zombies, skeletons… And as the party is being organised by the college’s LGBT society, there are also copious amounts of rainbows and even a fair few transgender pride flags. The best decoration is easily the seven foot tall zombie that’s wearing a prom dress, a pair of Elton John-style sunglasses, is covered in rainbow flag stickers and is smoking (what I hope is) a cigar.

“Hey girlies!” Sarah- one of the committee members of the LGBT society responsible for tonight’s party- squeaks as Ophelia and I arrive. “LOVE those costumes, hehe!”

“Thanks!” I say, doing a twirl in my elaborate get-up. “Love yours too!”

“It’s the same one I wore on Saturday!” Sarah giggles. “But you’re welcome, heh! Bit too busy getting this place ready to come up with another one- especially as I’d have to come up with two new ones!”

“Hey girlies!” Nikki- who’s also dressed in the costume she wore on Saturday- squeaks, giving Ophelia and me a hug each as she approaches.

“Hello Nikki,” Ophelia says with a grin. “I see they were able to sneak you past security, then?”

“Nah, I’m just sleeping with one of the people in charge,” Nikki shrugs, making Ophelia and I giggle as she gives Sarah a long, deep kiss. “Are Katie and Lauren with you?”

“Think they’re making their own way here,” I say. “I LOVE what you’ve done with this place, it looks AWESOME, hehe!”

“Thank you,” Sarah says with a smug grin. “I can’t take ALL the credit, though… Hey! Becky!” I grin as the chairperson of the LGBT committee- a short, curvy 22 year old girl on a post-graduate course- skips over to us with a wide grin on her face.

“Hey you four!” Becky says with a grin. “Ah, I LOVE your costumes! Especially yours, Ophelia- is your corset part of those bandages?”

“It is indeed,” Ophelia says, doing a twirl for the petite girl and lifting part of her costume at the back to show the laces of her corset.

“Ah… SUCH a pity you’re straight, hehe!” Becky giggles.

“Great turnout tonight!” I say. “We should do the Halloween party every yeah, heh.”

“Damn right we should!” Becky says. “Your piece of meat joining us tonight?”

“No, he’s at work,” I sigh. “I’m basically just here to look sexy and be girly tonight, hehe!”

“Sounds good to me!” Becky giggles, before heading off to greet more partygoers.

“I really like her,” I muse.

“Thinking of asking her to be a bridesmaid, actually,” Sarah says. “One of MINE, obviously!”

“The girliest wedding of all time!” I cheer, earning excited giggles from all of my friends, which only increase when Katie and Lauren arrive, both also wearing their costumes from Saturday.

“Hey girlies!” Katie squeaks as she exchanges hugs with the four of us. “LOVE those costumes, Jacelia!”

“Thank you,” Ophelia and I reply as we do simultaneous twirls for our friends.

“Already regretting these shoes though,” I say. “And not just because I’m 6’ 4” wearing them!”

“They’re DAMNED sexy, though!” Katie giggles. “Your whole getup is, in fact! What are you, zombie, vampire, showgirl, thing?”

“Something like that,” I reply with a quiet giggle.

“Well- dibs on th-“ Katie shrugs, before being hastily interrupted.

“Dibs on that next year!” Nikki hastily blurts, earning an angry stare from Katie, before both girls burst into fits of laughter.

“Any reason why all six of us can’t be, like, a vampire showgirl chorus line next year?” I ask.

“Me trying to stuff my thighs and my tits into a costume THAT tight?” Lauren replies.

“Nah, you’ll be fine,” Sarah says. “You’ll be even sexier, hehe!”

“Especially if your costume isn’t up to the task of keeping them in!” Katie says, giggling as Lauren gives her a playful punch in her arm.

“And besides, you are an expert at modifying clothes,” Ophelia says. “You could always alter your costume to provide more coverage.”

“True, I suppose,” Lauren shrugs.

“Or less coverage…” Ophelia teases, giggling loudly as Lauren motions to give her a punch too, only to loudly sigh instead.

“We NEED alcohol,” Lauren announces, earning cheers from the rest of us.

Naturally, within half an hour, the six of us have been sufficiently ‘lubricated’ and are spread throughout the crowd, dancing, drinking and having fun. Sarah and Nikki are holed in a corner somewhere by themselves, while Lauren and Ophelia are comparing costume design tips with other girls from their course, leaving me and Katie dancing in the middle of a packed, heaving crowd. Naturally, with my heels making me one of the tallest people in the room, I- and my costume- are getting a lot of attention!

“You are HOT tonight!” Katie giggles into my ear as the two of us soak up the male attention from the crowd. “See anybody you like the look of?”

“Umm, I have a boyfriend?” I reply.

“Well- yeah,” Katie concedes. “But still- you know, right?”

“…I know what?” I ask.

“Like, umm, look but don’t touch?” Katie says. “Sure, we get on the boys’ backs about this, but we can do it, right? And there ARE a lot of cute guys here tonight!”

“Well- ugh,” I spit. “Time for a refill.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Katie says as she follows me to the bar. “Same again, please.”

“Coming right up,” the barman says as I try not to get angry at Katie’s comments. “Jacinta?”

“Same,” I say as Katie’s smile starts to turn into a frown.

“What’s up?” The freckled girl asks me.

“I’m not here to pick up guys,” I tell my friend.

“Never said you were,” Katie retorts. “Though… You know?”

“Again, I know what?” I ask.

“You’re, like, showing a LOT more skin than you did on Saturday,” Katie observes. “Simon was there on Saturday, but he’s not here now…?”

“So- what?” I ask, biting my lip to try to control my anger. “I’m dressed like this because I want a quick, cheap fuck?”

“I didn’t say that!” Katie protests.

“Did you think it?” I ask, groaning in frustration as Katie hesitates before answering. “Never mind! I’m going to sit down somewhere. Somewhere ELSE. And not on some random guy’s lap!”

“Oh- Jacinta…” Katie moans as I take my blood-red drink and try to disappear into the crowd. My first instinct is to try to find Ophelia and see if I can persuade her to get an early night (we do have university tomorrow, after all), but as I’m walking through the crowd, I see a sight that actually makes my jaw drop with shock.

Sat at one of the corner tables, dressed as a mortician, is the unmistakable figure of Tom Randall, and cuddled up next to him, dressed as a sexy pirate, is a face I haven’t seen in over four years, and haven’t spoken to in almost seven.

“Hi Tom,” I say with a nervous wave as I approach the table. “Hi… Caitlin.”

“Oh, hi Jacinta!” Tom says with a grin as his girlfriend looks on in confusion. Does she really not recognise me?

“Hi,” Caitlin says with an equally nervous wave. “Do- do we, like, know each other?”

“We do from Brighton,” I explain. “I’m- or rather, I- I used to be Jason Hanley.” I bite my lip as Caitlin’s eyes go wide from the revelation.

“Oh- my- you- you!?” Caitlin responds.

“I did tell you I ran into her last year,” Tom says, gesturing to me to sit down.

“I know, but- really?” Caitlin says as I can’t help but giggle. “I thought you meant she was, like- wow.”

“Good ‘wow’ or bad ‘wow?” I ask.

“Just- wow,” Caitlin says.

“Didn’t the fact that I only ever hung out with you and the girls AND joined in all your costume parties give you a clue that I wasn’t quite, you know, ‘boyish’?” I ask.

“I just assumed it was because you didn't have any male friends,” Caitlin replies. “But- wow! How- how have you been?”

“Great!” I squeak. “I’m in my second year here, I’m averaging a 2:1, I’ve got plenty of friends, a cute boyfriend…”

“Boyfriend? Really?” Caitlin asks. “So… Is he, like, gay too?” I decide not to bother biting my lip, as nothing would prevent the frown on my face from showing through.

“Umm, no, we’re both straight,” I explain. “He’s a guy, I’m a girl… Yeah.”

“Yeah, but- you know,” Caitlin shrugs as my frown deepens. “Eh… Never mind. Umm… How’s your dad?”

“He’s okay,” I reply, shrugging off Caitlin’s insult- she might just be misinformed. After all, not everyone is familiar with gender identity issues (even though I know for a fact that she still lives in Brighton), she might just need a little education, that’s all. “Still lives in Brighton, he’s getting REALLY excited by Albion’s season.”

“Not surprised, hehe!” Caitlin replies as my smile slowly returns. “So, you- you got many friends here in London?”

“A few,” I shrug, trying not to grin too much about what I’m about to say. “I was actually at a Halloween party at Charlotte Hutchinson’s house on Saturday…”

“Who?” Caitlin asks, making my face fall. Perhaps not, then…

“She was on Strictly in 2012,” Tom explains. “She’s part of that modelling clique, you know, the ones who’ve just been signed to Amazon Prime? I'm sure you've watched their show before..."

“Oh, THEM,” Caitlin snorts in a way that makes it very clear that not only is she not a fan, she’s not likely to be one any time soon. But that’s okay, not everyone has to be a fan of the Angels, she could still be cool…

“They’re actually pretty cool once you get to know them,” I say. “They’ve got this saying, you know? ‘You can never have too many friends’? They do genuinely mean it.”

“Well- I guess,” Caitlin shrugs. “Still not going to sign up to Amazon just to watch them, heh.”

“…You have an Amazon Prime account anyway,” Tom reminds his girlfriend as I find myself feeling more and more awkward.

“Anyway,” I say. “You- you still working at Primark?”

“Umm, yep!” Caitlin replies. “There’s a supervisor position opening in a few months, reckon I’m gonna go for it… You working anywhere or, you know, studying?”

“I’ve got a Saturday job,” I reply. “Just a bit of pocket money really, but it’s better than nothing!”

“Yeah,” Caitlin giggles.

“You never fancied uni yourself?” I ask.

“Not really my thing,” Caitlin shrugs. “Though- though it’s cool that you’re going.”

“Yeah,” I say, my awkward feeling not subsiding. “I- I like your costume! You make it yourself?”

“What? No, heh!” Caitlin replies. “Just off the rack. Did- did you make yours?”

“My best friend’s doing fashion design, she did it for me,” I say, standing up and doing a twirl in my skin-tight costume.

“I figured you didn’t get it from, like, Ann Summers,” Caitlin says, making me giggle- though I’m not sure whether or not I’m giggling at the memory of mine & my friends’ last visit to the infamous shop…

“Not this time, heh!” I giggle.

“Do- do they, you know, let you in Ann Summers?” Caitlin asks, and again, my smile disappears.

“Why wouldn’t they?” I ask.

“Because- well, you know…” Caitlin asks. So much for ‘education’…

“Honestly, tell me, why wouldn’t they?” I ask.

“Okay, it’s been fun,” Tom says, standing up and trying to get his girlfriend to follow.

“Look, Jason,” Caitlin sighs.

“Jacinta,” I correct my former friend.

“No, Jason,” Caitlin says, making me growl with anger. “You can’t just put on a- whatever that is- or a dress, or a skirt and go ‘I’m a girl’ any more than that stupid-looking girl in the corset can wrap herself in bandages and go ‘I’m a mummy’.” And that’s the last straw, I think to myself.

“Obviously I haven’t missed much the last seven years,” I sigh. “I’m not just dressing up as a girl. I’m not just a girl on the outside, but the inside as well. I’m taking hormones tablets, I’m looking into surgery-“

“If you get the surgery then all you’ll be is Theon Greyjoy,” Caitlin snorts.

“How can you live in Brighton, of all places, and sincerely believe that?” I ask. “And you’re at a party hosted by the LGBT society, for god’s sake!”

“Because I know you, Jason,” Caitlin says.

“You obviously fucking well don’t,” I snarl.

“O-kay then!” Tom says, forcibly standing his girlfriend up and moving her away. “Been nice catching up, Jacinta.”

“Yeah,” I say, letting out a long sigh Tom and Caitlin walk away, the tall young man mouthing a silent 'sorry' toward me as he leaves.

When I was a child- a boy- Caitlin, along with our friends Jessica and Noor, were my best friends. When we grew apart during secondary school, I assumed that it was down to puberty, with the girls becoming women and me becoming, whether I liked it or not, a man… Even after befriending Ophelia and the other girls, I’d occasionally think back to my primary school days and wonder what it’d be like if ‘Jacinta’ met the trio. We’d go on a night out, talk about our lives, gossip about boys, swap fashion and make-up tips… Now I know not to bother wasting any more time fantasising about my old friends, especially when all the things I wanted to do with them I can do- and have done- with my new friends. With ‘Jacinta’s friends, the ones who accept me for who I really am. One of whom I owe an apology to…

“Hey,” I say as I approach the table where all five of my friends are sat.

“Hi,” Katie says stoically.

“Look, I- I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I sigh, biting my lip to stop me from crying as Katie almost immediately smiles. “You just- you kinda touched a nerve, that’s all.”

“Apology accepted,” Katie said, standing up and giving me a hug. “And I’m sorry too, obviously you’re dressed for fun and not for- well, something else that begins with an ‘F’, heh!”

“Apology accepted!” I giggle, tightening my hug to the freckled girl’s dismay. “Mmm… Soft!”

“Get off,” Katie snorts, before tightening her hug. “Mmm… Girly! Maybe I should give lesbianism a go…”

“I highly recommend it!” Sarah says with a grin. “Not that I’m attracted to any women other than the one I already have, of course!”

“Ditto,” Nikki says as she and Sarah share a gentle kiss.

“Well unfortunately, I am 100% STRAIGHT,” I say. “And you know what that means, right?”

“Same thing it means for me, Ophelia and maybe Katie!” Lauren says, before shrieking as Katie plops down next to her and tries to ambush her with a tight hug. “Hey! Careful of my tits!”

“What do you think I’m going for?” Katie asks, making all of us giggle as she gives Lauren a long kiss on her cheek. “We’re at an LGBT party, and when in Rome…”

“Oh, fine, just don’t put any ideas in Michael’s head,” Lauren says, before giving Katie a long, deep snog that makes all of us howl with laughter. “Knew I shouldn’t have quit smoking…”

“You love it really,” Katie teases.

“…Ophelia?” I say, leaning in toward my BFF.

“Don’t you dare,” Ophelia replies with a giggle.

“Good,” I say, blowing a raspberry at my BFF that elicits a fit of laughter from her.

“Ah,” Katie- who has finally finished snogging Lauren- says with a laugh. “We are SO finding you a nice slab of meat to cuddle up against…”

“If you can find one that meets my standards, then by all means,” Ophelia replies.

“Now that IS a challenge!” Lauren giggles. “But one for another night. Tonight, we are six young, sexy women, and we are going to par-ty!”

“Yeah!” We all cheer as we spend the rest of the night drinking, dancing and having fun. I truly couldn’t ask for a better group of friends.

The following day, after uni (and a pretty sizeable hangover), Sarah and I head to the small room that’s been set aside for the LGBT society’s fortnightly committee meetings, and after that, as per usual, we head to the student union bar (which looks VERY different after having been stripped of all its Halloween decorations) where we meet up with Ophelia, Nikki, Katie and Lauren- and one unexpected guest, who puts a very wide smile on my face!

“Hey you!” I say to my boyfriend, after greeting him with a long, deep kiss. “I thought you were working today?”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Simon says with a giggle. “Asked for the day off, thought it was only fair after missing yesterday.”

“Aww!” I coo, giving Simon another kiss as my friends all sigh happily. "When do you have to be home?"

"Tomorrow morning," Simon replies with a sly grin that earns very loud 'ooh's from all of my friends!

"Behave, you two," Katie playfully cautions. "Note that I didn't say 'get a room'!"

"As we're already way ahead of you on that!" I giggle as I sit down in Simon's very welcoming (and very 'restless') lap.

I hadn't thought about my life before becoming Jacinta in a long time, and apart from Ophelia and dad (and maybe Tom), I don't have anyone in my life who ever knew 'Jason'. Katie, Lauren, Nikki and Sarah only ever met 'Jacinta', but they chose to accept me into their lives as a girl without question or hesitation, and they always have a place in my heart as a result. Caitlin's actions, however, show that Ophelia deserves an even more special place in my heart than she already has- she knew Jason. She saw me change my life, saw her friend transform before her very eyes, and she didn't so much as blink. If I didn't love her before today, then I certainly do now.

And I think I love Simon too. Sure, he isn't perfect, sure, there may be other, better looking guys out there, or more fashionable guys, or guys who are better in bed... But no one's perfect, right? Nobody truly knows what their 'Prince Charming' will look like until he comes along. And as I sit on his lap, giggling at the feel of his hand on my nylon-covered knee, I can't think of a single person I'd rather be cuddled up next to- or single group of friends I'd rather spend time with.

'Jason's life is my past, and the past is where it belongs. I am Jacinta, and I am a girl, no matter what anybody else says or thinks. My father knows I am, my boyfriend knows I am, and my friends know I am. Caitlin and her bigoted kind can just piss off. My life's going great right now and they are NOT going to get me down. Because from now on, the only way for me is up!

“God, I always feel so out of place every time I come here…” I moan as I step into the vast dance studio, surrounded by my friends.

“I really hope that’s NOT because you feel uncomfortable wearing THAT!” Lauren teases, making me giggle as I stare down at the short-sleeved black leotard and baby pink tights that are covering my body.

“Hell no!” I reply, making my friends giggle and cheer. “It’s just- you know? You girls are all so good at ballet, and I’m still just a beginner… Not to mention the fact that everyone here is, like, famous!”

“Yeah, I’m a national celebrity,” Katie says with a playful roll of her eyes as she straightens her own pink tights. “And you’ve been dancing for almost eleven months now, haven’t you?”

“Not, you know, ‘intensively’,” I reply. “Just the beginner class…”

“And…?” Nikki teases with an expectant look on her face.

“…And the intermediate class,” I sigh. “Starting this January just gone. Thanks for the vouchers, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” Katie, Lauren, Nikki and Sarah say simultaneously, before breaking out into giggles, which only intensify as our famous teacher approaches us with a wide grin on her face.

“Ah, couldn’t stay away, eh?” Krystie asks as she greets me and the equally-nervous Ophelia (who is, of course, wearing one of her own ‘custom’ leotards) with gentle hugs. “Can’t say I blame you, hehe! Though I’m afraid this week, you’ll just be dancing in what you’re wearing!”

“…I can live with that,” I shrug, making the tall, blonde woman giggle more as we both remember back to seven days ago, and a very, VERY special day of my life.

Today is Thursday, the 9th of February 2017, meaning that seven days ago was the 2nd of February… And exactly 21 years after the day I was born. As luck would have it, it (like all Thursdays this year) was a day I had free from university, meaning that from the second I woke up to the second I went to bed, I was treated like a princess. Ophelia brought me breakfast in bed, the rest of our ‘super six’ dropped round shortly afterward to give me my presents, which included- in addition to free ballet lessons- ornaments for our flat, CDs (including a signed copy of Out of Heaven’s second album), cosmetics and loads- and I mean LOADS- of clothes. As I’m the first of us to turn 21, the girls went all out- Nikki and Sarah got me two new dresses, including a fancy prom-like dress that I can’t wait to wear to a fancy party, Lauren made me a skater skirt and a cute slouchy jumpsuit, and Ophelia- well, it should go without saying that Ophelia went all out.

Thanks to my BFF, my wardrobe now includes a new corset (obviously), two new sets of sexy lace lingerie, two new dresses, a new vintage-style pencil skirt suit, a new satin blouse, a new ‘everyday’ bodysuit and even a new hat. It eventually transpired Ophelia had been working on these presents for over eighteen months (before we’d even started at university), wanting to make my 21st birthday the most special day of my life- and she more than succeeded. By the time I finished unwrapping my gifts from her, I actually started to feel guilty at the money and attention that she’d lavished on me. I received more presents than I’d got Ophelia for her most recent birthday and Christmas combined, though with Ophelia being Ophelia, she didn’t seem to mind. Naturally, though, I made several mental notes to ensure that she is as spoiled on her next birthday as I was a week ago- especially as her next birthday is also her 21st!

After my gifts were opened, I was marched into my bedroom to change, though instead of any of my new, fancy clothes, I was instructed to change into the same tight dancewear I’m wearing now. Once I was properly dressed, I was driven to the dance studio I’d attended nearly every Thursday evening for the last 11 months. The other girls had told me about the ‘tradition’ the studio has, where birthday girls are made to dance in a special custom tutu, but I never expected to have the tradition apply to me for two reasons- firstly, my lack of experience, and secondly, there’s another girl who usually attends the Thursday lessons called Brooke who has the same birthday as me. And yet, my lumbering 5’ 10” form was stuffed into the fancy pink tutu, soft satin ballet slippers were attached to my feet with shiny ribbons and a tiara was perched on my head, and in front of a crowd that included friends, celebrities and- best of all- my father and my boyfriend- I performed (or at least, tried to perform) a specially choreographed routine. Brooke did the same routine afterward, and of course performed it much better, including dancing using her painful-looking toe shoes, but it was my performance that got the loudest applause, especially from my two biggest male fans!

“I am so, so proud of you,” dad said, bringing tears to my eyes as he gave me a gentle, fatherly hug. “Everything you’ve accomplished, all the friends you’ve made, you’ve earned every bit of it. Yes, that includes Simon as well.”

“Heh,” I whispered in a hoarse, emotional voice, before exchanging another longer, tighter hug with my boyfriend, followed by a long, deep kiss- which definitely delighted the assembled crowd!

“Happy birthday babe,” Simon whispered, before giving me another, longer kiss. Never in my life had I felt more loved, and not just by my close friends, but by my ‘extended family’ as well. Everybody in the room- even those who barely knew me- had no problem accepting me as a woman. It didn’t matter what Caitlin Gunn or people like her said or thought. The people who mattered had embraced me as one of their own, and that was probably the best gift I could have received- along with the invitation for me and Ophelia to come to Thursday lessons whenever we wanted, an invitation I’ve taken up today and intend to take up as many times as possible.

After the lesson- and unwrapping dad and Simon’s gifts for me (well, most of Simon’s gifts anyway, as some of them weren’t exactly suitable to ‘open’ in front of dad), we headed to a fancy café for lunch, and the evening, the eight of us- me, the girls, dad and Simon- headed to a very posh restaurant for a fancy meal. The chef was said to have a Michelin star, but the food wasn’t the most important thing on the night- nor was the fact that I got to dress up in one of my new dresses. What mattered most were the people I spent the day with- and the person I spent the day AS. On my 18th birthday, I was still known to the world as ‘Jason’. And there are some people who still only think of me using that name. But my friends, family and lover aren’t in that group- and neither am I.

Of course, it was back to reality (and university) the following day, but the memories of that magnificent day are something I intend to treasure forever- as are the pleasant memories I made the following day, and the day after that, and the day after that…

“Just because you are not wearing a tutu, it does not mean that you will not be dancing!” Zoe- the other teacher in the school- says, snapping me out of my reverie and ushering me into the dance studio, where I’m stopped in the middle of the room and forced to stand next to Nikki, Jamie and Stephanie (yes, as in Stephanie Abbott, the singer) with our backs to the crowd. One by one, Krystie ties our hair into tight, elaborate ballerina buns, ensuring that the room is full of giggles even before the ‘lesson’ starts.

By the time the lesson ends, the giggles have turned into full-blown fits of laughter from everyone present, laughter that continues even as we change back into our street clothes.

“Ah, my toes!” Nikki moans in a ridiculously dramatic voice as she slips her stiff ballet shoes off her feet, wiggling her toes to try to regain her circulation.

“Oh shut up, you love it really,” Katie teases.

“…Yeah, I do!” Nikki giggles, before turning to me and Ophelia. “Put in the work and you two can torture your feet for an hour each week too…”

“Mmm, tempting!” I sarcastically retort, making my fellow transgendered girl roll her eyes.

“Ophelia?” Nikki asks.

“I hope you are not implying that I would enjoy torturing my feet because of my fashion sense,” Ophelia says accusingly- though her smirk is a dead giveaway that she’s having as much fun as the rest of us.

“Says the woman who’s wrapping a corset around her waist and about to torture her feet with these!” Sarah retorts, holding up a pair of Ophelia’s sky-high stiletto heels.

“I thought your leotard had a built-in corset anyway?” Lauren asks.

“It has a built in GIRDLE,” Ophelia says. “As a fashion student, I’m sure that you can appreciate the distinction?”

“As a fashion student and a lingerie enthusiast… Yeah, kinda!” Lauren giggles.

“So, what’s everyone got planned the rest of the day?” Nikki asks, giggling and blushing as five tired pairs of eyes stare in her direction.

“C, o,” Sarah begins.

“U, r,” Katie continues.

“S, e, w, o, r, k,” Nikki finishes with a sigh. “Okay, point taken, have fun you five. I’ll just stay here and hang out with my rich, famous friends, I guess…”

“Poor you,” Sarah teases, pulling on her skirt and her shoes before crouching down to give her fiancée a long, tender kiss on her lips. “See you at home, okay?”

“See you,” Nikki says with a dreamy smile as Sarah leaves, followed by Lauren, Katie and Ophelia. “…Sticking around a bit longer, J?”

“I’ve…” I say with an embarrassed grimace. “Kinda made other plans this morning, hehe!”

“Are these ‘other plans’ the same height as me, brown-haired and wearing glasses?” Nikki asks.

“…Taller than you, actually, but yes and yes to the other points,” I say with a wink.

“If I still had my pointe shoes on I’d have a thing or two to say about the ‘taller’ thing,” Nikki retorts. “And I sure as hell am not putting them back on just to prove a ‘pointe’, hehe! And I’ll try not to sit here getting all jealous that you’re riding your boyfriend all the way home while my fiancée’s blown me off for a book… Pun not intended, by the way.”

“Umm… What pun?” I ask.

“’Blown me off’,” Nikki clarifies. “Not that that’s technically possible anymore, hehe!”

“Heh, yes!” I giggle. “God… Only a few months to go for THAT!”

“The recovery’s a pain in the- well, you know where,” Nikki explains. “But once it’s done, it’s done, and it feels SO good to finally have it, you know, ‘done’.”

“Even dilation?” I ask.

“…Feels less good,” Nikki says with a grimace. “But needs to be done.”

“Even when, you know…” I say. “You’re not… Technically… ‘Using’ it?”

“I didn’t get it done just for THAT,” Nikki says. “I got it done for me, and me alone. Though, you know, I don’t begrudge anyone wanting to, you know, ‘get help dilating’ if you get what I mean.”

“Does it actually, you know, ‘count’?” I ask as Nikki and I finish covering up our dancewear and head out into the reception area.

“…After a year, I think,” Nikki replies. “So it wouldn’t ‘count’ for me just yet, I’d still need to dilate properly, but it would ‘count’ for Jamie, who’s been post-op for almost 3 years now. Your counsellor should’ve gone over this already with you, shouldn’t she?”

“Not yet,” I reply. “’Cause we’re not looking at SRS until after I finish uni.”

“Oh, okay,” Nikki shrugs. “And I guess it’s not like your love life is any the worse for it, judging by the smile on the person who just walked through the front door…” I giggle uncontrollably as Simon walks up to me and gives me a long, deep kiss while everyone else left in the reception area lets out several loud ‘ooh’s- Nikki being the loudest of everyone.

“Hey babe,” I say to the handsome young man.

“Hey sexy,” Simon says quietly, obviously nervous about the number of people staring at us. “You- you ready to go?”

“Yep,” I reply, making Simon smile as I untie my bun into a loose, playful ponytail (and my usual fringe). “Unless you want to come in and have a go dancing?”

“Not in those shoes, he isn’t!” Krystie giggles, making us both blush. “Go on, get going, need to get the studio cleaned for tonight.”

“Can do!” I giggle, linking my fingers with Simon as we head out into the chilly February air, accompanied by our transgendered friend.

“Need a lift anywhere?” Nikki asks.

“Thought you were heading to work?” I ask.

“I can make a detour,” Nikki shrugs. “So… You two made any plans for Tuesday yet?”

“Tuesday?” Simon asks, making me internally cringe. “Oh, Tuesday- Valentine’s Day, right?”

“Yep!” Nikki giggles. “Me and Sarah are probably just gonna get takeout and crash under a blanket on our sofa. Then again, we’ve been going out five years rather than five months, hehe!”

“And if memory serves, your V-Days have never been, you know, brilliant, right?” I ask.

“Yep,” Nikki sighs. “Hopefully that’ll change once we’re married, hehe!”

“It’s pretty cool that you’ve, you know, found your soul mate,” Simon muses, making me squirm as I climb onto the back seat of Nikki’s car.

“Yeah,” Nikki says in a dreamy whisper. “So, you two…?”

“Umm, no plans yet,” I say.

“Don’t want to leave it TOO long,” Nikki says. “Your first V Day as a couple, you want to make the most of it!”

“Heh, yeah,” Simon says as I get more and more uncomfortable in my seat.

It’s been six months since I started going out with Simon, and at the start of the relationship, things were great- we spent virtually every available second with each other, were out seemingly every other night and had ridiculous amounts of sex. After a couple of months, things started to ‘slow’ a bit, though my return to university and Simon’s work played a part there- and obviously, neither of those things could be helped, but the relationship began to feel… Unexciting. It’s not that Simon hasn’t put in the effort, of course. He makes as much time for me as I make for him, he’s clearly VERY into me- the way he’s squirming in his seat is a good indicator of that- but there’s this niggling feeling I can’t shake that I’ve got as much as I’m ever going to get from this relationship. One of Simon’s favourite hobbies is running, but as hard as he tries, he’ll never be Mo Farah- and even though I know he likes me and vice versa, as hard as he tries, he’s almost certainly never going to be ‘Prince Charming’.

Then again, he IS only 19, so maybe I’m expecting a bit too much from him. Then again, the fact that we’re going to spending today at Simon’s mother’s house- and that our engaged friend (who’s younger than me) has to give us a lift there- is a good indicator that I’m maybe not getting as much as I deserve.

And there’s always the chance that Simon might be as good as I’m ever going to get, boyfriend-wise. Simon has no hang-ups with going out with and having sex with a pre-operative transsexual, and there aren’t a lot of people in the UK who can claim that…

“Mum won’t be home from work until just after 3pm,” Simon says as we walk through the front door. “We’ve got the whole house to ourselves…” Despite my anxiety about our relationship, I find myself tingling with excitement as Simon's hand goes straight to my thigh, gently squeezing it and rubbing his expert fingers up and down, gradually getting more 'up' than 'down' as our lips meet each other's. Simon may not be the most physically impressive man in the world, but as the old saying goes- size doesn’t matter, it’s what you do with it that counts.

Sure enough, half an hour later, my whole body is tingling with satisfaction- particularly the areas that saw the most 'use'!

“Mmm,” I dreamily moan as I stretch my tingling, perspiration-covered body. “And I thought ballet would be the most exercise I’d get today, hehe!”

“Yeah, heh,” Simon replies, wrapping his arms around my waist as I try to pull my leotard and my skirt back on over the spare pair of black tights I always keep in my handbag. “So… What ARE we doing for Valentine’s Day?”

“I- I dunno,” I reply. “Could always have a quiet meal at our flat, I suppose?”

“We could go and see a movie, maybe?” Simon suggests.

“…We went to see a movie last Saturday, didn’t we?” I retort.

“I get an employee discount, may as well use it,” Simon shrugs.

“Meh, I guess,” I say. “Still prefer the idea of something, you know, ‘intimate’.”

“Well we’ve got time to work it out,” Simon says. “Won’t Ophelia be home on Tuesday, then?”

“I can always lock her in her bedroom,” I say, smirking as Simon giggles.

“Date night at your flat sounds good,” Simon says with a smile. “Shall we order takeout then?”

“I can cook,” I reply. “I don’t mind doing that.”

“Cool,” Simon says, linking his fingers with mine as we head downstairs, where we while away the afternoon watching TV and (in my case, at least) doing coursework for uni.

Eventually, 4pm rolls around, and I take a deep breath to brace myself as the front door of the house opens and Simon’s mum returns, accompanied by two school uniform-clad children, one of whom stares at me with a look of excitement in her eyes, while the other one… Just stares at me.

“Hi Ally, hi Jenson,” Simon says with a heavy sigh.

“Hi guys!” I say, trying not to wince as the eight year old boy fixes me with his eerie stare.

“Oh my god!” Ally squeaks excitedly. “Were you at the Angels’ ballet lesson today? Was Hannah Dexter there? Did you get to-“

“Ally, calm down, Jenson, blink,” Simon says, forcing me to suppress a snort of laughter.

“Oh my god I am SO sorry,” Ally says. “I’m, umm, I’m going to go and change…”

“Take Jenson with you before his eyes roll out of his skull,” Simon’s mother says with a sigh. “Sorry about that, Jacinta. Six months, you’d have thought he’d get used to you by now…”

“It- it’s fine, honestly,” I say.

“You two got any preference for dinner?” Simon’s mother asks.

“I… Don’t mind, honestly,” I reply. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“Whatever’s in the fridge,” Simon says with a shrug.

“Yep, you two just- keep making decisions,” Mrs. Clarke sighs as she heads into the kitchen to start the evening meal. “You been up to much today?”

“Just coursework,” I reply.

“Just watching Jacinta do coursework,” Simon says with a smirk.

“Well, can’t blame you for working hard, I suppose,” Mrs. Clarke says. “You on the other hand, lazybones…”

“I am work tonight, aren’t I?” Simon replies. “Want to make the most of the time we get to spend together.”

“By spending all day indoors?” Simon’s mother replies- and I can’t help but grimace as I agree with her. Am I wrong for wanting more from this relationship?

Dinner with Simon’s family goes as awkwardly as it always does. All throughout, I’m bombarded by questions from Simon’s sister about my morning, about the various famous faces I interacted with and will interact with in the future (whether I like it or not, apparently), while Simon’s brother continues to fix me with his unblinking stare. Eventually, the dinner ends, and despite the fact that I’m not going to get more time with my boyfriend, I’m actually relieved- though as I leave, a part of me wonders if I’m relieved BECAUSE I’m not going to spend more time with my boyfriend…

“One of these days we’ll figure out what’s up with Jenson,” Simon sighs. “He knows all about your- well, you, we’ve explained to him about, you know, and how it’s normal- well, nothing weird, you know-“

“Yeah, I know,” I sigh. “Maybe I’m just not good with kids, I dunno. Good job I’m never gonna have any of my own, heh!”

“Nothing stopping you from adopting if you wanted to,” Simon says with a shrug.

“Pass,” I reply, before giggling as I give Simon a kiss goodbye. “Have fun at work!”

“Will try!” Simon giggles. “See you soon.”

“See you,” I say, giggling before heading to the nearest tube station to catch my train home.

As always, I feel a twinge of sadness whenever I leave Simon, though today, I feel a sense of guilt as well, which leads ultimately to a deep sense of irritation. Not irritation at Simon- irritation at myself for not allowing myself to be happy with what I’ve got. I’ve often been told ‘it’s better to want what you have than have what you want’, but it’s never that easy. And I do like Simon, it’s just- I ‘like’ him. When I met my Prince Charming, I always assumed that it’d be love at first sight. It was for Sarah and Nikki, after all. Then again, Jamie & Stuart often tell me about how their relationship didn’t blossom until after they’d already been friends for a while (and I know that their relationship has had its ups and downs as well).

Half of my instincts are telling me that my relationship with Simon has run its course. The excitement of the relationship- sex notwithstanding, of course- isn’t nearly what it was. Then again, I’ve never been in a relationship that’s lasted this long. Maybe it’s natural for the ‘spark’ to go out, and people like Sarah and Nikki are the anomalous ones. And maybe Simon IS Prince Charming after all, and I just don’t realise it yet. One thing’s for sure- continuing on the way I am, doing nothing about the relationship is stressing me out, so I need to do SOMETHING. I just need to make sure that what I do is the right thing.

Things would be so much easier if Simon was an arsehole, but the frustrating thing is, he is a genuinely nice guy. He’ll definitely make some girl very happy someday- I just don’t know whether or not that person will be me.

And the fact still remains that there aren’t that many guys out there who are comfortable getting physical with a transgendered girl…

“Good evening, Jacinta,” Ophelia says as I walk into the house, kick off my flats and dump my handbag on the sofa. “How are Simon and his family? Well, I hope?”

“Ugh,” I grunt by way of reply.

“That well, then?” Ophelia asks.

“…Yeah,” I reply, before laying back on the sofa and letting out a loud sigh. “Oh god, Ophelia, I- I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You need to talk, don’t you?”

“Sorry,” I say, making the purple-haired girl giggle.

“There is no need to apologise, Jacinta,” Ophelia says. “I am your best friend. Of course you can talk to me whenever you wish. And if I may be frank, it’s good that you’re finally willing to talk about your relationship.”

“Has- has it been THAT obvious?” I ask.

“For the past few weeks,” Ophelia says. “Ever since Christmas, to be truthful. You seem to be more tense when you are around Simon, when I would have thought that the opposite would be true.”

“Normally, yeah,” I sigh. “And if we were just, you know, ‘friends with benefits’, it’d be easier, but- but I-“

“You want an ‘actual’ relationship?” Ophelia asks, sighing as I nod. “I cannot blame you for that.”

“The frustrating thing is,” I say, “I don’t know whether or not Simon is ‘the one’.”

“You have had six months to find out,” Ophelia says. “Do you require longer to find out for certain?”

“It’s never THAT easy,” I say. “And I like Simon a lot, I really do. There's a lot to like, I mean, he's funny, he's kind...”

“But do you love him?” Ophelia asks, and I’m forced to admit to myself that this is the million dollar question that I’ve been avoiding. Not being love at first sight is one thing. But not being love at any sight is something that a relationship simply can’t survive.

“It’s only been six months,” I feebly reply. “You need to give these things time.”

“It has already been six months,” Ophelia retorts. “You have given it time. Do you love Simon?” I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I give Ophelia's question the full attention it deserves. There's a lot to like about Simon, and a lot to love, too. Not just his kindness or his sense of humour, but his skill in bed, his genuine interest in me- and not just in a physical sense- and the fact that he doesn't even blink twice about 'what' I am. I could definitely love him. But at the same time, the relationship doesn't 'feel' right. I always thought that when I met 'Prince Charming', it'd be love at first sight. But with Simon, the 'spark' was never there, meaning I have only one answer to Ophelia's question...

“…No,” I concede.

“Do you believe you will ever love him?” Ophelia asks.

“I believe I could,” I say.

“Do you believe that you WILL?” Ophelia asks forcefully.

“…I doubt it,” I sigh. “Ugh, I shouldn’t have said anything…”

“On the contrary,” Ophelia says softly. “You should have spoken earlier. Then you would have avoided all this stress.”

“When you become such a relationship guru?” I ask, making Ophelia smirk.

“When I became your best friend,” My BFF replies.

“Oh- hey!” I protest.

“My apologies,” Ophelia mumbles, blushing with embarrassment.

“No- no, you’re okay,” I say. “And you do have a point. Maybe I’m just too high maintenance, I dunno.”

“You wish to find your Prince Charming,” Ophelia says. “Thus it follows that you wish to be treated like a princess. I fail to see why this would be such a problem.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“And you do not want to waste any further time on a relationship that does not satisfy you anymore,” Ophelia says. “It is fair on neither you nor Simon.”

“Ugh, I’m going to have to tell him,” I moan. “Breaking up with someone sucks.”

“Better to do so sooner rather than later,” Ophelia says.

“Just as long as I do find ‘Prince Charming’ sooner rather than later,” I moan. “Don’t want to be walking up the aisle on a zimmer frame.”

“Trying to force the issue will only make things worse,” Ophelia says.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t go out looking for Prince Charming?” I ask.

“In the original Cinderella, he was the one who did the looking,” Ophelia reminds me, and as hard as I rack my brains, I have no reply. “Would you like me to prepare dinner tonight?”

“Nah, we can get takeout,” I say with a heavy sigh.

“Jacinta, are- are you okay?” Ophelia asks, surprising me by using her natural accent.

“I’ll be fine,” I reply. “Honestly. Plenty more fish in the sea, that sort of thing.”

“Whatever you need, just ask,” Ophelia says softly.

“I just- I just need someone to love me,” I sigh.

“…Well you know you’ll always have that,” Ophelia says with a warm smile, bringing tears to my eyes- but tears of happiness. I may not have my Prince Charming, but I’ve definitely got my ‘fairy godmother’ (even if the way she dresses, she’s more reminiscent of Tinkerbell).

…And as I find out when I arrive at university the following day, I don’t have just one fairy godmother, but five of them, all of whom- even Nikki, when she arrives at lunch- give me a comforting hug when I tell them of my decision to end my relationship.

“Honestly, I’m not surprised,” Katie says with a heavy sigh. “You two never seemed… Right together, somehow.”

“And not just because of the height difference,” Lauren says.

“Thanks, girls,” I say with a sigh. “Still don’t know how I’m going to break it to him, though…”

“He’s a guy, he’ll take it on the chin,” Katie shrugs. “He’ll probably have a new girlfriend within a few weeks.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing,” I sigh. “Any other guy, maybe, but Simon’s sensitive, and warm-hearted…”

“Make sure that you’re comfortable in your seats,” Ophelia says to my friends, who all roll their eyes as they realise what she’s implying.

“Ah crap,” Lauren sighs. “Jacinta, you-you HAVE made up your mind, right?”

“I’d be lying if I said it was an easy decision,” I say.

“Break-ups never are,” Katie says softly. “They’re not the sort of thing you can simply change your mind about though.”

“I know,” I sigh. “Thing is, the relationship just wasn’t going anywhere… How- how do you guys, you know, keep it ‘exciting’? I mean, you two have been together for what, four years?” Sarah and Nikki grin as they exchange a brief, but loving gaze.

“Five and a half,” Sarah says. “And I guess we don’t really have a ‘secret’ to making it work.”

“We’ve got the same interests, though,” Nikki says. “The same friends… But- but I guess it’s just a case of us ‘knowing’. Deep down, I know that there isn’t anyone in the world I’d rather be with. And there never will be.”

“D’aww,” Katie coos, before sighing as she sees my unconvinced face. “There will be someone for you too, Jacinta. Someday your ‘Prince Charming’ WILL come.”

“Just as long as he doesn’t make TOO much of a mess!” Lauren says, making me roll my eyes.

“I’m less and less sure that that’s the case,” I sigh.

“Well I’m still sure,” Katie says. “Kinda need to be, I want a Prince Charming too!”

“You mean there’s someone out there who can meet the high standards of Katherine Michelle Henderson?” Lauren teases.

“There’s someone out there who can meet the high standards of Ophelia Cassiopeia Love!” Katie teases, making my BFF blush and roll her eyes. “And DEFINITELY someone for Jacinta Amelia Hanley. So what if it’s not Simon? You’re not going to hit the jackpot first time out unless you’re, like, some kind of weirdo.”

“Hey!” Sarah and Nikki simultaneously protest, making the rest of us giggle.

“Point is, just ‘cause you didn’t find him first time out, doesn’t mean you should stop looking,” Katie says. “And that applies for second time, third time, tenth time, fiftieth time…”

“You were too good for Simon anyway,” Lauren says.

“We both know I’m not,” I sigh. “He IS a decent guy. And we all know why I won’t be good enough for any other gu-“

“No, just- no,” Nikki says firmly. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“It’s easy for you to say when you’re sat there, snuggled up next to your soul mate,” I retort.

“It’s never mattered to me, what- well, ‘what’ Nikki is,” Sarah says firmly. “What she keeps in her pants matters even less.”

“Usually Sarah cares more about which pants I’m wearing,” Nikki says, eliciting a giggle from her fiancée.

“When you meet your ‘Prince Charming’, it won’t matter to them ‘what’ you are,” Sarah says softly.

“That’s the thing,” I sigh. “It never mattered to Simon…”

“…Never said he was a ‘bad’ guy,” Katie shrugs. “But there is better out there- and better for you, Jacinta.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“When are you going to tell him?” Lauren asks.

“Tonight,” I say with a sigh. “No sense in stringing it out… I’m probably not gonna be great company tonight so I’ll skip the night out if that’s okay with you girls?”

“Of course,” Nikki says softly.

“We shall, of course, be coming out with you next Friday,” Ophelia says, momentarily confusing me.

“No- Ophelia…” I sigh. “Don’t miss out on a night out just ‘cause of me, I-“

“What were we talking about last night?” Ophelia asks, barely suppressing a smirk. “If you need company, then that is far more important than a night out I shall be having in a week’s time anyway.”

“…The rest of you are going out tonight or I’ll literally throw you out of our flat,” I say, making the other girls smirk. “Seriously, Uncle Phil style.”

“If you insist,” Lauren shrugs. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for any damage to your nails anyway!” I let out a derisive snort of laughter as Lauren sticks her tongue out at me.

“But we’re coming over to yours tomorrow,” Sarah says.

“No- seriously, no,” I say. “The party at Charlotte’s-“

“Can wait,” Nikki insists. “You can never have- no, wait, a better way of saying it is… You can never do enough for your friends.”

“You can never do enough for your friends!” Nikki and my other four friends all cheer, making me giggle even as my insides churn at the unpleasant prospect that lies ahead.

When I leave the college at the end of the day (and indeed, the week), my four friends (Nikki having had to head back home) all bid me farewell with tight hugs and wishes of good luck. Fortunately, I’d already agreed to meet with Simon after uni, so I don’t have to summon him to his own dumping- something I would NOT have felt good doing. Not that what I’m about to do will feel any better…

“Hey babe!” Simon says with a grin, greeting me with a kiss as I sit down at our usual table in our favourite coffee shop. “How was uni?”

“Same as usual,” I shrug, before taking a deep breath. “Simon, we-“

“I had another think about Tuesday, by the way,” Simon says. “Not sure it’s fair to make you cook, even though you’re a MUCH better cook than I am.”

“Umm…” I mumble.

“We can go out somewhere, if that’s what you really want,” Simon says. “I know, everywhere’s likely to be booked, but we can try to find somewhere, right?”

“We need to talk,” I say in a hoarse voice. Immediately, Simon’s face falls- he knows all too well what I REALLY mean when I say ‘we need to talk’.

“…Oh,” Simon mumbles.

“Simon…” I sigh. “You- you’re a nice guy-“

“But not nice enough, right?” Simon asks.

“No- well, you ARE nice enough, but-“ I stammer.

“Not tall enough?” Simon asks. “Not famous enough?”

“Neither of those are important,” I insist.

“Then what IS important?” Simon asks, clearly getting angrier with every passing second.

“I- I want more,” I say. “I- I’m just not sure where this relationship is going, and-“

“Can we- can we skip to the end of this conversation, please?” Simon asks in an exasperated voice. “By the time we leave this table, will we still be boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“No,” I whisper, blinking back tears as I shake my head.

“…Well, thank you for your honesty, at least,” Simon sighs. “Ugh. I thought we actually had something good, you know?”

“It was good,” I say. “But, you know, not ‘great’…”

“Okay, that’s maybe enough honesty for now,” Simon growls.

“Where did you see us six months from now?” I ask bluntly.

“I dunno,” Simon shrugs. “Probably where we ar- where we WERE.”

“Exactly,” I say, making my now ex-boyfriend roll his eyes.

“Okay, fine, I guess,” Simon sighs. “I’m not gonna force you to change your mind, I trust that this isn’t a spur of the moment thing, etc, etc, hope you find someone, blah, blah.”

“I did enjoy our time,” I say. “I would kinda like to, you know, remain… Friends?” The withering look on Simon’s face is all the answer I need to my question. “Guess not, then.”

“You’ve made up your mind,” Simon says. “I’ll respect it, but don’t expect me to like it.”

“Fair enough,” I say, before sighing as both of us stand up. “Is- is a handshake appropriate in this-“

“Let’s just- let’s just go home,” Simon says with a sigh. “For what it’s worth, I enjoyed our time together, but if I’m not enough for you- well- I guess that’s that.”

“I guess,” I whisper. “But- but, umm, Simon?”

“…Yes?” My ex-boyfriend asks.

“Thanks,” I say. “Thanks for not, you know, bringing up the trans ‘thing’.”

“The trans ‘thing’ was never a ‘thing’, not as far as I’m concerned,” Simon says, making me smile.

“But good luck finding someone else who feels the same way?” I ask.

“Yes…” Simon says cautiously. “But I don’t mean that sarcastically. I really mean it when I said it was never a ‘thing’ for me. Anyone who does see it as a ‘thing’ is just some kind of weird Neanderthal and deserves to, like, go extinct.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, internally chastising myself as I find that I’m already regretting my decision- but like Katie said, there’s no undoing this decision. “See you round, Simon.”

“Bye,” Simon says, before letting out a heavy sigh and walking away, out of my life.

Needless to say, several tears escape my eyes on the short tube ride back to my flat, and when I open the front door, I’m immediately wrapped in a tight hug from my BFF, who simply holds me as tears freely flow from my eyes onto her shoulder.

“Goddddd…” I moan as Ophelia sits me down and places a mug of hot, sweet tea into my hands. “I don’t even know WHY I’m so emotional, I mean, I’m the one who dumped him, not the other way round…”

“It’s only natural to be emotional,” Ophelia says softly. “You had high expectations, and they haven’t been reached.”

“Yeah, this is more ‘heartbroken’ than ‘disappointed’,” I sigh. “God… I’ve broken up with guys before, why is this one so different? I mean, we worked out that Simon wasn’t ‘Prince Charming’, right?”

“And yet, for six months, you believed that he might be,” Ophelia says. “And let’s not forget that while you may still possess some male… ‘Particulars’, you are chemically female, with all the side effects that that brings.”

“Hey, don’t blame oestrogen for this,” I say. “It’s easily the best thing that’s happened to me in the last two years. Well, that and coming to uni. And meeting Katie, Lauren and the girls. And the Angels. Okay, so things have been going pretty great for me in the grand scheme of things, this Simon thing is, like, a ‘speed bump’, I’ll find someone else soon enough, but- ugh.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself more than you’re trying to convince me,” Ophelia says.

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause I am,” I say, before letting out a long, heavy sigh. “And I know why, too.”

“Go on,” Ophelia whispers.

“It’s because no matter how hard I try to convince myself,” I explain, “or how much oestrogen I take, or how short my skirt is, or how much make-up I wear, or how many ballet classes I take, or how much my tits grow… I’m always going to be pretending to be something I’m not.”

“You and I both know that that is untrue,” Ophelia says. “Completely and utterly untrue.”

“You and I know that,” I say. “Katie and Lauren know that, Nikki and Sarah do… Does the average man on the street?”

“They would look at you and see the beautiful woman that you are,” Ophelia replies.

“Then they’d look closer and see the boy I used to be,” I sigh. “Especially if we end up in bed together, it’s kinda hard to disguise it THERE.”

“’Jacinta’ is not just ‘Jason’s disguise’,” Ophelia says.

“Again, I know that, you know that…” I sigh.

“Simon knew that too,” Ophelia says quietly.

“Exactly,” I moan. “And that’s why it was so hard to dump him… If it was Katie who dumped him, or even you, you could just go out to a club, or to a party and pick up another guy and not have to ‘explain’ everything. Every time I’m dancing with a guy at a club or chatting with him, I’m constantly on edge, wondering when I’m going to explain to him about what I am, or what might happen if he somehow finds out and reacts badly…”

“You picked up Simon at a party,” Ophelia reminds me.

“One I hosted myself,” I retort. “And you and the girls were there to, you know, ‘prepare’ him first…”

“What makes you think that that will ever change?” Ophelia asks- and this is a question I don’t have an answer for. “I have told you many times, Jacinta, that I love you, and so do all the girls. We will NEVER allow anything bad to happen to you. Ever. And we will do our absolute best to ensure that your ‘Prince Charming’ is everything you dreamed of and more.” Once again, tears flow freely from my eyes, though this time, it’s tears of happiness.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” I sniffle as I give the purple haired girl another hug, one she eagerly reciprocates.

24 hours later, after a mercifully boring day in my Saturday job, I find myself once again slumped on my sofa, though instead of the tight top and short skirt I wore last night, or the fashionable minidress and heels I usually wear on Saturday, I’m wearing a very warm, snuggly lilac onesie- as are four of the other five girls in the room. Unsurprisingly, the ‘sleepwear’ of the sixth girl is the main topic of conversation.

“I mean, I guess it DOES look comfortable,” Sarah says. “The sewn-in mittens are a really nice touch, but- do-“

“Do you, like, have a catheter in or something?” Katie asks my BFF, who simply smirks in response.

“If I need to relieve myself, I simply remove my pyjamas and replace them once I have finished,” Ophelia replies.

“Stripping off a leotard and a pair of tights to pee is one thing,” Nikki muses. “How do you handle that corset as well?”

“…I never wait until I am ‘desperate’ before going,” Ophelia replies, obviously suppressing a giggle. “And besides, loosening the corset relieves the… ‘Pressure’.”

“I can imagine,” Nikki says. “No wonder you never drink much.”

“Or eat Indian food,” Lauren says, giggling as the rest of us- Ophelia included- pelt her with cushions. “Ahh… You know, I’m actually having more fun here than I would at Charlotte’s? Sure, the parties are fun, but they kinda get, you know, samey after a while?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Nikki giggles. “Maybe I should suggest a onesie party to Charlotte?”

“Uh- excuse me?” Katie asks. “Nikki Thomas NOT wanting to get dressed up in a fancy dress, heels and jewellery?”

“Don’t worry, it’s still the real Nikki,” Sarah says with a giggle. “I can check more thoroughly if you’d like?”

“No!” Katie, Lauren, Ophelia and I all yell simultaneously.

“Besides,” I sigh. “The Angels don’t split up every week from their-“

“Bechdel!” Sarah yells, making me roll my eyes. “You know the rules.” I let out a long sigh, before downing my glass of wine in two large gulps.

“Don’t I get any, you know, leeway for being the ‘reason’ for this party?” I ask.

“Nope,” Katie says bluntly.

“If anything, you should be treated MORE harshly,” Lauren explains. “We need to remind you that you don’t need- excuse me,” Lauren giggles before finishing her drink. “BOYS to have fun!”

“Or to be loved,” Ophelia says, making me bite my lip to keep me from crying again.

“And we can always go to Ann Summers tomorrow to prove that you don’t need them for the S-word either!” Katie giggles.

“…Sounds like a plan!” I giggle. “Ahh… You girls really are the best thing that ever happened to me, you know?”

“…What, are you trying to make us cry now?” Nikki mumbles.

“Yes,” I say bluntly, making the girls all giggle happily. “And I guess, you know, it’s better to want than to have…”

“Unless you have the right one,” Sarah says, making us all sigh happily as Nikki unsuccessfully tries to sniff back tears. “And I’m NOT finishing my drink as I’m not talking about a boy!”

“Bechdel!” I yell, making Sarah sigh with frustration, before giggling happily as she finishes her drink.

“Heh,” Katie giggles. “You know, I always thought that the girls I was friends with at school would be my best friends for life, but I wouldn’t trade 500 of them for the five of you.”

“Been there!” I say with a giggle.

“Even though, as well know, you can never have too many friends?” Ophelia asks.

“…Friends, now, acquaintances… Maybe,” Katie replies. “But I’d definitely not say no to 500 of you girls, hehe!”

“500 Nikkis sounds like most of Sarah’s fever dreams!” Lauren teases, making the posh, ponytailed girl blush.

“Shut up,” Sarah mumbles. “Anyway, speaking of the most gorgeous, kissable girl in the world, we five have a birthday party to plan for a few weeks’ time, don’t we?” I giggle as my fellow transgendered girl starts to blush.

“Hell yeah we do!” Katie giggles, staring expectantly at Nikki. “…This is your cue to say ‘oh I don’t mind, don’t make any fuss’, that sort of thing.”

“Fuck that!” Nikki snorts. “This is my first birthday since my SRS, I want the works!” The six of us all cheer happily as we spend the rest of the night party planning, drinking and gossiping about every topic under the sun APART from boys.

By the time I wake up on Sunday, I feel renewed (and hungover, but that’s to be expected). Unlike my previous break-ups, I don’t feel as though I’m ‘back at square one’. Thanks to my amazing friends, I’m ready to hit the ground running with uni, with work, with my whole life- regardless of whether or not I currently have a man to snuggle up next to at night.

Of course, I spend the following Friday night wearing my skimpiest dress and dancing in clubs with virtually every single guy I see, but that’s less to do with finding ‘Prince Charming’ and much more to do with having fun with my friends- something I intend to do a lot more of in the coming few months.

Then again, if ‘Prince Charming’ does randomly pop up when I’m not expecting, then I certainly won’t say ‘no’…

“Here comes the bride!” Katie yells as the doors to the fancy living room open.

Despite my best efforts to remain calm and dignified, I bounce up and down with excitement as I enter the room. The fact that I'm wearing a gorgeous, floor-length strapless dress, exquisite silk lingerie underneath the dress (including silk stockings that generate feelings of ecstasy with every step) and high-heeled sandals doesn't help, nor does the fact that my long brown hair is tied into an elaborate updo, my face is covered in expensive make-up, my nails have been manicured to perfection and I have fancy gold earrings hanging from each lobe. I feel more beautiful than I've ever felt in my whole life, and I’m more nervous than I’ve been in a very long time… And I’m not even the bride.

“Wakey wakey!” Jamie- who, like me, Katie and Stephanie, is wearing a pink bridesmaid’s dress- giggles as she shakes the bride-to-be, waking her from her slumber.

“Uh- uhh…?” Nikki moans as she slowly opens her tired eyes.

“Rise and shine, MISS Thomas!” Jamie giggles. “Somebody’s getting married today!”

“And that somebody is you!” I say, bringing a tired smile to Nikki’s face as the covers are pulled off of her and she’s marched upstairs to Jamie’s bedroom to get ready for the day ahead. For a woman who’s getting married today, Nikki is admittedly a bit more subdued than I would be, though considering the events of the last 36 hours, that is kinda to be expected.

Two nights ago, Nikki and Sarah had their hen night, which- like everything else in their lives- they did together. Virtually every female friend they had attended, all dressed in one of the most indecent costumes I have ever seen, let alone worn (though it was REALLY fun to wear), lots of alcohol was consumed, lots of fun was had… And about halfway through the night, Sarah and Nikki’s old ‘friend’ Dannii showed up uninvited.

To cut a long story short, harsh words were exchanged, punches were thrown and Dannii was taken away in an ambulance with a nasty cut on her lip while Nikki spent the night in a police cell. The hen party dispersed shortly afterward, with the exception of me, Ophelia, Katie, Lauren and most importantly of all, Sarah, who decamped back to our flat to sleep off the hen night before taking Sarah back to her mother’s house the following morning. Despite the shocking events- which resulted in Sarah going almost catatonic when she saw Nikki being arrested- none of us were ever in any doubt that there would will be a wedding, and very little doubt that the wedding would be today.

Sure enough, bang on schedule, the four of us are busy preparing Nikki for her big day. I’m handling her make-up, while Katie carefully manicures Nikki’s nails and Jamie fixes her hair. For a woman as naturally beautiful as Nikki, the process doesn’t take long, and by the time we’re fastening Nikki into her elaborate white bridal gown, there isn’t a dry eye in the room- least of all the bride!

“Stop crying!” I urge the twenty year old bride, who nods and takes several deep breaths while fanning herself with her hands. “I can’t be fixing your make-up while you’re exchanging your vows!”

“Okay, okay,” Nikki whispers. “Thank- thank you, thank you all so much for today…”

“Like we wouldn’t go all out for today!” Jamie giggles. “Now come on. YOUR crowd is waiting!” I smile as I follow Nikki and Jamie down to the main area of the vast house, where Nikki’s clearly emotional parents are waiting for her. In a nice touch, Nikki’s dad allows her mum to walk her down the aisle, while her extremely cute 2 year old sister acts as flower girl.

Needless to say, the area that’s been set out for the wedding is truly beautiful. Pink is the main theme for the ceremony- in addition to our bridesmaid’s dresses, all the flowers are pink, the chairs are pink, the drapes are pink, and even all the men present are wearing pink shirts. The only thing that doesn’t have pink anywhere- apart from in their bouquets- are the two brides, both of whom are wearing strapless white gowns that Lauren and Ophelia slaved over for months in what little free time they had. All eyes are on the two brides as they reach the makeshift altar where the heavily-pregnant Krystie (the ‘minister’ for the day) is stood in a smart pink dress.

The ceremony itself is brief, but by the end of it, and despite my warning to Nikki, I can feel tears trickling down both of my cheeks at the sheer, unconditional love the two women have expressed for each other. Nikki is so feminine that I sometimes need reminding that she was once a boy named ‘Nick’, but Sarah knew ‘Nick’ from when they were both at school, and has seen every second of her transformation into the beautiful woman she’s marrying today, and has stood by her and loved her without reservation. Sarah’s often described herself as ‘Nikkisexual’- Nikki’s gender never mattered to her, only the person within, and her vows have proved this. It’s one of the most beautiful declarations of love I’ve ever seen… And yet I can’t help but feel a very, very large twinge of jealousy as the two women go through the process of legally becoming each other’s wife.

The fact that I’m wearing a bridesmaid’s dress, of all thing, just serves to hammer home how ‘single’ I feel. It’s the first time I’ve ever been a bridesmaid (though I did also act as a witness earlier in the year)- and the dress is admittedly VERY beautiful- but the phrase ‘always the bridesmaid and never the bride’ seems more relevant than ever. In the four months since I broke up with Simon, I’ve been out to clubs virtually every Friday, danced and flirted with plenty of guys and even been on a few dates, but I’m as single now as I was that cold Friday in February when I separated from him. I’ve found myself missing him a couple of times, but not as much as I thought I would- but I am very much missing having ‘a boyfriend’.

My friends have done their best to take my mind off it, of course, and between uni (which has just finished with me just scraping a 2:2 this year) and the wedding, I’ve certainly had plenty to keep me occupied, and there definitely isn’t a group of girls I’d rather spend my time with… But as much as I love them, they can’t ‘give’ me what a boy can.

“…I now pronounce you wife and wife,” Krystie says with a wide grin on her face. “You may kiss!” Naturally, Sarah and Nikki don’t need to be told twice, and exchange a long, loving kiss as I and everyone else present pelt them with heart-shaped confetti and streamers. The two newlyweds share a brief, private conversation before grabbing each other’s hands and running down the aisle under a blizzard of confetti from all sides. Their eight bridesmaids (including myself) follow shortly afterward and swarm the happy couple in a group hug that only breaks apart when the happy couple are ushered away to sign their marriage certificate.

Once the 'formalities' are over, another group hug takes place, though that one is even more short-lived when the photographer arrives and orders us to start posing for photos.

“Ahh,” I sigh happily as we bridesmaids watch the happy couple and their families get their pictures taken. “Today was SO beautiful…”

“It was,” Lauren sighs happily. “Did you have fun being the maid of honour, Kerrie?”

“It was fun,” Sarah’s 10 year old sister replies. “I really like this dress!”

“You get to keep it, you know?” Katie asks, giggling as Kerrie smiles smugly and nods. “Of course, it probably won’t fit you this time next year, heh.”

“Lucky you’ve got a sister who makes clothes for both a living AND a hobby!” Lauren giggles. “If you want a pink bridesmaid’s dress when you’re all grown up, of course…”

“I always thought that if I got married, my bridesmaids would wear pink,” Katie says. “Especially my maid of honour!”

“…I’m your best friend and you’ve got no sisters,” Lauren says with a sigh as the rest of us giggle.

“Thank you for accepting the job!” Katie says with a loud chortle.

“Don’t forget that I’d probably be making the dress,” Lauren retorts. “AND your wedding dress. Well, me and Ophelia, anyway. How narrow can your waist get again?”

“I do enjoy a challenge,” Ophelia- who’s dyed her hair a bright fuchsia colour for the occasion- says, earning a loud sigh from Katie.

“…Fine, no pink,” Katie sighs. “Not like I’ll be getting married anytime soon, anyway…”

“If by ‘soon’ you mean ‘weeks’, then maybe not,” Lauren says. “But I reckon I’ll be carrying a bouquet for you before you’re 25.”

“Chance’d be a fine thing,” Katie sighs. “Oh- looks like we’re up!”

“Best model smiles, everyone!” Jamie orders as I and the other bridesmaids pose for photographs with the two brides.

My smile, however, is very much forced, as everything Katie has said has resonated with me. Despite people saying that they’re too young to get married, Sarah and Nikki have been together for almost six years. Jamie and Stuart- the other couple whose wedding I participated in- were together for just over 3 years on and off before tying the knot, AND Jamie’s still only 25. If I want to get married before I’m 25, I only have 3 and a bit years left- and that amount is getting smaller with every passing second. I want my ‘Prince Charming’, but I don’t want to be in an old folks’ home when I meet him.

After what feels like a thousand photographs have been taken, I, the other bridesmaids and all the other women who were present at the wedding congregate in the back of the garden, while Sarah and Nikki climb onto a nearby table, bouquets in hand.

“This is my favourite part of every wedding!” The tall, blonde form of Hannah Dexter giggles in my ear as she, like every other woman- myself included- brace ourselves for what’s coming next.

“I’m hardly surprised, Miss 5’ 9”!” The petite form of Kayla Ford retorts, making the taller woman roar with laughter.

“5’ 10” and wearing heels,” I say smugly. “Watch and learn!”

“Ooh, those are fighting words, Miss Hanley!” Hannah says.

“We’re going to do this one at a time!” Nikki yells from her position atop the table. “Everybody ready?”

“Yes! Get on with it!” Hannah yells anxiously, making everyone giggle.

“Okay, on three!” Nikki yells. “One… Two… Three!” Nikki lets out a small grunt as she hurls her bouquet backward over her head. I watch it tumble over and over again, almost in slow-motion, as it flies into the gaggle of women… And straight into the outstretched hand of Ophelia Cassiopeia Love.

“Wh- what?” I ask as Ophelia shows off the bouquet with a smug look on her face. “Ophelia… You- you DO know what that implies, right?”

“It is a simple superstition,” Ophelia replies, though her smile betrays the fact that she obviously has some level of belief in the superstition.

“Here comes number two!” Sarah yells. “One, two… Three!” Again, the bouquet flies into the air, and again, several arms reach for it… And again, it ends up in the outstretched arm of my BFF, who giggles as she’s showered with boos from the other women.

“Oh- both!?” One of the women in the crowd groans.

“Maybe I shall marry twice?” Ophelia asks, her grin staying as wide as I’ve ever seen it while she poses for photographs with both bouquets.

Once the photographs are completed (and the bouquets are prized from Ophelia’s hands), we’re led into the vast main room of the house, where the happy couple open their vast pile of presents, before we’re served a delicious dinner and the numerous speeches are given. Fortunately, as a non-maid of honour bridesmaid, I’m not required to make a speech, but I hang on every word said by Jamie (who’s doing ‘maid of honour speech’ duties for both girls as Sarah’s sister is only ten), then from Nikki, Sarah and their parents. Once the speeches have been made, the cake (which is, naturally, pink) has been cut and served and the plates have been cleared, a makeshift dancefloor is set up in the garden, and our two friends share their first dance as a married couple. As happy as I am for Sarah and Nikki, my jealousy of them just grows with every practised step they take, though I’m quickly snapped out of it when I hear a familiar, but very unexpected voice speak.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The unmistakable voice of Tom Randall asks.

“…What are you doing here?” I ask my old school friend.

“Well, I DO go to the same uni as Sarah,” Tom says. “I’m here with Jack, think you know him as he’s in the LGBT society?”

“Oh,” I say. “Didn’t realise you were, you know…”

“I’m here as a friend,” Tom explains, rolling his eyes at my implication. “He’s on the same course as me, a year below, he asked me to be a ‘plus one’ so he’s not here alone, I said ‘sure’.”

“So… Caitlin’s not here, then?” I ask hesitantly. “Are- are you still-“

“Still going out, yeah,” Tom says, making me bite my lip to keep myself from frowning. “Thought it best not to bring her today, after- well, you know.”

“Yeah, I should know,” I say, making Tom bite his lip to stop himself from frowning. Awkward… I think to myself. “Umm, is- is this your first same-sex wedding, then?”

“Yep,” Tom says. “You?”

“Yep,” I say. “First time as a bridesmaid as well, heh.”

“It suits you,” Tom says, making me scrunch up my face in confusion.

“…What, being a bridesmaid?” I reply.

“No, umm, the- the dress, I mean, you- you look good!” Tom stammers.

“Thanks,” I say, before inwardly breathing a sigh of relief as the music changes and we bridesmaids take to the dancefloor. “Umm, this- this is me, heh.” I smile as Tom waves, before finding my way to Katie, who’s acting as my ‘dance partner’ for this part of the wedding. As it’s a same-sex wedding and there are (obviously) no groomsmen, the bridesmaids are dancing with each other, meaning that I get to dance with Katie, while Jamie dances with Stephanie, Ophelia dances with Becky (the chairperson of our uni’s LGBT society, who’s one of Sarah’s bridesmaids) and Lauren dances with Sarah’s sister.

“Was- was that Tom I just saw you flirting with?” Katie asks with a sly grin.

“That was Tom you saw me TALKING with,” I reply.

“If you say so,” Katie says. “But I’ve known you almost two years, I know that look in your eyes…”

“What ‘look’?” I ask.

“The same look a starving man has on his face when he sees a cheeseburger,” Katie replies, making me roll my eyes.

“Okay, he’s good-looking, I guess,” I reply. “But he’s going out with someone else and has been for at least two years. Someone really transphobic, too…”

“Don’t need to ask why she’s not here too, then,” Katie sighs. “Oh well, plenty more fish in the sea, that sort of thing. Plenty more fish in THIS sea too, hehe! Any sexy guy caught your eye yet?”

“Like we haven’t been too busy today to stare at guys!” I retort, making the freckled girl giggle.

“Meh, touché, I guess,” Katie says. “And I guess we weren’t the one who caught BOTH bouquets…”

“If Ophelia pulls at this wedding and we don’t, then we KNOW we’re in trouble,” I say, earning more giggles as we finish our dance and the dancefloor begins to fill with people.

I take this as an excuse to sit back down at one of the tables and take the weight off my aching feet, though I’m only alone for a few seconds before I hear a loud rustling sound approach me from behind, almost like someone doing a commando crawl over a pile of scrunched-up newspaper.

“Hello, MRS Phillips-Thomas!” I say with a giggle. “Whichever Mrs. Phillips-Thomas you are, anyway, hehe!”

“The taller, younger one,” Nikki says with a smile as she sits down in the chair next to me, carefully arranging her skirts as she lowers herself into place.

“So…” I say. “Why are you here talking to me, rather than trying to make you and your wife merge into one being?”

“Well for starters, we already did that years ago,” Nikki replies with a cheeky grin. “Second, Sarah’s dancing with her brother right now, and there’s… Well, it’s kinda a long story. Third, my feet ache, and fourth, I wanted to check and see how one of my favourite bridesmaids was doing! I saw you sit down, and, you know, it looked like fun, so…?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Had a lot of fun today, the ceremony was SO beautiful. It’s kinda weird to think, you know, that you’re, like, married.”

“YOU think it’s weird?” Nikki giggles. “I mean yes, me and Sarah have been living together for months already, but this, it- I dunno. It genuinely feels different, you know?”

“I wish I did know,” I mumble, making Nikki sigh sadly. “…Sorry.”

“No- no, it’s okay,” Nikki says. “What girl wouldn’t want to be Cinderella? Even if you’re looking for ‘Prince Charming’ and I’m more of a ‘Belle’ girl, hehe!”

“Yeah,” I say with a tired chuckle. “Doubt I’ll meet Prince Charming at THIS wedding though, heh!”

“You never know,” Nikki shrugs. “There ARE plenty of guys here today, including a few male models from Heavenly Talent…”

“Way to get my hopes up!” I retort, making the young bride giggle.

“Someday, your prince will come, Jacinderella!” Nikki says with a wide grin. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my ‘Princess Charming’ needs me!” I let out a quiet giggle as Nikki elegantly rises from her chair and returns to the dancefloor, where she greets her new wife with a tender kiss before sharing a slow dance. I take the opportunity to mingle with the crowd, and- for obvious reasons- it doesn’t take me long to locate the person I most want to talk to.

“Hi Ophelia!” I say as I sit down next to my BFF, who is slowly picking away at a slice of the wedding cake. “Cake and corset, can’t be comfortable, comprende compadre?”

“…Clever,” Ophelia says with a barely-suppressed giggle. “And if you must know, I am wearing my corset looser than usual today.”

“Because of the cake?” I ask.

“So as not to upstage the- either bride,” Ophelia says. “I understand that it is considered improper to draw attention away from the brides, and you must admit, I do have a habit of doing that wherever I am.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” I say, making my BFF giggle. “Is that why you went for BOTH bouquets, then?”

“I was feeling competitive,” Ophelia says.

“And not, you know… Lonely?” I ask, making the colourful girl pause before she took her next bite of cake. “You said you knew the, you know, superstition…”

“The bouquet thing was just a bit of fun,” Ophelia says, though I can instantly tell (thanks to Ophelia referring to catching the bouquet as ‘the bouquet thing’) that there is more that she’s not letting on.

“Ophelia…” I say, which earns a sigh from my BFF. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I am aware of that,” Ophelia says.

“So… What’s up?” I ask, earning another, louder sigh.

“You know that I have always taken pride in the fact that I am not like my sisters,” Ophelia explains.

“As would anyone, yes,” I say.

“I have always thought that I did not need anyone in order to be happy,” Ophelia says. “Not my family, not friends, not a partner. Family has been proved true. Friends, however… Hasn’t.”

“Ah,” I say. “So you’re wondering whether or not ‘partner’ will be the same?”

“The love that Nicola and Sarah have for each other is so great that they almost literally glow,” Ophelia says. “I have wondered whether or not I would ever feel that way about anyone… And I have wondered whether or not anyone might ever feel that way about me.”

“Oh, Ophelia…” I say, giving the upset-looking girl a gentle hug. “Never thought I of all people would be saying this, but- welcome to being a girl, heh.”

“Let’s face the truth,” Ophelia says. “You are far more of a ‘normal’ girl than I am.”

“And yet, we’re both dressed the same?” I retort, making Ophelia smile.

“Only because I helped to design the dresses,” Ophelia says.

“Still, though,” I say. “I know this may sound weird, but- but I never kinda, you know, thought of you as, like, ‘needy’.”

“Even despite my fondness for our washing machine?” Ophelia asks, smirking as the mental image causes me to shudder.

“Because of that, if anything,” I reply. “There’s a big difference between emotional needs and physical needs… Some people just view sex as a necessary evil when it comes to relationships, they’re only interested in the whole partnership side of things, some people just like the physical side of thing and just view the other person as a necessary evil. And some… Well, a lot of us want both.”

“My sisters’ only emotional needs are for sex and alcohol,” Ophelia snorts. “Which are not very emotional.”

“Not really, no,” I reply. “Then again, it’s not like I’d want to go without either for very long…”

“You are not obsessed with either,” Ophelia says.

“I’m kinda obsessed with sex,” I say.

“…So does that mean that your desire for a ‘Prince Charming’ is more to do with physical needs than emotional needs?” Ophelia asks, making me sigh.

“As I implied, it’s to do with both,” I say.

“But which is more important?” Ophelia asks.

“…One of them,” I sigh. “I’m sure I’ll figure out which one eventually.”

“Another question that might help is: what was the most important aspect of your transition?” Ophelia asks, making me pause. It’s a question I’ve been asked many times before by my counsellor, and one I’ve thought about a lot in the past. Am I more concerned about how I look, or how I feel? Am I more concerned about how I come across to strangers, or to people I know, or even to myself? In the end, there was only one answer I could think of.

“…All of it,” I reply with a smile. “Literally every last bit was vital.”

“So you want ‘Prince Charming’ to be perfect in every way?” Ophelia asks.

“I know I’m probably going to be waiting a while,” I sigh.

“As am I,” Ophelia says, earning another gentle hug from me. “Though I doubt I will ever find a partner I love romantically as much as I love you as a friend.”

“Aww,” I sigh, blinking back tears as I tighten my hug. “…We’ve still got that pact, haven’t we?”

“To marry each other if we should still be single when we are both thirty?” Ophelia asks. “It is looking very appealing. But only from an ‘emotional needs’ point of view and not a ‘physical’ needs one.”

“Good, I don’t want to have sex with you either,” I say, making Ophelia giggle as we continue to watch our newly-married friends dance.

The celebrations last until long after sunset, and as the summer solstice was three days ago, that means that by the time I finally climb into my taxi home, I’ve been in my bridesmaid’s dress for over sixteen hours- though I’m not exactly in a rush to remove the gorgeous gown!

“I am going to miss wearing this,” I say as I adjust my cleavage one last time.

“There is no reason that you can’t wear it as part of your everyday ensemble,” Ophelia says.

“Umm- yeah, there kinda is,” I reply.

“Not necessarily so,” Ophelia says. “In the 1940s, brides would often alter and reuse their wedding dresses in their everyday lives.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Really,” Ophelia replies. “Of course, that did coincide with World War II and rationing.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “How do you know that, anyway?”

“Remind me again what topic I am studying at university?” Ophelia asks, making me giggle and roll my eyes.

“Okay, okay,” I say. “So… You going to alter and reuse your bridesmaid’s dress for everyday use?”

“Absolutely not,” Ophelia replies with a smirk. “I intend to treasure this dress for the rest of my life.”

“Me too,” I sigh happily.

We arrive home shortly afterward and Ophelia immediately changes out of her dress and heads to bed, while I stay awake a little longer, looking over the vast number of photos that have already been uploaded to Facebook. Naturally, the vast majority of the pictures are of Sarah and Nikki, though there are a few of the rest of the guests too, and some of the bridesmaids- and I have to grin at the fact that every picture of me looks like every picture of every bridesmaid ever taken at a wedding. Even though I’ve been transitioning for almost three years, I still have moments when I feel as though I stick out like a sore thumb, and I had several moments like that at the wedding, despite the fact that 2 of Nikki’s other 3 bridesmaids were also transgendered, and so, obviously, was the bride. I needn’t have felt that, of course- the wedding was probably the most trans-friendly place in the entire country, but it’s not until seeing the photos that I feel 100% confident that I had nothing to be worried about. Yesterday, I was girliness personified- the fact that everyone else was too doesn’t take anything away from that fact.

“Are you nervous?” Dad asks as I place my hand in the crook of his arm.

“A little,” I reply.

“There’s no need to be,” dad says softly. “Everything will go perfectly, just you wait and see.” I smile and nod as the door to the church opens and everyone inside stands and turns to face me in my crisp white wedding gown. Wagner's bridal chorus starts to blare from the church organ and I slowly walk down the aisle, smiling at everyone present, before looking up toward the altar, where Ophelia is waiting for me…

“Ah!” I yelp as I wake up with a start. Thanks to the champagne I drank yesterday, it takes me a while to regain my bearings and realise that I’m in my bedroom in my flat, and the church- and Ophelia standing at the altar- was just a dream. “Ugh, don’t tell me THAT’s going to be a regular thing now…” I let out a small moan of pain- again, thanks to the alcohol I consumed yesterday- before grabbing my phone and sighing at what it says on the screen- 5:47am. I’ve been asleep for less than four hours. Naturally, I find this frustrating, but what’s much more frustrating is that when I roll over, I’m alone in my bed. Right now, Sarah and Nikki are cuddled up in bed together, sharing their first night as a married couple. Lauren’s cuddled up next to her boyfriend, Jamie with her husband, Becky with her girlfriend, while I am, once again, alone. Sure, I’ve had a lot of fun ‘looking’, but that quickly stops being fun when you’re not ‘finding’.

I let out a sigh as I roll over and try to get back to sleep, though my dream (and the fact that it’s already broad daylight outside) means that it’s an almost impossible task, and with a heavy sigh, I roll out of bed just before 7:30am and head through to the shower. The hot water helps to wash away my stress initially, though thanks to my dream, I still flinch when I hear my BFF knock on the bathroom door.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” I yell.

“I have been awake for a while,” Ophelia replies. “Would you like me to make breakfast?” Like an old married couple… I think to myself with a roll of my eyes.

“Please,” I reply.

“And try not to use all the hot water!” Ophelia teases.

“Really?” I retort. “After what we were talking about yesterday, a cold shower will probably do you good!”

“I wonder what will happen if I turn on every tap in the kitchen?” Ophelia asks, causing me a brief moment of panic.

“Okay, okay!” I yell, rinsing the conditioner out of my hair and turning off the shower. “All yours!”

“After breakfast,” Ophelia says, smiling as I emerge from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my torso and another wrapped around my long brown hair. “Are you planning on wearing that to lunch with our friends?”

“I’m not THAT desperate yet,” I reply, making Ophelia giggle. “When are we meeting up again?”

“Sarah said 12:30,” Ophelia answers. “It is such a shame that they couldn’t go on their honeymoon immediately.”

“I don’t think they would’ve even if Nikki hadn’t had her passport confiscated,” I say. “They want to share their happiness with us as much as possible.”

“You can never have too many friends,” Ophelia says with a smile. “They do genuinely believe that, yes.”

“Not sure whether or not I’d forego a honeymoon like that,” I muse. “On the one hand, yes, I’d want to spend time alone with ‘Prince Charming’, on a beach somewhere, watching the sun rise together… But at the same time- well, you know…”

“Umm, I’m not sure that I do…” Ophelia says, making me sigh.

“…I’d feel guilty leaving my maid of honour all alone by herself,” I say, making my fuchsia-haired BFF smirk.

“You should feel absolutely no guilt about that,” Ophelia says softly. “Do I not have many friends as well?”

“Well- yes, but-“ I try to argue.

“No buts,” Ophelia says with a smug grin. “And besides… There is always the possibility that you and I might go on honeymoon together!” Yeah, THAT’s a dream I’m looking forward to… I sarcastically think to myself.

“Somehow, I doubt it,” I retort.

“Your doubts would be more convincing if you and I were dressed in more than pyjamas and a towel,” Ophelia says, giggling as I roll my eyes, finish my breakfast and head to my room.

“Hint taken,” I say, intensifying my BFF’s giggle.

I emerge from my bedroom a short while later dressed in one of my favourite ‘summer ensembles’. Instead of a normal top, I’m wearing a blue, pink and white striped swimsuit that Ophelia ‘customised’ for me with a snap crotch to make it more like a bodysuit, but one made of a much cooler, more breathable fabric and which offers more than adequate ‘support’. On top of the swimsuit, I’m wearing a loose, short-sleeved blouse with a floral print, and my legs (well, a tiny bit of them anyway) are covered by a skin-tight black lycra miniskirt and a pair of cute skin-coloured flats.

Naturally, Ophelia’s look is very different from my own. Her usual dresses have been boxed up while the weather’s warm, but her summer apparel is no less ‘unique’. Her dress is ankle-length, has a high slit up one side and flared bell sleeves and appears to be made of a loose, see-through mesh material. Underneath the dress (or possibly even built into it, knowing Ophelia) is a tight black bodysuit and, of course, a tight-laced corset and a pair of stiletto-heeled sandals.

“…LOVE that dress,” I say to my BFF, who giggles and does a twirl, which causes the mesh skirt to billow outwards. “It’s a bit more… Daring than your usual summer clothes.”

“Why should I conceal a figure that I have worked hard to make look good?” Ophelia asks, before looking at my bare legs and smirking. “I see that you have had the same idea.”

“Might be another reason why I’ve got my legs out today,” I say with an embarrassed giggle. “And not just the heat, heh.”

“You wish for them to be seen, then?” Ophelia asks.

“Depends on what the eyes seeing them are attached to,” I reply. “Okay, yes… After yesterday, I- I’m kinda feeling ‘needy’. Emotionally AND physically. Almost tempted to give Simon a call…”

“Even though you are the one who ended the relationship?” Ophelia asks.

“Hence why I’m only #tempted’,” I say, before letting out a heavy sigh. “Come on, don’t want to keep the bride and bride waiting!” Ophelia smiles as she follows me out of our flat and to the nearby tube station.

A few minutes later, we walk through the front door of the posh coffee shop where we’ve arranged to meet our friends, and are immediately met with wolf whistles from a table of boys wearing football shirts. My first instinct is to roll my eyes and cringe at the unapologetically masculine behaviour, and I make sure that the boys see the look of utter disapproval on my face. On the inside, however, a part of me actually feels proud that they’re are paying this much attention to me. I highly doubt they’d be as interested in me if they saw me from the waist down, though…

“Hey girlies!” Sarah and Nikki say, giving us both hugs as we arrive.

“Hey you two!” I giggle. “So… How was your first 24 hours of married life?”

“Perfect,” Nikki replies, gazing dreamily at the new ring on her left hand. “Everything I- literally- dreamed of and more.”

“I’m just sorry that our first post-wedding outing is to a zoo,” Sarah spits, gazing over at the still-rowdy boys. “You should’ve heard them when we walked in holding hands.”

“If only they knew about me, eh?” Nikki asks with a devilish smirk.

“If only they knew about me,” I retort with a giggle. “Or realised that my swimsuit’s got the transgender pride flag colours on it!”

“Yeah… Doubt they’d ever get that reference, heh,” Nikki giggles. “Still though, proof that I’m with the RIGHT gender. For both myself and my soulmate, hehe!”

“So cute,” I sigh. “When are Katie and Lauren getting here? Should we text them to warn them?”

“Already done,” Sarah replies. “I did text you two as well but you only got here a few minutes after us so you probably haven’t been able to read it.”

“…Yep,” I say, giggling at the text of the message. “’More hair on their knuckles than we have on our heads combined’?”

“Am I wrong?” Sarah asks, giggling at our approving smiles. “Anyway, that’s enough of BOYS for today. Ophelia, you NEED to tell me how you made that dress! It looks just gorgeous, hehe!”

“Thank you,” Ophelia replies with a smug grin as she gestures to her see-through bell sleeves. “It was a design I had in mind last year and made over the winter. I would be happy to share the pattern with you, if you would like?”

“Please,” Sarah says. “I know someone who would look GORGEOUS in that.” Ophelia and I both giggle as Sarah’s new wife pouts and rests her head on her shoulder. “…Yes, as well as you. I’ve got plenty of mesh fabric left and I’m sure I can source a couple of black leotards easily enough.”

“Can you source three black leotards?” I ask with a pout.

“Get your own fashion designer,” Nikki says with a smug grin. “Oh, wait- you have!”

“I shall make you one when I have the materials and the time,” Ophelia says, making me giggle, before all four of our faces fall as volume of the boys’ table increases again.

“Hi Katie, Hi Lauren,” I say without even turning around.

“Hi girlies!” Katie says with a tired chuckle. “How’d you like our new backing band?”

“About as much as when they ‘backed’ us,” Sarah sighs. “Reckon we should get one drink here then head somewhere else for lunch.”

“Sounds good,” I say, before letting out a long sigh. “I’ll go and get them in.”

“You’re sure?” Sarah asks.

“I’m the largest of the six of us,” I explain. “Any of them try anything, my knee will hurt more when- well, I’m sure you know, hehe!”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Nikki says. “Second largest, heh. Everyone getting their usual, right?”

“Please,” Lauren says with a sigh as Nikki and I head to the counter- which, naturally, is just a few feet away from the rowdy boys.

“Hello ladies!” One of the boys yells, making me and Nikki blush- but not as much as the poor barista, who looks utterly sick of dealing with the apes.

“Hi girls,” the barista- whose nametag reads ‘Saffron’- says. “What can I get you?” I smile sympathetically as Nikki gives our order to the young women, before sighing loudly as another wolf whistle comes from the table immediately to our right.

“Why, exactly, are they still in here?” I ask quietly. “You’ve got to be losing customers because of them.”

“The six of us being some of them once we’ve had this drink,” Nikki sighs. “No offence.”

“None taken,” Saffron says with a tired smile. “They’re friends of the deputy manager and they’re going out for lunch so they should be gone in a few minutes anyway. I hope. I’m sorry if they’ve caused too much of a disturbance.”

“Trust me, YOU don’t need to apologise,” Nikki snorts. “Hell of a reality check after yesterday, heh!”

“Oh?” Saffron asks. “What happened yesterday?”

“Oh, just got married!” Nikki giggles, showing off her new ring.

“Oh my god, congratulations!” Saffron says. “Hey- wait, wait a second, are- are you Nikki Thomas?”

“Somebody’s got a fan…” I tease the blushing newlywed.

“…Technically, I’m now Nikki Phillips-Thomas,” Nikki replies with a shy (but still smug) smile.

“Oh my god, I thought I knew your face!” Saffron gushes. “I’m a HUGE fan of the Angels, and Out of Heaven…”

“You must be if you recognise their PA on sight, heh!” Nikki giggles.

“Well… It helps that you were on all of the Angels’ Instagram feeds last night, hehe!” Saffron giggles, making Nikki squeak with excitement.

“Ah, once again, always the bridesmaid, never the bride,” I say with mock tiredness that makes the barista laugh sympathetically.

“It’s… Jacinta, right?” Saffron asks, making me smile smugly and nod. “You both did that interview for the Sunday Globe, didn’t you? Thought I recognised the swimsuit as well, hehe!”

“Yep!” I giggle as I remember back to the time in April when I got to hang out with old friends and make new friends as well. “Got the tattoo to prove it as well!” I smile as I lower one of my swimsuit straps to show off the tattoo on my shoulder, before frowning as this one simple gesture gets a VERY loud reaction from the boys’ table.

“Take it all off!” One of the boys yells. I have to fight every instinct in my body not to reply with a middle finger, as while that will make my feelings clear, it’ll only make things worse with the macho morons. It’s a pity, too- some of them aren’t bad looking, but they’d definitely be 100% ‘physical needs’ and 0% ‘emotional needs’.

“Again, I am SO sorry,” Saffron says.

“And again, you have nothing to apologise about,” Nikki says with a smirk. “You know, Joshua’s been looking at opening an Angel-branded coffee shop, I’d love to see them try to get away with this shit when he’s in the building!”

“Or any of the boys,” I chuckle. “Reckon Joshua would be interested in a CV from an obviously talented barista?” I let out a small giggle as Saffron finishes our drinks and hands them to us on a tray.

“I- I dunno,” Saffron chuckles. “Enjoy your drinks!”

“We will,” I say with a smile as I grab the tray and head back to our table. Before we’ve even got six feet, however, I tense up as I feel a strong, hairy arm wrap itself around my shoulders.

“Sure you want to go back to them, sweetheart?” The knuckle-dragger to whom the arm belongs asks in a cocky voice, making my skin crawl even more than it’s already doing.

“Hold this,” I say, passing the tray to Nikki, who’s already forcefully shrugged off the arm that was placed around her shoulders. I force a smile on my face as I turn around to face the young man. Ugh, I think to myself. Why did he have to be so good looking?

“So?” The Neanderthal asks as he grabs my hips. “What do you say?”

“…No,” I say, before leaning forward and kneeing the tall man in the groin as hard as my slender thighs will allow.

Three things happen immediately afterward, two of which come as a huge surprise to me. The first, least surprising thing is that the ‘man’ doubles over in pain. The second thing that happens is that everyone else in the coffee shop- who are presumably as fed up of the boys as we are- gives me a round applause. The third, most surprising thing of all, is that the caveman’s friends all immediately burst out into fits of laughter, laughter than only intensifies as he returns to his table.

“Should we tell him what that flag stands for?” Nikki asks me. As tempting as it is to humiliate him further, the idea of outing myself to the whole café isn’t an appealing one- especially as the knuckle-dragger may decide that I’m not a ‘real’ woman and therefore fair game for retaliation.

“…He’s been humiliated enough today,” I say with a smug smirk as I leave the wannabe Casanova to the merciless teasing from his friends and head back to my table, where all four of my friends instantly check to see that I’m alright. The contrast between the two tables is striking- the ‘men’ only care about getting their laughs and don’t care who gets embarrassed or even hurt, just as long as it amuses them. The women, though, don’t care about the entertainment. Even though I know they applauded what I did with my knee (and I’m sure Katie even gave me a ‘woo’), and after all the teasing we’ve given each other over the years, all they care about is whether or not Nikki and I are fine. I am SO on the right side of the gender divide.

“We’re fine,” I assure my friends.

“Might need a shower when we get home,” Nikki snorts, making us all giggle. All of us, along with everyone else in the café, breathe a sigh of relief a few seconds later when a man- presumably the deputy manager Saffron was talking about- emerges from the back room and ushers the rowdy group of boys out of the coffee shop (and earning another round of applause in the process).

“Thank. God,” Lauren sighs loudly. “We still going somewhere else?”

“And risk running into them again?” Nikki snorts. “Happy here now. Plus the barista’s a fan, so, you know…”

“And not just of Miss- sorry, MRS Phillips-Thomas!” I say with a smug grin.

“Ooh, look who’s got her own fan club all of a sudden!” Katie teases. “Maybe we should be taking photos of each other when we do our work experience this summer?”

“I do kinda like the idea that two single, straight women will be spending their summer holidays taking photographs of beautiful women,” Nikki teases as she sips her elaborate chilled drink.

“Hey, if it leads to a permanent job after I graduate, I don’t care if they’re NAKED, hehe!” Katie giggles. “Still a bit peeved you didn’t ask me to do the photos yesterday.”

“You were in half of them!” Sarah retorts.

“Yeah, but- you know…” Katie mumbles, before giggling at our friend’s teasing. “We gonna order food, then?”

“I could eat lunch,” Ophelia says. “I shall order them, seeing as you bought the drinks.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Sarah says. “You can give me a few pointers about that dress, hehe!”

“And you two can sit there and be waited on all afternoon,” Nikki teases Katie and Lauren, who respond with mock-offence.

“Shocked and appalled,” Lauren scoffs, before sighing as the front door of the coffee shop opens again. “Ugh, speaking of ‘appalled’…” I look behind me to the front door of the coffee shop, and my heart sinks when I see one of the group of boys re-entering the coffee shop- though it only takes me a second to realise that this boy is the one who emerged from the back room, the deputy manager that Saffron mentioned. Still, though, I can’t help but shudder as he approaches our table.

“Hi,” the deputy manager says in a voice much less obnoxious than his friends. “I hope my- my ‘acquaintances’ weren’t too disruptive just now.” No apology, I think to myself.

“We’ve had worse,” Nikki says. “We’ve had much better as well, though.”

“I am sorry that things were not as good as they could be today,” the young man says. Okay, I think to myself. It’s not an immediate apology, but it counts for something, I guess…

“If you could give us a discount on our lunches, we’ll forget about it,” Katie says with a devilish look in her eyes.

“…I’ll see what I can do,” the deputy manager says with a friendly smile. “I’m Lucas, by the way, Lucas Fielding.” I smile as the four of us introduce ourselves to the young man who, surprisingly, seems more interested in continuing to hang out with us than with his loud friends outside. Naturally, this immediately puts me on the defensive, and I can tell everyone else at the table feels this way.

“Think your friends are waiting for you,” Lauren says in a cold voice.

“They can wait,” Lucas shrugs as a charming smile spreads across his face and he gazes across at me. Despite myself, I feel my heart rate start to increase as he looks at me with very obvious interest in his eyes.

The most irritating thing by miles is that Lucas- and most of his friends, in fairness- aren’t bad-looking. They’re tall, muscular, they’re well-groomed and the caveman who wrapped his arm around me did actually smell nice- well, as nice as a boy can get when he’s spent hours in the company of other boys, anyway. If he was by himself, like Lucas is right now, I’d probably have been interested, as ashamed as that makes me feel. But the point is, it DOES make me feel ashamed. I’ve spent so long looking for ‘Prince Charming’ that I’m seeing potential candidates everywhere- even in someone like Lucas, who is clearly more ‘Gaston’ than ‘Charming’.

Obviously, when he’s with his friends, he’ll act differently than he does now, and I suppose I can’t blame him for that- I’m sure that when Simon and Lauren’s boyfriend hang out together, they’re different people than they would be around me or Lauren, and in a way, I suppose Lauren and I are different together than we would be around them, whether we’re consciously aware of it or not. The difference, of course, is what I’ve already observed- when Simon and Michael get together, they don’t act like the kind of Neanderthals that Lucas inevitably does when he’s with his friends, in much the same way that my friends don’t behave like, to use an example, Ophelia’s sisters. Who would inevitably have already got off with at least one of the cavemen if they’d been here today.

“I’m happy to, you know, make it up to in other ways as well,” Lucas says with a smirk as he addresses me specifically. “Saffron tells me that you got the worst of those idiots’ behaviour, right?”

“Yes,” I say confidently. “And no, no I don’t.”

“Don’t… What?” Lucas asks.

“Want to go out with you,” I say, making my friends snigger.

“That’s not what I was going to ask,” Lucas says defensively.

“Sure it’s not,” Katie says, giggling as Lucas’s cheeks start to turn red. “How about that discount, then?”

“I’ll, umm, I’ll go and sort it…” Lucas mumbles as he leaves the table, where the six of us (Sarah and Ophelia having caught the end of the conversation) burst into a fit of giggles.

“You go, girl!” Lauren cheers.

“Gotta admit,” Katie says, “part of me was worried you’d actually take him up on his offer…”

“Yeah,” Lauren agrees. “I mean, he’s not bad-looking…”

“No matter how much you polish a turd, it’s still a turd,” I say with a smug grin. “And I’m not THAT desperate.”

“Never said you were desperate at all,” Lauren insists.

“…Okay,” I sigh. “Maybe I AM a LITTLE desperate. And still missing Simon a bit. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to wolf down a Big Mac because I’m craving steaks. And… It’s kinda nice to know that a guy’s interested in you, you know? Saying ‘no’ can be just as fun as saying ‘yes’, hehe!”

“Hell yes it can!” Lauren giggles.

“Says the woman who’s been with her boyfriend how long?” Katie asks, giggling as the curvy girl responds with an unladylike raspberry.

“My boyfriend who’s way more evolved than those losers,” Lauren snorts.

“My wife who’s infinitely more perfect than anyone else!” Sarah interjects, making Nikki giggle as she gives her a tight hug.

“Ah, of course!” I giggle. “Sorry if I kinda overshadowed your not-quite-big-but-still-important day, heh.”

“YOU don’t need to apologise!” Nikki insists. “Just like Saffron didn’t. It’s not your fault that you’re a hot, sexy woman, is it?”

“…Maybe I should tell Saffron to tell him exactly ‘what’ he was flirting with when he gets back,” I reply, triggering another mass giggle. “And I guess it IS kinda my, you know, ‘fault’…”

“Trust me, it isn’t your ‘fault’,” Nikki says. “Fault means, you know, ‘blame’, and you deserve to be praised for being the hot, sexy woman you are!”

“Make your new wife jealous, why not?” Sarah pouts.

“Aww,” Nikki sighs, placating her wife with a gentle kiss. “You know you’re the only girl I love!”

“Make ME jealous, why not?” I ask, making Nikki blush. “I’m kidding… I’m happy for you two. I really am. Just because you’re married now, doesn’t mean I need to jump the first guy I see, right?”

“Absolutely,” Sarah says. “Same goes for you two as well!”

“I’m in no rush,” Katie says with a smug grin.

“I am not even moving at all,” Ophelia says with a smirk. “If I have a soul mate, I am sure that I will find him just as you two have found each other.”

“You have and you will,” Nikki says with a supportive smile. “You all will. Those of us that haven’t already, anyway!” Katie, Lauren, Ophelia and I all let out a happy sigh as the newlyweds exchange yet another loving kiss with each other. I don’t have anyone to kiss at the moment, but that doesn’t mean I never will, and it’s better to wait for the right man than settle for the wrong one. And I CAN wait. For now, anyway…

“This is DEFINITELY one of my favourite times of year, hehe!” I giggle as I paint a thin horizontal red stripe onto my friend’s cheek.

“What, autumn?” Sarah replies with a snort of laughter. “Everything getting colder, it raining constantly, going through, like, fifty pairs of tights every week?”

“…Okay, THAT isn’t much fun,” I concede as I carefully paint an orange stripe underneath Sarah’s red stripe. “I am, as you damn well know, referring to Freshers’ Week!”

“…Yeah, I know!” Sarah squeaks excitedly, trying not to fidget as I finish painting the rainbow flag on her cheek before grabbing three small pots of white, pink and light blue paint and painting the transgender pride flag on my cheeks. “Ahh… Kinda hard to believe, you know, this’ll be our last year here. Feels like it was only a few weeks ago that we started, heh!”

“Yeah,” I chuckle, even though I don’t exactly share my friend’s sentiment.

I can see why she’d think that way, though- she’s acing her course, she’s the secretary of the college’s LGBT society, active within the wider student union as well, has a sizeable trust fund heading her way in two months for her 21st birthday (in addition to the one she received on her 18th), has her own considerable social media following and, last but not least, is happily married. Meanwhile, over the last two years, I’ve just about scraped a 2:1 in my degree, I’ve risen to the high rank of ‘junior gopher’ in the LGBT society, I’m lucky if my bank balance has over £100 in it, I’ve just barely scraped 3500 followers on Instagram and, last but not least, I am still without my ‘Prince Charming’.

It’s been several months since I split from Simon, and I’ve been on dates since then- and been hit on by the occasional Cro-Magnon while out clubbing or with friends- but the ‘Princes’ have been decidedly ‘Un-Charming’. From the BOY who wore an Arsenal shirt on our first date to the one who spent the whole time talking about how much money he makes trading Pokémon cards on eBay, all of the men I’ve dated have been as lame as it’s possible to get, meaning the only thing I’ve been sharing my bed with over the last few months has been my laptop, and even then it’s only been while I was finishing off coursework.

Fortunately, while I’ve been alone in bed, I’ve never been alone anywhere else. Sure, the company isn’t cute and male, but my five best friends are much, much more than just ‘better than nothing’. Even though Sarah and Nikki are now married, they’re not shutting the rest of us out, if anything, they’re spending more time socialising with the rest of us. Admittedly, the fact that Nikki’s not able to travel internationally for the next few months might help a bit there. Katie and Lauren still can, though, and did go on holiday over the summer with their lumps of man flesh, but when they returned, they seemed to spend as much time as part of the ‘super six’ as they did with their boyfriends, even though we hadn’t yet gone back to university. Admittedly, the fact that we ‘super six’ are close friends with a group of national celebrities and regularly attend their private parties might help a bit there.

However, the most love and support I’ve received over the last few months has, of course, come from someone who has a passport, but chooses not to use it, is as close to the Angels as I am, but chooses not to capitalise on it, and is just as single as I am, but by choice. Over the summer, Ophelia and I grew closer than we’ve ever been- which is an impressive feat, considering that neither of us had any other friends while we were living in Brighton and we’re practically sisters as it is anyway. But we now spend virtually every free second together either watching TV, helping each other with coursework, on shopping trips… The only times we’re apart are when we’re in bed (and that’s only due to us staying in the same 2 bedroom flat we rented last year) or, like today, engaged in university activities. As Ophelia isn’t L, G, B or T- and neither are Katie or Lauren (and Nikki of course doesn’t attend university)- it’s just me and Sarah representing the ‘S6’ today- well, on this side of the booth, anyway! Though that’s not to say that I’m not representing my own ‘personal interests’- something that doesn’t go unnoticed by my friend.

“Hey!” Sarah says, snapping her fingers in front of my face after she finishes ‘decorating’ my face. “Earth to Jacinta! It’s show time… Unless, of course, you’d rather keep ogling the fit male freshers out of the corner of your eye?”

“I think you- and, to be fair, everybody else- knows the answer to THAT,” I reply, making my friend giggle as we head back to the front of our ‘booth’, where we’re already attracting a lot of attention.

We spend the next hour or so fielding questions about the LGBT society from eager eighteen year olds- many of which were the same questions Sarah and I had asked two years ago when we were on the other side of the table. Thanks to our outgoing and friendly approach to our task, we have several potential new members of the society ready to sign up, and both of us have very proud smiles on our faces as we meet up with our classmates- and, in one person’s case, wife- for lunch.

“Hey girlies!” Sarah squeaks as she sits down next to Nikki and I lower myself into the seat next to Ophelia.

“Hello, madame secretary!” Lauren teases, making Sarah roll her eyes and sigh in an overdramatic way.

“Stop that,” Sarah mumbles as she barely suppresses a giggle.

“What?” Lauren asks. “Not like I’m wrong, am I? You ARE a secretary, and your title- in French, anyway- IS ‘madame’!” The six of us all giggle excitedly as the two Mrs. Phillips-Thomases link their hands, showing off the delicate gold bands on their ring fingers.

“…Yeah, alright, don’t stop!” Sarah giggles excitedly.

“Bet that’s not the first time Nikki’s heard THAT today!” Katie says with a sly grin.

“Enough!” Nikki protests, though she noticeably doesn’t release her wife’s hand. “Got many newbies signed up to the society?”

“A few,” Sarah replies. “Really just, you know, nibbles at this point.”

“Any, you know…” Nikki asks hesitantly. “’Special’ girls? Like us?”

“You mean ‘extra-girly, awesomely angelic girls’?” I ask, pointing to myself and Nikki before sighing and shaking my head. “Not yet. That’s not to say we won’t do, though. You know that not all girls ‘like us’ are lucky enough to start transitioning in their teens.”

“Hoping to encourage a few girls ‘like you’ to ‘embrace the woman inside’ this year?” Lauren asks.

“Uh- hell yes I am!” I reply, earning a mass giggle from the girls.

“Jacinta kinda has other priorities first, though!” Sarah teases, making me blush. “Namely someone with the surname ‘Charming’ who just happens to be the son of a king…”

“You reckon you’ll find Prince Charming in the freshers?” Katie asks sceptically.

“…Well I haven’t found him in any other year, have I?” I sigh, making my friends frown. “…Sorry.”

“Nah, you’re okay,” Katie sighs. “Can hardly blame you or anyone else for wanting to cuddle up to a nice chunk of man flesh.”

“You two can cover each other’s ears,” Lauren says to Sarah and Nikki, making them giggle and roll their eyes.

“And if I’m going to find Prince Charming at uni, I’ve only got one year left to go…” I say, biting my lip as the mood at the table suddenly lowers.

“…I dunno about you girls, but I’m really not looking forward to the ‘real world’,” Lauren sighs.

“You spent the whole summer interning for one of the biggest fashion houses in London and loved every second of it,” Katie reminds her BFF.

“And you and Jacinta spent the summer interning for Heavenly bloody Talent!” Lauren retorts.

“Yes, exactly, your point?” Katie asks.

“I think I get it,” Nikki says softly. “It’s this-“ Nikki smiles sadly as she points to the six of us- “that you’ll miss, right? I know I did when I dropped out of college.”

“And with some of us staying on to do postgrad and some of us going into work,” Sarah sighs, “it might not be as easy for the six of us to meet up during the day, even if it is just for lunch.”

“Then we must enjoy this last year all the more,” Ophelia says firmly. “And we must make sure that for as long as we can, we make time for each other at least once every week, not including Friday or Saturday nights.”

“Hear hear!” Lauren cheers.

“And that still applies even if SOME people do spend all of the rest of their time hanging with- or hanging off- their ‘Prince Charming’!” Katie says, making me giggle and roll my eyes.

“Yes, yes, okay then,” I say. “But I agree- we are TOTALLY friends for life. Right?”

“Right!” The other girls all cheer, attracting funny looks from nearby tables before they realise just who it is making the noise and shrug it off.

Naturally, there are more cheers and more noise from the six of us before lunch comes to an end and Sarah and I return to our ‘booth’. We’re only in charge for about another half an hour, though, before David (the society’s vice-chairperson) arrives to take over from us (and, of course, demand the same cheek ‘art’ as Sarah), freeing us to have a look around the rest of the university’s societies’ booths. Or, rather, freeing me to look at the attractive young men looking at the rest of the university’s societies’ booths!

“Sooo…” Sarah teases, barely suppressing a giggle. “Any of these ‘princes’ look ‘charming’?”

“Depends on how you define ‘charming’,” I reply, making the shorter girl giggle. “I hope Nikki knows how lucky she is, having you.”

“I try to make sure she does on a regular basis, yes,” Sarah replies with a smirk. “Any reason in particular?”

“…I suppose the ‘lucky’ thing could apply to both of you,” I say, smiling as Sarah nods. “You two will never have to, you know, start another relationship again.”

“Huh,” Sarah muses. “Never really thought of it that way, I guess we wouldn’t do. Isn’t the start of a relationship the most exciting time, though?”

“It is and it isn’t,” I reply. “Yes, you’re excited about the potential the relationship can have, but you’re also worried that he might end up being, I dunno, a football hooligan, a nose-picker… Or a transphobe.”

“Ah, yeah,” Sarah grimaces.

“No sense in wondering if someone might be ‘Prince Charming’ if they refuse to acknowledge that you’re a princess,” I shrug.

“Have you talked to my mum about this?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah,” I sigh as I remember my infrequent visits to Sarah’s mother, who just happens to be a very highly qualified gender identity counsellor. “Not much she can do, not much she can tell me that I don’t already know after five years of desperation, heh.”

“She’s a smart woman,” Sarah shrugs. “Okay, it’s not like she’s a human Tinder, but relationships are a big part of what she does. I know Stuart and Jamie speak very highly of-“ I frown with confusion as my friend suddenly stops talking and gazes over to a far corner of the room.

“…Sarah?” I ask, startling her by snapping my fingers in front of her face. “Earth to Sarah?”

“Huh?” Sarah asks, shaking her head as she looks at me. “Look over at the corner of the room, near the doors to the computer lab.”

“Umm… Okay,” I say. “What am I looking for? You haven’t actually found me a hot guy, have you? Because I-“ I immediately stop talking and my jaw drops as I scan the far corner of the room and my eyes fall on what- or rather, who- Sarah was undoubtedly looking at.

How I didn’t immediately spot him is beyond me- though in fairness, he’s not the sort of guy I’d typically pay too much attention to. He’s tall- clearly over six feet- but extremely skinny, almost painfully so. He has very pronounced features- high cheekbones, a dimpled chin and an almost feminine jawline, but that’s not what stands out about him the most. The first thing I notice is his hair. It’s a silvery white, the same colour as fresh snow, and obviously not his natural hair colour (he barely looks eighteen years old).

The second thing I notice about the young man is his dress sense. Most of the boys here today are wearing very casual clothing, jeans, t-shirts, a few are wearing smarter designer shirts (we are a fashion college, after all). This boy, however, is dressed very differently. Smart black trousers, a high-collared shirt with an Ascot tie, a long-tailed jacket and shiny black shoes make him look like a character from a Charles Dickens novel, rather than a young man attending university in the 21st century. He stands out like a sore thumb… And immediately brings one other person to mind, undoubtedly the same person Sarah was thinking of when she spotted the distinctive young man.

When I arrived at college today, I took pride in the fact that I was virtually indistinguishable from any of the other girls in my tight turtleneck sweater, my short, clingy grey skirt, my shiny black tights and my low wedge shoes. Most of my friends have opted to ‘blend in’ too- Sarah in her clingy bodysuit and longer skirt, Katie in her trademark denim shorts and brown tights and Lauren in her low-cut top and knee-length denim skirt. One of my friends, however, has made the conscious effort to not blend in- and it shouldn’t be hard to guess who.

Today, Ophelia- with her fuchsia and gold-coloured hair- has come to university in a floor-length, figure hugging dark green dress with long lace sleeves and a low-cut bodice. On her legs are a pair of very intricately-patterned lace tights, on her feet are platform shoes with a 6” stiletto heel and, of course, around her waist is a corset that’s been laced excruciatingly tight. When combined with her extra-thick make-up and her inch-and-a-half long nails, Ophelia is easily the most individual person I or anyone else has ever seen… Until now.

“…We have GOT to introduce Ophelia to him,” I say, smirking as Sarah giggles and nods in agreement.

The two of us decide to play it casual with the snowy-haired fresher, not approaching directly but meandering in his general direction until we’re within a few feet of him. The first thing we notice is the young man’s smell- unlike most men, who go around in a fog of Lynx deodorant, this man smells fragrant, almost feminine, overpowering even mine & Sarah’s perfume. And again, this just reminds me of my BFF- one thing that can’t come across well in print is how someone smells. Possibly because she grew up in a house where the air is at best foul and at worst toxic, Ophelia has always doused herself in a cloud of very sweet-smelling, very distinctive perfume that can actually make people’s eyes water if they’re unaccustomed to the smell. Something tells me that this won’t be a problem for this young man, though…

“Umm- umm, excuse me?” I ask, attracting the attention of the white-haired young man, who gazes at me with a vaguely disinterested stare.

“Hmm?” The young man replies in a very obviously affected upper-class voice- another thing that reminds me of my BFF. “Yes, may I help you?”

“Hi…” I say nervously. “I- I’m Jacinta, Jacinta Hanley, this is my friend Sarah Phillips-Thomas, we- we’re, umm…”

“We’re on the committee of the college’s LGBT society,” Sarah explains.

“Oh,” the young man says. “Then I am afraid I must disappoint you. Whilst I will happily support and indeed encourage the rights of those who happen to be LGBT, I myself do not feel attraction toward people of the same gender, nor do I wish to change my gender.”

“Oh- that- that’s okay,” I stammer. “It’s just, umm…”

“Oh- my apologies,” the young man interrupts. “I have not properly introduced myself. My name is Telemachus Charlemagne Percival. I am enrolled on the history of fashion bachelor of arts course.” He just gets more and more perfect… I think to myself.

“It- it’s nice to meet you, Telemachus!” I say, shaking the man’s hand only to giggle when he gently kisses the back of my hand. “Son of- son of Odysseus, right?”

“You know your Greek mythology?” Telemachus asks.

“Well, I was kinda, you know, named after the leader of the Argonauts…” I mumble. “When I was born, like… My dad’s a bit of a mythology buff.”

“Oh, I see,” Telemachus says, his eyes widening as he gazes intently at my body. “So you are… You are a very beautiful woman, Jacinta.”

“Thanks,” I giggle as my cheeks start to flush- which comes to an abrupt end when I feel one of Sarah’s slender elbows jab into my ribs.

“There’s someone we’d like you to meet,” Sarah says, casting a brief, angry glare in my direction.

“Oh,” Telemachus says, his smile slowly falling. “My apologies, but I am not seeking a relationship at this time.”

“Oh,” I say, my face slowly falling. “Umm… Okay, then…”

“If you will excuse me,” Telemachus says politely. “I now need to register with the library. Good day, ladies.”

“Okay… Bye, then?” I say, waving as the white-haired boy leaves, only to yelp in pain as Sarah gives me another, sharper elbow in my ribs. “Ow! Again! What was that for?”

“Try to remember why we were talking to him in the first place?” Sarah sighs. “He was absolutely PERFECT and you were flirting with him!”

“I was not!” I protest. “…Okay, maybe a little, I can’t help it! I see a cute guy, I flirt with him, even if I am sizing him up for my best friend- which I hadn’t forgotten, thank you very much!”

“Well- he’s gone now,” Sarah sighs. “Should we tell Ophelia? Obviously not that we blew it, but-“

“We haven’t ‘blown it’, not by a long shot,” I say confidently.

“Umm… He’s gone,” Sarah points out.

“Oh, my dear, sweet Sarah,” I say with a playful sigh as my friend rolls her eyes. “Not got much experience at chasing boys, have you?”

“Funnily enough, no,” Sarah retorts, pointing at her flag-adorned cheek with the finger that bears her wedding ring.

“Well lucky for you, I have enough experience for both of us,” I say. “Probably enough experience for everyone in this room, heh. We just need to, you know, find a way to set them up.”

“…And we do know where he’ll be at any given time, because we know what year he’s in and what course he’s on,” Sarah says.

“Now you’re getting it!” I giggle. "Ah, they will be SO cute together..."

"Assuming, of course, that they'll even like each other," Sarah says. "You heard what Telemachus said, not seeking a relationship, and that's been Ophelia's default stance for the last 2 years..."

"How can they not like each other?" I ask. "I mean- come on!"

"I dunno," Sarah says. "Maybe they're a little TOO similar."

"Well all we can do is introduce them and let biology do its thing," I say. "I've known Ophelia for four years and been her BFF for that long too. I owe her this much."

"Okay, I guess," Sarah shrugs. “I guess there's no harm in introducing them, but… Should we tell her in advance? She’s not exactly the sort of person who’d want to be, you know, ‘set up’…”

“Exactly,” I say. “If we say ‘hey O, check this guy out’ she’ll run a mile. We need to make her think it’s her idea.”

“And Telemachus?” Sarah asks. “He’s so similar to Ophelia, he’ll probably see us setting him up and run a mile too.”

“Ah,” I say with a smug, knowing smile. “There’s one significant difference between the two of them.”

“…Which is?” Sarah asks.

“Telemachus is a BOY,” I answer. “Need I say more?”

“Nope!” Sarah giggles. “And as he’s a BOY, I feel I need to say: hands off.”

“Yes, yes,” I say with a playful sigh as we check out the rest of the university’s societies’ booths, before heading back to our respective homes.

When I arrive home, I’m unsurprised to find that Ophelia is already at home leafing through her course’s reading material, and despite myself, I let out a small giggle at how oblivious she is to the fact that she very nearly met her own ‘Prince Charming’ earlier today- and still might in a few days’ time.

“Good evening, Jacinta,” Ophelia says, barely tearing her attention away from her work. “I take it that you had a productive afternoon?”

“Hmm?” I ask as I head to the kitchen to prepare dinner. “Oh, umm, yeah, went great! Signed up a couple of new folks to the society made, umm, made a few, hehe, made a few new friends!”

“…What is his name?” Ophelia asks with a tired sigh.

“Not THAT kind of friend!” I reply. Not yet, anyway… I think to myself.

“I shall believe it when I DON’T see it,” Ophelia says, smirking as I roll my eyes. “What shall we eat tonight?”

“Spag bol work for you?” I ask my BFF, who nods in agreement. “Could light a few candles, make it a romantic night in…”

“There are still nine years before our pact needs to be enforced,” Ophelia retorts. “Even though I find it highly unlikely that you will remain unmarried by the time of your thirtieth birthday.”

“D’aww!” I coo. “Feeling, you know, a bit less optimistic about yourself, then?”

“I have no desire to be married, you know that,” Ophelia says bluntly.

“…Fair enough,” I shrug, opting to drop the topic rather than teasing my BFF further. She’s not stupid- I don’t want to drop TOO many hints, after all…

The topic of men stays off the table (as do any candles) for the duration of the dinner, and with both of us immersing ourselves in our books, there isn’t much opportunity to talk about anything for the rest of the night- though I do manage to sneak a few Facebook messages to Sarah, agreeing to talk tomorrow about our plan.

The following morning, I maintain my silence as Ophelia and I head into university for the first ‘proper’ day of the new academic year, though I struggle to completely disguise my excitement over the ‘plan’- as proved when Katie and I head to the computer labs after our first lecture of the year.

“Spill,” the freckled girl says with a loud, overdramatic sigh.

“Spill what?” I retort, feigning ignorance.

“For starters, what’s his name?” Katie asks, chuckling as I roll my eyes.

“’His’ name…” I say, before smirking. “ISN’T ‘The Future Husband of Jacinta Hanley’.”

“Which makes it all the more odd that you’re smiling about it,” Katie says. “Practically bouncing off the walls, even! So does this ‘not your future husband’ have a name, then?”

“If you must know,” I say, “his name is Telemachus Charlemagne Percival.”

“That’s… Wow,” Katie muses. “Either that’s a deed poll case or his parents need shooting.”

“Almost certainly deed poll,” I say, my grin widening. “Much like one Miss Ophelia Cassiopeia Love…”

“…Oh,” Katie says with a slow nod of her head. “You- you think this Telemachus guy and Ophelia…?”

“If anyone’s ideal for her, it’s him,” I shrug.

“Yeah, that’s just it,” Katie says quietly. “’If’. Ophelia’s probably the least boy-hungry person I know, I don’t even know that she isn’t asexual.”

“Tell that to our washing machine,” I retort. “And she’s always declared that she’s heterosexual, even if she’s never, you know, ‘looked’. Reckon she always thought that no ordinary boy would suit her.”

“And she’d be right,” Katie says. “I take it Telemachus isn’t exactly ‘ordinary’?”

“Ah- speak of the devil,” I say as I see a group of younger students head down the corridor toward us, one of whom is a very familiar, very smartly dressed young man with bright white hair.

“Good morning, Jacinta,” Telemachus says with a polite nod as he passes us.

“Good morning, Telemachus,” I reply as he and his classmates head to a nearby seminar room.

“…Okay, I’m sold,” Katie shrugs. “Does Ophelia know about him yet?”

“Nope,” I say. “Like you said, she’s so not hungry for boys that if we tried to set her up, she’d run a mile. I want it to be her idea. Or at least, for her to think it’s her idea.”

“Who else knows about this?” Katie asks as we sit down at our computers and start connecting our camera equipment.

“Just me and Sarah,” I reply.

“So you, Sarah and inevitably Nikki, then,” Katie says. “Okay. Got a plan yet to get them together?”

“Just the basics,” I say. “Get them in the same room as each other and let the inevitable happen.” I exchange a smile with my freckled friend as we get down to working on our course- though while sat at the computer, I also stealthily log on to the university’s intranet and download the timetable for Telemachus’s course- and immediately, an opportunity presents itself.

After what seems like an age slaving over our photos, Katie and I head to the familiar surroundings of the dining hall to meet our friends for lunch- though today, our ‘super six’ is down to just five.

“Hey girlies!” I say with a giggle. “No ‘other’ Mrs. Phillips-Thomas today?”

“No,” Sarah sighs. “She’s up in Birmingham all day today, might see her before bedtime, heh.”

“D’aww,” Katie teases. “So when are you having the operation to surgically join yourselves at the hip?”

“As long as the hips are joined facing each other,” Lauren says, nearly making me choke on my drink with laughter!

“Don’t tempt me,” Sarah giggles. “Ugh, need to distract myself from my terrible loneliness… Any of you decided whether you want to come to the American football game next month?”

“Meh, tempted,” Katie shrugs. “If only so you don’t completely forget about us and run off with your new Hollywood friends…”

“…They’re from Minnesota, it’s, like, nowhere near Hollywood!” Sarah retorts.

“Meh, still America,” Katie shrugs.

“Says the girl whose dream is to work in New York!” Lauren teases, making her BFF roll her eyes.

“I thought that you had lined up a job with Heavenly Talent for after you graduate?” Ophelia asks.

“It’s not exactly cast in stone,” Katie says, before glancing over to me and directing my attention to Ophelia, who is casually picking away at her meal. “Anyone… Anyone met any of the new freshers yet?”

“We signed a few up for the LGBT society yesterday,” Sarah says, before also catching on to what Katie’s implying. “Yeah… There- there were a few, umm, ‘interesting’ freshers we met yesterday…”

“What’s everyone planning on doing tomorrow?” I ask.

“Other than enjoying having our free day on a Wednesday, like it’s supposed to be?” Lauren asks. “I’ll probably go to ballet in the morning, might do some reading, a bit of designing later in the day.”

“I am planning on doing the same,” Ophelia says, making me smirk- that was very much the answer I wanted to hear. “I wish to try out the new leotard I designed over the summer.”

“The one with the halter neck and all the straps?” Katie asks. “Yeah, it looked cute. It’d work really well as a top too.”

“I’ll test it out there if you want, Ophelia!” Sarah says, making my BFF giggle.

“No, I shall be wearing it myself after our dance class,” Ophelia says smugly. “Along with my emerald fishtail skirt and mesh cover-up, in case you’re interested.”

“You should know by now that we’re always interested in your style,” Lauren says, making my BFF giggle again.

“Why you hiding your legs, though?” Katie asks. “The dresses you wore today and yesterday, tomorrow’s skirt…”

“Just because you believe an appropriate hemline is two inches below your crotch!” Lauren teases, pointing at Katie’s trademark tiny shorts.

“Why hide amazing pins?” The freckled girl shrugs. “Question goes to you, Miss Love.”

“I simply prefer the feeling of a longer skirt around my legs,” Ophelia says with a shrug.

“Between the skirt and the corset, you’re kinda, you know, Victorian in your look,” Sarah says hesitantly.

“Believe me, the clothing you don’t see is far from Victorian!” Ophelia retorts with a smug grin.

“Didn’t know you were that into, you know, the history of fashion,” Sarah continues. “Beyond what we’ve gone over on our course.”

“Yeah,” Lauren says. “Don’t recall us studying nineteenth century unmentionables before.”

“I am interested in all aspects of fashion,” Ophelia says. “The history of it is just one aspect.”

“I’ve always wanted to read up a bit about it too,” I say.

“Same here,” Sarah concurs, flashing me a stealthy smirk. “Particularly the Victorian era.”

“Oh god,” Katie moans. “Does this mean we’re going to have a costume party wearing a dress with a- a six inch waist, b- a sixTY inch hemline, and that c- weighs fifteen stone?”

“We are now,” I say with a smug grin as Katie rolls her eyes. “Want to do a bit of reading up on it first, you know, make sure the costumes are authentic… Anyone fancy hitting the library tomorrow afternoon?”

“Sure,” Sarah says as I glance over at Katie, who immediately cottons on to what I’m implying.

“Umm, I guess,” Katie shrugs. “See if there are any historically accurate dresses that aren’t the size and shape of a tank.”

“…You two?” I ask.

“Why not?” Lauren shrugs.

“If everyone else shall be there, then so shall I,” Ophelia says with a smile. So far, so good… I think to myself.

Naturally, coursework dominates the rest of the day, including the evening, though Ophelia does occasionally ask me for my opinion on a few design ideas she’s had for the Victorian-themed party we’re apparently going to have. On each occasion, I remind Ophelia that I’m not exactly the most qualified person to comment on fashion design, and that I’ll have to do more research of my own- and each time I say that, I hope that I don’t come across as too heavy-handed in my insistence on going to the library tomorrow.

Fortunately, Ophelia doesn’t suspect a thing- or at least, doesn’t appear to (she has a REALLY good poker face)- meaning that after the five of us leave our regular ballet class the following morning (having first bid goodbye to Nikki, who's been roped into organising a ballet-themed party for some friends of ours), we head straight to the university’s library. We do, however, stop along the way to get a drink- and to compliment Ophelia on her new leotard!

“That leo is HOT,” Lauren- who I’ve been assured is now in on ‘the plan’- says as she examines the criss-crossing straps of Ophelia’s latest creation. “How long did it take you to put it on?”

“I do not remember exactly,” Ophelia replies with a smug grin. “But I do know that it was time well spent.”

“Too right!” Katie giggles.

“Takes me AGES to get into halter necks usually,” Lauren sighs.

“Though I’m sure Michael agrees that that’s also time well spent,” Katie says, giggling as her BFF gives her a playful shove.

“There shall not be any halter necks at our Victorian party, however,” Ophelia says with a knowing smirk. “My research last night revealed that they unsurprisingly preferred higher collars.”

“Good job we’re not having the party in summer, then!” I giggle. “So then… Shall we head to the library, then, do a little research of our own?”

“Yes, let’s,” Ophelia says with a confident smile, leading the five of us out of the coffee shop and down the short road toward our university.

“…Has she sussed us?” Sarah whispers to me as we head to the library. “She seems, you know, ‘eager’…”

“She’s going to get to wrap us all in ridiculously tight corsets,” I retort. “You know what it’s like when you get a new idea for a design, surely? Especially if it’s a costume, right?”

“I guess,” Sarah shrugs, though she still doesn’t look convinced- and she’s making me wonder too now whether or not my ‘plan’ will succeed. If Ophelia walks out without even having the chance to meet Telemachus, I’ll never forgive myself…

After the five of us grab our books, we settle down at a table and begin discussing the authenticity of the costumes we (or rather, Ophelia, Lauren and Sarah) are about to design. If I’ve got my timing right, we should only have a few minutes to wait…

“…The hell is the point of a ‘bustle’ anyway?” Katie asks, showing her book to Lauren and Ophelia. “Did Victorian men like their women looking like they’ve got a tail or something?”

“Didn’t you and Nikki go to, like, an Angel party with a Victorian theme once?” Lauren asks Sarah, who shakes her head.

“That was Viks’s 21st,” Sarah explains. “Before we really got to know them. From what Viks says of that party, I kinda doubt we’ll be getting into another corset any time soon!”

“It’s bad enough you’re getting me back into one of them,” Katie says with a snort of laughter. “Any tips on how to wear one without passing out, O?”

“I will happily share my tips,” Ophelia says, “if you will tell me why you have REALLY brought me here.”

“Umm… To research clothes for the party,” I say.

“Maybe you are getting too much into the ‘Victorian’ theme,” Ophelia says with a stern look. “They could only research using books, but I did all the research I needed last night on the internet. So I ask again: why are we here?” I bite my lip, eliciting a sigh from my BFF. “I’m being set up, aren’t I?”

“No- no, not set up,” I say, checking the time on my phone. Just a few minutes…

“I have told you on many occasions,” Ophelia sighs. “I neither need nor desire a boyfriend or male companionship of any kind.”

“But- but you wouldn’t be opposed to it, right?” I ask.

“I see no reason to waste my time on something that may not even-“ Ophelia says, before suddenly stopping mid-sentence. As one, the five of us sat at our table turn to look at the familiar figure that has just approached our table.

“J- Jacinta,” Telemachus says, his voice uncharacteristically wavering. “Sarah, it is good to see you again. May I- may I be introduced to your friends?”

“Of course,” I say with a smug grin as Ophelia’s mouth starts to drop open. “This is Katie Henderson, this is Lauren Burnett,” I giggle as Telemachus greets both women with gentle kisses on the backs of their hands, “and this is my best friend, Ophelia Cassiopeia Love.”

“O- Ophelia,” Telemachus says, nervously approaching my BFF, who has stood up to greet the young man. “Daughter of Polonius. An angel in heaven, while others lie howling in hell.”

“Y- yes, heh,” Ophelia says with a breathless giggle.

“Oh- where are my manners?” I say, barely suppressing an excited giggle of my own. “Ladies, this is Telemachus Charlemagne Percival, he started studying fashion history here yesterday.”

“You’ve got, umm, great fashion sense, Telemachus!” Lauren says, clearly bemused by the sight of the young man with his bright white hair and old-fashioned dress sense.

“Thank you, Lauren,” Telemachus politely replies, before turning to face Ophelia again. With her contact lenses, it’s hard to tell, but I’m pretty sure her pupils have dilated just as much as Telemachus’s. “Ophelia, you are the- the most unique woman I have ever met.”

“You are the most unique man I have ever met,” Ophelia replies. “Did- did you design your clothes yourself?”

“My trousers and waistcoat were purchased from a local charity shop,” Telemachus explains. “I customised my shirt from two that I purchased from the internet. Your top is very elaborate, Ophelia, did you make it yourself?”

“I did,” Ophelia replies. “It is actually a leotard, I have just been at my- umm, dance… class…”

“We do ballet together,” Sarah explains. “As a group, once a week, every Wednesday morning…”

“Oh,” Telemachus says, before his smile widens even further. “There is nothing quite as elegant and sophisticated as ballet. I am sure you are a most wonderful ballerina, Ophelia. As are all of you, of course.”

“Th- thank you, hehe!” Ophelia giggles.

“And obviously a highly skilled fashion designer as well,” Telemachus says. “Not to mention a truly, uniquely beautiful woman.”

“Thank you,” Ophelia whispers, clearly enthralled by the young man. I have to suppress a giggle of my own as I exchange a fist bump with Sarah, whose grin is just as wide as my own.

“Would you like to continue this conversation in more comfortable surroundings?” Telemachus asks. “Perhaps, would you like to go for a drink of coffee?”

“That would be wonderful,” Ophelia replies, before grimacing as she gazes back at the four of us still sat around the table. However, her grimace quickly changes into a knowing smile.

“I would not wish to simply abandon my friends,” Ophelia says with an almost smug tone to her voice.

“Oh- we’ll be fine,” I say with a shrug that Ophelia undoubtedly instantly sees through.

“You two have fun!” Katie says, her grin just as smug as my BFF’s.

“I must return to my flat at…” Telemachus says, before forcing me to suppress yet another giggle as he withdraws a pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket. “5pm. But we have ample time before then.” My attempts to suppress any further giggles fail as Telemachus holds out his arm for Ophelia, an invitation she eagerly accepts.

“Ladies, if you will please excuse us,” Telemachus says with a polite nod.

“Oh- take your time, hehe!” Lauren giggles as the new couple walk away- though not before Ophelia turns back and mouths a silent ‘thank you’ to the four of us.

“…Mission accomplished!” Sarah says, sitting back with a very smug smile on her face- a smile that also currently plastered onto my face!

“Okay, I’ll admit, I was sceptical,” Lauren says. “But- yeah. Have there ever been two people as made for each other as those two?”

“Um- ahem?” Sarah asks, holding up her left hand- specifically, the rings on her third finger- for us to see. “I think you’ll find the answer to your question is ‘yes’.”

“Yeah, but does Nikki own a pocket watch?” Katie asks, making Sarah giggle and roll her eyes.

“I am so buying Michael one for his birthday,” Lauren announces. “Maybe a waistcoat too.”

“The whole ‘snooker player chic’ thing might be in this year, you never know…” Sarah says, making our black-haired friend roll her eyes. “You okay, Jacinta? Been a bit quiet since ‘Telephelia’ left…”

“Hmm?” I ask. “Umm, yeah, fine… Just- just, you know, I’ve known her for four years… I’m just happy that she’s finally, you know, got someone she likes.”

“And who obviously likes her!” Katie giggles. “Half expected him to drool down her cleavage, heh.”

“They’ll be saving that for tonight,” Lauren says with a smug grin, even as I feel a pang of guilt bite at me.

In my eagerness to set Ophelia up with what I assumed would be her ‘Prince Charming’, I’d failed to take one very significant thing into account- Ophelia has never had a proper boyfriend before, and (despite her fondness for our washing machine ) is technically still a virgin. And yet here I am, practically shoving her out the door with a guy I barely know, based on a few brief meeting with him? If anything happens to her, I know I’ll never forgive myself.

My friends are all much more confident about the relationship, of course, or at the very least, they appear to be- making friendly jokes about ‘Telephelia’ throughout the rest of the time we spend in the library. Eventually, though, 5pm rolls around, and the four of us get ready to head home. I switch my phone off of silent and check it to see if Ophelia has called or sent a message while I’ve been in the library, but much to my surprise there hasn’t been a peep from her since she left with Telemachus- and I immediately begin to fear the worst. Ophelia may have taught me not to judge a book by its cover, but there are reasons why books have covers…

I take a deep breath as I unlock my phone and hit Ophelia’s speed dial button, my tension only slightly lessening when she answers the phone within 2 rings.

“Good afternoon, Jacinta,” Ophelia says. Judging by the noise in the background, she’s obviously in a public place- maybe I was worrying about nothing after all…

“Oh- hi Ophelia,” I say, trying my best to sound as casual as possible. “The library’s closing now so we’re going to head home, just thought I’d let you know.”

“I am aware of the library’s closing time,” Ophelia retorts. “Telemachus and I are still speaking with each other.” Seriously? I think to myself. You’re not exactly the world’s most talkative person, O…

“Oh- umm, okay then,” I say. “Any idea when you’ll be home?”

“I will be home later,” Ophelia says. “I am very much enjoying Telemachus’s company.”

“Well- good, great!” I say. “I’m happy for you, Ophelia. Give me a call or a text when you’re on your way home, okay?”

“I shall, to put your mind at ease,” Ophelia says- and it might be my imagination, but it almost sounds like she’s giggling at me. “Though I always viewed you more as an older sister than a replacement mother.”

“Wh- hey!” I protest.

“You do not have any reason to be concerned for me, Jacinta,” Ophelia says. “And if you did, then you should not have introduced Telemachus and I in the first place. Though I am glad that you did. We shall speak when I return home, I promise you.”

“Where- where are you at the moment?” I ask.

“At a local dining establishment,” Ophelia replies. “Oh- I should have said, my apologies. You do not need to prepare an evening meal for me tonight.”

“Aww, your first proper date,” I say half-teasingly and half-tiredly. “Well- just give me a text when you’re on your way home, okay?”

“Of course,” Ophelia says. “Now if you will please excuse us.”

“Sure,” I say, smirking as Ophelia ends the call. I’ll happily admit that I shouldn’t have been so worried about Ophelia, and definitely shouldn’t have been so judgemental of Telemachus- god knows it’s not like I haven’t received the same kind of prejudice myself, and so has Ophelia. Possibly even more than I have, in fact. And here she is, finally meeting a kindred spirit. It’s obvious she’d want to spend as much time with him as possible- even if they will be at the same university together too…

I microwave myself a quick dinner when I get home and settle down in front of the TV, waiting for Ophelia’s call. I don’t want to start anything big like any coursework tonight as I know I won’t be able to give it my undivided attention- or any attention at all once Ophelia returns home!

…Whenever that will be, anyway, as 7pm quickly comes and goes, as does 8pm, and 9pm… By the time 10:30pm rolls around, my panic levels, which had subsided after my phone call to Ophelia, are higher than ever. My rational mind tells me that she'll still be with Telemachus, but every other part of me imagining various different possibilities- all of which end up with me never seeing or talking to my BFF again. I pick up my phone and get ready to call her again, but pause before I push the ‘call’ button. After all, like Ophelia implied, she is a grown woman, and she actually sounded irritated when I called her earlier. And the last thing I need is to give her an excuse to call me next time I’m out with a boy…

‘Hi O,’ I eventually type into a text message. ‘Can you let me know when you’ll be home please? Am going to bed now and don’t want to leave door unlocked.’ There, I think to myself. She can’t argue with that excuse for contacting her…

What she can do, however, is ignore the text, as I discover when 11pm rolls around and she still hasn’t replied to the text. I try to ignore my anxieties and convince myself that she’s okay, that she’s just lost track of time, but I lay awake in bed for virtually all of the night, only getting occasional, brief spells of fitful sleep. When the Sun’s rays start filtering through my window just before 7am, I decide to cut my losses and get out of bed, but en route to the kitchen I poke my head around Ophelia’s bedroom, sighing when I see that her bed clearly hasn’t been slept in tonight- and there’s no response to my text message either.

I eventually shower, get dressed in my preferred black tights/short skirt/tight top look and make myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast, which I lazily pick away at as I stare at my phone, willing it to ring. I’ve just about finished my breakfast and am about to put my shoes and coat on when the doorbell rings and I open the door to see my BFF stood there with her usual inscrutable look on her face.

“Ophelia,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief before grabbing my phone out of my pocket and waving it in her surprised face. “You do know what one of these things is, right?”

“It is a mobile telephone,” Ophelia shrugs. “You use it to make calls.”

“And send and receive texts,” I grumble, before letting out a long sigh. “Ophelia… I- I was really worried. You know that staying out all night isn’t exactly, you know, ‘in character’ for you?”

“I did nothing that you did not do when you were going out with Simon,” Ophelia retorts.

“Including texting me to let me know you won’t be home?” I ask, frowning as Ophelia sighs.

“I apologise, I shall text you next time,” my BFF says quietly.

“Thanks,” I mumble. “What- what were you talking about, anyway?”

“Our courses,” Ophelia replies. “Our lives, our families- Telemachus, like me, has siblings the same gender as him who scorn him for his choice of lifestyle.”

“Sounds like you had a lot to talk about,” I say.

“We could have talked for a hundred days and not run out of things to talk about,” Ophelia says, making me grin widely.

“Well- I’m glad you’ve found someone,” I say. “I’ve got to admit, I was beginning to think you’d be single forever…”

“I had suspected the same thing,” Ophelia confesses.

“So, you talked all night then?” I ask.

“Not quite,” Ophelia says. “We talked until about nine o’clock in the evening, then spent the rest of the evening making passionate love.”

“Meh, fair-- wait, what!?” I squeak.

“Until approximately one o’clock in the morning,” Ophelia says matter-of-factly as I try to process what I’m hearing. “Telemachus has great stamina, and he-“

“Thanks, I’ll pass on the details,” I say. “Well- glad to you’ve found someone who… Yeah.”

“And then, before we went to sleep, we became engaged to be married,” Ophelia says, almost causing me to trip as we walk down the stairs to the street.

“You- you wha- you- you!?” I stammer.

“Yes, Jacinta,” Ophelia says. “Telemachus and I are engaged. He has not bought me a ring yet, as there are no jewellers open at one o’clock in the morning, but we shall be marrying within the next four weeks.”

“It- I- it- what!?” I exclaim. “Engaged!? Are- seriously, are you kidding?”

“Why would I joke about that?” Ophelia asks.

“Umm- well- I dunno,” I sigh. “Please tell me though that you ARE joking?”

“I am not,” Ophelia says confidently.

“Ophelia- you’ve known the guy for a DAY,” I say. “Less than that, in fact! Twenty hours, tops, and you’re marrying him? Fucking him I can kinda maybe get, but- do you even know what marriage entails?”

“Jacinta,” Ophelia says in a tired voice. “How long have you spent searching for your ‘Prince Charming’?”

“Well, ages,” I reply. “But I’m not going to get hitched to the first guy I see, no matter how perfect I think he might be!”

“Why do you assume that Telemachus is the first man that I’ve ‘seen’?” Ophelia asks. “Why do you assume that I haven’t been searching for a ‘Prince Charming’ of my own?”

“Because you’ve, you know, not exactly made any ‘noise’ about it,” I mumble.

“I’ve not made any ‘noise’ about anything,” Ophelia retorts, before sighing and- much to my surprise- reverting to her natural accent. “J… You know as well as I do that it’s not easy to be yourself, to properly be yourself. I am who I am because this is who I want to be, this is who I really am. I admit, I’m luckier than you in one way- if you strip us both naked, I am in a body I feel comfortable in. But we’ve both faced a lot of… ‘Resistance’ to us simply being us. That’s why we’re such good friends.”

“That’s why we’re sisters,” I say.

“And that’s why I know that Telemachus is my soul mate,” Ophelia says. “Because he has faced the same resistance that we have. I never in my wildest dreams imagined that I would ever meet anyone like him, someone I just… Match so well. I’ll never meet anyone else quite like him. And he feels the same way. I get that you might think it’s fast. Compared to my sisters ‘getting married at all’ would be fast. But every part of me knows that this is just… Right. I told you I could talk to him for a hundred days and not run out of things to say. I wasn’t exaggerating, Jacinta.”

“Well- okay,” I say. “Will you be moving in together?”

“Probably,” Ophelia says, biting her lip nervously. “Actually, we- we were wondering if-“

“Yeah, alright,” I sigh. “Sure I wouldn’t be a third wheel, though?”

“Of course not,” Ophelia says softly. “Like you said, we’re sisters. And that will never change, no matter what- or who- comes along. I am in love with Telemachus. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still love you, Jacinta.”

“…Thanks,” I whisper, sniffing back a tear as we walk through the chilly streets of London toward our college.

Naturally, when we arrive at college, Ophelia tells the rest of the girls about the engagement, and naturally, their reactions aren’t a million miles away from mine.

“WHAT THE FU-“ Katie screeches, only stopping herself when her outburst attracts even more attention than the five of us usually do. “En- engaged!? You met the guy literally 24 hours ago!?”

“Please tell me you’re taking the piss,” Lauren says with a luck of true concern on her face.

“I am utterly sincere,” Ophelia says. “Telemachus and I shall be marrying within the next few weeks. You are all, of course, welcome to attend the ceremony.”

“Okay, thanks,” Sarah says, clearly as concerned as the other girls. “Isn’t- isn’t Telemachus a little young, though?”

“Really?” Katie asks, making Sarah roll her eyes.

“Let me rephrase,” Sarah says. “You’ve known each other for a day! Even me and Nikki were friends for weeks before we started officially going out with each other.”

“Were you and Nikki the only two people in the world who thought and felt the way you do?” Ophelia asks.

“Yes, yes we are,” Sarah insists.

“And did you know that from the instant you met Nikki?” Ophelia asks.

“…Okay, maybe not IMMEDIATELY,” Sarah concedes. “But- ugh. If you’re sure that Telemachus is ‘the one’, obviously we’ll all support you.”

“And we’ll obviously all come to the wedding,” Lauren says. “Maybe a bit short notice to get a dress ready, though…”

“I shall be making my own wedding dress,” Ophelia says with a proud smile. “Thank you all for your understanding. Believe me when I say that if I was not 100% certain that Telemachus and I were meant to be together, then we would not be doing this. And if I thought that this would hurt any of you, then I would not be doing this.”

“Hey, what are friends for, right?” Lauren says, making my BFF grin. “And I hope you’ve taught Telemachus lesson number one, right?”

“He follows Mrs. Milton on Instagram, he knows the lesson all too well,” Ophelia says with a wide grin.

“You can never have too many friends!” The five of us cheer as we head to our respective classes.

I try to take Ophelia’s words to heart, specifically her assurance that she’d effectively never choose Telemachus over our friendship, but as hard as I try not to, I still feel miserable as I sit down in the seminar room next to Katie. The concerned look on my friend’s freckled face tells me in no uncertain terms that I’m doing a very bad job of hiding my feelings.

“Hey,” Katie whispers. “How- how you holding up?”

“Who- me?” I reply. “I’m fine, really.”

“You don’t look it,” Katie says bluntly, frowning as I sigh.

“Thanks,” I say with a sarcastic snort.

“God- ugh, you know what I mean,” my friend says with a heavy sigh. “If Ophelia’s news shocked me god knows what it’ll have done to you. Are- is Telemachus, umm…”

“Moving in with us? Probably,” I sigh. “That’s one life ambition fulfilled, becoming a third wheel…”

“Jacinta…” Katie sighs. “How long have you been pining over ‘Prince Charming’ again? What were you going to do when you shacked up with him, stuff Ophelia in the loft?”

“It- ugh, I dunno,” I sigh. “This is just kinda sudden, you know? I mean, yes, I wanted Ophelia and Telemachus to get together, wanted to her to have a little bit of fun, and if he turned out to be her Prince Charming, well, great! I just- ugh, I just didn’t expect this to go so fast! And… And I’m worried that I’m going to end up alone.”

“DON’T,” Katie says firmly. “Do NOT say that, because you won’t. And stop feeling sorry for yourself too! You’re less fun this way.”

“Sorry,” I say with a tired roll of my eyes. “Didn’t get much sleep last night, Ophelia was- well, yeah, I’m sure you can guess.”

“I can use my imagination,” Katie says, before letting out a sigh of her own. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Jacinta. God knows if Lauren and Michael eloped I’d probably be lost too. But- well- ugh. I’m a photographer, not a counsellor. But I know someone who knows someone who is.”

“Sarah’s mum?” I ask, smiling as Katie nods.

“I’m sure Sarah can get her to fit you in if you ask,” Katie says softly. “Just because we’re supporting Ophelia it doesn’t mean we’re not going to support you too. And that goes twice as much for her. You’re her BFF, but that means she’s yours too, with all the responsibilities that comes with that job!”

“Thanks,” I giggle, smiling as our teacher arrives to start the lesson.

After a quick stop off at the computer lab to edit some more photos, Katie and I head to the dining hall, where we’re forced to suppress a smirk when we see Nikki’s jaw drop as she’s informed of Ophelia’s news.

“You- what!?” Nikki squeaks.

“Ah, don’t be a hypocrite, miss ‘I got engaged at the age of eighteen’,” Lauren teases, making my fellow transwoman roll her eyes.

“I’d been going out with Sarah for slightly longer than a day, though,” Nikki retorts. “I get the whole ‘if you’re sure, why wait’ thing, but- can you REALLY be sure after 24 hours?”

“Yes,” Ophelia says bluntly, and I have to frown as I see that Nikki is far from convinced by Ophelia’s insistence- even though a part of me agrees with Nikki. However, Ophelia is my BFF. I should be the first to support her, just as she’s always supported me in the past. Even if I’m still not convinced myself that she’s making the right choice…

“Well I can’t wait to see what kind of wedding dress Ophelia’s going to come up with!” I say, and I feel my heart start to melt as Ophelia looks at me with a wide, happy grin on her face and a look of gratitude in her eyes.

“Oh- now that will be good!” Lauren giggles. “I’m guessing tightest corset and biggest, heaviest skirt, right?”

“Am I THAT predictable?” Ophelia asks with a mock sigh, before grimacing and letting out a small giggle. “…Okay, perhaps the events of the last 24 hours are enough proof that I can still surprise you from time to time.”

“Yeah, I’d say so!” Nikki chuckles.

“And, if I’m honest… Surprise myself as well,” Ophelia says, smiling as I give her a very gentle cuddle. “And I assure you again that my marital status will not have any effect on my friendship with you. With ANY of you.”

“Unlike the other married couple at the table,” Lauren says with an accusing stare, “who spent last night partying and didn’t invite us?”

“It wasn’t our party!” Sarah protests. “It was Rachel’s, we just tagged along.”

“And did a lot of the planning work,” Nikki says.

“And spent the entire evening getting pissed in dance uniforms?” Katie asks, making the married couple giggle like a pair of naughty schoolgirls.

“Jea-lous!” I say, which only intensifies the giggling.

“As am I,” Ophelia says. “Might I trouble you to plan the festivities for my wedding?” I grimace as Ophelia’s request brings a look of discomfort to Nikki and Sarah’s faces, though the look soon passes to be replaced again by supportive smiles.

“Sure!” Nikki giggles. “Though I’m not sure I’ll be able to do justice to something as important as ‘The Ophelia Love hen night’, hehe! Not at this short- umm, short notice, anyway…”

“I am sure that whatever you plan with be perfect,” Ophelia says softly.

“Can’t wait to hear what you’ve got planned for the honeymoon!” Katie says, and this time it’s my turn to frown- whilst Ophelia has no problem with the three of us living together, holidays will definitely be another matter, as will any honeymoon…

“We have not discussed that yet,” Ophelia says- and much to my surprise, now she’s starting to look uneasy as well. “We have only just started university for the year, and Telemachus is still settling in… You two did not go on honeymoon immediately, did you?”

“Still haven’t,” Nikki sighs. “Unless you count staycationing, anyway.”

“And it’s not like we didn’t get up to a lot of ‘traditional honeymoon activities’ over the summer, hehe!” Sarah giggles.

“And that’s enough of THAT,” Lauren says with an overdramatic shudder.

“Prude,” Sarah teases, sticking her tongue out at the black haired girl as the rest of us laugh and start to relax- though throughout the lunch period, a million thoughts run through my mind. Will Ophelia prefer spending her free time with Telemachus than with me? Will she eventually move out with him? Will she move to another part of the country entirely- maybe near his family? Will she have children and not include me in their lives?

As we leave the dining hall, I remember Katie’s words from earlier, and before heading back to our seminar room, I take Sarah to one side for a more private talk- though it’s clear from the look on her face that she knows what I’m going to say.

“Hey Sarah,” I say quietly, fidgeting as I try to figure out how to word my request. “Hey, I was- I was kinda wondering, you know…”

“Let me guess,” Sarah says with a sympathetic grin. “It’s actually my mum you want to talk to, right?”

“…Good quote-unquote ‘guess’,” I say, rolling my eyes as Sarah giggles at my expense.

“You know you can just call her yourself?” Sarah asks. “You ARE on her books as a client, okay, not a regular one, but still?”

“I know, I know, it’s just- ugh, no, I DON’T know,” I sigh. “This last 24 hours, it- it’s scrambled my brain, I barely know what I’m doing anymore…”

“I’ll text her, tell her to keep a slot free tonight to talk,” Sarah says with a grin.

“Bit short notice, isn’t it?” I ask.

“I kinda shot her a text last night,” Sarah says, before a deep grimace spreads across her face. “And, umm… Ophelia kinda- kinda told us she was hanging out with Telemachus again tonight, so…”

“I’m not on suicide watch now, am I?” I snort.

“No –no, of course not,” Sarah says softly. “It’s just- if it’s a shock to the system to me, god knows what it’s like for you, you know?”

“I get it,” I say. “And thanks.”

“Hey, friend in need, right?” Sarah giggles. “You still coming to the society meeting tonight?”

“First one of the year? Umm, yeah!” I say, making my friend giggle again. “See you there. And thanks. Again.”

“You’re welcome,” Sarah says, giving me a hug before we go to our respective classes. “Again!” I smile as I head back to my semester room- Ophelia may be the best friend that I’ll ever have, but not the only one, and I know my other friends will work their butts off to remind me of that every time they need to.

When I get the chance, I place a call to Sarah’s mother’s office, getting the appointment that’s been reserved for me, and for the first time ever, I leave university at the end of the day not accompanied by my BFF. Thoughts of what Ophelia is doing right this second flood my mind all throughout the short tube ride to Dr Phillips’s office, and by the time I’m taking a seat on one of her plush couches, my mind is a muddle- which is apparently very obvious from the look on my face.

“Sarah gave me the heads up about Ophelia,” Dr Phillips says as she grabs her notebook and sits down opposite me. “I’ve got a good idea of the facts of what’s happened.”

“You surely agree that it’s not normal, then?” I ask.

“You of all people should know that ‘normal’ is a very, very subjective term,” Dr Phillips says. “Is it normal for your eighteen year old daughter to get engaged to a transwoman? Some would say no. But I’m very glad it happened. Is it normal for people assigned male at birth to seek to emulate women and even chemically and surgically transform themselves to become women? Some would say no. But I don’t need to ask whether or not you’re glad that it’s an option. And is it normal for someone to get engaged to someone they’ve only known for 24 hours? You and I might say no. But Ophelia… You know, I’ve only met her a few times, but I don’t see it as completely out of character for her. She’s someone who’s always rejected ‘common’ rules.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly.

“If I was advising her, I would advise her to get to know this ‘Telemachus’ boy a bit better,” Dr Phillips says. “But she’s not the one sat on my sofa, you are. What’s important is how Ophelia’s decisions are affecting YOU. How do you feel about all this, Jacinta?”

“…Messed up,” I sigh. “Like I don’t know what to feel.”

“Go on,” Dr Phillips gently urges.

“I mean, I set Ophelia up with Telemachus, it was my idea for them to get together,” I say.

“What were you hoping would happen?” Dr Phillips asks.

“I- ugh, I dunno,” I sigh. “Ophelia would go out with him a bit, get to know him better, go on the occasional date…”

“And is this happening?” Dr Phillips asks.

“Well- yeah, I guess,” I sigh. “I suppose if they got together, I’d expect Ophelia to spend more time with him and less with me, but- but I always kinda expected her to come back to me at the end of the day, you know? I mean, you know I ‘love’ her, even though I don’t, you know, ‘love’ love her.”

“And the thought of having to share her with someone else is an unappealing one?” Dr Phillips asks.

“Am I selfish for thinking that?” I ask.

“Not at all,” Dr Phillips says with a supportive smile. “You have to remember that part of the reason you and Ophelia are so close is that she helped to catalyse your transition. It was her who first enabled ‘Jacinta’ to come out and greet the world, and it was you who enabled ‘Ophelia’ to break out of the shell of ‘Amanda’. That’s a special bond that’s very strong, and even though you have no romantic feelings for each other- unlike, say, my daughter and her wife- it’s still a very strong, co-dependent bond, especially as you have no siblings and Ophelia’s siblings- well, I don’t really need to say any more there. And, of course, the roles have been reversed lately-“

“-When I was dating Simon and leaving Ophelia by herself,” I sigh. “Yeah, I get that. But I wasn’t just going to shack up with him, run off without talking to Ophelia first…”

“You’re hurt that she hasn’t included you in her decision?” Dr Phillips asks.

“Am I selfish for thinking THAT?” I ask. “I mean, she IS an adult, she can make her own decisions…”

“But her decisions do affect you,” Dr Phillips says. “Both emotionally and in a practical sense, as you live together. It’s only natural to think of your own needs in circumstances like this. And it’s natural to feel jealous as well.”

“I’m not jealous,” I say, before letting out a low moan. “Okay, yes, I am… I mean- would anyone have guessed that Ophelia would get married before me?”

“I know I wouldn’t have,” Dr Phillips says. “Jacinta, I hope you do realise that these feelings aren’t exactly exclusive to transgendered girls, right?”

“Is that meant to make me feel better?” I ask.

“You can take that information however you want,” Dr Phillips says. “But I wonder whether part of you wonders whether or not as a transgendered girl, you’ll have to wait even longer to find your ‘Prince Charming’.”

“…Well I’m wondering that NOW,” I snort, before letting out a long sigh. “…Okay, yes, that’s something I think about a lot. And I don’t need you to reassure me that there’s nothing wrong in wanting someone to love me, right?”

“Absolutely,” Dr Phillips says. “It’s probably the most basic need for anyone- including Ophelia.”

“I know,” I sigh.

“And if the marriage doesn’t succeed, she’ll need her best friend- just as she was there for you after you broke up with Simon,” Dr Phillips advises.

“And I will be,” I say. “No offence, doc, but I don’t really feel any better about this.”

“It’s not like I can wave a magic wand and make everything better, you know that,” Dr Phillips advises. “All I can do is help you to see things from other perspectives, especially Ophelia’s.”

“I know,” I sigh. “And thanks.”

“And it has been a while since we last talked,” Dr Phillips says. “Just because you’re three years into your transition doesn’t mean that you don’t still need professional support. This Ophelia situation may be the major thing in your life right now but I’m sure it’s not the only thing you need to talk about. And I should know, having been a final year university student myself, heh!”

“Yeah,” I say as I relax back into my seat and detail the events of my life since my last meeting with the counsellor.

As always seems to happen, time flies while I talk to Sarah’s mother, and before I’m even halfway through baring my soul, our time together comes to an end- though not before Dr Phillips raises one topic that has slipped my mind in recent weeks.

“Before you go,” Dr Phillips says, “have you thought any more about whether you still want to go in for your SRS after you graduate?”

“My- god, I haven’t thought about that in a while…” I sigh as I stare down at my short, tight skirt- and the very male organ that still lies underneath it.

I know exactly why I haven’t thought about it in a while- because other than when I tuck it away in my thong first thing in the morning (or after every call of nature) it is very much a case of ‘out of sight, out of mind’. Sure, I’d rather it wasn’t there- I’d rather it had never been there in the first place- but three years of oestrogen have caused it to shrink and shrivel so much that it barely registers anymore in a mental as well as a physical sense. The only time I became conscious- or rather, self-conscious- of it was when Simon and I were making love, and even though he said it didn’t bother him, it definitely bothered me.

“I can still look to getting you in at some point in the summer if you’d like,” Dr Phillips says. “The NHS waiting list is a little longer, admittedly, but it’s better to get your foot in the door now rather than have to wait even longer.”

“I know,” I say. “And I have talked about it a bit with Nikki… Obviously, she really recommends it, heh! The recovery does sound like a pain, though.”

“I don’t hear many good words about THAT,” Dr Phillips says with a smirk. “But I do hear a lot of good stuff said about it after you’ve recovered. Virtually everyone who’s had SRS done says that once it’s done, it’s like they’ve finally become the person they truly are inside- that they don’t need to ‘hide’ or ‘classify’ themselves anymore. And I’m sure the same would be true for you, Jacinta.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I- I do want to get uni out of the way first, though.”

“Understandable,” Dr Phillips says. “But if you need to talk about it- or anything else- you know my number.”

“Thanks,” I say, shaking the older woman’s hand as I leave her office and head home.

Obviously, I focus on hear advice during the short tube ride back to our flat. Dr Phillips is, of course, right in what she says about Ophelia and Telemachus- that the ultra-fast engagement is probably in keeping with her character, especially compared to the ‘relationships’ the rest of her family have traditionally been involved with- and I know that she is sincere when she talks about how important I and the rest of our friends are to her. However, I still can’t help but feel abandoned when I open the front door to our flat to find the whole place in darkness, and Ophelia nowhere to be found. A quick check of my phone reveals that as with last night, Ophelia hasn’t so much as sent me a text telling me when she’ll be home, leading to me collapsing onto the sofa with a low moan.

Despite Dr Phillips’s words, and despite the fact that I know I can call any of my other friends any time I want, I’ve never felt as alone as I feel right now, which leads to a long-forgotten feeling bubbling up inside me- the feeling of guilt. Guilt because I’m worrying about being alone when two years ago, I’m the one who was the ‘leaver’.

I let out a long sigh as I get my phone out of my bag and dial a number that I shamefully haven’t dialled in a long time, but that will hopefully ease my guilt and offer me the kind of help and advice Dr Phillips simply can’t give. I smile as the line is answered after three rings and I’m greeted by a very familiar man’s voice.

“Hello?” The older man asks.

“Hi dad!” I say, involuntarily grinning at the sound of my father’s voice.

“Who is this?” Dad asks, making me roll my eyes. “Why have you nicked my daughter’s phone?”

“This IS your daughter,” I sigh.

“Then why aren’t you out getting pissed with your friends?” dad asks.

“I’m saving that for later,” I say, smirking as dad chuckles at my answer. “Dad, I- I kinda need someone to talk to right now…”

“Oh, god,” dad moans. “What’s his name this time?”

“Hey!” I protest. “…Okay, it’s about A boy, but not one of mine for once.”

“Oh?” Dad asks. “Don’t tell me you’ve actually found someone that meets Ophelia’s high standards?”

“Yep,” I reply. “We set her up with someone yesterday and they really hit it off.”

“Really?” Dad asks. “Good for her! Feeling a little lonely, then?”

“…A bit,” I sigh. “Though that’s not the biggest problem.”

“Let me guess- you fancy him too?” Dad asks.

“No,” I say with a loud, overdramatic sigh. “I told you they met yesterday morning, right?”

“Right…” Dad replies.

“As of yesterday evening, they’re engaged,” I say. I brace myself for the inevitable exclamation of shock or dismay from my father, but much to my surprise, he just simply laughs. “This- this isn’t a joke, dad. I think they’re serious about this.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” dad chuckles.

"Then- aren't you worried?" I ask. "I know you think of Ophelia as being like a daughter to you as well..."

"Not just 'like' a daughter," dad says. "And maybe I am a little worried. But you know what else I am? Supportive of Ophelia. Trusting in her judgement. She isn't going to just hook up with anyone, you know."

"Even though this is her first ever boyfriend?" I ask.

"How many guys has she encountered?" Dad retorts. "Jacinta... I think I know the problem. You're worried you'll be lone-"

"I'm not worried about that!" I protest. "Okay, I AM worried about that. But is that wrong?"

"Take it from someone who knows a thing or two about loss," dad says softly. "Things will settle back into a normal rhythm soon enough. And it's not like you'll have lost Ophelia as sister. Unless, of course, you choose to lose her."

"Why would I ever do that?" I snort.

"Jealousy, anger, jealousy, sulking- did I mention jealousy?" Dad says, making me groan down the phone.

"I'm not jealous," I say. "Okay, yes, I am."

"She's got someone when she never looked in the first place, while you're in the opposite situation," dad advises. "It's only natural to feel some jealousy, But don't, DO NOT let it affect your friendship with Ophelia. Boys come and go. Even spouses can. But what you two have is special, eternal even."

"So what- what am I supposed to do?" I ask.

"Obvious," dad says with an audible shrug. "Support her, be there for her like you've always been. Like she's always been there for you. That's what I'm going to do."

"Yeah, I guess," I sigh. "I- umm, I've got to go now, got to go to an LGBT society meeting..."

"Yeah, I'm heading out too," dad says. "Just with some friends."

"Oh- oh, okay," I say, my guilt slowly easing.

"I'll be sure to message Ophelia on Facebook tonight and give her my congratulations," dad says. "And see if I can score an invite to the wedding, heh!"

"Yeah," I chuckle. "See you, dad."

"Bye," dad says as he hangs up the phone.

Needless to say, I have even more to think about after this conversation than I did after the talk with Beverly, and as such, I barely pay attention all throughout the meeting as I wonder exactly how I should react going forward- and whether or not there was anything I should've done differently. Have I supported Ophelia enough? Will things ever be the same again? Or, like dad says, will things just go back to normal after the wedding- albeit a new normal, of course?

I ponder the answers to my questions all the way home, but my pondering ends when I enter our apartment to find the likely source of all my answers sat on our sofa, drinking a cup of tea like she didn't have a care in the world.

"Hello Jacinta," my BFF says as I walk through the door.

"Hi Ophelia," I say, before letting out a long sigh, sitting down next to the multi-coloured girl and wrapping her in a gentle hug.

"...That's long enough," Ophelia says, smirking as I release her. "And no, you may not enquire as to whether I have said that to Telemachus."

"Believe me, the thought REALLY hadn't crossed my mind," I say. "Half expected you to be out with him tonight again."

"Why would I?" Ophelia asks. "This is my home."

"Yeah, but-" I retort, before noticing a new adornment on Ophelia's left hand. "Can- can I see the ring, please?"

"Of course," Ophelia says, holding out her dainty hand for me to examine the ring- and it is a truly gorgeous ring, a blend of white gold and sapphires in an intricate, almost fractal-like pattern.

"It's beautiful," I whisper. "Must've cost Telemachus a fortune..."

"I paid for half of it," Ophelia says, making me open my mouth to protest before thinking better of it- sure, the groom is supposed to pay all of the cost of the engagement ring, but if there's one thing I've learned about Ophelia, it's that she rarely does anything that she's supposed to do.

"Still beautiful," I say, making my BFF smirk again.

"Jacinta," Ophelia says with a sigh of her own. "I do hope that this means that nothing will change between us."

"...I'm fairly sure it will," I sigh.

"Well I hope it won't anyway," Ophelia says bluntly. "You are still my best friend. That will never change even if Telemachus and I are married for a hundred years. I will be forever grateful to you and to the other girls for arranging our first meeting. But I will be much more grateful to whoever arranged the first meeting between the two of us. If I must say this a million times, then I shall, but just because Telemachus is my romantic partner, it does not mean that I love you any less, Jacinta."

"I know," I whisper. "And I love you too, Ophelia. I hope things don't change either."

However, over the course of the next two weeks, things did change. The routine of the flat changed as Telemachus spent more and more time here- and I increasingly felt like a third wheel, despite Ophelia (and, to his credit, Telemachus’s) efforts to assure me otherwise. We travelled to university as a trio, rather than a duo, I was relegated from my usual spot on the sofa to a chair of my own, and most significantly, the late-night chats that Ophelia and I used to have virtually stopped. Especially during the nights that Ophelia spent at Telemachus’s flat.

Nonetheless, I put a brave smile on my face on the morning of Saturday the 21st of October when I take my place behind Ophelia as she walks down the aisle of a small chapel in the Scottish village of Gretna Green, her hand resting in the crook of my father's arm. Ophelia is, of course, wearing a truly gorgeous dress in clean, pristine white- strapless, with a ridiculously tightly constricted waist and a poofed-out skirt with what looks like fifty petticoats swishing around her legs with every step. My own bridesmaid’s dress (another of Ophelia’s creations) is pretty spectacular as well- also strapless, but long, slender and elegant and in the same colour as Ophelia’s hair. The dress is truly beautiful, and four years ago, if you’d told me that I’d be wearing such a beautiful creation in public, in front of friends who accept me for the girl I truly am, I’d never have believed you. Today, however, it just serves to hammer home the fact that as with Sarah and Nikki’s wedding, I am once again the bridesmaid and not the bride (especially as I am the sole bridesmaid today)- and unlike that wedding, it won’t only be just for today.

Still, I do my best to put any such feelings to the back of my mind as Telemachus and Ophelia exchange their (unsurprisingly) elaborately-worded vows and share their first kiss as husband and wife. I am happy for Ophelia, of course, but a part of me still doesn’t believe that this is really happening- and a much larger part of me is wondering not just when it’ll be my turn, but if it’ll ever be my turn…

“Ow…” I moan as my eyes slowly open and my body shivers in the cold December air. I glance over at my phone, which reveals that the time is 8:05am and today is Monday- which causes me a moment of panic before I remember that today’s date is the 18th of December and we broke up from college a week ago, meaning I’m under no obligation to get up early today- or at all, if I don’t want to. As I lay in bed, memories of exactly why I’m this hungover on a Monday morning come flooding back to me- and put very conflicted feelings in my heart.

Last night’s party was to celebrate the 21st birthday of my best friend, and to say it was extravagant would be putting it mildly. Everyone was wearing their fanciest clothes- I myself wore a very form-fitting strapless dress with ridiculously high-heeled matching shoes- we girls wore our thickest make-up, poshest jewellery and strongest perfume, while the boys wore their most expensive aftershave. The decorations at Charlotte’s house were ornate and elaborate, the food and drink was exquisite, and Ophelia herself was at the centre of everything, looking every bit like a princess… With her Prince Charming glued to her side throughout the whole evening.

When I eventually stumble through to the living room, I’m unsurprised to find that Ophelia is already awake (she’s not much of a drinker so naturally wouldn’t have much of a hangover) and preparing breakfast- and Telemachus is by her side helping her.

“Good morning, Jacinta,” Ophelia says with a happy grin. “I trust that you are not too much the worse for wear after last night?”

“I’ve had worse hangovers,” I moan. “How are you two this morning?”

“We are well, thank you Jacinta,” Telemachus replies in his refined, deliberate voice. “Though I will admit that last night’s party was considerably more energetic than I was expecting.”

“Birthday celebrations often are,” Ophelia explains before I have the chance to speak. “Especially for one as significant as the 21st. My friends wished to celebrate this occasion with me, and it would be rude to decline their request.”

“Very well,” Telemachus says. “Though on the occasion of the anniversary of my birth next month, I shall only require the company of one of my friends.” I force a smile on my face as Telemachus gently kisses my BFF on her neck- and Ophelia, someone who usually bristles at unexpected physical contact, actually giggles at this gesture!

“Is- is it your birthday next month, then?” I ask.

“It is,” Telemachus replies. “I was born on the 19th day of January in the year one thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine."

“…Cool,” I say. “My birthday’s February 2nd, so it’s cool that we’re all, like, within a few weeks… Umm…” My voice trails off as I realise precisely how much of a ‘third wheel’ I am currently being.

“…Well we will be sure to celebrate your birthday as well, won’t we?” Ophelia asks her husband.

“Absolutely,” Telemachus replies. “Your friendship is beyond valuable to the both of us, Jacinta.”

“Thanks,” I whisper. “My birthday’s on a Friday next year so I’ll probably head back to Brighton for the weekend, see my dad… Do- do you not want to see your family on your birthday, Telemachus?”

“My family do not exactly approve of the choices I have made for my life,” Telemachus replies coldly. “I do not intend to spend Christmas with them, either.”

“Oh, umm, that- that’s a pity…” I mumble.

“And you are of course aware of my relationship with my family,” Ophelia says, making me grimace and nod. “Though it is ironic that they would disapprove of our marriage for very different reasons than yours, agapi.” I have to bite my lip to keep myself from grimacing at Ophelia’s use of her pet name for her husband- like everything to do with the couple, its use is very deliberate and elaborate, and while it sounds entirely artificial, it suits both of them to a T.

“I remember you telling me,” Telemachus replies. “I cannot comprehend how one could live one’s life in such a manner, without dreams or aspirations.”

“They are what they were made,” Ophelia says as I grow increasingly uncomfortable. Conversations like this have become commonplace over the last few months- Ophelia and Telemachus will talk about their lives, about their courses, about their hopes for the future- and I’ll look in from the outside, knowing that even though this is my home, I no longer have any place here.

I suppose it could be worse, of course- Ophelia is still my BFF, and Telemachus is friendly enough- well, maybe more ‘polite’ than ‘friendly’- and I still have all my other friends as well. But for the first time ever, I feel singled out, self-conscious about who I am- which just adds guilt to my misery as I’m forced to accept that I’ve had life a lot easier than many other transgendered girls. Many of my friends in my ‘fellowship’ have told tales about how they were rejected by so-called friends or family. Even Jamie, the millionaire celebrity, has had more than her fair share of hardship concerning her transition. But maybe I’m overreacting- after all, it’s not like Ophelia has rejected me, as such. She’s just found something she likes better than our friendship…

A short while (and two very strong cups of coffee) later, I walk through the front entrance of a nearby coffee shop, where a grin quickly spreads across my face as I’m greeted by a usual feminine cheer.

“Hey there, girliest of girlies!” Katie giggles as I approach the already-packed table, doing a quick twirl in my long-sleeved black bodysuit and tight tartan miniskirt.

“Thanks!” I giggle, sitting down and straightening my skirt as my warm drink is handed to me. “Everyone still hanging after last night, then?”

“Some more than others,” Lauren says with a smug grin as she points to the other married couple in our group, both of whom are wearing oversized sunglasses despite it being freezing outside.

“Want us to keep the volume down?” I tease the two young women, both of whom groan with pain.

“Keeping the volume ‘off’ would be better,” Nikki moans. “Especially as I’ve got my community service in a bit.”

“Ugh, sucks that you still have to do that,” Katie snorts. “Should’ve punched Dannii a few more times if you were gonna be punished anyway.”

“Heh, probably,” Nikki sighs. “So where’s the birthday plus one girl today, then?”

“Have a guess,” I reply, making the others sigh and/or roll their eyes. “You were pretty much there with the ‘plus one’, heh.”

“I suppose I can’t blame them,” Lauren shrugs. “This morning I found it hard to peel myself off of Michael.”

“Emphasis on ‘found it hard’,” Katie teases, giggling as Lauren gives her a playful shove. “Ahh… Yeah. Guess I am a little jealous, especially at this time of year, having a nice, beefy chunk of man flesh to cuddle up to is the best cure for any hangover.”

“You’ll find one soon,” Nikki reassures the freckled girl. “I can start dragging along some of the guys signed to Heavenly Talent to our regular parties, if you’d like?”

“…Maybe in the new year,” Katie replies with a devilish grin. “Maybe, say, the first or second regular party of the year?”

“Remind us again whose birthday is January 11th?” Sarah teases, which widens Katie’s grin.

“Ugh, enough birthday talk,” I moan, earning quizzical stares from my friends. “…Telemachus’s is January 19th and he and Ophelia are already planning it, heh.”

“The 19th is a Friday next year?” Nikki shrugs. “Let me know what type of party he’d prefer and I’ll see what I can arrange, I’m sure Charlotte won’t mind.”

“That’s just it,” I sigh. “The type of ‘party’ he wants is him and Ophelia and no one else.”

“Can’t blame him for that,” Lauren shrugs. “Not everyone’s a party animal, and he did look uncomfortable last night. Then again, Ophelia kinda did as well, heh.”

“I’ve got to admit,” Sarah says, “at first, I was sceptical, but those two are SO made for each other.”

“Totally,” Katie concurs. “Maybe even as much as you two, heh.”

“…Nah,” Nikki says, giggling as she pulls her wife into a tight hug and they link their fingers in their own unique way.

“D’aww,” Lauren giggles. “Stop being perfect, you two!”

“Never,” Sarah replies. “And you two will get your Prince Charmings soon. You’re both far too hot not to, hehe! And believe me, I know a thing or two about hot women!” Lauren, Katie and I sigh happily again as Sarah and Nikki exchange another gentle kiss.

“I guess,” I shrug, though as appealing as ‘Prince Charming’ sounds right now, I’d be more than happy just to have my fellow ‘princess’ back in my life full time.

This new routine continues for the rest of the week, up to and including our friend’s Viks’s birthday party- yes, yet another one- on Thursday and the final regular night out of the year on the Friday- neither of which Ophelia or Telemachus attended, choosing instead to stay indoors curled up on the sofa reading. A part of me agrees with Lauren, that they can’t be blamed for preferring each other’s company, and that Ophelia was never really a party animal to begin with- but a part of me still misses having my BFF next to me whenever I go out, and there’s a part of me that worries about whether it’s her choice to stay in, or whether she’s being ‘influenced’ by her husband…

Saturday morning begins much as Monday morning’s did, with a hangover and a cold room, but unlike Monday, I have a reason to get out of bed and get ready to leave the house early, as I’m reminded by the large suitcase at the bottom of my bed. After showering and pulling on a cute black skater dress, a pair of warm black tights and a pair of flats, I grab the suitcase and head through to the living room, where I sigh when I see Ophelia and Telemachus sat together in their usual positions on the sofa, just like every other day. However, today is most definitely not like just every other day, and not just because it’s the day before Christmas Eve.

“Good morning, Jacinta,” Ophelia says, barely tearing her eyes away from her husband as she addresses me.

“Hi you two,” I say, biting my lip as I try to word my next sentence as delicately as possible. “I’m, umm, heading to the station in a bit… Heading down, you know, to Brighton…”

“Of course,” Ophelia says, frustrating me as she stays rooted to our sofa.

“…Are you coming too, or staying here all over Christmas?” I ask, deciding that as tact isn’t getting me anywhere, I may as well be blunt about it.

“I, umm,” Ophelia replies hesitantly, immediately tipping me off to the fact that I’m probably not going to like what she has to say.

“We have decided,” Telemachus explains, ”that- umm…”

“We do not wish to impose on your father any more than necessary,” Ophelia says, confusing me- dad has never seen Ophelia as an imposition, in fact, the opposite is usually true. Dad adores Ophelia, and I know she feels the same way toward him- he’s certainly been more of a parent to her than her ‘real’ mother, after all. Obviously, she now adores someone more than dad- making me wonder just whose idea it is not to go to Brighton.

“You don’t impose, you know that, he’s told you often enough,” I retort.

“WE do not wish to impose,” Ophelia says, clarifying what I already knew.

“And you wouldn’t,” I say. “You BOTH wouldn’t. Telemachus, you’ve met my father, you know he’s a decent guy, wouldn’t mind you staying over.”

“I am not comfortable with the idea of celebrating Christmas with the family of another person,” Telemachus replies in a voice barely louder than a mumble. “I would much rather spend it with my family.” I try to suppress a frown as Telemachus pulls his wife into a tight hug- a gesture that causes the usually touch-phobic Ophelia to giggle excitedly.

“And how would you have spent it if you hadn’t married Ophelia?” I ask, smirking as Telemachus bite his lip, clearly having to think about his answer.

“I do not know,” Telemachus confesses. “Certainly not with my own family.” I decide not to press the issue about Telemachus’s family- I don’t know the whole story there, after all, and I can easily believe that both he and his family could be to blame for their estrangement. Instead, I decided to try to build bridges, rather than break them down.

“…Why not become a part of ours?” I say. “You don’t want to spend Christmas with another person’s family, I get that, but you’re married to Ophelia, she sees my dad as like her dad, so that technically means you’d be spending Christmas with your own family, right?”

“You must admit that her argument makes sense,” Ophelia says, making me smile- she obviously not totally under Telemachus’s thumb. Well, not yet, anyway…

“I would still much rather spend Christmas with just you,” Telemachus says softly.

“What would you prefer, Ophelia?” I ask, instantly grimacing the second the words leave my mouth- disregarding his opinions isn’t exactly the best way to convince Telemachus to come to Brighton with us, after all.

“I would prefer to spend Christmas with those that I love,” Ophelia replies. ‘Those’ as singular or plural? I think to myself as Telemachus gazes into his wife’s eyes and lets out a gentle sigh, instantly bringing a smile to both my and my BFF’s faces.

A short while later, the three of us- along with bulging suitcases- stride through the front door of my father’s house, and a wide grin spreads across his face as he sees myself and Ophelia walk through the front door. Much to my delight, his grin widens further when he sees that Ophelia’s fingers are linked with her husband’s.

“Merry Christmas!” Dad says, greeting myself and Ophelia with loving hugs and Telemachus with a firm handshake. “So glad you’re here. So glad that you’re ALL here.”

“Thank you, mister Hanley,” Telemachus says in a shy, quiet voice.

“Friends of Jacinta and Ophelia can call be Mike,” dad insists. “That goes double for Ophelia’s husband, heh!”

“Okay… Mike,” Telemachus says with a hesitant chuckle as I smile- ten seconds in and already Telemachus is being made to feel like part of the family, as I knew he would be.

“So then, he treating you okay?” Dad asks Ophelia, who giggles nervously- she’s obviously as hopeful as I am that Telemachus and dad get along well.

“He is my prince,” Ophelia replies, “and treats me like his princess.”

“Good, I’m glad,” dad says as he flops down into his usual chair and gently runs his fingers over mum’s urn. “All husbands should.”

“You have no reason to worry about us,” Ophelia says with a smile.

“Good,” dad repeats. “You- you didn’t want to go to see your family, then?” Obviously, this question was directed at Telemachus, which makes all three of us bristle.

“…My relationship with my family is not currently a positive one,” Telemachus says coldly. “They neither approve of my lifestyle or my relationship, particularly my- I mean, our marriage.”

“Pity,” dad shrugs. “If I was married to someone like Ophelia I’d want to show her off to my family, even if I was only eighteen.”

“If it were my choice, I would show Ophelia off to the whole world,” Telemachus says, smiling happily as he gazes into my BFF’s eyes. “I just wish that there were those who were willing to listen.”

“Well I’m willing to listen,” dad says with a smile. “And I’m certainly not going to say no to a new pseudo-son-in-law.” Way to make me feel inadequate, dad, I think to myself.

“Thank you, mis- Mike,” Telemachus says with a smile. “My hope is that one day my family shall accept me for who I am and respect my choices. However, I do not hold out any hope.”

“Have you met his family yet, Ophelia?” Dad asks.

“Not yet,” Ophelia says. “They live in the north of England and we have been busy at university, so have had little time to go and see them.”

“Where in England are you originally from, Telemachus?” Dad asks.

“I was born in the city of Wolverhampton,” Telemachus replies, making dad chuckle with laughter.

“Yeah, I can tell by the accent,” dad says- which, much to my surprise, actually brings a smirk to the young man’s face. Suffice to say, Telemachus’s accent doesn’t sound like it comes from anywhere near Wolverhampton, or the rest of the West Midlands. “Wanderers are doing well this season.”

“I am not a follower of football,” Telemachus says, which makes dad smirk.

“Always nice to celebrate your hometown’s achievements, though,” dad says. “When Albion went up last season I celebrated for about a month, heh. And because you’re from Wolverhampton, you wouldn’t be accused of glory chasing either.”

“Thank you, but I shall decline,” Telemachus says, clearly growing uncomfortable with the conversation.

“We believe that a person’s hometown is a mere accident of birth,” Ophelia explains. “I am no more attached to Brighton than I am to London.”

“Fair enough,” dad shrugs. “Just glad I didn’t know in advance and get you a Wanderers shirt for Christmas, though you don’t strike me as a ‘football shirt’ kind of person anyway, heh.”

“No, thank you,” Telemachus says with a chuckle as he visibly starts to relax. “And there is no need to spend money on any gifts for me, your hospitality is more than I could ask for.”

“Don’t be silly, you’ve got to have something to unwrap on Christmas morning!” Dad chuckles. “Well, besides your wife, heh!”

“Heh,” Ophelia chuckles as she starts to blush.

“I, umm, I didn’t not buy any presents for you, though,” Telemachus says in a shy, quiet voice.

“I don’t mind,” dad shrugs. “I’m guessing this was a last minute decision to come here, so it’s fine.”

“We can always change the labels on my gifts so that they say they are from both of us,” Ophelia suggests.

“…No,” Telemachus says firmly. “It would not be proper to accept hospitality and not at least buy a Christmas present for our host. I shall buy one today once we have unpacked.”

“If you insist,” dad shrugs.

“If we may be excused,” Ophelia says, before leading her husband up to her room- or rather, my old room, which I've 'loaned' to them for the holiday period- to unpack.

“...It did take a bit of persuading to get Telemachus to come today,” I say, making my father smirk.

“I’m glad you did,” dad chuckles. “I will admit, I am a bit worried, though.”

“…I am a little,” I say with a grimace. “I’ve never known Ophelia to change so much and so quickly, you know?”

“Oh- I agree with you,” dad says. “But I’m more worried about you than her.”

“Wha- me?” I exclaim. “Why, exactly?”

“You didn’t say two words when I was talking to those two,” dad says. “You sat there, staring off to space… You’re either depressed or pissed off, so which one is it?”

“I’m not depressed and I’m not pissed off,” I reply, before letting out a long sigh. “…Okay, maybe I’m a little of both, I dunno.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I DO know,” dad says. “And I know why, too. Does Ophelia have any green contact lenses she can lend you?”

“I’m not jealous of Ophelia,” I scoff. “Sure, Telemachus is her type, but he’s not mine, you know?”

“I never said he was,” dad retorts. “And I never said it was Ophelia that you were jealous of.”

“Who else would I be jealous of, then?” I ask.

“Telemachus,” dad replies. “For stealing your BFF away from you.”

“I’d be a hell of a hypocrite if I was jealous, then,” I retort. “Given that I’ve been chasing after my own ‘prince’ for what feels like that last century.”

“Nothing wrong with feeling a little jealous,” dad shrugs. “Everybody is at some point in their life. Though I’d have thought you of all people would be used to change.”

“Change for the better,” I clarify as I gesture to my feminine body.

“I’m sure Ophelia thinks this change is for the better,” dad says.

“…Yeah,” I sigh. “And yes, that’s what’s got me jealous.”

“If she was with some football hooligan, then you might have a point,” dad says. “But you can’t argue that Telemachus and Ophelia aren’t made for each other.”

“She went from ‘happily single’ to ‘happily married’ in just a few days,” I feebly mumble.

“Because she met the right guy,” dad says. “And you will too. Though- wait a bit longer than two weeks before tying the knot with him, please?” I open my mouth to respond, but at that exact moment, Telemachus and Ophelia return to the living room and sit back down on the sofa.

“Thank you again for letting us stay under your roof, Mike,” Telemachus says.

“You’re welcome anytime,” dad replies with a smile. “Your wife should already know that.”

“And I do,” Ophelia says with an almost smug grin, which widens as her husband wraps an arm around her tightly-corseted waist.

“At least I can be sure you won’t make too much of a mess,” dad teases, before slowly rising from his chair. “And on that note, please try to not make a mess while I’m out.”

“Umm- what?” I ask.

“Got a ticket to the Watford game,” dad explains. “Probably gonna be late in the Christmas traffic but it was worth it to welcome the three of you home. So I’ll see you all at dinnertime, okay?”

“Umm, sure,” I say, looking on with surprise as dad grabs his coat and leaves us alone in the house. “…So, then…”

“Your, umm, house is very nice, Jacinta,” Telemachus says in a valiant but vain attempt to break the awkward silence that filled the room when dad left.

“Thanks,” I reply.

“This is where I lived for the year before I moved to London,” Ophelia explains, which unsurprisingly causes Telemachus to perk up.

“Then it is a very lucky house indeed,” Telemachus says softly, before exchanging a long, loving kiss with my BFF as I try not to fidget.

“Anyway…” I say, drumming my fingers on my knees. “Do you, umm, do you want to see some more of Brighton? It’s not exactly the right season for it, and the city centre’s going to be slammed this close to Christmas, but-“

“I would never pass up the opportunity to see more places where Ophelia walked,” Telemachus says, making me feeling simultaneously relieved to be able to leave the house and nauseated by the longing look he gives to Ophelia.

A short while later, the three of us are walking through the city centre, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, particularly the elaborate Christmas decorations. Naturally, many parents are out with their children, which means that naturally, the three of us get a lot of attention from passers-by. However, as this is Brighton, and it almost Christmas, Telemachus and Ophelia’s odd manner of clothing is largely written off as being a festive costume, and several people actually ask for selfies from the two of them. A couple of people actually ask for selfies from Ophelia as they (presumably) recognise her from the Angels’ Instagram feeds, with Ophelia’s birthday party having been a major event on their social media pages in the last week, Ophelia being known to be a Brighton native and she, of course, isn’t the most inconspicuous person in the world. Ophelia herself has no problem agreeing to these selfies- she (and I, occasionally) get these requests in London- but with every passing photograph, Telemachus looks more and more uncomfortable…

Eventually, after a spot of Christmas shopping (Telemachus insisted on picking up some gifts for my father), the three of us head to a small coffee shop for some lunch, where we’re all glad to take the weight off our feet- especially Ophelia in her 4” stilettos! We each pick up a drink and a light snack to nibble on, but as we’re sitting down at a table, I catch a glimpse of something that immediately makes me freeze, something I haven’t seen in a long time and hoped I would never see again.

“Ooh shit,” I breathe.

“Is there a particular need to be profane?” Telemachus chastises me. “Especially in the presence of children.”

“Yeah, it’s the children that are the problem,” I say, mentally adding ‘particularly those two children in the corner- or rather, their mother’.

“Strange, you do not usually think so,” Ophelia muses. “In fact, you often speak about how you enjoy being an auntie to children like Nikki’s sister, especially as you have no siblings of your own.” Yep, way to inadvertently hit the nail on the head, I think to myself as I let out a long sigh.

“That’s precisely it,” I sigh. “Out of the two of us, one of us is already an auntie… And your nieces are in this coffee shop.” I frown as I point behind Ophelia to where the unmistakable form of her sister Candice is sat with her two young daughters, both of whom are clearly exasperating the teenaged girl. However, it’s Ophelia’s emotional state that I’m most concerned with- and she is clearly in shock at seeing someone from her ‘family’ for the first time in almost three years. It’s almost certainly the first time she’ll have seen either of her nieces, too.

“Should- should we introduce ourselves?” Telemachus asks hesitantly. I’ve no doubt that Ophelia’s told him about her relationship with her sisters, and that she’s happier now that she has no relationship with them, but I can tell by the look on her face that there’s a tiny part of her that actually misses her ‘family’. That, and the chance to rub in Candice’s face that she’s succeeding at college, mildly famous in her own right and, last but not least, married may be too much for her to resist.

“…No,” Ophelia replies. “She is a part of my past. We shall eat and leave. She does not need to know that we were even in here.”

“Umm… I’m pretty sure EVERYONE knows we’re in here,” I retort.

“Candice was never the most observant person,” Ophelia says with a dismissive shrug. “She would likely not even recognise me even if I did speak to her.” Wow, I think to myself. That's pessimistic...

“You might be surprised,” I say softly. Candice (and her kids) are obviously here by themselves, her and Ophelia's mother is nowhere to be seen... Maybe Candice would actually want to see Ophelia... Certainly, her kids might want to meet their cool aunt. “Don’t you want to meet your nieces, at least?”

“My life would be no less complete if I don’t,” Ophelia replies, a definite trace of anger seeping into her voice.

“…Would they not technically be my nieces, too?” Telemachus asks, and immediately I start to feel guilty, for as much as I disapprove of Telemachus controlling Ophelia, on this occasion, we both share the same goal.

“I said I don’t want to talk to her!” Ophelia suddenly snaps- in her natural accent, no less- startling myself and Telemachus, not to mention many of the other diners around us. “…My apologies. I did not mean to lose my temper, but this is a sensitive subject for me."

"Maybe we- maybe we should find somewhere else to eat," I say softly. Even though Ophelia is more successful than Candice by any objective way of measuring it, the chance to gloat isn't worth all the stress it's causing her. She's even started to sweat- something Ophelia almost never does regardless of how tight she ties her corset.

"Perhaps that would be for the best," Telemachus says softly, returning to the counter to enquire about getting our food repackaged to takeout as Ophelia takes several deep breaths to calm herself down.

"Are you okay?" I ask my BFF, who sighs and nods.

"I will be once we're out of here," she replies. "You of all people should want to have as little contact with Candice as possible." I shudder as I remember the time I encounter the teenager in a nearby supermarket, when she accused me as loudly as she could of raping her, despite the fact that we were in a large crowd- and that she was shopping in the store after having been repeatedly banned from it for shoplifting.

"Yeah, that's true," I sigh. "I guess I just saw the kids and thought she may have changed, I dunno."

"That certainly never worked for my quote-unquote 'mother'," Ophelia retorts. "And Candice had a child with her the last time we saw her."

"Yeah, I guess," I shrug as Telemachus returns with containers for our food. "Thanks, Telemachus. There'll be somewhere nearby we can eat this, hopefully somewhere indoors, heh!"

"I shall let you lead the way," Telemachus says, giving his wife's hand a supportive squeeze. Before we can finish packaging away our food, however, we hear the sound we were all dreading- and a sound that instantly makes my whole body tense up.

"Mandeh?" The unmistakable, unrefined voice of Candice calls- and I can tell by the look on my BFF's face that I'm not the only one dreading what's coming next. "Mandeh? That you?"

"Just ignore her," I whisper.

"What would be the point in that?" Ophelia sighs. "Like you said, we are conspicuous. And this is the first time in my life I wish I wasn't."

"We will always support you," Telemachus says softly, but even this doesn't reassure my BFF as her younger sister approaches our table, dragging her squirming toddler with her.

"Mandeh?" Candice asks. "I knew it were yer!"

"There is no one sat at this table who answers to the name of 'Mandy'," Ophelia says in an almost angry voice. "My name is Ophelia Cassiopeia Love. And as far as I and the rest of the world are concerned, it always has been."

"Alright, don't need to bite my head off!" Candice snorts. "I ain't seen yer in two years and that's all you got to say? I thought we were sisters?"

"Really?" Ophelia replies. "You never seemed to when we were growing up."

"What's- well, yeah, I guess," Candice shrugs, silencing the three of us sat at the table- the Candice Lowe I know would never admit to anything like that. She also hasn't blinked twice at the fact that I'm sat just a few feet away from her. Or, more likely, she hasn't recognised me...

"Mummy, I want to go home!" The restless toddler tugging at Candice's arm whines, breaking the awkward silence.

"We'll go home in a bit!" Candice scolds. "Mummy's talking to your Auntie Mandy!" Naturally, this does nothing to calm the little girl, who starts crying when her mother turns her attention away from her.

"What's her name?" Telemachus asks, bringing a sneer to Candice's face- and, ironically, making it look a lot more familiar.

"Who are you?" Candice asks.

"Telemachus Charlemagne Percival," the white-haired teenager replies. "Ophelia's husband. And, as such, also the little girl's uncle."

"What- you're married?" Candice asks.

"Correct," Ophelia replies, gripping her husband's hand as they show off their rings. "And no, you may not tell our mother, I would prefer it if she did not know."

"Ugh, like that's gonna happen anyway," Candice snorts. "Ain't not talked to mum in months, she kicked me out when she stopped getting benefit for me." Naturally, this silences the table once again.

"I wish I could say that I was surprised," Ophelia says softly. "She was never fit to be a parent."

"Yeah, I'm only just realising that meself," Candice snorts. "Having me own is what made me see how useless she was."

"You will get no argument from me," Ophelia says with a warm, surprisingly genuine smile. "Please, would you sit? You and your children."

"What?" I ask, before grimacing as a look of realisation comes over Candice's face.

"Who- wait, ain't you the ladyboy?" Candice asks, making me roll my eyes.

"If you mean 'transgendered', then yes," I ask. "Are you going to accuse me of raping you again?"

"When'd I do that?" Candice asks.

"Do you want the precise time and date?" I ask.

"Whatever," Candice shrugs. "And yeah, I'll get my youngest, hang on a bit." I frown as Candice walks over to retrieve the stroller with her younger child, and as Telemachus and Ophelia look at me with concern on their faces.

"I can hardly blame you for reacting like that," Ophelia says. "But does she not seem different to you?"

"Well- maybe," I shrug, realising that the circumstances have again done a 180, as Ophelia is now welcoming her sister while I'm dreading the upcoming conversation. "She's not screeching her lungs out, that's a start."

"Very true," Ophelia says as Candice returns to our table and sits her squirming toddler on her lap. "You never did tell us your daughters' names, Candice."

"This one's Kelsie-Leigh," Candice says, gesturing to the toddler. "The little one's Maisie-Mae."

"Very... Interesting names," Ophelia replies, suppressing a snigger at the children's decidedly lower-class names.

"What, like yours is any better?" Candice sneers. Much to my surprise, Ophelia simply concedes the point rather than arguing any further. I immediately start to wonder if this is how she coped with life before moving out- and worry that she's falling back into old habits. However, I'm confident that Ophelia's not going to get bullied by her sister today- Telemachus and I won't let her.

"Do you live with their father?" Ophelia asks.

"Dunno who he even is," Candice snorts. "For both of them. Everyone told me to get knocked up so I can live on benefits the rest of my life, but that ain't gonna work 'cause I'll have to find a job when they're five, and I ain't got no qualifications either. Social nearly took the kids off me a couple of months ago, said I weren't raising them right."

"That's terrible," I gasp.

"Nah, they gave me a chance to, you know, learn how to be a 'proper' mother," Candice replies. "I weren't gonna say no to that. It were like going to school again."

"I know how much you hated that," Ophelia chuckles.

"I wish I didn't," Candice confesses. "Even if all our teachers were stupid. I wish I was more like you, you know? Going to university, that sort of thing." Naturally, this totally silences my BFF, and me too- there's no way the 14 year old girl I met a few years ago would ever have admitted to anything like that. Ophelia spent her whole life being looked down on by her family, and it's about time that changed.

"Thank you," Ophelia whispers.

"What- what are you doing for Christmas?" I ask hesitantly.

"Spending it at my boyfriend's," Candice replies, making me breathe an internal sigh of relief- Ophelia and Telemachus would be too polite to invite her to dad's house when they're guests themselves but I know they would want me to extend the invitation on their behalf.

"Where is he today?" Ophelia asks.

"At work," Candice shrugs. "We ain't, you know, serious or anything, not living together, like, but we do like each other."

"Good," Ophelia says softly. "Hopefully you will be able to find the happiness that Telemachus and I share."

The four of us (well, six including the increasingly-agitated children) stay at the coffee shop for another half an hour talking about the sisters’ lives, past, present and future, and exchanging contact details for future Christmases and birthdays. All throughout the talk, I feel more and more marginalised, and by the time we eventually leave the coffee shop, I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I barely pay attention to what Telemachus and Ophelia are saying to each other. However, Ophelia then says something that causes me to snap back to attention- and reminds me just how lucky I am.

“Candice is probably the biological sister I had the most contact with while I was growing up,” Ophelia muses. “However, Jacinta is far more my real sister than any of them. And almost certainly the only real sister I’ve ever had.” Naturally, this immediately brings tears to my eyes as Ophelia looks at me with a warm, genuine smile on her face- a smile that’s reflected by the normally stoic Telemachus.

“Then she is also the best sister-in-law one could have,” Telemachus states.

“…Thanks,” I sniffle, crying even more as Ophelia opens her arms and accepts a tight, sisterly hug from me- an even greater rarity than a Telemachus smile!

The rest of the day, along with the whole of Christmas Eve, is spent at home watching TV, helping dad prepare the Christmas dinner and sharing stories of past holiday seasons. With every passing second, the four of us grow closer as the family that we truly are, and once he realises that he’s among true friends, Telemachus begins to loosen up and genuinely seems to have fun, while Ophelia and I take the opportunity to spend some quality ‘sister time’ together. After so many years of Christmas being celebrated by just myself and my father, then the last few years being me, dad and Ophelia, celebrating with so many people in the house feels like a fairytale, or one of those old Christmas movies. The only thing missing is the four of us singing carols around a piano.

However, at the end of each night, my holiday spirit evaporates as I can’t help but feel sidelined when Ophelia and Telemachus walk upstairs together, hand-in-hand, while I’m left to sleep alone on the sofa bed. Ophelia might be my sister, but ‘Prince Charming’ trumps ‘sister’ any day of the week- something that I of all people should know.

Eventually, Christmas morning rolls around, and I’m awoken just after 6am by a sight that would have excited me fifteen years ago, but today, just confuses me.

“…Dad?” I ask the rotund, red-suited figure that’s crept into the room.

“Ho ho ho!” Dad replies, his voice muffled by the thick fake white beard covering his mouth. “Merry Christmas, little girl!”

“Seriously?” I ask. “I’m 21, don’t you think I’m a little old for Santa?”

“No one’s too old for Santa!” Dad replies. “Ho ho ho!”

“You said that already,” I say, before letting out a quiet giggle and laying back on the sofa bed. “Okay, fair enough. Just hope I’ve been on the ‘nice’ list this year, heh.”

“You? Always,” dad replies. “Ophelia and Telemachus too. Might have drawn the line at Candice it she’d come here today, though.”

“Yeah, kinda glad she isn’t,” I chuckle. “Still, it does show that anyone can change, I guess. And not into a Santa suit, either.”

“Yep!” Dad chuckles. “It’s clear who Ophelia thinks are her real family, though.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “She even flat-out stated it, and she’s not wrong either.”

“…But?” dad asks, making me sigh.

“It’s obvious she considers Telemachus to be more- well, ‘more’ than either of us,” I say. “And I get it, he IS her husband, it’s just- I dunno.”

“Yeah, it’s tough,” dad sighs, sitting down in his chair. “Kinda like when your only child goes away to university and has a brand-new circle of friends they hang around with, kinda like they’ve got themselves a new family.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I mumble, rolling over in my bed.

“I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty,” dad sighs. “I said that because even though you have all these big, fancy friends with their millions of Instagram followers, come Christmas morning it’s this roof you’re sleeping under. And it’s this roof that Ophelia’s sleeping under as well, regardless of who she’s sleeping with.”

“Well- I guess,” I say.

“I KNOW,” dad insists. “You’ve been friends with Ophelia longer than Telemachus has. Longer than anyone else has. Whenever she has a problem- especially with Telemachus- it’s her sister she’ll need help from. And by ‘sister’ I mean her real sister, not any of those quote-unquote women that came out of the same vagina as her.”

“Thank you for describing it like that,” I say.

“And on that same sensitive topic,” dad says hesitantly, “you know that she’ll be there for you every second of every day after you have your operation next summer.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “She’s said as much there too. Though that was before she got married.”

“Well, lucky that you have so many other friends,” dad shrugs. “Quite a lot of whom have also been through that operation, right?”

“Yep,” I reply with a smirk as I remember the trip Ophelia and I took to London to welcome Nikki back following her SRS. At that moment, the living room door opens, and the extremely unfamiliar sound of Ophelia and Telemachus giggling together fills the room- and it’s fairly obviously what they’re laughing at.

“Ho ho ho!” Dad cheers. “Merry Christmas!”

“Season’s greetings, ‘Father Christmas’,” Ophelia replies between giggles.

“I’ll get some coffee going,” I say, wrapping my bedsheets around my cold body as I head through to the kitchen. “Unless ‘Santa’ would prefer some sherry?”

“Not before 7am,” dad replies, earning yet more giggles as he begins laying out the numerous gifts we have received.

The four of us receive the usual things- clothes, perfume and jewellery for myself and Ophelia, aftershave sets and football memorabilia for dad and smart clothing and fashion history books for Telemachus. We eat Christmas dinner at 1pm, finishing just in time for the Queen’s speech, before settling down in front of the television for the rest of the evening. I allow myself to relax as evening turns into night, dad’s word from earlier in the morning helping me to realise that as hard as we tried to get Telemachus to accept us as his new family, I also need to accept that he’s a member of my family, and that he’s quite possibly a more important part of Ophelia’s life than I am now. Like any ‘Prince Charming’ should be…

I wake up early on Boxing Day morning to get ready to head back to London, filling my suitcase with my clothes and my Christmas presents before Ophelia and Telemachus come downstairs hand-in-hand for the third morning in a row.

“Ah, good to see everyone’s up bright and early!” Dad chuckles as he enters the living room a few seconds behind my BFF and her husband. “Gonna be weird tomorrow waking up to an empty house, heh.”

“We shall return before long,” Ophelia reassures my father, who replies with a smile and a nod.

“I’m glad to hear it,” dad says. “I’ll drop you off at your flat first, reckon you’ll have a lot more gifts to open there, right?”

“If Nikki and Sarah have dropped them off,” I say.

“They always live up to their promises,” Ophelia reminds me. “They said they would drop them off after the gift exchange on Christmas Eve, and I believe them.”

“It’ll be good to catch up with them again,” I chuckle. “Think this was their first Christmas as a married couple too.”

“Yeah, that’s always a special feeling,” dad muses. “And I’m glad you’re looking forward to going back to London. You can never have too many friends, right?”

“Absolutely,” Ophelia concurs with a wide grin. “And you are also most certainly correct about celebrating one’s first Christmas as a married couple.”

“I’m sure you two will want some privacy once you’re back home,” dad says, causing me some confusion.

“…Thanks, dad,” I say. “Kick me out of my own flat on Boxing Day, then, when nowhere’s open?”

“Oh, there’ll be a few places open,” dad says with a smug grin, before tossing me one final present he’d obviously held back from yesterday- a present that, by the feel of it, contains an item of clothing.

“What, do I need a uniform to get in there?” I ask, unwrapping the present and letting out a half-chuckle, half-groan when I see what’s inside.

“Well… Kind of,” dad says as I hold up the item of clothing- a Brighton and Hove Albion F.C. replica shirt. “’Course, they’ll be playing in their away kit as the team they’re playing also plays in blue, but this’ll still count. There should be a ticket inside there too.” Indeed, when I shake the package, a slip of cardboard drops out with ‘Chelsea vs Brighton and Hove Albion’ written on it. “It’s been ages since we went to a game together.”

“Yeah,” I grimace. “No offence, dad, but last time we went to a game, I didn’t exactly, you know, have THAT much fun…”

“I get that,” dad says. “And there’s a reason for that- it’s because we went as father and son. I’ve never taken my daughter to a match before, and that’s something I intend to change.”

“And you did say you enjoyed watching the American Football game, did you not?” Ophelia asks. Another thing I went to to avoid watching you and Telemachus slobber over each other, I think to myself.

“I guess,” I shrug. “It’s just- there will be a LOT of people there, you know?”

“Jacinta,” dad says softly. “No one there is going to mistake you for a boy. No one. At all. Trust me.”

“There is nothing even remotely masculine about you,” Telemachus reassures me. “You are the type of woman my brothers would be deeply attracted to. If you will pardon the insult.”

“…Thanks, ‘bruv’,” I giggle, making the young man smile warmly. “Even when I’m wearing a football shirt, though?”

“It’s a women’s replica shirt,” dad shrugs. “I’m not going to buy you any male clothing now, am I?” I giggle as I check the label of the shirt to confirm that what dad says is true, before heading into the kitchen and returning a few seconds later in my new shirt.

“Don’t expect to see me wearing this every weekend!” I caution. “Especially not at Charlotte’s parties!”

“God forbid,” dad chuckles. “And it’s Tuesday today, not the weekend, so you’re fine. Now come on, traffic in London’s going to be hideous and I for one want to be on time for the match!"

After one final check that everything is packed, the three of us follow dad out to his car, stuffing his boot with our cases (and our numerous presents) before settling in for the long trip north to the capital.

We arrive in London just over two hours later and head into our flat to discover that our friends have indeed dropped off our presents from our ‘extended family’- Ophelia and I each have a large pile waiting for us, and gratifyingly, my new ‘brother-in-law’ also has a small pile of gifts waiting for him from Nikki, Sarah, Katie and Lauren- all of which are related to vintage men’s fashion and all of which Telemachus clearly appreciates a lot. Ophelia and I also appreciate our gifts from the rest of the girls- I particularly appreciate the two new clubbing dresses Sarah and Lauren made for me and the matching designer heels from Nikki, all of which I intend to try out soon!

The excitement surrounding my presents helps to distract me from what’s happening on the sofa in front of me- namely, Ophelia and Telemachus opening their presents together, even when they’re individual gifts for one of them but not the other. I’ve had three days of this at dad’s house, of course, but it makes me a million times more uncomfortable when it takes place in my home- precisely because it is in my home, reminding me that despite my friends’ reassurances, I am the odd one out. Suddenly, going to a football match doesn’t seem like too bad an option…

Dad and I take our leave of the couple just after 1pm and head along to Chelsea’s vast stadium, stopping at a nearby coffee shop for some lunch. As I’m nibbling at my Panini, I muse on how much the change to Ophelia’s life has affected my own, and how much it continues to change my life even three months later. Even when I was in a relationship, such as with Simon, I was still closer to Ophelia than I was to any boy. In fact, on reflection, I was closer to all the other girls than I was to Simon. Maybe this is the reason the relationship failed. Or maybe I’m just incapable of feeling about a boy the way Ophelia clearly feels about Telemachus. Or maybe there just isn’t a ‘Prince Charming’ out there for me at all? 3 and a half years of searching has yielded nothing, whilst Ophelia found her Prince Charming without even having to look at all. And yes, I am a little jealous that things seemed to fall so neatly for her.”

“Hey!” Dad says, startling me and derailing my self-pitying train of thought. “You looked like you were miles away there.”

“Yep,” I sigh. “Guess why, heh.”

“Ah, and here I was thinking that we’d made progress these last few days,” dad says with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah,” I mumble. “Being home has kinda hammered it home that I’m the ‘third wheel’, heh.”

“Or ‘best friend’,” dad advises. “Or ‘fairy godmother’ if you’d prefer.”

“That second one doesn’t sound too bad,” I giggle. “I dunno. Maybe if I had a ‘Prince Charming’ of my own to cuddle up to it’d be different, I dunno.”

“Well if you’re looking to pick up a boy, you’re going to the right place!” Dad chuckles. “But going round and round in circles about Ophelia and Telemachus isn’t going to do anyone any good. Least of all you. I should be the last person to encourage you to jump in bed with someone, but, well, you DO kinda need to take your mind off of things, you know?”

“My own dad is telling me I need to get laid,” I sigh. “My life is officially OVER.”

“Stop being such a drama queen,” dad chastises with a chuckle. “There’s someone out there for you, Jacinta. I know it. You’re not going to still be single when you’re forty, or even thirty. And I kinda want to walk you down the aisle before I go too senile.”

“…You’re forty-nine,” I remind my father. “Hardly ‘going senile’. And you walked Ophelia down the aisle, didn’t you?”

“Do I really need to explain how that’s different?” Dad asks as we share a knowing smile. “Probably not going to find anyone in here, though. Everyone’s shirt is the wrong shade of blue, for starters!”

“Yeah,” I chuckle, scanning the faces of the other diners before spotting something that makes my eyes widen.

“So much for not jumping into bed with the first guy you see,” dad says, having noticed my reaction. “What was that, ten, fifteen seconds?”

“It’s not THAT,” I say, finishing my Panini, grabbing my drink and standing up, which definitely confuses my father. “Besides, these two guys are married, anyway.”

“Even worse,” dad says, before reluctantly grabbing his drink and following me to the table where the two men who had caught my eye are sat.

“Hello BOYS,” I say with a smug, confident voice, giggling as the two young men are briefly startled before a look of realisation spreads across their faces.

“Hi Jacinta,” my friend Stuart- who is decked out in a Chelsea F.C. shirt- says with a heavy sigh. “Backing the losing side today, then?”

“We’ll see,” I say with a smug grin. “Dad, I’d like you to meet Stuart Milton and Keith Hartley, two good friends of mine. Guys, this is my dad Mike.”

“Nice to meet you both,” dad says as he shakes the hands of the two young men. “So you’re part of this ‘extended family’ I keep hearing so much about, then?”

“’Fraid so,” Keith chuckles. “Stuart a bit more than me, heh!” My smile grows smugger as Keith points to his friend's upper arm, below which is the bottom of a very distinctive tattoo- the same tattoo I have on the back of my shoulder.

“Ah,” dad says, instantly recognising the significance of the tattoo. “One of the ‘fellowship’, heh. Pity you’re a Chelsea supporter.”

“I’ll remind you you said that after we win,” Stuart snorts as he rolls down his sleeve.

“Ugh, BOYS,” I say, giggling as all three men roll their eyes at me.

“Seriously though,” Keith says, “it is nice to meet you, Jacinta’s always spoken highly of you.”

“I’m flattered!” Dad chuckles. “Maybe. I think. You two got any kids of your own?”

“One each,” Stuart says. “I’ve got a ten month old girl, Keith’s got a 2 year old boy.”

“With numbers two and three already on the way,” Keith says with a proud grin.

“Yay, just what the world needs, more Chelsea supporters,” dad says, smirking as he’s met by playful jeers from the two younger men.

“I say again,” I sigh. “BOYS.”

“Well I need to repark the car so I’m going to get that done now, but it was nice to meet the two of you,” dad says. “I’ll leave you three to it- make sure that you get Jacinta safely to the AWAY supporters’ end of the ground.”

“Will do,” Stuart says as he and Keith exchange handshakes with dad again. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” dad says. “Also, Jacinta’s desperate for a guy, so please set her up with someone nice?”

“DAD!” I hiss, my cheeks burning as dad leaves with a chuckle and I sit down next to my two friends. “SO embarrassing…”

“Nah, your dad’s cool,” Keith shrugs.

“And he didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know,” Stuart says, laughing as I give him a firm shove.

“Wanker,” I retort. “Just for that I hope Brighton DO win. And you end up covered in soda again!” I smirk as Stuart rolls his eyes and Keith chuckles at the memory of the former’s humiliation after this year’s FA Cup final.

“Yeah, I’ve been banned from making bets by my wife,” Stuart mumbles. “Which is probably for the best, heh.”

“We’re actually lucky we were even allowed out today,” Keith confesses. “Charlie, Jamie and the kids are treating themselves to a shopping day. I’m guessing you’d rather be there than here?”

“If I had the money,” I shrug. “And… Kinda yeah, kinda no. I mean, yes, shopping is WAY more fun than football, but it’s the company, you know? I hardly ever get the chance to spend time with my dad anymore, so it’ll be nice to do something together.”

“Ophelia otherwise indisposed, then?” Stuart asks.

“…Yeah,” I sigh.

“’Indisposed’ with Jacob Rees Mogg?” Keith teases, squirming as his insult earns an angry glare from me.

“Not fair,” I growl. “For starters, Telemachus is far more modern-minded than he is. And probably a lot more warm-hearted.”

“If you say so,” Stuart shrugs. “Given I’ve probably only even laid eyes on the guy twice. It won’t surprise you to learn I have the same view as my wife on the number of friends a person can have.”

“Yeah, me too,” I say. “Just wish I could persuade Telemachus of that.”

“I dunno, you did with Ophelia,” Keith says. “Hard to imagine an Angel party without seeing her there.”

“Hard to imagine my life without seeing her every day,” I chuckle. “But I guess it was bound to happen eventually.”

“Our wives know all about that,” Stuart says in an almost solemn voice. “As do the two of us, to some extent.”

“You might,” Keith retorts, chuckling as his friend rolls his eyes. “But seriously, yeah, Charlotte was in pieces for days after Jamie moved out. But that’s just part of getting older, I guess.”

“Did you think you’d still be living together after you graduate?” Stuart asks.

“I- I dunno,” I say. “I mean, I guess we would, if we both found jobs in London, I- I dunno, really. And I mean, we still ARE living together. I’m just the ‘third wheel’, heh.”

“Jamie lived with me and Charlotte for ages,” Keith shrugs. “She still spent about as much time with her as I did, heh. Admittedly she didn’t at the start of the relationship, but still, I reckon you’re worrying about nothing.”

“Thanks, I think,” I snort.

“And you’ve still got LOADS of other friends,” Stuart reminds me, gently drumming his fingers over his ‘fellowship’ tattoo.

“And here comes another proud owner of that tattoo,” Keith says with a smug grin.

“What- is Jamie back already?” I ask, turning round in my seat. However, it’s not Jamie who’s just walked through the door, but another friend of mine, one I haven’t seen in a long time. “…Ian?”

“He was in London over Christmas,” Stuart shrugs as the teenaged Welsh transman approaches our table, accompanied by an older woman, presumably his grandmother. “Thought I’d take the opportunity to catch up, see how he’s doing…”

“Oh, okay, cool,” I shrug.

"Hi Ian!" Stuart says, giving the younger man a firm-looking and stereotypically masculine handshake.

We spend the next few minutes talking to Ian about his Christmas- which hadn't been a pleasant one by any stretch of the imagination- talking to his grandmother about her take on things. After meeting up with Jamie (and, even better, her and Stuart's daughter Olivia) we say our farewells to Ian- but not before I have the chance to invite him to my birthday party in February (and Jamie has the chance to record a video message for his Angels-obsessed girlfriend)!

“Eh, we should probably get going now,” Stuart sighs as Ian and his grandmother depart. “Need to get you to the losers’ end before we take our seats."

"Just ignore him, Jacinta," Jamie says with a smug grin as her husband rolls his eyes.

“WAY ahead of you on that one,” I snort. “Hope Ian’ll be alright, stuck all the way over in Cardiff."

"Aww, only met him a few times and already you're looking out for your 'little brother', hehe!" Jamie teases.

“And he's hardly ‘stuck’,” Stuart shrugs. From what I understand, he’s got a good bunch of friends over there. And he’ll always have his ‘extended family’ in London too.”

“Just like I do,” I say with a chuckle.

“Exactly,” Keith says with a grin. “Hope you both remember that.”

“It’s actually Ian’s birthday in a few days,” Stuart states. “His eighteenth.”

“Wait,” I say as something clicks in my brain. “Eighteen in a few days?”

“Yep,” Stuart replies.

“So… Was he actually born then on the 1st of January 2000?” I ask.

“Almost,” Stuart replies. “His parents were deliberately aiming for that. Them and every other parent in the world, heh.”

“Is he having a party?” I ask.

“Dunno, maybe,” Stuart shrugs. “His birthday’s actually this Saturday, perfect opportunity for a party at Charlotte’s, but it’d be a bit much asking him to come to London again when I know he’s not all that comfortable here.”

“Maybe organise a party in Cardiff for him?” I shrug. “Like, an Angel party ‘on tour’?”

“Had the same idea,” Stuart says. “Getting a venue this short notice will be though, though. Getting permission to go from my wife will be even tougher, heh!” I bite my lip to try not to giggle as Stuart shoots a smug look at the blonde woman, causing a look of indignation to immediately spread across her face.

"Hey!" Jamie chastises. "I think it's an AWESOME idea. We can let daddy go and play with Uncle Ian for one night, can't we, Olivia?" I sigh happily as the tiny baby girl giggles uncontrollably at her mother's teasing.

"Thanks babe," Stuart says, giving his wife a gentle kiss.

"I'll text Nikki while you three are busy staring at footballers' legs," Jamie teases.

"Hey!" Stuart and Keith immediately reply as Jamie and I giggle.

"I'm not saying 'hey'," I state with a smug grin. "As that's exactly why I'm going, hehe!"

"Fair enough," Stuart shrugs, before turning to his friend. "Reckon you can get your missus to let you come too? Maybe get a proper gig for the Celestials?"

“Well, here’s the chance to ask,” Keith says as we exit the coffee shop and immediately run into his wife.

“Hey babe,” Charlotte says, giving her husband a gentle hug with one arm while her other hand is wrapped around the hand of her two year old son. “Hi Jacinta! Don’t tell me these two have persuaded you to go the match with them?”

“It was my dad who persuaded me, actually,” I chuckle, before giving a gentle hug to the famous model.

“The fact she’s in a different team’s kit should kinda have been a clue there,” Keith says.

“BOY,” Jamie, Charlotte and I retort.

“And besides,” I sigh, “I Kinda needed to give Telemachus and Ophelia some privacy.”

“Ah, of course,” Jamie chuckles, glancing over at her BFF. “I know what THAT feels like.”

“Told you,” Stuart says smugly.

“I beg your pardon?” Jamie says to her husband with mock offence. “Stuart, dear, have you been suggesting that Jacinta should ask me for advice on how to cope with living with a couple who spend every other second in each other’s pants?”

“…Maybe?” Stuart replies nervously.

“…Good boy,” Jamie says with a grin, making her husband breathe a sigh of relief. “Seriously, Jacinta, any time you want to talk, just hit me up on Facebook, I’ll always listen.”

“Thanks,” I chuckle.

“And that includes if you get bored during the game!” Jamie giggles.

“GIRL,” Stuart and Keith reply as we walk the short distance toward the vast Stamford Bridge stadium.

A few hours later, dad and I head back out to his car, both of us tired and dad a little disappointed after watching his beloved team lose 2-0.

“Meh, I guess that was inevitable,” dad shrugs. “Never mind. Plenty of other matches in the season!”

“Yep!” I reply. “…And if you get any more tickets for any of the London games, well… I wouldn’t say no to coming along.”

“As long as you don’t spend all the time on your phone again!” Dad chuckles. “But seriously, yeah, it was nice to be able to go with you. Before you end up spending all your time wrapped around a significant other as well, heh.”

“Yeah, still awkward and embarrassing,” I say as I again check my phone for any new messages. During half time, Stuart sent me a message confirming that Jamie had given her permission for Stuart to hold a birthday party for Ian in Cardiff- and an invitation was immediately extended to me.

“Hello, phone,” dad sighs as we pull out of the car park and head back through the crowded streets of West London.

“I’m just talking to a friend online,” I retort.

“Ophelia?” Dad asks, making me pause.

“…No,” I reply quietly. “It- it’s Stuart, the guy we ran into in the coffee shop.”

“Oh, okay,” dad shrugs. “The married one, right?”

“Yes,” I sigh. “And no, we’re not flirting, he’s invited me to a party on Saturday, that’s all.”

“…You go to parties virtually every Saturday,” dad retorts. “What’s different about this one?”

“It’s in Wales, for starters,” I reply. “Ran into another one of the people with the tattoo on our way out of the coffee shop, he lives in Cardiff, he’s eighteen on Saturday, so… Yeah.”

“Wow,” dad says. “Didn’t realise your ‘extended family’ crossed the border into Wales.”

“Remember me telling you about the girls we met on October?” I retort. “It crosses an OCEAN.”

“Even better,” dad says with a smirk. “You know, I was kinda worried that I was going to take you back to your flat only for you to spend the rest of the Christmas break miserable and all ‘third wheel’ ish, but if you’ve got this many friends… You’ll be alright. Unless you’d rather come back to Brighton for the rest of the holiday?”

“London’s my home,” I reply. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d kinda like to go back to Brighton, but-“

“London it is,” dad says with a smirk as we head back to my flat.

Naturally, when I explained the Cardiff party to Ophelia and Telemachus, they were interested (and supportive of me going) but ultimately decided not to go themselves. During the days leading up to the party in Wales, I found myself spending less and less time at the flat and more and more time with my other friends, going over coursework with Katie, comparing notes about my life and my transition with Jamie and Nikki and helping the latter plan Ian’s party.

Eventually, Saturday rolls around, and I (and several others) roll down to Cardiff to help Ian celebrate his birthday, which includes a lot of dancing and a lot of drinking… And a lot of missing my BFF. Sure, I have plenty of other friends, all of whom genuinely love me as much as I love them, but life isn’t the same without Ophelia in it. It’s not bad, by any means- I have a lot of fun at the party and make several new friends, but I know I’d have had a lot more fun if Ophelia was with me. However, there’s no sense moping about matters when I could be having fun instead- as has been repeatedly pointed out to me, it’s not like Ophelia’s going to cut me out of her life completely, after all. However, as we’re heading home on the Sunday morning, I can’t help but think about my BFF, and this doesn’t go unnoticed by the other occupants of our car.

“Hungover, tired or miserable?” The tall, elegant (and very famous) Hannah Dexter asks as she stares at me with her piercing blue eyes.

“…In descending order,” I reply with a chuckle.

“Jacinta’s missing the love of her life,” Nikki teases, giggling as I reply with a roll of my eyes.

“What, hooked up with one of the boys last night?” Hannah asks.

“No,” I reply. “…Though admittedly a couple of them were kinda cute. In a nerdy way.”

“Nikki’s talking about Ophelia,” Sarah says from the driving seat of the car.

“Aww,” Hannah coos. “Missing your BFF ‘cause they’ve got themselves someone to snuggle up to… I can sympathise with that, heh. Me and Viks have been BFFs since we were both eleven, it was kinda hard when she hooked up with Jonathan, now it’s like she’s mum first, wife second, Angel third and ‘Hannah’s BFF’ fourth. That’s kinda tough when you haven’t got yourself a man to cuddle up to, heh.” I can’t help but let out a smile- yet another person who’s been through what I’m going through right now.

“Hence why she’s slumming it with us,” Nikki teases, giggling again as it’s Hannah’s turn to roll her eyes. “And what’s happening with Mr. Kennedy?”

“Never you mind!” Hannah immediately replies. “And it’s not ‘slumming it’ if you’re with your friends, even if you’re not quite ‘BFF level’.”

“We’ll try not to be TOO insulted,” Sarah laughs as we pull up outside a small suburban house.

“Why are we stopping here?” I ask.

“Think it’s Ian’s girlfriend's house,” Sarah replies. “Stuart’s hoping that Ian can drag her along to the New Year’s Eve party tonight.” I giggle as I remember yesterday's birthday boy showing up at our hotel during breakfast and taking about three minutes to be persuaded to come back to London with us for tonight's big party.

“Assuming we’re all recovered by then!” Hannah giggles. “Do- do you reckon Ophelia will come to tonight’s party?”

“I hope so,” I sigh, before forcing a smile on my face. “But if she doesn’t, it’s her loss, hehe!”

“That’s the spirit!” Hannah cheers as Ian jumps out of the car (well, van) in front of us and knocks on his girlfriend's front door.

However, as Ian's girlfriend is only sixteen, her parents refuse to let her accompany us to London (though we get a good laugh out of scaring her younger sister when Hannah jumps out for a selfie with her). Stuart won’t be deterred, however, and insists on someone accompanying Ian from Cardiff, meaning that for the long ride back to London, I’m squashed onto the middle of the back seat of Sarah’s car, with Hannah on my left-hand side, and on my right-hand side is a tall, skinny 18 year old boy who seems to be a little TOO excited to be in this car.

“So, Lee,” Nikki asks. “What are you studying at college?”

“Electronics,” Lee replies with a nervous chuckle. “I spend all day learning how to turn things on.” Despite my best efforts, I find myself letting out a snort of laughter at the young man’s off-colour joke.

“I’d recommend studying a little harder,” I say, earning a louder laugh from the other girls- and, surprisingly, a smirk from the young Welshman.

“I’m also really good with my hands,” Lee says, chuckling nervously again as his second joke falls flat. “Umm… Are you- are you all professional models, then?” Smooth, I think to myself.

“One professional, one semi-professional, two who do it more as a hobby than anything,” Nikki replies. “No offence, Hannah.”

“Quiet, you!” Hannah replies, giving Nikki’s chair a playful kick.

“Me and Jacinta are in our final year of uni,” Sarah explains. “I’m studying fashion design, Jacinta’s doing fashion photography.”

“Oh, okay, cool,” Lee says. “In London?”

“Yep,” Sarah replies. “Though Jacinta’s originally from Brighton and I’m originally from Bristol.”

“And to answer your next inevitable question,” I say with a smug grin, “No, they can’t introduce you to any models.”

“Shall I just shut up for the rest of the trip, then?” Lee asks with obviously over-the-top offence that elicits another snort of laughter from me. He might be a bit of an idiot with his jokes, but at least he can take a joke when it's at his expense. Which is actually kind of an attractive quality in a guy...

“Nah, you’re okay,” Hannah says with a giggle. “You’ve definitely got the right attitude for modelling, Lee. Ever thought about it?”

“ModellING, not modelS,” I clarify to yet more laughter.

“…Steal my joke, then?” Lee pouts, forcing an involuntary giggle from me. “Nah, to be honest the only ‘models’ I really know anything about are ones with electric motors inside.”

“Ah, you’re the one who made the robot, aren’t you?” I ask, smirking as Lee immediately perks up at the mention of his creation.

“I am,” Lee says proudly. “Designed most of the internal circuitry, my dad made most of the armour and the weaponry.”

“Sounds cool,” Nikki says with genuine interest.

“Always wished I could, you know, truly ‘make’ something,” Hannah says. “Something I could create, point to with pride and say ‘yep, that’s mine’.”

“I could always teach you how to use a sewing machine,” Sarah shrugged. “Making your own clothes as well as modelling them? You know you’d make millions. Sorry, MORE millions, heh!”

“…I’ll think about it,” Hannah giggles.

“And I could always make a dress for your robot, if you really wanted,” Sarah teases our guest.

“…Got a hard time thinking ANY dress would be pretty enough for Chwilen,” Lee says, earning genuine laughter from me and the other three women.

“Spoken like a good boyfriend,” I say, teasing the young man by leaning my body against his as we head back east toward England’s capital. And despite the fact that he seemingly spends all day every day playing videogames of tinkering with electronics, he definitely doesn't have a bad body...

Later that night, after having changed into a slinky, form-fitting dress and a pair of killer heels, I head into the familiar surroundings of Charlotte’s main room, ready to party away the remaining few hours of 2017. It's definitely been a year in which a lot of things have changed. I started the year in a relationship, but I'm ending it single. I started it with a pseudo-sister, now I have a pseudo-brother-in-law as well- and less of a pseudo-sister than I had previously. Some changes have been for the better, of course- I have more friends now than I did on January 1st, and I've had new experiences I hadn't had before, such as being a bridesmaid for two of my best friends.

Maybe part of my melancholy is over the things that HAVEN'T changed. I've now been on HRT for forty months, and the last twelve months haven't seen nearly as much change as the first twenty-eight (though the biggest change of all is promised next year). And, of course, I'm no closer to my 'Prince Charming' than I was 364 days ago. Meanwhile, three of our group of six have got married and Lauren's almost certainly going to get engaged to her boyfriend after they both graduate and Katie can seemingly have just about any guy she wants, leaving me stuck in 'last place'.

However, this isn't the time and definitely isn't the place for such low thoughts. I have a lot to celebrate- the numerous friends I do have, even ones I don't interact with as much as I should such as Stuart and Keith, the fact that I have possibly the best dad in the world, and the fact that I'm able to stand here, in this place, wearing a sexy dress, a ton of make-up and a ridiculously high pair of heels, and not just be accepted, but be actually loved for my choice of attire. By the best friends a girl could have.

"Ah- here comes trouble," Sarah teases as Ian and Lee enter the party, the former heading to the bar while the latter makes a beeline straight for where I and four of my five best friends are sat.

"Ah, is this the famous 'Lee'?" Katie asks.

"More like 'infamous'," Nikki replies. "You have never heard so many bad jokes in one car ride."

"A lot of funny ones too, though," I say.

"Meh, I guess," Sarah shrugs.

"Evening, ladies," Lee says with a confident grin. "Should my ears be burning?"

"I could set them on fire if you'd like?" I reply, making the tall boy smirk.

"I'm hot enough as it is," Lee says to general eye rolls from us girls. "Hi, I'm Lee Charlton, you may know me from such nicknames as 'Welsh robot guy' and 'his jokes are crap'."

"Katie Henderson, nice to meet you," Katie says, exchanging a handshake with the tall young man.

"Lauren Burnett, happily taken," Lauren says as she greets the young man with a handshake.

"Lee Charlton, unsurprisingly single," Lee says, sitting down on one of the pouffes next to our sofa. "And very grateful to be here, believe me."

"Any more 'grateful' and you may need to change into looser trousers," I say, cringing as four disgusted pairs of eyes turn my way.

"Jacinta!" Sarah chastises. "...Knew you shouldn't have sat next to him in the car, he must've rubbed off on you."

"Sarah!" Nikki chastises her wife, who responds with a playful giggle.

"Ah, I have obviously corrupted you with my mere presence," Lee says with a smug grin. "I can go and pester someone else if you'd prefer?"

"No, stay," I say, giggling as I take a swig of my drink. "God knows I know what it's like to be an outsider in a group. Trust me, you're doing fine."

"Hey, Lee," Ian says as he approaches our group. "You doing okay?"

"Doing fine, apparently," Lee says, leaning back casually only to catch himself as he remembers that the pouffe he's sat on has no back.

"Ah, I thought I saw you, Mr. Freeman!" The familiar voice of Stephanie Abbott says, approaching our group and dragging Ian to the dancefloor before the blond boy has a chance to argue.

"...Screw it, come on," I say, standing up unsteadily on my heels and dragging Lee after his friend onto the dancefloor.

The following morning, I wake up with a pounding headache, and even more surprisingly, a familiar tingling, almost sore sensation in my backside. A quick glance at my bedroom floor reveals a set of men's clothes- the same set that Lee wore last night...

"...Ugh, not exactly a glass slipper," I sigh as I stumble out of bed, pull on a long nightdress and head to my bedroom door. When I open the door, however, I find an unexpected face on the other side.

"Good morning, Jacinta," my BFF says with a disapproving look.

"Umm, happy New Year?" I reply. "Sorry, did we wake you last night?"

"No," Ophelia replies, "as we were not here when you likely returned home. We were at the party."

"Which 'party'?" I ask.

"...The same party you were at," Ophelia replied condescendingly. "Charlotte's party. The party we have gone to for the last two New Years."

"I didn't see you there," I shrug.

"We arrived later," Ophelia says. "I was able to persuade Telemachus to go shortly after 11:15pm. Naturally, it took some time before a taxi became available to take us to the party, and when we arrived, we were told that you had already left."

"Yeah," I say as hazy memories of last night slowly return.

"With a boy," Ophelia continues.

"Yep," I say.

"Who is currently talking with my husband in our kitchen," Ophelia says.

"Lee and Telemachus?" I say with a snort of laughter. "This I MUST see!"

"You are welcome to see it for the both of us," Ophelia says. "Your gentleman friend is wearing only a pair of underpants."

"Okay then," I reply.

"A pair of YOUR underpants," Ophelia says, causing me to lose all composure and break down in a fit of giggles.

"...I've got plenty more, I can afford to have one pair burned!" I say between shrieks of laughter.

"Jacinta," Ophelia says with a serious look on her face. "I- I hope that this, this sleeping with a random boy is not a reaction to myself and Telemachus?"

"No, of course not," I say. "Lee's a friend of Ian- he's the guy who came from Wales to that photoshoot I did in the spring? The one for that newspaper?"

"...Yes, I know Ian," Ophelia says. "He used to go out with the Australian girl, did he not?"

"That's him," I say. "He came to London with his friend, we got chatting, we hit it off, and, well, we had it off. It's got nothing to do with you and Telemachus."

"Okay," Ophelia says with a satisfied nod.

"...Alright, maybe it has a little bit to do with you guys," I sigh. "Can you blame me for wanting some companionship? It's like you're slipping further and further out of my life."

"Jacinta..." Ophelia sighs. "If I gave you the impression then I truly apologise. Yes, I want to spend as much time as I can with my husband. I love him. But I also love you. The two things do not need to be mutually exclusive."

"It seems like they have been recently," I mumble.

"Telemachus has a hard time fitting in with groups," Ophelia says. "I cannot simply leave him by himself, nor can I force him into situations he finds uncomfortable, can I? I have a memory of a girl helping me out of my shell in a similar way several years ago."

"Well- okay, I guess," I shrug.

"I told you before Christmas that we are sisters," Ophelia says. "Seeing Candice again just proved that for me. You should not feel like a third wheel, especially not here, in your home. If it were not for you, I would not be married to Telemachus. I would not have as many amazing friends as I do. And I would not be called 'Ophelia'."

"Yeah," I whisper. "Well without you, my name would be 'Jason' and I'd probably be working in some crappy shop in Brighton somewhere."

"Telemachus may be my husband," Ophelia says, "but you are closer to being my soul mate than he. I swear that I shall make more time for you in the future, Jacinta. If it means that much to you. As it means that much to me as well."

"Thanks," I whisper. "And yes, yes it does mean a lot to me too."

"As much as finding 'Prince Charming'?" Ophelia asks.

"...Why do the two things have to be mutually exclusive?" I ask. "And who's to say I haven't found him in Lee?"

"Even though he is stood in our kitchen talking about robots while wearing a pair of your panties?" Ophelia replies.

"...Good point," I say, sharing a giggle with my BFF as we head through to the kitchen, and probably the most surreal sight of my entire life. However, as odd as it may sound, the sight of Lee in my underpants actually makes me more glad to be involved with him. There aren't many men who would be willing to poke fun at himself like this. In many ways, Lee is as unique as Telemachus- and it's a uniqueness I intend to keep hold of.

And there is literally no one as unique as Ophelia, nor will there ever be. I shouldn't be worried about her not being a part of my life, as no matter who we might be with, or where life takes us, we will always be sisters. Just a few hours in, 2018 has given me a renewed love of my sister, a potential 'Prince Charming', and later in the year, it will give me the final step in the journey I began so long ago. No more dwelling on the past. The future's bright. It's time I started looking toward it.

“Ahh!” I screech as my ‘seat’ slides across the ground, threatening to tip me on my backside with every movement it makes. “Jeez- how did I let you talk me into this again?”

“You said you wanted a Valentine’s date that was truly unique,” the young Welshman replies with an almost sadistic chuckle as he fiddles with his controls. “I guarantee you, this is something no one will have ever done before!”

“There’s a reason for that!” I complain, grimacing as I feel the cold February air blow up my extra-short skirt. “And I’m not really dressed for it either!”

“Would you rather go on the back?” Lee asks.

“I’d rather go on the sofa!” I reply, earning a laugh from my boyfriend and, mercifully, bringing my ‘ride’ to a stop. As I climb out of my seat with all the elegance of a drunken orangutan, I can’t help but chuckle at the fact that my boyfriend is right- I am probably the only girl in the world right now enjoying this particular manner of date. Though that is for a good reason.

“Go and get comfortable, I’ll put Sheila away,” Lee says as he wheels away our ‘chariot’- a miniature electric go-kart he and his father built out of spare parts and a couple of stiff plastic chairs like you’d find at school. As uncomfortable (and terrifying) as the ride was, I have to admit, I am very impressed at Lee’s skill in building the thing (even if his driving leaves a lot to be desired). There aren’t many girls who have a boyfriend so skilled and creative, and fewer still who would have a boyfriend willing (often VERY willing) to date a transgendered girl.

After our brief ‘encounter’ following the New Year party in London, I wasn’t 100% sure I’d hear from Lee again, but instead, he’s become quite the devoted boyfriend, even with the 150 miles between our homes. Admittedly, I visit Cardiff more often than he visits London, but it’s not like there isn’t plenty to do in the Welsh capital (when we’re not in each other's pants, anyway), and there are two very good reasons why I’d want to spend more time in Cardiff. The first is that I have more disposable income than Lee, so can more easily afford the train fare, and the second is that I frequently need a break from the ongoing love story at home.

Obviously, I love both Telemachus and Ophelia like family, especially since Christmas. The more Telemachus opens up to me, the more I’m reminded of the first few months of college in Brighton when I got to know my BFF. It’s painfully obvious from what he says that he’s never had a ‘real’ family before, much like his wife hasn’t, and he’s clearly enjoying having a sister in me. While he only has eyes for Ophelia, he’s made every effort to include me in their lives and even tried to integrate into our wider social circle. He was front and centre at my birthday party two weeks ago, even though I know he finds those situations uncomfortable, and the gift he and Ophelia got me was incredibly thoughtful- a very authentic-feeling replica of a late Victorian-era dress (and, sadly, corset). The dress was later used with Katie's present- a photoshoot on Brighton pier, one of the most iconic landmarks of my hometown that was opened in 1899 when the dress was at its most fashionable. I really couldn’t ask for a better brother-in-law- and yet, I still feel like an absolute third wheel when it’s just the three of us. However, when Lee drops round and it’s four of us, as two couples, it’s much less awkward, though I must admit, I never imagined my ‘Prince Charming’ to have a shed full of spare electrical and mechanical parts…

“More comfortable?” Lee asks as I elegantly (despite my sore muscles) lower myself onto his sofa.

“Much,” I giggle. “Remind me again why I had to go on the front of that thing?”

“Ergonomics,” Lee replies, making roll my eyes and chuckle. “I did warn you to wear something appropriate for being outside.”

“There’s a difference between ‘outside’ and that!” I remind my boyfriend as he flops down next to me and wraps his arm around my slender waist. “And besides, I have good legs, they deserve to be displayed, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Lee replies, making me smirk as he strokes my nylon-covered but otherwise exposed thigh. My smirk naturally turns into a grin as he tentatively explores higher, poking a nervous fingertip under the hem of my skirt.

“God, you can’t wait to skip to the end of the night, can you?” I giggle.

“Another reason I thought you’d be more comfortable with me behind you,” Lee says, sneaking a cheeky kiss from me that makes me smile.

“Smooth,” I reply as I return Lee’s kiss, which quickly escalates as the two of us head upstairs to his bedroom.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of us are laid on Lee’s bed, both panting heavily and naked save for a fine sheen of sweat- and in my case, my thong, hiding the one part of my body that isn't 100% female. In the run-up to the New Year, I’d almost forgotten what it was like to have sex on a regular basis, even despite Ophelia and Telemachus’s regular (and often extremely noisy) lovemaking sessions, so it’s definitely nice to finally be getting ‘it’ again, even if Lee’s ‘technique’ is a little… Odd.

Even though I haven’t asked- and Lee almost certainly wouldn’t answer if I did (and I wouldn’t expect him to), I’m 99% sure that he was a virgin before the two of us ‘met’ for the first time. Not that that’s anything to be ashamed of, of course, as Lee’s only eighteen, but I still think he feels the need to ‘try’ harder than usual due to the age gap between us- and there’s still a part of me that wonders if he still considers himself a virgin, as though I don’t ‘count’ somehow. Logically, I know that Lee is as far from transphobic as it’s possible to get- he wouldn’t even look at me if that was the case, and the fact that his best friend is also transgendered definitely counts as evidence there, but the fact is that what I have underneath my thong is different from what most other girls have underneath theirs. And there are times I still wonder whether or not I truly ‘count’ as a girl…

“Ohhhhhhh yes,” Lee says between deep breaths. “It’s good to be bad.”

“You think what we just did was ‘bad’?” I tease as I rest my head on my boyfriend’s slender chest.

“Some people probably would,” Lee said with a snort of laughter. “I’m not one of them. Unless of course you see ‘bad’ as ‘good’.”

“Sometimes,” I giggle. “Do- do you ever worry, you know, about what other people say about us?”

“…This is your idea of pillow talk?” Lee asks.

“It’s 8pm, I’m not just going to roll over and fall asleep!” I retort. “Besides, you brought it up.”

“Yeah I did!” Lee chuckles, making me roll my eyes and giggle.

“Seriously,” I say. “You know this is important for me. I keep remembering Jamie-Lee Burke’s tales of her first boyfriend, how he was okay with her in private but when it became publicly known that she was trans, he dropped her like a stone, and-“

“I don’t care who knows,” Lee says, and I can tell from his demeanour that he’s serious. “I’m going out with a 5’ 10” model with an amazing body. If anything, I should be the insecure one.”

“…Why, exactly?” I ask.

“Lanky Welsh nerd who still lives with parents and whose idea of a fun evening is tearing around his garden on an electric go-kart?” Lee asks. “Going out with a pseudo-Angel?”

“Very ‘pseudo’!” I snort. “I’ve never even done ANY professional modelling, not really.”

“If I pay for £10 for a topless photo, would that count as professional modelling?” Lee asks, giggling as I give him a gentle punch in his side.

“It’d make me A kind of model,” I reply, before chuckling as Lee reaches over and lazily explores the 'contours' on my chest. “Not that that’s always a bad thing… You’re ‘energetic’ tonight, hehe!”

“I haven’t seen you since your birthday,” Lee replies. “Got a lot of ‘energy’ to burn off!” I giggle and bite my lip as I reach down and do some 'exploring' of my own...

After our second lovemaking session, the two of us pull our clothes back on and head downstairs, both of us too tired to ‘go for the hat-trick’. However, after an evening of Netflix (Lee has recently got me into a TV show called ‘Jessica Jones’), we head back upstairs to ‘burn off more energy’ before settling down for the night.

As always when I’m sleeping at a boyfriend’s house, I’m initially confused when I wake up in an unfamiliar room, but the presence of the tall, dark-haired boy in bed next to me quickly sets my mind at ease- especially as I snuggle up next to him, which once again provokes the 'desired reaction'.

“Morning, babe,” Lee says, giving me a quick kiss before relaxing back into the warm sheets.

“Morning,” I tiredly reply.

“What- what time do you need to leave today?” Lee asks, his tone making it clear that he’d prefer me to give as late an answer as possible.

“Just after one,” I sigh. “Kinda like to catch up with Ian before I head off.”

“I could put the spare kart together and make a literal ‘catch up’ if you want?” Lee offers, chuckling as I reply with an elbow in his ribs.

“BOY,” I reply.

“So’s Ian,” Lee reminds me, which makes me pause for a second. “We could always race the go-karts while you and Chloe talk, if you want?”

“BOYS,” I say with a derisive snort of laughter. “And their TOYS.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way?” Lee asks, chuckling as I roll my eyes. “You knew I wasn’t a one-woman man when you got together with me. Just a one flesh and blood woman man.”

“Good to know,” I say, allowing myself a quiet giggle as I snuggle in closer. “Chwilen knows I’m not jealous of her, heh.”

“Still wish you could come with us to Glasgow to record the show,” Lee sighs.

“Maybe next time,” I reply- though if I’m honest, the thought of spending several days in Scotland watching Lee tinker with and rebuild his machine is about as unappealing as it gets. However, in January, Lee sat through hours of me, Katie and Ophelia modelling and photographing dozens of dresses for our course, and while he did have the added bonus of seeing me in all the dresses, it must’ve been a dull afternoon from his perspective. I’m not sure what this says about our relationship, but it doesn’t exactly feel positive.

“If you insist,” Lee shrugs. “It’s still only 8:30, so we could, you know, ‘stay in bed’ a bit longer?”

“…Sounds good to me,” I reply, rolling over and wrapping my arms around Lee’s neck as we get ready to share something we both enjoy…

Just over an hour later, following a hot, refreshing shower, I pull on the chic skirt and top I wore yesterday and follow Lee- who, by contrast, is wearing a very plain sweatshirt and pair of jeans- down to his car (which was thankfully made my Volkswagen and not Lee himself). Naturally, before we set off, Lee ‘accidentally’ mistakes my thigh for the handbrake, but we’re soon on our way, and a short while later, we’re walking through a local coffee shop hand-in-hand, approaching a table where a petite ginger-haired girl and a familiar blonde boy are waiting for us- and whose fashion choices are just as contrasting as mine and Lee’s.

“Hi guys!” Ian says, standing up to give me a gentle hug, before sitting down and smoothing his baggy sweatshirt, which of course proudly bears the logo of Arsenal FC.

“Hi Jacinta!” Chloe giggles as she gives me a longer hug, taking care not to crease her short, patterned skater dress or damage her carefully-shaped pink nails.

“Hey you two!” I say with an excited squeak as I sit down (and not just because my backside is still tingling after last night). “SO good to see you again!”

“Thanks!” Chloe replies. “Gutted I couldn’t make it to your party 2 weeks ago, my parents are still being a pain about letting me go to London by myself.”

“Or with me,” Ian says. “Or especially with me, heh.”

“There’ll be one next year,” I shrug. “Did you two at least have a good Valentine’s?”

“Ugh, the BEST,” Chloe sighs happily as she leans into her boyfriend. “Ian actually cooked me dinner last night. Didn’t even know he could cook, heh!”

“Grandma’s been giving me lessons,” Ian shrugs. “Figured it’d come in handy at uni.”

“Reckon ours was more fun, though,” Lee chuckles.

“What did you guys do?” Chloe asks.

“Get scared shitless skidding around the garden on an electric go-kart,” I reply with a subtle growl at my giggling boyfriend.

“Oh- what?” Ian moans. “You let her have a go on Sheila before me?”

“BOYS!” Chloe and I simultaneously chastise, giggling as the two of them sigh and roll their eyes.

“I’ll let you have a go tonight,” Lee says. “Was thinking I could build up the spare kart and have a race.”

“So, Chloe,” I say in an exaggerated fashion. “Where’d you get that dress?”

“GIRLS,” Lee and Ian say simultaneously with resigned sighs, bringing smug grins to mine and the ginger girl’s faces.

“You heading back to London now?” Ian asks.

“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “Got to get back to uni, it’s my final year and I have, like, a TON of coursework to do.”

“We’re snowed under too,” Ian says. “Gonna be lucky if I can get to London for Nikki’s birthday next month.”

“Ah, thanks for reminding me I have other ‘responsibilities’, heh!” I chuckle.

“And so ‘snowed under’ you found the time to build not one but two electric go-karts?” Chloe asks.

“They’re coursework as well,” Lee replies in a mock-offended tone. “That’s why they were remote controlled instead of, you know, not.”

“I know they are,” I say, giving my boyfriend’s arm a gentle squeeze. As flippant as he might be some- well, most of the time- he does take his work VERY seriously. It’s actually quite an endearing feature- he works hard at college, and is just as devoted to our relationship as well.

“It is half-term this week too,” Ian says. “But that’ll all be spent finishing off work.”

“ALL of it?” Chloe pouts, before smiling as her boyfriend gives her a gentle cuddle.

“…Maybe not ALL,” Ian says as I try not to sigh- even though Ian and Chloe will be busy over half-term, they’ll at least be in the same city as each other. More than can be said for me and my ‘Prince Charming’. "Got to work at the game shop too, which is where I need to head off to in a few minutes."

"Aww," I sigh. "You HAVE to come to London, if not for Nikki's birthday then just for a visit, I know everyone there really misses you."

"Yeah," Ian chuckles as he idly fiddles with the tattoo that I know he now proudly sports on his arm. "I- I'll try, but London still kinda sometimes brings up bad memories."

"Ah- yeah, sorry..." I grimace.

"S'okay," Ian says. "You can never etc. etc., right?"

"I always think so," I reply with a smile.

"And I'm pretty sure I won't be allowed to not go when Chloe's finally allowed to come with," Ian chuckles as a smug grin spreads across his girlfriend's face.

"Ian knows who wears the dresses in this relationship," Chloe says proudly.

"And who's boss at work," Ian sighs as he finishes off his drink. "Which is where I need to head now. It was good seeing you again, Jacinta, I promise I will make an effort to get down to London at some point."

"I'll hold you to that," I say, giving the young man and his girlfriend a gentle hug each as they leave, before relaxing back into my seat next to Lee and realising that this might be the last 'us time' we have for several weeks.

“…Is it just me, or have his shoulders actually widened?” I ask. “Not that I ever knew ‘Kayleigh-Ann’, that is.”

“I dunno, I never knew 'her' either,” Lee shrugs. “Impossible to think of him as a girl, really.”

“I hope that means it’s impossible to think of me as anything other than girl?” I ask, grinning as my boyfriend responds by giving my thigh a firm squeeze. “Right answer.”

“I’m good at quizzes,” Lee says with a smug grin, before letting out a sigh. “…I am really going to miss you, though. And not just because I won’t have a thigh to squeeze, heh. Can’t wait until I go to uni in London.”

“Me too,” I say. “Pretty sure I’ll be staying in London and not moving back to Brighton, even if I don’t end up working for Josh Benedict.”

“Can’t tempt you to look for any photography jobs in Wales, then?” Lee asks, making me sigh.

“My life’s in London,” I say. “But this- this is working, isn’t it? The whole ‘long-distance’ thing?”

“Oh- yep, sure,” Lee replies. “And the rule still stands, if either of us find someone- well, in the same country, you can walk away, no strings.”

“What makes you so sure I’ll be the one doing the ‘walking’?” I ask, before smirking as Lee once again squeezes my thigh.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Lee says with a nod as he stares sadly into my eyes. I can tell by his stare too that it’s not just the physical aspect of the relationship that he’ll miss. He won’t be the one doing the ‘walking’ as I doubt he’ll be doing any looking- and that almost makes me feel guilty.

Naturally, the two of us exchange several playful (and a few stronger than ‘playful’) kisses on the platform at the railway station, before I climb aboard and flop heavily into my seat for the long journey home.

A very large part of me is already missing Lee before the train even leaves the station- he’s not my boyfriend by accident, after all- but there’s a small part of me that’s also happy to be heading home. Lee’s a lot of fun to be around, but he really isn’t how I pictured my ‘Prince Charming’. When I’m swept off my feet, I prefer that it isn’t done by something with bucket seats and a radio control. Sometimes- and not just because he’s noticeably younger than me- it does feel a little like Lee and I are simply playing at being boyfriend and girlfriend, especially when I look at Ophelia and Telemachus’s obvious bond, or Sarah and Nikki’s, or even Lauren and her boyfriend. And despite the fact that I’ll almost confronted by strong, happy relationships, I’m already feeling homesick for London.

And yet, I can’t see myself being the one to walk away from the relationship, and I’m already looking forward to when I can next return to Wales. Lee’s not a ‘typical’ boyfriend, not like Simon was, and the last thing ‘Prince Charming’ should be is generic. Telemachus certainly isn’t, that’s for certain. He should be tall, and at 6’ 0” Lee’s got that covered, he should be handsome, which he definitely is, and most importantly, he should have a great sense of humour. Lee’s sense of humour is like the ultimate ‘Marmite test’- and, much like Marmite itself, I can’t help but love it.

The million dollar question is, of course, whether nor not I could love Lee full stop…

“I’m home,” I say with a tired sigh as I open the front door to discover my BFF and her husband sat in their usual positions on our love seat (yes, we have a love seat now).

“Good afternoon, Jacinta,” Telemachus replies. “Did you enjoy your time in Wales?”

“Yep!” I reply honestly. “Kinda glad to be home, though.” This part is slightly less honest though, especially when I sit down on the sofa and see that the couple have linked their fingers on both of their hands.

“How is Lee?” Ophelia asks. “Well, I hope?”

“He’s okay,” I shrug. “He’s built an electric go-kart now, spent a lot of yesterday evening driving me around in it. Whether I liked it or not.”

“That does not sound very relaxing,” Telemachus says, reminding me of how, like Lee, he isn’t a ‘generic’ boy either.

“I think he gets as much fun from building it as he does driving it,” I chuckle. “Sure you can appreciate that, Ophelia!”

“Are you suggesting that your boyfriend’s manufacturing of electronic and mechanical toys is somehow comparable to my fashion design career?” Ophelia asks with mock-offence, before letting out a gentle giggle. “Because you would probably be correct.”

“Though clothing of any category would have to be more practical than an electric go-kart?” Telemachus asks, the sneer in his voice making me frown.

“Well it’ll, umm, help his course…” I feebly reply. “I- I’m going to go and get changed, I’ve been in these clothes for 2 days, which as you know, is pretty much forever, heh!”

“We shall start dinner whilst you are changing,” Telemachus says. “There should be some hot water left if you wish to shower, too.”

“Hope that isn’t a hint?” I ask, smiling as the young white-haired man lets out an uncharacteristic chuckle, before snuggling even closer to his wife. As hard as I try, it’s difficult to forget that while Ophelia’s ‘Prince Charming’ is cuddled up next to her on the sofa, mine- or at least, my potential Prince Charming- is a three-hour train ride away…

I pass up Telemachus's offer, having showered at Lee's house before I left, but I do change out of my chic clothes and into a comfortable (albeit battered) pair of hipster jeans and a tight turtleneck jumper. I also leave my face make-up free as I’m not going anywhere tonight, I’m just going to be hanging out with Ophelia and Telemachus, and while they always dress up, I know that I don’t have to around them. Plus, my casual look provides a nice contract to Ophelia’s elaborate floor-length gown (and, obviously, her 20 inch corset).

When I return to the living room, I find my BFF sat alone on the love seat fiddling with her tablet computer, while the sounds and delicious-smelling aromas coming from the kitchen tell me that tonight’s dinner will be ‘a la Telemachus’, as has so often been the case since he moved in.

“You know,” I say as I sit down next to my BFF, “I wouldn’t have minded if we’d ordered pizza tonight. Or any night, really.”

“Too much junk food is bad for the body,” Ophelia replies. “Besides, Telemachus enjoys cooking for us.” ‘Us’? I think to myself.

“What are you working on?” I ask in a very unsubtle attempt to change the topic. “Coursework?”

“Amongst other projects,” Ophelia replies. “I shall require a new bikini for summer, and Sarah has asked for assistance designing the lingerie for her American friends’ wedding.”

“I’ll get Sarah to tell them to lay off the burgers,” I reply. “If you’re making a new bikini is there any chance you can do me one? Any leftover fabric you have should be enough to cover the important bits, hehe!”

“Umm, speaking of ‘important bits’,” Ophelia says hesitantly, “are you not planning to have ‘the’ operation this summer? From what I remember of Nicola’s recovery, she was not eager to wear a bikini for several months after her operation.” I sigh and nod at my BFF’s reminder- as enticing as a cute new bikini would be, it’s utterly insignificant compared to becoming a ‘complete’ woman. It’s worth sacrificing one summer in exchange for all the future summers I’ll be able to have as a ‘complete’ woman- though if I sacrifice this summer, it’s not just wearing a bikini that I’ll have to give up.

“Gonna make it especially hard to get on a train to Cardiff, too,” I muse as I sit down next to my BFF, her face now sporting a concerned frown. “What?”

“It will be particularly difficult to ride an electric go-kart too,” Ophelia says.

“That’s not exactly straightforward pre-op,” I retort. “But yeah, more- well, more ‘me’ means less Lee. At least for a brief while.”

“Have you discussed this with him?” Ophelia asks.

“Maybe briefly,” I shrug. “Lee’s not really a ‘serious conversation’ kind of guy.”

“That is the impression I get from him,” Ophelia says, before sighing. “Jacinta, you know I consider you to be my sister, far more so than any of my ‘actual’ sisters.”

“Same here,” I say. “Even though I’m an only child, heh.”

“As such, I feel a sense of protection toward you,” Ophelia continues, before sighing and- much to my shock- reverting to her natural accent. “J, I- I’m worried you might be a little TOO eager about this whole Lee thing.”

“…Coming from the woman who married her boyfriend less than a month after meeting him?” I retort, before letting out a low moan. “Sorry, O, I- I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Apology accepted,” Ophelia sighs. “But me and Telemachus are very similar people, you and Lee aren’t.”

“Opposites attract,” I shrug.

“Even though he’s only ‘Prince Charming’ in the sarcastic sense of the word ‘charming’?” Ophelia asks, making me roll my eyes.

“He’s sweet and funny,” I shrug. “And it’s a bit early to write the whole thing off, especially after Valentine’s Day.”

“But do you love him?” Ophelia asks, making my bite my lip- that is, after all, the most important question.

“…Like I said, it’s a bit early,” I reply. “Not everyone falls in love at first sight, Ophelia. Some of us have to work for it.” And god knows how hard I’ve worked these last few years…

“Very well,” Ophelia says, returning to her normal voice. “I can see that you do not wish to discuss this any further, therefore we shan’t.”

“Thanks,” I say, before sighing and reaching for my laptop to finish off coursework of my own. In the past, Ophelia and I could carry on conversations like this for hours. During our first year, when we shared a bedroom, we would regularly lay awake all night discussing, among other things, uni, our friends and, when appropriate, my boyfriends. Two and a bit years later, a conversation like that is almost unthinkable. And while it would be easy for me to blame Telemachus for this change, I have to wonder whether or not I have to share some of the blame- and whether or not Lee does…

I spend the rest of the evening doing coursework and watching TV with my flat mates, fulfilling my recurring role of ‘official third wheel’. Ophelia and Telemachus are only too happy to include me in their discussion, of course, and the latter has opened up to me a lot more since Christmas (I even learned that his birth name was Craig Bull, which is about as an inappropriate a name for him as ‘Jason Hanley’ is for me).This doesn’t change the fact, though, that as much as I love them and as much as they openly appreciate me, I am the third wheel, and every day, I grow a little more uncomfortable in my own home.

When I wake up on Monday morning, the happy couple are already awake and preparing breakfast together, happily chuckling away as I head to the shower. Once my body is clean from head to toe and clad in my trademark tight sweater and short skirt, I sit down at the kitchen table and wolf down the (admittedly very tasty) bowl of strawberry-flavoured porridge Telemachus made for me, all the while trying to ignore the unashamed display of love coming from the other side of the table. I’m so lost in thought, in fact, that I don’t even notice when the other side of the table goes silent and my two friends stare at me expectantly.

“…Yes?” I ask.

“Were you lost in your own thoughts?” Telemachus asks, a sly smirk on his face.

“…What?” I ask, confused by my friends’ behaviour.

“We asked if you are looking forward to today,” Ophelia explains. “Returning to your studies?”

“Umm, yeah, I kinda am, heh,” I say. “Though most of the day will be in the photography lab, finishing off work.”

“The same shall be true for me,” Ophelia says. “I still have a lot of work to finish for my fashion show dissertation.”

“Let me know if you want me and Katie to drop down at any point for fittings,” I say. “Take it you still want us as your models for the final show?”

“There is no one I would rather see wearing my creations,” Ophelia replies with a grin. “That includes my husband, as I feel he would not quite suit my dresses as well as you and Katie, hehe!” Ophelia’s uncharacteristic giggle makes me smirk, even if it does result in her linking fingers with her husband.

“I still believe that you should consider applying for the Masters course,” Telemachus says. “Your grades are more than sufficient, are they not?”

“They are,” Ophelia replies. “However, you know I wish to find work in the industry upon graduating.”

“Are you still looking at founding your own label with Sarah and Lauren?” I ask. “Think you were thinking of calling it ‘Solar Flair’, weren’t you? Like, as in S-O-L, your initials?”

“That is still the ultimate ambition,” Ophelia says. “Though with Sarah studying for a Master’s degree next year, that shall have to wait, and gaining experience in the industry is essential if I am to found my own label.”

“Though you would have someone to study with if you did choose to study for the Master’s degree,” Telemachus says, and it’s obvious to anyone why he’s eager for his wife to continue studying.

“Not looking forward to going into uni alone, Telemachus?” I tease.

“Not in the slightest,” the white-haired boy replies, making his wife giggle again.

“I shall always be waiting for you at home,” Ophelia purrs- actually purrs- as she leans into her husband’s embrace. “When I am not working late, of course!”

“D’aww,” I force myself to say as we finish our breakfasts and head to the nearest tube stop.

A short while later, the three of us are walking through the front door of our college, where we’re greeted by Sarah, Lauren and Katie, the latter of whom follows me to the photography lab with a wide grin on her face.

“So…” The freckled girl teases. “How was Wales?”

“Hilly and full of sheep,” I reply, making my friend snort with laughter.

“How were the inhabitants of Wales?” Katie asks. “Specifically, the ‘Prince Charming of Wales but with smaller ears’?”

“Thanks for THAT mental image,” I snort. “He’s fine. Busy with all his projects, heh.”

“Still thinking of London for uni in September?” Katie asks.

“Think so,” I shrug.

“Think so, hope so or both?” Katie asks, before letting out a half-sigh, half-chuckle. “Long distance relationships, eh?”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. I wish geography was the only problem…

“I had one once,” Katie says.

“How did it work out?” I ask.

“…I’ve been single for months, so not all that great!” Katie replies will a roll of her eyes. “It went well while it lasted, though.”

“How long a distance are we talking?” I ask.

“I live in Hammersmith, he lived in Peckham,” Katie replies, making me frown.

“You call THAT long distance?” I ask. “What does your map of the world look like, ‘London’ and ‘Not London’?”

“Problem with that?” Katie shrugs. “Relationship might have lasted longer if he’d built me an electric go-kart, though!”

“What, seriously?” I ask.

“You don’t think something like that’s cool?” Katie asks.

“Less ‘cool’, more ‘freezing’ when you’re sat on the front of it and you’ve cold a cold wind shooting up your skirt,” I snort.

“…Okay, I can live without THAT,” Katie says. “But in summer, like, you’ve got almost a beach buggy, right? THAT will be fun if, you know, he puts some sand tyres on it or something.”

“I suppose,” I shrug- that’s definitely something I hadn’t considered.

“Kinda wish I had a cute boyfriend who could build stuff like that,” Katie muses as we take our seats at our usual computers and load up the photos on our memory cards. “Kinda wish I had A cute boyfriend, heh.”

“Even one that doesn’t live inside the M25?” I ask.

“I’ve got a passport,” Katie says with a giggle as we get to work.

Despite her flippancy about the whole thing, Katie’s words do resonate with me. She and Ophelia- my two closest friends- are at completely opposite ends of the ‘relationship spectrum’. Ophelia is very happily married with a man who might very well be her soulmate, whilst Katie is possibly even unluckier in love than I am. Or rather, unluckier than I was. It’s funny how another girl fancying your boyfriend- or even hinting that she might fancy him- can make him seem all the more attractive, especially as we were both single and looking at the party where we hooked up. It’s also encouraging that on a ‘level playing field’, I was the one Lee hit on, despite my ‘handicap’. There aren’t many men who’d willingly make that choice, that’s for sure.

After a hard morning of work, Katie and I head to the college cafeteria, where we’re greeted by a very unexpected surprise.

“…Are we the first here?” Katie asks as we scan the crowded room.

“I definitely can’t see Ophelia OR Telemachus,” I reply.

“When was the last time we didn’t get here dead last out of everyone?” Katie asks as we grab our lunch, select a table and get sat down. “Been ages since we got our food this quick too.”

“I’m not complaining,” I shrug. “Gives us plenty of time to check out some of the hot guys in the room, hehe!”

“And what would your Welsh prince say about that?” Katie says with mock offence.

“We have an agreement,” I shrug. “Kinda ‘cause it’s, you know, long-distance.”

“Ugh,” Katie spits, making me frown.

“Problem?” I ask.

“Way to have your cake and eat it?” Katie says.

“He gets to look at girls in Cardiff too if he wants,” I retort. “We’re, you know, casual. And I’ve had so little ‘cake’ the last few years…”

“Well, that’s going to be the euphemism we use from now on, then,” Katie says as Lauren, Sarah and Ophelia arrive.

“Hey girlies!” Sarah says with a grin. “So… What’s the gossip today?”

“Jacinta loves ‘cake’,” Katie says, making me roll my eyes.

“Hell, who doesn’t?” Lauren shrugs. “Be careful of what it’ll do to your hips, though!”

“And there’ll be plenty of cake available this Saturday!” Sarah says with a smug grin. “Everyone got their train tickets ready?”

“Everyone had their shots for going so far north?” Katie asks with a giggle. “Though I’m not sure how much ‘cake’ will be available at a wedding between two women.”

“Would I be right in assuming that by ‘cake’ you do not mean baked goods?” Ophelia asks as my cheeks start to redden.

“Can you think of anything else that’s filling, good in small doses but really bad for you in excess and that yes, goes straight to your hips?” Lauren asks with a giggle.

“That’s enough ‘cake’ talk for today,” Sarah says. “Especially as Miss Hanley and I have an LGBT society meeting later tonight.”

“Are you suggesting that the ‘G’s wouldn’t like some ‘cake’?” Lauren teases.

“Or even this ‘T’?” I ask.

“You got enough ‘cake’ at the weekend!” Katie says, making me blush and bringing a noticeable frown to my BFF’s face. “Besides, I’m the one on a ‘diet’ at the moment…”

“Can we please dispense with the euphemisms?” Ophelia asks. “When it is plainly obvious that we are all talking about sex.” As if on cue, Telemachus arrives and exchanges a soft kiss with his wife before sitting down next to her.

“…Well we’re definitely not talking about it NOW,” Sarah says with a roll of her eyes.

“Just because your spouse is busy today,” Lauren teases. “Is Nikki doing anything for the wedding?”

“Only buying us new dresses,” Sarah replies.

“Um, excuse me?” I ask. “’Buying’ new dresses?”

“The three of us have been busy enough designing wedding dresses for Alexa, Jenny, Jess and Paige,” Sarah says. “Not to mention, oh, our dissertations?"

"We didn't even get the chance to do Nat or Zoe's," Lauren reminds me, making me sigh.

“Okay, okay,” I say. “Guess I can’t blame you being a bit stressed about uni, god knows I am, heh.”

“Fortunately, there’s always ‘cake’,” Lauren teases with a sly grin.

“…I have not observed Jacinta to eat that much cake when she is at home,” Telemachus interjects, earning giggles from all five of us- his wife included!

After lunch, Katie and I head back to the photography lab to continue work on our projects, though the freckled girl can’t help but get a few more digs in as we get stuck into our work.

“Is Lee coming to Manchester, then?” Katie asks. “Everyone gets a ‘plus one’, right?”

“He can’t make it,” I sigh. “Not a fan of weddings. Plus I promised I’d take Becky from the LGBT society, she always loves lesbian weddings.”

“I remember how excited she was at Snikki’s,” Katie says. “Ah well. Saves what little ‘cake’ there is there for me, heh!”

“Yep!” I giggle, even as I’m forced to admit to myself that I might look for some ‘sake’ on Saturday too…

Eventually, the college day comes to an end, and while Katie sticks around to work a little while longer on her project, I have no choice but to leave and head to one of the college’s smaller rooms, where Sarah and several of my other friends are waiting for me.

“Hello Miss Hanley!” Carl- the LGBT society’s chairperson- says in his almost stereotypically camp voice. “I see you walked here today, rather than riding in on your own chariot?”

“Oh- Sarah!” I hiss at my friend, who’s obviously grinning behind the iPad she’s holding in front of her face.

“What?” Carl protests. “I wouldn’t mind being ridden around the garden like that.”

“Are you giving out details of our sex life AGAIN?” David- Carl’s equally-camp boyfriend and the vice-chair of the society- teases as he approaches and exchanges a gentle kiss with his lover.

“Just that I wish I had a boyfriend who could build me an electric go-kart,” Carl sighs.

“Oh, stop being such a diva!” David chastises. “Not you, Jacinta. You’re entitled to be as much of a diva as you want, girl!”

“Thanks!” I say with a girlish giggle. “I’ll hold you to that…”

“Not literally, you won’t!” Carl giggles, giving his boyfriend a quick cuddle before going to greet the next arrival while I approach my still-giggling friend.

“Tell everyone, then?” I scoff.

“What?” Sarah shrugs. “Not like you don’t tease me every time me and Nikki do couples shit.”

“Yeah, but you two are, like, married,” I feebly retort.

“No ‘like’ about it,” Sarah says, grinning as she flashes her wedding ring at me. “Just like you and Lee aren’t ‘like’ a real relationship.”

“Well- I guess,” I shrug, sighing as I go to find my seat in the crowd (as the secretary, Sarah obviously sits at the front desk, while I sit in the crowd with the other ‘common folk’).

During the meeting, we cover the usual topics, but it’s when the meeting ends that the real fun begins, as all of us head to the Student Union bar to rewind with some much-needed drinks! When we arrive in the bar, a smile instantly spreads across Sarah’s face when she’s greeted by an unexpected sight.

“Hey you!” Sarah squeaks excitedly as she rushes over to her wife and greets her with a long kiss and a tight hug. “God, I missed you at lunch…”

“Me too,” Nikki sighs as she and Sarah share their special ‘secret handshake’ before sitting down at one of the bar’s smaller, more intimate tables.

“I swear they are the cutest couple EVER,” Jack- one of the ‘G’ members of the LGBT society- says as he leads me and a few others toward the bar. “One day I’ll find a man who makes me as happy as they make each other…”

“Good luck with THAT!” Violet- one of the ‘L’ members in her first year at the uni- says, giggling as Jack rolls his eyes.

“Good evening, boys and girls!” Becky suddenly says from behind us, surprising our little group and greeting us all with gentle hugs.

“Hey you!” I giggle. “Don’t know why I’m so surprised to find the president of the SU in the SU bar, heh!”

“Hail to the chief,” Becky replies with a smug grin. “You got our train tickets for Saturday all sorted?”

“Yep!” I reply. “Well, Nikki’s sorted them, but same thing, right?”

“Works for me,” Becky replies. “Thanks for taking me, I know you’d much rather be cuddled up next to your BOY in the hotel room.”

“It’s okay,” I shrug. “Thanks for not making me seem like a Jenny-no-mates, heh. Especially with Ophelia and her husband going together.”

“Another cute couple, despite being heterosexual, heh!” Becky chuckles. “So are you and the BOY, actually.”

“You’ve not me Lee though, have you?” I ask.

“I know all I need to,” Becky shrugs. “Obsessed with video games, toys and has a dick. Umm, er, no offence on that last one, J.”

“None taken,” I shrug. “I’m very happy that Lee has a dick, heh!”

“Better you than me,” Becky snorts. “I dunno. I’m not really the best person to be talking about BOYS, heh. Can’t wrap my head around how a hetero relationship can be as close, as intimate as a same-sex one. Especially one like Sarah and Nikki’s.”

“Kinda setting a high standard?” I muse. “Most Siamese twins aren’t as close as them.”

“When I meet the girl of my dreams, that’ll be me,” Becky says confidently. “No sense in settling for anything less, right?”

“Right,” I say, though I can’t shake her words from my head for the rest of the night.

As I’ve told both Sarah and Nikki on many occasions, the vast majority of the population aren’t lucky enough to have the first person they go out with be their soul mate. Or the second person they go out with, or the third, fourth, fifth… Or however many I’m up to by now. Becky does kind of have a point about hetero versus same-sex relationships- there isn’t a single thing that Sarah and Nikki don’t share, and nothing they can’t share, either. I’m not exactly going to be able to talk about fashion or make-up with Lee, and I’m not suddenly going to develop an interest in board games and electronic gizmos no matter how much he wishes I would.

However, that could easily apply to any relationship I have with any man. It was the case with Simon and his love of films, it’s the case with Lauren’s boyfriend and his hobbies, it’s even the case with Telemachus and his fascination with the Victorian era. I don’t want a boyfriend who’s basically a male clone of me, I want one who can me laugh and feel loved- and Lee definitely does both. I just wish I knew the answer to Ophelia’s ultimate question- whether or not I loved him…

After catching up with each other over a couple of drinks, Becky and I follow our designated driver and her wife out to their car, where we slide onto the back seat with happy, albeit tired smiles on our faces.

“Thanks for the lift,” I say to Sarah as she starts her car and drives us away.

“You’re welcome,” our drive replies. “Might make the other Mrs. Phillips-Thomas behave herself on the way home!”

“Don’t count on it,” Nikki purrs from the passenger seat as she playful reaches toward her wife’s thigh.

“SO cute,” Becky sighs. “What did you two do to celebrate the weekend, then?”

“By ‘weekend’ you mean ‘the 14th’, right?” Nikki asks. “I spent a good chunk of it freezing my arse off scrubbing graffiti off walls.”

“Ugh,” Becky spits. “Are you STILL doing that?”

“One more session tomorrow, then I'm FINALLY done,” Nikki replies. “Every second of it’s sucked, but I guess it’s supposed to.”

“Especially doing it over Valentine’s week when this is your first V-Day as a married couple,” Becky snorts. “Wish I’d given that blonde bitch a kick or two for you now.”

“V-Day’s never been much fun for us anyway,” Sarah explains. “I’m often sick, or something happens that tries to ruin it for us…”

“If you’re with the right person, you don’t need a special day to celebrate your love for them,” Nikki says as she gazes dreamily at her wife. “You can do that 365 days a year.”

“And believe me, we do!” Sarah giggles.

“I’ll say it again- SO cute,” Beck sighs.

“You’ll find your ‘Cinderella’ sooner or later,” Nikki assures the petite girl. “’Prince Charming’ is kinda being saved for someone else, hehe!”

“Thanks, Nikki,” I say with an overdramatic sigh that makes my friends chuckle. “Kinda hard to be ‘365’ in a long-distance relationship, though.”

“That’s what Facebook’s for,” Sarah replies.

“Not the same thing,” I retort.

“True,” Sarah sighs. “But if it’s meant to be…” Big ‘if’, I think to myself as the car pulls up outside my flat.

After thanking Sarah for the lift, I head inside to discover, as always, Ophelia cuddled up next to her ‘365’ on the love seat, dividing their attention between their coursework, the TV and, most of all, each other.

“Good evening, Jacinta,” Telemachus says. “I have left some dinner in the microwave for you if you didn’t eat at the bar.”

“Thanks,” I say before heading through to the kitchen. When I arrive in there, however, it’s not the microwave that I focus my attention on, but my phone. I have the usual raft of notifications on it- emails, notifications on posts on Instagram, and a slew of Facebook notifications- but none from Lee.

Naturally, I can’t help but be a little disappointed by this, even as I chastise myself for not following my own advice. How many times do I need to tell Sarah or Ophelia how rare love at first sight is before I start believing it myself? Hell, Lee’s a lot chattier than Simon was at this stage in our relationship. Even if I do seem to be unable to completely let go of Simon. And unable to not be envious of how close Sarah and Nikki are, or Ophelia and Telemachus are. Becky’s envy of those relationships (well, maybe not the latter) is proof that it’s perfectly normal to want more. Even if all I want to know is ‘is Lee the one?’…

I spend the rest of the evening finishing off coursework for tomorrow, but I constantly check my phone for any messages throughout the evening. However, none head my way before I go to bed, leaving me wondering whether or not Ophelia might have a point with what she said last night.

Tuesday goes almost identically to Monday- working with Katie at college, chatting with the girls about ‘cake’ and weddings at lunchtime and hanging out with my friends from the LGBT society in the SU bar after the end of the day’s studies. Unlike yesterday, however, my lift home is supplied by Lauren, and my ‘travelling companions’ are Katie and Ophelia.

“Telemachus not a ‘pub person’, then?” Katie asks as we drive away.

“He wanted to work on his project so he’s staying late at the library,” Ophelia explains. “So our car shall be girl only tonight, I’m afraid.”

“I would make a joke about all four of us being straight, but I think I’ll pass,” Katie says.

“Probably for the best,” Lauren replies. “Even if you did climb into my bed AGAIN last night.”

“Dunno if you’ve noticed, but it’s February and it’s fucking cold!” Katie retorts. “Some of us don’t have any man flesh on call 24/7 to cuddle up to…”

“Get an electric blanket,” Lauren says.

“We are not making ‘electric blanket’ a euphemism for ‘boyfriend’,” I say, earning giggles from the two girls in front of me. “’Cake’ is bad enough.”

“Feeling a little stressed after being on a ‘diet’ for 48 hours?” Katie asks.

"Piss off,” I snort.

“Right then, I’ll just jump out of a moving car,” Katie scoffs.

“…What?” I protest.

“Katie may be a little more ‘stressed’ than you,” Lauren explains as her BFF scoffs again.

“Ah,” I mumble. “Sorry…”

“No, it’s okay,” Katie sighs. “Probably doing myself a favour staying single until I graduate anyway.”

“Or lesbian, if last night is any judge,” Lauren teases, giggling as Katie blows her a very unladylike raspberry!

“Plenty of time for boys after I get my degree,” Katie says. “Especially if I get a job photographing all of Heavenly Talent’s hardbodies. I’ll just have to have an ‘electric blanket’ next winter, heh!”

“I thought we agreed no euphemisms?” I moan. “It’s not like my bed’s any warmer either…”

“Better occasional ‘cake’ than a crash diet,” Katie retorts.

“Don’t be too sure,” I sigh. “Nothing worse than having your ‘cake’ and not being able to eat it ‘cause it’s in another country entirely. Lee didn’t even so much as Facebook me last night…”

“Ah- now THAT isn’t on,” Lauren says. “You send your girlfriend a goodnight message, even if you are, you know, ‘casual’.”

“Okay, I take back my whinge,” Katie says. “But I’m not keeping you warm tonight.”

“…Really?” I ask. “All this doom and gloom because he didn’t send me a Facebook message?”

“You’re the one who, you know, drew attention to it,” Lauren says. “Michael messages me every night.”

“You’ve been together since you were four,” I retort.

“Fifteen, but still,” Lauren says. “I know you’re casual, which does mean ‘not serious’, but I wonder just how ‘not serious’ Lee reckons you are.” I open my mouth to reply, but I have to concede that the black-haired girl has a point- not many ‘Cinderella’ stories start with her and ‘Prince Charming’ being casual…

Another evening passes without any contact from my ‘boyfriend’, and as I lay down alone in my bed, I’m forced to come to the conclusion that while Lee may be a lot of fun, I can’t see him ever being ‘Prince Charming’. Katie might prefer the occasional ‘cake’ to none at all, but I need to know that what I’m ‘eating’ is good for me (and yes, you can take ‘eating’ literally if you want). And I’m not sure that Lee is. A woman can’t live on ‘cake’ alone, after all. And god knows there aren't many men out there was easy-going as Lee about a girl like me 'eating' with them.

My alarm clock wakes my early the following morning and after following my usual morning routine of showering, shaving off what little body hair I have and applying my make-up, I head back to my bedroom to pick out the morning’s ‘outfit’. As today’s Wednesday, we’re not required in university, but we do have a ‘class’ today- the sort of class where you’re required to wear a pair of pink tights and a very clingy black leotard!

After saying goodbye to Telemachus (he still has ‘proper’ classes to go to today), Ophelia and I climb into our waiting taxi, and within minutes we’re walking through the front door of the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance. Many of our friends are already here, including Katie and Lauren, who skip over to us the second we step through the door.

"Hey girlies," Lauren says in a more hesitant voice than normal. "We- we're sorry if we crossed a line yesterday, you know, talking about Lee..."

"Nah- nah, it's okay," I sigh. "You kinda had a point with what you said, I'm the one who overreacted. I've kinda had a lot of thinking to do since I got back from Wales, heh."

"Well... As long as you think the right things," Lauren says.

"And for what it's worth, 'cake' is always a good thing to think about," Katie teases.

"And to 'eat', too," Ophelia says with a smug grin.

"...Even you?" I ask my BFF, who replies with an extremely smug grin.

"Are we not here to dance?" Ophelia asks in a faux-sweet voice. "Are Sarah and Nikki not joining us today?"

"Nikki's working," Lauren replies. "Sarah is, well, incapable of going anywhere without her, so, well, yeah."

"I know the feeling well," Ophelia muses. "Telemachus would be here were it not for his studies."

"Dunno whether or not a leotard would suit him," Katie says, grinning as my BFF shoots her an evil look.

"He would be here to observe the lesson, as you are perfectly aware," Ophelia snorts as the four of us head toward the main dance studio.

"So, Jacinta," Lauren says in a hurried-sounding voice, "have you decided anything about what you're doing with Lee yet?"

"Ugh, not really," I sigh. "Guess I need to talk to him at some point."

"Okay," Lauren shrugs.

"Ooh, speaking of," Katie teases as we enter the studio to discover several familiar faces sat at the side of the room- including a very familiar face that I instantly hurry toward.

"L- Lee?" I ask the smug-looking Welshman who has his feet propped up on the chair in front of him. "What are you doing here?"

"Other than getting dirt on my missus's furniture?" Mikey- Krystie's fiancé, who's sat in the seat behind Lee- asks, smirking as my boyfriend sits properly in his chair.

"...Well I was thinking," Lee says, "I could spend all of my half term in Cardiff, or I could spend some of it looking at my girlfriend wearing skin-tight lycra. Seemed like a simple decision. Plus, I wanted to see some of Ian's old hangouts."

"Oh, piss off," the blond transman growls from the seat next to him. "Bad enough we got up early for this without you bringing back bad memories."

"I was about to say, what time did your train leave to get here so early?" I ask.

"Six twenty fucking six," Ian replies.

"Wow," I breathe. 6:26? I think to myself. I'd struggle to get out of bed at that time for a million pounds. Was Lee's 'radio silence' because he wanted to surprise me today? Have I misjudged him? 6:26am is definitely the sort of commitment a 'Prince Charming' would put in...

"Jacinta! Kinda waiting over here?" Krystie yells, making me blush as my friends all giggle.

"Sorry," I mumble, more to Lee than to our teacher. "Talk after class?"

"Sure," Lee says, exchanging a hesitant kiss with me before allowing me to join my friends at the barre, all of whom have smug looks on their faces.

"Okay, how long did you know about this?" I hiss to Katie and Lauren.

"Honestly?" Lauren replies. "Found out this morning when I got here and lo and behold, there's Ian and Lee. Didn't want to spoil the surprise for you, hehe!"

"Well- okay, thanks," I say. "I mean it. Now I know why you two were apologising, heh."

"That, and what we said was kinda shitty," Katie says. "Word of advice: don't dance too hard today. Want to save some energy for 'cake', don't you?" I grin as I glance back at my boyfriend, before beginning our warm-up on our teacher's orders.

Even though the morning is not so much a 'lesson' as it is an excuse to have fun and catch up with friends, I still eagerly glance at the clock throughout, willing the hands to tick over so that it can be over and I can talk to my boyfriend. Twelve hours ago I was debating breaking up with him- now I'm not so sure. Especially as he's come so far after such an early start...

"Hey you," I coo to Lee after the lesson finally ends.

"Hey me," Lee replies, grinning as he gives me a gentle kiss. "You were good out there. I think. I'm not an expert on ballet and the only Cardiff-based person I know who is would punch me if I asked him."

"Hehe," I giggle. "Still can't believe you're, you know, here..."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Lee shrugs.

"Umm, it's a two hour train ride?" I reply. "Can't have been cheap, either..."

"I sold Sheila," Lee shrugs, making me double take.

"...No you didn't," I say confidently.

"...Okay, no I didn't," Lee sighs. "But I did really want to come and see you. Even though it's only been three days, heh. Ian sees his girlfriend most days."

"Ian lives in the same city as his girlfriend," I remind Lee. "The same country, even."

"Exactly," my boyfriend shrugs. "Reckon, you know, I need to make more of an effort. Because, you know, I do, like, take this seriously, you and me."

"So do I," I whisper, even as I doubt the young man's sincerity. There's one thing he still hasn't accounted for... "I- I'd meant to contact you on Facebook the last couple of days..."

"Yeah, sorry about that..." Lee grimaces. "I've been kinda busy, coursework... Won't happen again. Promise."

"Well... Okay then," I say with a grin, even though Lee is far from convincing. "I can certainly understand about coursework, heh. So... Umm, want to go somewhere, get a drink?"

"...Dressed like that?" Lee asks.

"Well then I'll just have to go home and change, won't I?" I reply, before grinning even wider. "Coming?"

Needless to say, Lee did come. In more than one sense of the word. And when he left London later in the evening, I felt as miserable as I did when I left Cardiff on Sunday evening, and just as uncertain about what I wanted from the relationship.

Relationships are built on more than just 'cake'. You have to have certain things in common, and your differences do need to complement each other. My love of things like clothes and dancing don't exactly go hand-in-hand with Lee's love of engineering and videogames. But he does make me smile. There's no one in the world whose sense of humour is quite like his- certainly none of my ex-boyfriends' are.

Lee's Facebook faux pas can easily be put down to him being inexperienced as far as relationships go. It's no major deal breaker, but it does make me question his 'Prince Charming' credentials. Then again, getting up before dawn on a cold February morning is a definite tick in that box.

Ultimately, I do have to ask myself the big question- is Lee Prince Charming? More than that, do I love him? The answer to both questions right now is 'I don't know'. But there's only one way to find out- and I'm eager to get started!

“Oh god…” I moan as I open my eyes and am greeted by the bright sunlight and the oppressive heat of the room I’m in. “Oh- oh god!” I try to huddle my covers around me in a vain attempt to sleep away my hangover, but when all that does is make me even hotter, I slowly roll out of the bed, landing in a heap not on the floor, but on top of the unmoving form of the woman who was my classmate for the last three years.

“Katie?” I grunt, rolling off the freckled girl’s body and giving her a shake. “You still alive?”

“Uhh…” Katie feebly moans, briefly raising her forearm before allowing it to flop back onto the floor.

“What- oh god, what did we drink last night?” I whine. “How much did we drink?”

“How much DIDN’T we drink?” Katie croaks. “We- we didn’t have sex last night, did we?”

“Oh- oh god, I hope not,” I gasp.

“Thanks,” Katie snorts.

“…Yeah, ‘cause we’re both such rampaging lesbians, aren’t we?” I retort.

“How did we even get home?” Katie moans.

“I think other Katie bundled us into the boot of a car,” I grunt. “Or tied us to the roof rack, I dunno.”

“I could go for a roof rack right now,” Katie moans as I try to remember the details of the previous night- but try as I might, all I can remember is the evening a few weeks ago, when I made a decision that I may well come to regret.

I’d travelled to Cardiff on the Friday evening, as I’d done several times following the end of my studies. I was greeted at the station by Lee, as usual, and driven back to his house (in a car, rather than being mounted on the front of an electric go-kart). There, we caught up, ate dinner, played some videogames… And I explained to him that we’d grown apart, we had very little in common, and that it’d be best if we started to see other people.

Lee took it surprisingly well- certainly better than I would have. I still think he was surprised to have been able to get a girlfriend at all- ‘sarcastic know-it-all nerd who builds electric gizmos in his free time’ isn’t exactly going to grab many people’s attention on match.com. But when you get past the ‘Sheldon Cooper on steroids’ exterior, Lee was sweet, very funny and very ‘eager to please’ in bed. And related to that last point, he had absolutely no hang-ups about being with a transgendered girl- something which is still far rarer than it should be. He’d make someone a great boyfriend- it’s just that that person isn’t me.

I’m not naïve enough to believe that ‘love at first sight’ wasn’t invented by Walt Disney in order to sell cartoons, but I always thought that ‘love at somethingth sight’ was a thing, that there’d be a point where I’d find myself falling for the man of my dreams, even if he was someone I’d known for a while- and that it’d take considerably less than six months for that to happen. With Lee, however, that feeling, that ‘spark’ never happened no matter much I tried to make it, and while it was certainly fun, it wasn’t ‘love’, much like it wasn’t with Simon.

Ophelia, Katie and the rest of my friends were all critical of this decision, of course. Ophelia correctly pointed out that Lee made me laugh a lot, Lauren correctly pointed out that it took me ages to get with someone after splitting from Simon, and Katie pointed out that being single will make me sulky and miserable within weeks. While I can’t say for certain that Katie’s prediction will turn out to be as accurate as the other two, I can definitely see why she’d think so.

Fortunately, I’ve had plenty to occupy my time since finishing my studies, and I don’t just mean going out, partying and getting drunk (though I have been doing quite a lot of that as well). A lot of my time has been spent applying for jobs, sending my resume and portfolio to numerous different agencies and magazines and attending interviews (sitting around for hours at a time in a skirt suit and heels was NOT fun in the heat we’ve been having in England). While I’ve had no firm job offers yet, I’ve had a lot of interest, even though these companies know that I wouldn’t be able to take up any paid role until the start of September, because I’ll be spending most of the summer recovering from an operation- an operation I’ve been waiting my whole life to have.

Yes, in just a few weeks’ time, I will finally be going under the knife and becoming a full, (externally) anatomically correct woman. My lifelong dream will at least be realised, and while I am in equal parts excited and anxious- it will be a lot of pain and a long recovery, after all- there’s a part of me that almost wishes I wasn’t having it done, mainly because I won’t have ‘Prince Charming’ to help me through it all.

I’ll have all my friends around me, of course, and dad has said he’ll come up to London as often as he can (and I do plan on spending some time recovering at home in Brighton too), but it’s not the same. When Nikki had her SRS, she had Sarah to help, when our friends Jamie and Stuart had SRS, they had each other, and when our friend Paige had her SRS, she had her fiancée Jessica to help her through it (and the reverse will be true when Jessica goes in for her SRS). I’ve been repeatedly cautioned not to feel like I’ll be a burden to my friends while I recover, particularly by Nikki, who’s looking forward to ‘repaying’ a lot of the attention she got two years ago, but I can’t help but feel like I’ll be a bed-ridden third wheel to anyone charged with ‘babysitting’ me- particularly my BFF and her husband, whose relationship seems to grow stronger with every passing day.

However, before my SRS, I can at least kick back and relax with my friends. This year, all six of us have gone on holiday to America- easily our biggest ever trip as a group (previous trips have only been to the beach at Brighton, though we did go to Reading Festival together last August), and I am determined to relax and enjoy the rest, the heat and, as you can tell from my apocalyptic hangover, a lot of alcohol. However, any hope of forgetting about being single is going to be difficult, as we’re in America to celebrate the wedding of two of our friends who I met last year. Like 'Snikki', Alexa and Jenny- or, as they're known, 'Jexy'- are a transgendered girl and a 'biological' girl who have fallen in love as the latter guided the former through their transition. Their counsellor put them in touch with 'Snikki' last Spring, and they've quickly become part of the family. They invited the rest of us to the wedding, and we all accepted the invitation- even if we weren't expecting it to be as warm as it is!

“Ah- not dead then,” Jenny and Alexa’s best friend, who is also confusingly called Katie, says with a smirk as ‘our’ Katie (who’s agreed to be known as ‘Hendo’ for the duration of the trip) and I step into the vast house’s equally vast garden, wincing as we’re hit with a wall of heat.

“Give it a few minutes,” Hendo grunts as we make our way to a table where some of our friends are sat, including two- well, technically three- of our friends from London.

“Oh, hey girls!” Jamie says, greeting myself and Hendo with gentle one-armed hugs (her other arm being occupied with her infant daughter). “Wondered if you two would ever regain consciousness, heh.”

“Were we THAT bad last night?” I groan.

“Well, you could’ve be worse,” Lauren says, giggling as she fiddles with her phone- something that makes the two brides-to-be extremely nervous! “You could’ve been singing!” Hendo and I watch on intently as Lauren plays a video from last night of Alexa and Jenny on a stage, singing ‘I Got You Babe’ by Sonny & Cher. While the attention of everyone on the patio is focussed on the increasingly-embarrassed brides to be, mine is focussed on the video itself, and the very obvious and genuine look of love between the two women.

To say Alexa and Jenny are an unlikely couple is putting it mildly- the latter is an almost stereotypical American socialite, tall, blonde and slender, coming from an extremely rich family and who could in theory have any guy (or girl) she wanted. Alexa, on the other hand, comes from a blue-collar family from a small town, who grew up playing videogames, watching American Football- and, more significantly, grew up as a boy. None of this stopped ‘Jexy’ (as the two of them are known) from developing a mutual love stronger than most couples I know, even giving ‘Snikki’ a run for their money. Their love is certainly stronger than I’ve ever experienced in any relationship I’ve been in…

“…And that wasn’t all,” Lauren says, showing us a video of the couple singing 'Endless Love' and numerous other embarrassing videos from the night.

After ‘Jexy’s ritual humiliation is complete, Jamie & Stuart take over the conversation and start regaling us with tales of their trip to New York. As fascinating as their tales are (I’ve always wanted to visit the Big Apple), I quietly slip away to a shaded area of the patio, where my BFF is inelegantly slumped on a sun lounger and looking very much the worse for wear.

“Hey,” I whisper as I drag a chair over to the shade. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hungover before, heh.”

“I am suffering more from the heat than the alcohol,” Ophelia retorts, her affected posh accent wavering due to her malaise. “You know I do not mix well with it.”

“Heat or alcohol?” I ask, before shaking my head. “Never mind, I know the answer to that question is ‘both’. I don’t need to ask what the real reason for you being under the weather is though, do I?”

“Indeed you do not,” Ophelia replies, smiling weakly as she reveals that she has her phone in one of her hands, and on the screen is Facebook chat with her husband. Judging by the length of the scroll bar, it’s a chat that’s been going at least all morning.

"He'll be here Saturday," I say softly. "You know he'd feel out of place in the whole 'extended hen several nights' thing, so would Lauren's Michael, that's why they're coming later."

"Stuart's here today," Ophelia retorts.

"Umm..." I say. "He's, umm, with his family...? Yeah, he's with his family, helping Jamie, like, umm, with Olivia?"

"If you say so," Ophelia mumbles, making me fidget awkwardly- something I almost never do when I'm talking with my BFF.

“Are you- are you all prepared with the dress?” I ask, trying to make my BFF’s mind off of her absent husband.

“Everything is ready,” Ophelia replies, smirking at the thought of her handiwork. “Including Alexa and Jenny’s waists.”

“I was about to say,” I tease as I gaze at Ophelia's obviously un-corseted waist. “You’re looking ‘fuller’ then usual. Sure your feeling ill isn’t down to just the heat?”

“Shut up,” Ophelia replies, letting out a gentle, tired giggle. “If I was pregnant you would know about it, as I would be screaming at the top of my lungs for being so much like my sisters.”

“For being pregnant at 21?” I tease. “Most of your sisters are grandparents by 21, aren’t they?”

“It would not surprise me,” Ophelia chuckles. “Though if I may be serious, Telemachus and I have indeed discussed having children.”

“Even though he’s still a teenager himself?” I ask, before sighing. “Never mind, forgot for a second that you two got married when you had a combined age of 38.”

“We have even chosen names,” Ophelia says. “If our first child is a girl, we shall name her Andromeda.”

“That’s appropriate,” I nod. “With your middle name being ‘Cassiopeia’.”

“Precisely our thinking,” Ophelia says. “Should our first child be a boy, we shall name him Odysseus.”

“…The father of Telemachus?” I ask.

“Exactly,” Ophelia says. “Telemachus’s first choice for the child’s name was actually Jason, but I explained to him how that would not be appropriate given the circumstances.”

“Oh- trust me, I wouldn’t mind,” I say.

“It might be awkward when you are the child’s godmother,” Ophelia says with a smirk.

“…I did kinda wonder,” I say as my cheeks start to redden, but what Ophelia says next nearly tips me over the edge.

“…The ONLY godparent,” my BFF whispers softly, drawing tears from my eyes.

“Oh- oh god, O…” I mumble.

“I made an argument for your father being a godparent too,” Ophelia says, “but we agreed that for our firstborn, the role of godparent should be occupied by immediate family.” Naturally, this use of the term ‘immediate family’ from a woman with four sisters opens my tear ducts even wider.

“Oh- ugh, thank god I’m not wearing that much make-up,” I say, fanning myself with my hands to try to calm myself down. “Obviously I’ll return the favour. If I ever have kids, heh. Or even get married…”

“I am absolutely certain that you will,” Ophelia says with a warm smile. “In fact, I have already designed your wedding dress. And my maid of honour dress, if that isn’t being too presumptive?”

“Not at all!” I giggle, taking a deep breath to compose myself. “The only presumption is whether or not you’ll be knocked up by then, heh.”

“We do not plan on having children until both Telemachus and I are 25,” Ophelia says. “Six years should be more than enough time to find your ‘Prince Charming’, shouldn’t it?”

“You’d think,” I snort, before sighing. “Who knows? Maybe on this trip I’ll find myself a nice, hunky American boy who hasn’t got any hang-ups about my- well, my ‘hang-on’?”

“Here are three right now,” Ophelia says with a smirk as two middle-aged men emerge onto the patio, followed by a very good-looking younger man- who, naturally, makes his way straight over to American Katie to gives her a long, deep kiss before heading off to talk to the other men (who had dragged Stuart off toward the dock) while I head over to talk to my American friends.

"So that's the famous Danny," I tease my newest friend. “I can see why you were such a good girl in London, Katie. He is CUTE!” I glance over to Alexa, expecting some smart-arsed response about him being her brother, but much to my surprise, it's Jenny who speaks up.

“He’s just our meathead brother," the blonde woman says with a snort of laughter. "But... Katie has brought him a long way.” Katie and I giggle as this triggers a cute moment between the two soon-to-be-brides, which was soon interrupted by the arrival of Alexa's mother and cousin (who, as a 16 year old girl, immediately started gushing over Jamie) and, worst of all, yet more heat.

Eventually, the temperature gets the better of us and we retreat into the house, where Jenny mercifully switches on the air conditioning unit. While we try to relax away the last of our hangovers, Jamie takes her daughter upstairs for a nap, being followed every step of the way by Alexa’s cousin!

“Ahh,” I moan as I slump back on one of the room’s plush sofas. “How is it so hot?”

“And humid?” Hendo moans, showing off her ponytail, which has gained a lot of volume over the course of our time outside!

“If it makes you feel any better,” Alexa replies, “in winter it can sometimes get down to minus five, heh.”

“…That’s not THAT cold,” Hendo mumbles.

“Fahrenheit,” Sarah clarifies. “Which is about minus twenty Celsius.”

“…Okay,” Hendo says with a tired chuckle. “I’m glad I visited in summer then!”

“I’m just glad you were all able to visit at all,” Alexa says with a happy sigh. “You don’t know how much it means to me to have you all here.”

“Oh- can we save some sappiness for the wedding, please?” Nikki asks, giggling as her American counterpart playfully hurls a cushion at her.

“Trust me,” American Katie chuckles. “Knowing these two, there’ll be PLENTY of it!”

“Just hope our dresses will be able to live up to the event!” Lauren giggles.

“You were there when they tried them on,” Sarah chuckles. “How soaked did the carpet get with their tears? Trust me, they’ll do!”

“They’ll more than do!” Jenny giggles as she cuddles her fiancée close to her.

“Ahh…” American Katie sighs happily. “Don’t suppose I could put in an order while you’re all here, could I?” All the girls- myself included- squeak excitedly as the curvy girl shows off the sparkling ring on her left hand.

“I am sure we can fit you in somewhere,” Ophelia says with a grin.

“Though there is a bit of a queue at the moment!” Lauren chuckles. “Let’s see… In August we’ve got Jessica and Paige, then at the end of the month there’s Krystie and Mikey, then you’ve got Danny and Rachel, Becca and Riley, Adeola and Marco- that’s a lot of dresses, hehe!”

“I think you might have forgotten someone…” Hendo teases as she reaches over, grabs her BFF’s left hand and forcibly shows off the ring on her finger. Naturally, this causes Lauren to blush with embarrassment as the other girls all excitedly squeak again.

“…Yes, but me and Michael aren’t planning on actually getting married until 2020,” Lauren feebly retorts, before sighing heavily. “And yes, you are all invited.” Naturally, this elicits a cheer from all present! “We’re planning on having the ceremony in summer in Cyprus,” Lauren continues. “My father’s mother was originally from there, and we might just give you two a run for your money for ‘hottest wedding ever’, heh!”

“I’ll be sure to pack my deep freeze,” Nikki giggles as she fans herself with a magazine. “God… Seems like everyone’s either getting hitched or hitched already, heh!” Yeah… Not quite everyone, I think to myself.

“We are lucky to have found our perfect mates so early in life,” Ophelia says, casting me a sympathetic glance as she, like always, seems to sense what I’m thinking.

“You can say that again,” Alexa says softly as she eases back into her fiancée’s embrace. A tired but not awkward silence fills the room as we relax, the ‘taken’ women in the room obviously thinking about their respective partners while I, obviously, don’t.

I don’t doubt that Ophelia has a wedding dress designed for me, or that the other girls would jump at the chance to be my bridesmaids, or that dad would love to walk me down the aisle, or that my own wedding would be anything other than perfect. Well, perfect in all but one regard- the identity of the groom.

I’m fairly sure that if we’d stayed together long enough to become ‘serious’, Lee would’ve eventually ended up proposing to me, as would Simon. I’m sure the wedding would’ve been a beautiful, elaborate affair people would remember forever. And I’m also sure neither marriage would’ve lasted any time at all as neither boy was in any danger of being ‘Prince Charming’. As much as I may want to, I can’t force someone to be my soul mate any more than I could force myself to live as a male. I just have to hope that my true ‘Prince Charming’ is out there, somewhere…

“Finally had enough of the heat, huh?” Charlotte- Alexa’s mother- asks as she re-enters the living room and discovers us all sprawled out.

“Oh, I doubt it's the heat that's the problem,” Jamie teases as she also re-enters the room, earning tired, angry glares from all nine of us.

“Are you girls STILL suffering?” Charlotte chides us, transforming our angry glares into guilty looks, with none of us looking guiltier than Alexa herself. “I thought so. What you girls need is a good, filling lunch! I’m sure I saw some ham in the kitchen…” Naturally, this offer causes my stomach to churn- and not just mine, going by the colour draining from my friends’ faces.

“Noooo!” All of us yell, before descending into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

Despite our protests, Charlotte (with her son’s help) prepares us a nourishing lunch of ham sandwiches, and despite some initial protests from my stomach, I do start to feel better once I’ve cleaned my plate. After lunch, the nine of us gradually split into smaller groups, with Sarah, Jenny and American Katie cooing over the recently-returned Olivia while Nikki, Alexa and I squirrel ourselves away in a quiet corner of the room. Naturally, wedding talk dominates the conversation at first, but it soon changes to something a little more ‘personal’ for me.

“…And it’s a good thing the wedding’s so soon after the end of uni,” Nikki says, casting a teasing look in my direction. “Miss Hanley may have been a bit too laid up if you’d waited a couple more weeks!”

“Ah- yeah, I had heard!” Alexa giggles. “Congratulations, Jacinta! Are you nervous?”

“Just a bit, yeah!” I chuckle, nervously scratching my head. “Are- are you booked in yet?”

“Not yet,” Alexa said, shaking her head. “I want to get settled in working at the Foundation first before I ask them for weeks of sick leave, heh!”

“I’m kinda doing it the other way,” I chuckle. “Getting ‘done’ first, then starting a job, heh. Assuming I get offered a job anyway.”

“They’d be morons not to hire you,” Nikki says with a supportive smile.

“I’m surprised Heavenly Talent didn’t offer you a job,” Alexa says.

“They only had one vacancy for an in-house photographer,” I explain. “Hendo got there first. Before she’d even started uni, heh. But I’ve had a lot of interest, and having contacts at Heavenly Talent certainly helped, heh!”

“You are SO lucky to have so many friends,” Alexa says softly.

“Umm, excuse me?” Nikki says. “’You’? I think you mean WE are so lucky to have these friends, right?”

“My mistake,” Alexa says with a happy giggle. “But my point is, you know, when you have your SRS, you’re going to have everyone around you, the whole ‘family’.”

“And when you go in, you’ll have Jenny,” I retort. My American friend opens her mouth to speak, but instead simply sighs and nods.

“True,” Alexa concedes. “Have- have you talked to Paige about it yet? I’m hoping to talk to her when she gets here, you know, ‘cause her operation is ‘fresh’.”

“No offence taken,” Nikki says with a playful derisive snort that earns a stuck out tongue from her American counterpart.

“You know what I mean,” Alexa sighs. “I mean- it’s a lot of pain to put myself through. I need to know if, you know, it’ll be worth it in the end.”

“And as I’ve told you- both of you- a million times, the answer is ‘yes’,” Nikki says, crossing one leg tightly over the other and grinning widely. “Two years and zero regrets. Some boys are just born to be beautiful, successful women, and us three definitely fall into that category, hehe!”

“Hell yeah we do!” Alexa cheers, before grinning as her fiancée approaches and gives her a gentle kiss, before snuggling down next to her.

“So…” Jenny teases with an excited grin. “What are we talking about?”

“Major surgery,” Alexa replies.

“Aren’t you glad you asked?” Nikki teases, giggling as she gets a tongue stuck out at her by the other half of ‘Jexy’.

“I’ve already spoken about it plenty with Sarah anyway,” Jenny replies. “About how to be a good ‘nurse’ for my Lex when she’s laid up, hehe!”

“If you’re going to talk about costumes now, I think I’d better leave,” I say with a smirk. “I still have nightmares about what Jamie told me when she was recovering from her SRS, heh.”

“…Nah, we don’t kiss and tell,” Alexa giggles. “Or ‘kiss and show’ either, hehe!”

“Glad to hear it!” I chuckle. “I’m glad London Fashion Week is September, though, so when I get my job and am eventually sent off round the world, the first trip won’t involve any bumpy plane rides, heh.”

“You want to enjoy those while they last?” Jenny teases. “That… Can probably be arranged, hehe!” The grin spreading across Alexa’s face tells me that she knows what her fiancée has in mind, though I’m obviously still none the wiser.

“…You haven’t got a rollercoaster hidden in your garden, have you?” I ask.

“Almost as good,” Jenny giggles.

A short while later, after some persuading by Jenny of her uncle, all of us girls (minus Ophelia, who was still suffering in the heat, and Sarah, who'd been charged with babysitting Olivia) are laid out on the deck of a very fancy boat, and as I soak up more rays, I'm forced to wonder just how rich Jenny's family is!

Eventually, I get chatting to a nice young woman who I learn is Alexa's older brother's ex-girlfriend, but just as we get deep into our conversation, everyone on deck becomes distracted by a pillar of smoke coming from a nearby golf course. I think nothing of this at first, but that soon changes as the brides-to-be suddenly start panicking and I realise that tomorrow's rehearsal dinner has just suddenly been cancelled.

The mood remains low for the rest of the journey back to the Thompson household, but almost before we step back onto the land, Jenny's family is around her, assuring her and Alexa that everything will be alright, that Jenny's father has used his considerable influence to smooth things out and that nothing will take the wedding off-schedule.

After a delicious barbecue dinner prepared by Jenny's uncle, most of us decide to stay outside and enjoy the cooler evening air accompanied by several alcoholic beverages- though nowhere near as many as last night!

The following morning, I am once again woken by the summer heat, though today it thankfully isn’t accompanied by alcohol-induced brain damage (at least, not as bad as last night's). After showering, putting on my makeup and covering up with a loose, short summer dress, I head back to my room and check my phone for any incoming Facebook messages. With Lauren and Ophelia both busy today working on the dresses, and Nikki, Sarah and American Katie busy with bridesmaid duties, it leaves me and English Katie at a loose end. We’ve already made plans to look around the twin cities today, but as the old saying goes, the more the merrier- or, to word it slightly differently, you can never have too many friends!

“Hey,” Hendo says, casually entering the room in her loose, light tank top and trademark denim shorts. “Anyone else free today, then?”

“I’m just checking now,” I reply. “And thanks for knocking, by the way.”

“Oh whatever,” Hendo snorts. “Nothing I’ve never seen before. Oh- umm…” My friend’s eyes go wide as she realises what she’s said, warming my heart at the thought that even after three years, she doesn’t think of me as a ‘transwoman’, but just a ‘woman’.

“It’s fine, I know what you mean,” I say softly. “Though I would prefer that you knock even after SRS. Heh, something I’VE never seen before!”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Hendo chuckles.

“Kinda why I’m hoping Jessica and Paige are free today,” I say. “Want to talk to Paige about how, you know, the recovery’s coming along.”

“Couldn’t you have talked to her in London?” Hendo asks, sitting down on the corner of my bed.

“Sure, if I didn’t mind completely botching my degree,” I reply. “Not all of us are guaranteed firsts, you know?”

“Ehh- sorry, sorry,” my freckled friend grimaces as an awkward silence fills the room. “…And I know what you’re thinking, I don’t mind you saying it.”

“Don’t know what you mean,” I untruthfully mumble.

“Guaranteed firsts and guaranteed jobs?” Hendo sighs. “It’s okay, I kinda agree with you, I’ve worked hard but I have been lucky too. Heh, sometimes wonder where I’d be today if I hadn’t made friends with Nikki that first day of college.”

“Yeah, I kinda wonder the same thing about Ophelia,” I reply. “And about what life’d be like if you hadn’t made friends with me that first day of uni.”

“Oh- well, we’d have met eventually,” Hendo says. “I mean, you’d still have joined the LGBT society, right? So you’d be friends with Sarah at least, like Annie, Petra or Aaron.”

“I guess,” I shrug. “They’re not here in America though, are they?”

“No they aren’t,” Hendo chuckles. “But we are. And I want to see more of it today! So… Any responses from any other like-minded people?”

“One from England, one from Scotland, one from France and one from this country,” I reply with a smug grin. “Assuming you don’t mind being outnumbered 4-2 by trans girls?”

“No, but I definitely don’t mind outnumbering boys 6-0, hehe!” Hendo replies with a giggle as I slip my feet into a pair of comfortable flip-flops, grab my handbag and follow my friend down to where our taxi is waiting.

A short while later, we pull up outside the Minneapolis Convention Center, where we’re greeted by our four flight attendant (or former flight attendant) friends. After the customary round of hugs, we set about exploring the city centre, marvelling at the historic and modern landmarks- especially the skyways, the likes of which neither Hendo nor I have ever seen before. Naturally, Jessica appoints herself as our resident tour guide on the grounds that as an American, she’s the most qualified. She isn’t deterred when it’s pointed out that as she was born and raised over a thousand miles away from Minneapolis, it’s a bit like me saying I could show someone around Rome as I’m also from Europe.

Thanks to our group’s slow pace (and the oppressive heat), we don’t see as many sights as we’d planned during the morning, though I’m certainly okay with the slow pace as it gives me the chance to talk to the person responsible for it.

“You okay on the steps?” I ask my Scottish friend, before frowning as my innocent question is met with four angry glares- none angrier than that of Paige herself. “Umm… Sorry…?”

“I don’t need pity,” Paige growls as she hauls herself up the stairs, grunting in pain all the way and letting out a sigh as she reaches the top. “I- I’m sorry, Jacinta, it’s just- I dunno. I thought I’d be better now than I am, you know, more independent?”

“Yeah, you kinda just inadvertently stomped on a really sensitive area there,” Natalie says softly. “Metaphorically speaking, of course!”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “An area that’s gonna be more than a little sensitive for me in a few weeks, heh.”

“Oh- aye, sorry, I forgot,” Paige chuckles. “Guessing you have a few questions, then?”

“About a hundred,” I say with a nervous laugh. “I mean, yes, I’ve asked Nikki and Jamie plenty, but, you know…”

“You want to ask someone a bit ‘fresher’?” Paige asks.

“Someone who isn’t looking at the whole thing through rose-tinted glassed,” I say with a nod.

“Aye, I can understand that,” Paige says “You know our friend Anna-Jade? Ginger haired, Irish, says the word fuck a lot?”

“Used to go out with Paul Kennedy?” I ask, earning a nod from Paige. “Yeah, has she recently had SRS?”

“A few months before me,” Paige says. “And I could see how much pain she was in at first, and it made me wonder, you know, is it worth it?”

“…And?” I ask expectantly.

“Worth every second,” Paige replies with a grin. “’Cause I know the pain will last. But- well, you know, ‘it’- ‘it’ won’t. It’s here for good, where it was always supposed to be.”

“And- you know, is it- is ‘it’ different?” I ask.

“It does take some getting used to,” Paige confesses. “But it feels, you know, right? Like I was always meant to be this way.”

“Because you WERE,” Jessica says, giving her fiancée a gentle cuddle. “…And I think we’d better change the topic of conversation before Katie’s face gets any redder, heh!”

“I’m not embarrassed, it’s just the heat,” Hendo mumbles, before giggling. “Okay, maybe a little… I do get why it’s important, though. Getting rid of, you know, any ‘awkwardness’…”

“That’s as a good a name for it as I’ve ever heard!” I giggle.

"And I have to agree with something Jamie said once," Jessica says contemplatively. "So many people see SRS as having something removed. I don't. I see it as having something added. You don't 'lose' something you never wanted in the first place, do you?"

"I guess not," Hendo giggles as my phone bleeps to notify me of a new text message.

"That's our singers for tomorrow," I chuckle. "You guys still okay with picking them up from the airport?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Jessica giggles, gesturing to her hip, which I know bears the same tattoo as my shoulder and our soon-to-be-arriving friend's thigh. I giggle as well as we head to where our friends cars are parked, and soon we're heading toward the Minneapolis-St. Paul international airport, where we leave our multinational friends in the car park before heading into the concourse to wait for our friends.

“You feeling okay?” I ask my friend, who replies with a quizzical stare. “I mean, you know, talk of SRS and all that? Bet you never thought THAT would be a regular topic of conversation when you were fifteen, right?”

“Heh, not really,” Hendo replies. “But I don’t mind it, you know? And not just ‘cause we’re stood here about to greet two of the most famous singers in England like old friends.”

“I will admit, that would be kind-of a perk!” I chuckle.

“And it’s not like, you know, me and Lauren haven’t talked about ‘girl problems’ before,” Hendo muses. “Just of a different kind, heh. Be thankful you don’t have THAT to look forward to!”

“I dunno,” I shrug.

“Seriously?” Hendo asks. “Even after all the times you’ve had to deal with me being a pain in the arse every month?”

“Oh- yeah, ‘cause hormones have turned me into a perpetually happy sugar plum fairy, haven’t they?” I retort. “Yes, I get that it’s a pain, but it’s, you know, a reminder that I’ll never be ‘whole’. That’s ‘whole’ with a W at the start before you say anything.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Hendo says with mock innocence. “Think it, maybe, but not say it!” I open my mouth to retort, but the only sound that leaves my mouth is a squeak of excitement as I spot two young women walking toward us dragging big, heavy-looking suitcases.

“Hey you two!” I giggle, greeting Stephanie and Kayla with a tight hug each"

“Hi!” Stephanie says in an obviously tired voice. “God, that was a long flight!”

"Ugh, tell me about it!" I say, letting out a light sigh as I escort the two singers back to our car.

After dropping Steph and Kayla off at their hotel, we’re driven back to the Thompson household where Hendo and I touch up our makeup before changing out of our casual clothes into fancier, more expensive (but still lightweight due to the heat) dresses and elegant, feminine high-heeled shoes. Even though dinner tonight is in the Thompson household, it will be from a very fancy local restaurant favoured by Alexa and Jenny, and as they'll have just returned from their wedding rehearsal (and this is technically their rehearsal dinner), we do have appearances to keep up!

Unsurprisingly, the Italian food was amazing (and made my dress feel particularly tight, especially after an excellent tiramisu dessert), and after the dishes are cleared away we head back to our rooms, the general consensus being that an early night is best- especially considering what’s happening tomorrow!

I let out a loud yawn as my phone’s alarm wakes me early the following morning, followed by a sigh as I pad through to the shower to get ready for the day ahead. Today will be the fifth wedding I’ll have attended in the last eighteen months, and while it’ll undoubtedly be as beautiful as the previous ceremonies, it’s going to be yet another reminder that I’m as far away from my own wedding day as I was the day I was born.

I’m not going to let this get me down, of course- I have every intention of enjoying the wedding as much as I did Nikki and Sarah’s, or Natalie and Zoe’s, or even Telemachus and Ophelia's but I’m still going to be very conscious of the fact that I’m going to be one of very few single people at the wedding. This feeling is only enhanced when I head down to the kitchen to discover two new, yet familiar faces sat at the breakfast table.

“Morning!” Michael- Lauren’s boyfriend- says between mouthfuls of waffles.

“Good morning, Jacinta,” Telemachus politely says as he tucks into his equally delicious-smelling breakfast.

“Hey guys!” I say with a smirk. “What time did you get in?”

“Just over two hours ago,” Telemachus replies. “We thought it was best not to wake Ophelia and Lauren, especially as they will have a busy day today.”

“I was about to ask where your MUCH better halves are!” I giggle as I pour myself some coffee. “And I take it you locked the front door when you left the flat?”

“Yes, and your father and Sarah’s mother will be checking in until our return on Monday,” Telemachus replies, reminding me of another development in my life that I’m having difficulty believing- the fledgling romance between my ‘loves football and pub quizzes and works in a computer store’ father and Sarah’s ‘highly respected and well-paid psychiatrist’ mother. Still, if it makes him happy…

“Ah, there you are!” Lauren practically purrs as she sneaks into the kitchen and wraps her arms around her fiancé, before giving him a long, deep kiss on his lips and planting herself in his lap. “Didn’t feel like texting me to let me know you’d landed safely?”

“No, ‘cause I know you don’t like to be woken by your phone and I like my face the shape it currently is,” Michael replies, triggering a happy giggle from his fiancée.

“Ahh,” Lauren sighs happily as she picks at Michael’s breakfast. “Kat- sorry, I mean is Hendo up yet?”

“Wasn’t when I came down,” I reply. “How about Ophelia?” Despite myself, I let out a small giggle as Telemachus immediately perks up at the mention of his wife’s name.

“Already up and checking the stitching on the corsets,” Lauren chuckles. “Thought it was best to leave her to it, heh. As for the brides… Well, we’ll find out in a bit, hehe!”

“Yep!” I chuckle.

“You know, I was just thinking,” Michael muses. “3 out of the last 4 weddings I’ve been to- well, including this one- have had no grooms. Same goes for the next one we’re going to as well.”

“The gender of a person should make no difference to the person with whom they fall in love,” Telemachus says. “I did not know who I would fall in love with until I met Ophelia, for example.”

“Meh, not everyone’s lucky enough to fall in love at first sight,” Lauren shrugs. “We didn’t- our relationship had more than a few bumps before we realised we were perfect for each other, heh. I know Snikki started off slowly, and from what I understand, so did Jexy.” And then there’s so slow you’re having difficulty getting past ‘stop’, I think to myself as the topic of conversation turns back to today’s celebrations.

After breakfast I head back to my room to get changed, while Lauren, Michael and Telemachus head off to put the finishing touches on the dresses (or, in the boys’ case, ‘supervise’ the finishing touches). Obviously, I know better than to upstage the brides on their big day, so the dress I opt for is plain and a pale pink colour, but is still very flattering to my figure, especially when I slip my feet into a pair of matching slim stiletto heels and pin a dainty fascinator to my hair.

“Ooh, looking hot Miss Hanley!” Hendo giggles as she enters the room, looking very elegant in her own smart dress and heels.

“Yeah, figured I’d take the opportunity before I spend the next month in either a hospital gown or pyjamas, heh,” I reply.

“Oh, you’ll be looking hot long before that,” Hendo reassures me with a grin.

“Doubt any boy who sees me laid up with half a roll of gauze hanging out of my nethers will agree,” I retort. “But, after a few months, once they’ve healed and look, well, like they’re supposed to, then maybe then.”

“’Maybe’ then?” Hendo teases. “You mean to tell me you’re not going to jump on top of the first fit guy you see?”

“Well let’s face facts,” I sigh. “That’s not exactly worked for me so far, has it? I mean yes, I had fun with Lee, and with Simon, but, you know? I look at Nikki and Sarah, and Alexa and Jenny…”

“And what’s wrong with ‘fun’?” Hendo asks with mock offence. “Friendly reminder that I’m just as single as you are. And just ‘cause all our friends are engaged or married, doesn’t mean we should feel we need to be, right?”

“Umm- okay, I guess,” I mumble.

“Honestly, this obsession you’ve got with ‘Prince Charming’ really ain’t helping you, you know?” Hendo muses, making me frown and blush. “You’ll find him when you find him. No reason to let any other ‘Prince Less Charming’s go in the meantime.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t have chucked Lee?” I ask.

“…Yes and no,” Hendo says, before sighing. “Don’t- don’t define yourself by whether or not you’re in a relationship, okay? Not when you’ve got so many other things going for you. And before you say anything, you WILL get a job soon. And the boyfriend you deserve. Just- flaunt what you’ve got, okay?”

“Well- okay…” I reply. “Kinda tough when we’re at a wedding though, heh.”

“Oh, it’s gonna be painful today,” Hendo says. “But when we get back to London, and you’re back on your feet, the two of us are gonna go out, and every single guy in London is gonna want us, right?”

“Right,” I say, my confidence slowly returning.

“And not all of them will be ‘Prince Charming’ for either of us,” Hendo says. “Doesn’t mean they’re not good for SOMETHING. And hell, maybe there’ll be a single American guy here today?”

“…At a same-sex wedding between two women?” I retort.

“No reason why not,” Hendo shrugs as she touches up her lipstick, grinning at her completed look in the mirror. “So come on, MISS Hanley. Don’t want to be late, do we?”

“Hell no!” I giggle, following my friend out of the room and down to the garden of the vast house, where the other guests were beginning to congregate.

The ceremony itself is a truly beautiful event. Both brides look stunning, and the love they share is plain for all to see. Less plain is the fact that one of the brides wasn’t born female- between Nikki’s hair and make-up job, Sarah and Lauren’s dress and Ophelia’s corset, Alexa cuts just as feminine a figure as her new wife- as, for that matter, do I.

Hendo’s words are still on my mind as afternoon turns into evening and the wedding reception gets into full swing. As I predicted, most of the attendees at the wedding are girls, but there are still plenty of men present, both in the form of Alexa and Jenny’s families (and Stuart, Michael and Telemachus) and some younger classmates of the two brides. Whilst most of my time at the reception is spent hanging out gossiping and drinking with the rest of the girls, I do get asked to dance by more than a few attractive young men- one of whom asks me just as the music suddenly gets really slow.

“So,” the man asks in a soft American accent as he places his hands on my hips, “are you here with the bride or the bride?” Despite the lameness of the joke, I let out a gentle giggle as the young man's sexy scent drifts into my nostrils.

“Both brides,” I reply with a smug grin.

“Ah, you’re one of the British girls,” the guy replies with a chuckle. “Gor blimey guv’nor, right?”

“Yeah…” I say, trying not to grimace at the cute guy’s sub-Dick Van Dyke cockney accent.

“I- I’m sorry,” the guy grimaces as we slowly sway to the music. “That was terrible…”

“Aw, I dunno, pardner,” I reply in an American accent just as terrible as the guy’s Cockney.

“Yeah…” The guy grimaces, before letting out an uncontrollable chuckle. “Texas is about a thousand miles south of here, heh.”

“You win then, you were only about sixty miles away from where I lived,” I giggle. “I- I’m Jacinta, by the way.”

“Drew,” the guy replies. “Nice to meet you, Jacinta!”

“Likewise,” I giggle, fully aware (but uncaring) that I’m being flirtatious with him- or that many of my friends are watching on with wide grins on their faces/ “So… Are YOU with the bride or the bride?”

“I was on Alexa’s course,” Drew replies. “We did a few study assignments together- well, me and ‘Alex’ and me and ‘Alexa’. It was pretty sad how many of our classmates wouldn’t study with her after she came out.”

“I can imagine,” I sigh. “I was lucky that I had Katie- well, Hendo- on our course and that I met her on day one, so I always had someone to study with. Umm… Yeah, there’s kinda something about me you should know…”

“O-kay…” Drew says, momentarily hesitating before resuming our dance. “Know what? It’s cool. You’re cool. Alexa’s cool, or I wouldn’t be at her wedding, right?”

“Yep!” I say smugly. “So… Do- do you have a- a girlfriend?” Drew smiles in response, and it may be my imagination, but it almost looks like he licks his lips as we continue to dance…

Twenty-five minutes later, with my dress hastily rearranged, I gently sit down next to Hendo, whose grin is almost as wide as mine.

“And just where have you been, Miss Hanley?” Hendo asks, barely suppressing a giggle.

“Oh, just, you know,” I reply with a casual flick of my hair. “Having ‘fun’!”

My brief encounter with Drew is the only ‘fun’ I have throughout the rest of the evening, and for the remainder of my time in America, which comes to a far too sudden end the Monday after the wedding. Floods of tears are shed as Hendo, Lauren, Ophelia and I bid farewell to Jexy for the time being, and a few tears are even shed as we say goodbye to Snikki (who are staying on a few more days), even though we’ll be seeing them again in just a few days!

Unlike the flight to America, the flight home is conducted in near-silence, our energy levels almost completely drained by the excitement (and heat) of the week. Unsurprisingly, Lauren and Michael and Ophelia and Telemachus cuddle up in their respective seats and sleep for most of the way home, while Hendo- or rather, Katie and I catnap between watching a couple of movies.

It’s late evening when Ophelia, Telemachus and I walk through the front door of our flat, but thanks to our naps on the plane, none of us are sleepy. While Ophelia and Telemachus relax in front of the television, I swap out the American SIM card I’ve been using for the week for my usual British SIM card and check for any messages I’ve received while I’m away- and the first voicemail message I hear is something that makes my heart race with excitement.

“Hi Jacinta, this is Terri from X-1 magazine,” the message says. “I hope you’re having a great holiday! I’m just calling to say we were very impressed with your interview and your portfolio, and we’d like to offer you the post of staff photographer, starting in September when you’re back on your feet. If you could give me a call back when you’re back home we’ll work out a contract for you. Cheers!”

“Oh my god!” I squeak, startling my BFF and her husband.

“Jacinta?” Ophelia asks, concerned by my sudden outburst. “Are you feeling alright?”

“OH yeah,” I giggle. “Guess who’s just been offered a job?”

“Oh- congratulations!” Ophelia says, grinning widely as she stands and gives me a gentle hug. "This will be one less thing that you have to worry about, then?"

"Damn right," I say with a wide grin of my own as I move on to the next voicemail- and this one makes my jaw drop.

"Hi Jacinta," the voice of a young man says. "This is Darren from Next Vibe magazine, and after careful consideration, we'd like to offer you the role of staff photographer, starting from September. If you want to give me a call back, we'll sort out a contract. Cheers."

"...TWO job offers," I mouth, barely able to believe my luck as Ophelia gives me another congratulatory hug- and much to my surprise, so does Telemachus.

"Explain to me again why you were worrying so much?" Ophelia asks, making me sigh.

"...Because I worry too much," I say, before biting my lip. "Does- does this mean you won't be worrying next Monday?"

"Absolutely not," Ophelia replies curtly. "I shall be utterly petrified every second you're in the operating theatre." This time, it's my turn to give Ophelia a hug- even as she protests and tries to wriggle free.

"Aw, come on, 'sis'!" I giggle as my BFF eventually escapes my grasp, though the wide grin on her face tells me she didn't mind the hug as much as she's letting on!

As Ophelia and her husband sit back down, I check the final voicemail on my phone- though unlike the excitement of my last two messages, this one causes my tear ducts to open.

"Hi Jacinta," the unmistakable voice of my father says. "Call me when you get this, assuming your plane hasn't smashed to pieces somewhere over the North Atlantic. I'll still be up, even if you get back late." I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, before heading into my bedroom and pressing the 'callback' button.

"Ah, you actually landed, then," dad says as he answers the phone.

"Yes, dad, and in one piece too," I sigh. "You alright?"

"I'm fine, yeah," dad replies. "Coming up to London tomorrow, having dinner with, umm, with Beverly..."

"Okay," I say. "You two- you two getting along well, then?"

"We're doing okay," dad replies. "Understand that starting a relationship when you're fifty is a bit different than starting one when you're twenty."

"I imagine a lot of things are different when you're fifty," I say, giggling as dad replies with a snort of laughter. "And to answer your next question, yes, I'm still okay with the two of you seeing each other. And I'm sure mum is too."

"I'd like to think she was," dad says, the emotion in his voice coming through loud and clear. "But enough about me, how was America? Make any new friends?"

"...A couple," I reply, wisely deciding to keep my 'friendship' with Drew to myself. "I'll fill you in tomorrow when I see you. Oh, and I got two job offers as well."

"Only two?" Dad teases, before chuckling. "I'm happy for you, really. Even if those jobs are in London and not home, I really am glad you're getting on with your life, going all the places you want, becoming the person you always wanted to be..."

"Oh- yeah, no prizes for guessing what you're referring to," I say with a tired sigh.

"I won't lie, I'm not looking forward to Monday," dad says. "Last time I was in a hospital was with your mum. But as silly as it sounds, Monday might be even harder."

"I will be fine, I promise," I say. "I know five friends now who've had the operation. Six if you count Stuart. They're all happy and healthy. But... I have kinda been thinking about mum as well. What she'd think about this all."

"Your mother would be proud of you no matter what you chose," dad says firmly. "And I know she's looking down on you and watching out for you every second of every day."

"Yeah," I whisper as tears start to flow from my eyes again.

"She'd never be disappointed in you living your life the way you need to," dad says. "She is as proud as I am. I promise you that."

"Thanks," I whisper.

"It's getting late," dad says. "And I saw the size of the mall in Minneapolis so you've probably got half a ton of luggage to unpack, so I'll let you get to it. Just remember that I'll always love you, and I'll always be proud of you. Always."

"Thanks," I sniffle. "See- see you tomorrow, dad."

"See you tomorrow, daughter," dad says as he ends the call.

Even though I consciously know that dad has been behind me every step of the way, every time I hear him say it it brings a tear to my eye. Many of my friends aren't so lucky- Jessica was estranged from her parents for a long while after she came out, Nikki faced prejudice from her grandparents and Alexa's father died without ever acknowledging her as his daughter. And it's not just my father, but my sister too. I believe Ophelia when she says she'll be panicking every second I'm under the knife, and throughout every second of my recovery. As will the rest of my friends, in all likelihood. So what if I don't have a 'Sarah' or a 'Jenny' to help me through my recovery? I'm not alone. And Katie's right- I'm only 22, I have plenty of time to find my 'Prince Charming', especially once I'm free of any 'awkwardness'.

A week later, I wake up in a hospital bed to the sound of a heart monitor, the smell of fresh flowers and the feeling of extreme pain in my crotch- but pain that I welcome, as I know that it means my lifelong dream has finally come true.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," dad says with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Crap," I reply. "But that's okay. I've got the whole summer to recover, heh. Is- did everything-"

"Doctors say it was almost textbook, no complications," dad replies. "You just lay back and concentrate on getting better. Or opening one of the hundreds of gifts that have been left for you, heh!"

"I was about to say, am I in a hospital or a florist?" I ask, making dad chuckle.

"All of your friends have dropped round," dad says. "I'll go and get them in if you want?"

"They- they're all here?" I ask.

"Where else would they be?" Dad replies with a grin. "That Lee boy you were seeing recently also dropped off a bunch of flowers. As did Simon, for that matter."

"Neither of them are really the 'flowers' type," I say.

"No, but you are," dad whispers. "It's not just me that loves you, Jacinta. Neither of them might have been your 'Prince Charming' but I have a feeling you won't be waiting long."

"Yeah, well, I'm not in any rush to look right now," I say softly. "Can- can you get the girls in, please?"

"Of course," dad says with a smile.

"Oh, and dad?" I say, blinking back tears- and not just because of the pain.

"Yeah?" Dad asks.

"Thanks," I say, and for a brief moment it almost looks like dad is going to burst into tears.

"You're welcome," dad says, before disappearing into the corridor to fetch my friends.

I've turned a corner in my life. I'm now 'complete', I'm about to embark on a great career and I have friends who love me on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. And yet my 'Prince Charming' is as far away as he ever was. But that's okay for now. I had faith that one day, I'd be the woman I always wanted to be, and I am. If this can come true, then anything's possible, right?

“Wake up it’s a beautiful morning…” The sound of the old nineties song by the Boo Radleys blares from my phone, raising me from my slumber and reminding me that I have a big day ahead of me. After I rise from my bed, I pad through to the bathroom, reminded every step of the way that I’ve had plenty of big days over the last few weeks as well.

The first, most obvious thing I notice as I sit in my shallow bath (a mandated part of my recovery program) is the fact that the area between my legs is a very different 'configuration' to how it was during the first 22 years of my life, though believe me when I say I didn’t need to see it to know that it’s now there. The fact that it still takes me longer to both get out of bed and walk to the shower than it did before the operation is proof of that. And although it’s only been two months and I’ve been told both by friends and medical professionals not to expect immediate results, it still feels unusual and in a way ‘wrong’ at times. I don’t know how or why exactly, especially as it is literally a dream come true, but having a flesh and blood vagina almost makes me feel like more of a fraud than I did before the operation, almost like I’ve laid claim to something that isn’t rightfully mine. Nikki’s assured me that in time, it’ll feel normal and like I never didn’t have a vagina, but free time isn’t something I’ve got bucket loads of right now.

The reason I’m up so early today is because today, Monday the 3rd of September, is the first day of work for me in my new job- my new career. It’s just a coincidence that today would also be the first day of the school year if I’d stayed at university to do a Master’s Degree like Sarah, but it still hammers home the whole ‘change’ thing just a little bit more. Ophelia, Lauren and Katie have all also started their new jobs, the former two for modern London-based fashion design companies and the latter as an in-house photographer for Heavenly Talent (who I also did temp work for as a receptionist while I recovered over the summer). As for me, I’ll be working for a small (but popular) fashion zine. It’s a decent-paying job and something I’m obviously interested in and qualified for, and with London Fashion Week just around the corner (not to mention my connections with Heavenly Talent) I’m going to be kept pretty busy over the coming few months.

…Which makes me all the more glad that I took the opportunity over the summer to relax and have fun, not that my recovery gave me any other choice. Despite being limited mobility-wise, I still found the time to relax with my friends both in London and on the beach in Brighton, even if I did keep my thighs covered with a skirt or a towel most of the time. What was especially nice was Alexa and Jenny coming over during the summer for their honeymoon and spending time with me while I recovered, even if Alexa spent a lot of the time bombarding me with questions about her upcoming ‘snip’ (which I think is scheduled for some time late next year). My only regret is that I didn’t get the chance to properly introduce them to my dad, thanks to yet another change- namely, him spending more and more time in London with Sarah’s mum.

What, exactly, they talk about is a mystery. Sarah’s mum is a high-paid very upper-middle class medical professional and dad is a computer repair man who spends most of his free time watching quiz shows and reading books about things like astronomy or ancient Egypt. Nonetheless, the two of them instantly hit it off and have been spending more and more time together, all the while hammering home the one thing in my life that hasn’t changed over the summer- my relationship status.

Yes, despite now being an anatomically correct ‘princess’, I am still without my Prince Charming or any prince of any kind. Admittedly, I haven’t been looking over the summer, and I’m still months away from being recovered enough to use my [new equipment], but I’m still more than a little self-conscious that I’m the only one of my friends who’s currently single. Still, as my friends and family constantly remind me, I’m only 22, I’ve got decades ahead of me in which to find my soul mate. I just can’t help but think of that as decades in which I’m potentially alone…

“Hey!” My flat mate yells, banging on the bathroom door and snapping me out of my reverie. “You done in there yet? Left me any hot water?”

“Yes, alright, subtle hint taken!” I reply as I switch off the water and wrap my body and my hair in two big, fluffy towels, thinking about the one other change that took place during the summer, the biggest change of them all (that didn’t involve major surgery, anyway). You might have noticed that my flat mate doesn’t exactly sound like Ophelia, and that’s because she isn’t Ophelia. The tenancy on our student flat ran out over the summer, and as neither of us were students anymore, we temporarily moved back to dad’s house in Brighton while we planned our next move (made easier by dad not being in the house a lot of the time for reasons already described). However, of course, it wasn’t just myself and Ophelia planning the next move, it was myself, Ophelia and Telemachus as well.

Over the summer- their first summer holiday as a couple- Ophelia and Telemachus were practically joined at the hip and no doubt literally joined at the pelvis when left alone with each other. Even though Telemachus will still be a student this coming school year and entitled to live in student accommodation, there was no way he would live apart from Ophelia, meaning we had to look for any privately rented two bedroom flats in London. Out of the countless dozens of flats we looked at, precisely zero fell within our price range even when mine and Ophelia’s potential wages were added together. Well, okay, a few did, but none of the three of us fancied sharing our flat with enough wildlife to fill a David Attenborough show.

…And despite my promises throughout the previous year, as we searched for flats, the prospect of being a third wheel with a married couple grew less and less appealing. Eventually, after much soul searching (and more than a few tears on mine and Ophelia’s part), we settled on a new living arrangement. Ophelia and Telemachus would move into their own small ‘love pad’, while I’d share a small flat with two single bedrooms with my new flat mate…

“Finally!” Katie moans as she barges past me into the bathroom, clearly in desperate need of the toilet.

“Alright, alright, keep your knickers on,” I retort. “Or maybe don’t if you need a piss that badly.”

“Hilarious,” Katie snorts from the other side of the bathroom door. “What time d’you need to be at work?”

“Start at 9:30,” I reply. “Just enough time for a quick ‘date’ before I go…”

“…And that’s all I need to know about THAT,” Katie says as I head through to my bedroom for my least favourite task of the day. Well, least favourite task of the morning, considering I’m going to have to do it again twice more today.

I take a deep breath as I lay flat on my bed and slather disinfectant gel over my hands, before opening the pouch next to me and removing one of the slim rods contained within.

"Whatever you want, whatever you need..." I sing to myself in a quiet voice as I take several breaths to stop my hands from shaking. "Anything you want done, baby, I'll do it naturally..." I smear the end of the stent in lubricant jelly, before directing it toward my new 'opening'. "’Cause I'm every woman, it's all IN ME..." I bite my lip to keep myself from yelling any louder as the stent slides into my vagina, holding it open as I lay back down and try not to cry. I know I shouldn't panic so much about the process- after all, once 'Prince Charming' comes along, he'll- well, he'll be 'coming along' it a lot. And a flesh and blood penis will be a lot warmer and, well, more organic than a plastic stent with cold KY jelly on it. And my vagina will be a lot less sore as it heals. And I'll have to dilate less and less often as time goes on. And I need to keep repeating all of this to myself or I'll end up having a panic attack three times a day at regular intervals.

Once my ‘obligation’ is done, I pick out my outfit for the day, something that obviously needs a lot of thought putting into it. It’s my first day, after all, and you only get one chance to make a first impression. After pulling on a comfortable cotton bra and briefs set, I head over to my wardrobe and carefully scan through my (many) racks of clothes. The magazine I work for is technically based in an office, but as it’s fashion-related it’s safe to say the dress code won’t be business formal, but I’m still going to need to keep up appearances so jeans and a t-shirt are out too (not that I own that many jeans or any other kind of trousers). Most importantly, the first impression I need to make is ‘unquestionably female’. Whenever I stare at myself naked, despite being the proud owner of perky C cup breasts, a narrow (okay, 30 inches) waist, curvy hips and a flesh and blood vagina, the fact is still that I’m 5’ 10”, I have a 38 inch chest, size 9 feet and a very male skeleton (including, worst of all, my face). I know that many of my friends share this problem, but a lot of them work together in organisations that are guaranteed safe spaces for transgendered people, such as Heavenly talent or Soixante-Trois Airlines. Me, I’m going to be going it alone in unknown surroundings filled with strangers, and while I don’t doubt they’ll all be polite and professional, it’d be nice if at least some of them could become friends. And for the men in the office, maybe even more than friends…

In the end, I settle for a soft patterned blouse and a knee-length black skirt with playful wavy pleats, along with a pair of cute black flats, a look that gets the seal of approval from my flat mate as she emerges from her bedroom dressed for her work day.

“Looking good Miss Hanley!” Katie teases, a wide grin spreading across her immaculately made-up face.

“Why thank you, Miss Henderson!” I giggle, giving my skirt a playful swish. “Not looking too bad yourself, hehe! Isn’t that a bit, you know, ‘casual’ for Joshua Benedict?”

“Nah,” Katie replies as she strikes a pose to show off her tight short-sleeved top and slender knee-length skirt. “It’s his office but it’s my studio. But, you know, I need to make an impression, don’t I?”

“Even among people you’ve known for what, five years?” I reply.

“Meh, I just- I just want them to take me seriously, you know?” Katie asks. “They still see me as a little kid, you know? Want to be taken seriously as, like, a woman, not just a girl…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I chuckle. “Only replace ‘girl’ with a different word.”

“Oh- come on…” Katie sighs. “You didn’t spend weeks in hospital to still be anxious about THAT, did you?”

“Trust me, I’m never NOT going to be anxious,” I reply. “Ugh- I- I dunno. Maybe just ‘cause I’m going in there alone, like, everyone there will be a stranger and it’s not like I can go in there naked to, you know, ‘confirm’ it, is it?”

“I’d have thought the skirt was a good clue there, though,” Katie retorts. “Honestly, you’re worrying about nothing, you’ll be fine. I used to read the magazine you’re working for, it’s proper liberal and everything.”

“…USED to read it?” I ask. “I’m hoping that’s gonna change, right?”

“Yeah,” Katie replies. “When you bring home free samples! Want to walk to the tube station together?”

“Sure,” I reply, rolling my eyes at Katie’s ‘joke’ as I lock the front door behind us.

“What d’you suppose Ophelia wore on her first day?” Katie muses.

“I’m not sure,” I reply. “Though knowing her it’ll have been, well, you know her.”

“Have done for three years,” Katie replies with a giggle. “Still got no idea what category she’d even have worn!”

“Yeah, doubt I’ll meet anyone like her at the office!” I say, chuckling to disguise the fact that I could really, really do with meeting someone like my BFF at work today- or better yet, my BFF herself…

Katie and I part ways at the Underground station, and after two nerve-wracking train rides, I find myself outside the modest, almost nondescript office block containing the offices of X-1 magazine. I take several deep breaths to calm myself before walking inside and stepping up to the small (but still very elegant) reception desk.

“Hi!” I say with a nervous wave. “I’m, umm, Jacinta Hanley, the new staff photographer?”

“Miss… Hanley?” The receptionist asks, making me instantly panic that I’m at the wrong office. Seconds that feel like aeons pass as my mind is filled with images of me being laughed out of this very wrong office, scrambling to get to the right office in time only to be told I’m fired for being late and laughed out of there as well… “Oh yes, got you now! Terri will be down in a bit, please take a seat!” I try not to audibly breathe a sigh of relief as I thank the girl and sit down in one of the waiting area’s plush chair, musing on how much the simple act of sitting down has changed since my operation. I’m only waiting for a handful of seconds before I’m greeted by the magazine’s editor- my new boss- a petite ginger-haired girl in her late twenties. As I stand up to greet the young woman, I’m suddenly very glad I wore flats this morning…

“Hi!” Terri says with an excited giggle as she gives me a polite handshake. “It’s nice to meet you again Jacinta, you’re looking great! Are you all healed after your operation?”

“Getting there!” I chuckle. “Still a bit, you know, sore in places but I’m getting around a lot easier.”

“That’s good to hear,” Terri says as she leads me into the main office area. As the magazine is small, there are only a handful of employees, but the office area still somehow manages to feel cramped and noisy. The noise quickly stops, though, when we enter the room and Terri claps her hands, attracting every pair of eyes in the room straight towards us- or rather, straight towards me.

“If I could your attention please?” Terri shouts. “I’m pleased to announce today that we have a new member of Team X-1, everyone, I’d like to introduce Jacinta Hanley, who’s recently graduated from LCF and will be working as a new staff photographer! Jacinta, would you like to say a few words?” I don’t know if it’s physically possible for someone’s eyes to go as wide as dinner plates, but if it is, then mine just did.

“Umm, hi!” I say, my voice intermittently squeaking with nerves. “I’m Jacinta, Terri just basically covered everything about me, heh, it’s- it’s nice to meet you all!” A smattering of semi-enthusiastic ‘hi’s greets my self-introduction.

“I’m sure you’ll all be friends before too long,” Terri says. “We’ll go round the room introducing ourselves, one- umm, where’s Tom?”

“On the loo, I think,” one of the employees, a girl roughly the same age as me, replies.

“Okay, we’ll wait for him then,” Terri says, before leading me to a plain, empty desk in the corner of the room. “We figured you’d want to use your own laptop and camera for editing and preparing photos but if there’s any other equipment or software you need let us know.”

“Thanks,” I reply as I take my laptop out of my bag and begin setting it up. “Do- umm, do you have any, you know, assignments for me yet?”

“We will by Wednesday,” Terri replies. “Ah, and here’s the man who’ll sort them out now! Jacinta, I’d like to introduce you to the guy who’ll be researching stories for you to go and photograph. Tom, this is Jacinta Hanley, Jacinta, this is Tom Randall.” Yet again, my eyes go wide as I stand up to greet the man I’ve known since childhood- and who I just seem to keep running into…

“H- hi,” Tom says with a nervous chuckle, though probably not as nervous as mine…

“Hi!” I say in a probably very overenthusiastic voice. “Long time no see, heh!”

“Oh, do- do you two know each other, then?” Terri asks.

“Yeah, we were kinda at LCF together,” Tom says. “Jacinta was below me- umm, a year below me.”

“We were also at secondary school together,” I chime in. “Though, of course, I was kinda, umm, different back then…” I grimace as I feel an awkward silence fall over the three of us.

“Well,” Terri says with obvious forced enthusiasm, “I guess that’s one less person you’ll have to get to know, heh!”

“Yep,” I say, biting my lip due to the sheer awkwardness of the situation.

“Well, I’ve, umm, got some forms for you to sign,” Terri says. “The usual stuff, health and safety, etc.… I’ll let you two get, umm, reacquainted, heh!”

“Thanks,” I say, before trying not to fidget as Tom pulls up a chair next to me. “…So then, how long have you been working here?”

“Just over a year,” Tom replies. “After I graduated. I, um, didn’t see you come in for an interview…”

“The interview was at the- at the college,” I mumble in reply. “So, umm... You- you still with Caitlin?"

"Yeah," Tom replies in a low, quiet voice. "Moved in together earlier in the year."

"Oh, umm, okay," I mumble. "Anyway..."

“Anyway, yeah,” Tom says. “We keep running into each other, don’t we?”

“Probably gonna happen more often now that we’re working together,” I reply.

“Yeah, probably,” Tom chuckles. “Anyway, umm, I’ve got emails to send…”

“Okay,” I say, trying not to feel awkward as Terri returns with various forms for me to read through and sign. The amount of times I seem to run into Tom like this is bordering on ridiculous. Well, okay, it's four times in three years, but that's still a lot when you live in a city with a population of eight million. Maybe the universe is telling me that despite his relationship with Caitlin, he is my 'Prince Charming'- or, more rather, the universe is dangling him in front of my face and saying 'let's look at what you would've won' like those old game shows my dad loves...

The rest of the morning is spent being shown around the office and being introduced to my new colleagues. Thankfully, the magazine’s staff seem on the whole to be a friendly group of people. After Terri and Tom, there’s the deputy editor, a young woman named Lizzie who seems very friendly, two staff writers named Josh and Alex who may or may not be a couple (even Terri isn’t 100% sure) and a webmaster by the name of Ciara who seems very serious on the surface, but I’m assured has a very playful sense of humour when not on the clock. Naturally, all of them ask me about my friendship with Jamie-Lee Burke, but, much to my surprise, none of them immediately ‘clock’ me as transgendered- some even react with shock when I tell them. Of course, there’s nothing to say that I have to tell them at all- literally nothing, anymore- but it’s best to get any awkwardness out of the way sooner rather than later. Fortunately, all of the staff seem to be perfectly fine with it, meaning there’s not likely to be any awkwardness at all. At least, none concerning my ‘status’, anyway…

After lunch, which for me includes an awkward (but thankfully not ‘awkward’ awkward, just ‘physically’ awkward) dilating session, the seven of us gather together as Terri briefs us on the next month’s issue and our various roles. As it’ll be mainly focussed on young fashion bloggers, I’ll spend most of my time travelling to the various teen/tweens’ houses and photographing them, but only once Tom has got their permission, of course. The meeting drags on for a couple of hours, though a large part of this is due to me being further ‘inducted’ into the culture of the magazine. This ‘induction’ continues once the clock hits 5pm and I pack away my things ready to head home, only to be told that I’m not heading home just yet.

“It’s a little office tradition,” Terri explains as she virtually frog marches me to the office’s exit. “On someone’s first day, we always take them out for a drink to celebrate!”

“’Monday drinking’ is a tradition?” I ask.

“There are only seven of us working here, it doesn’t happen very often,” Josh replies in what sounds like a broad Devon accent.

“Well- okay, I guess!” I chuckle, earning cheers from my new colleagues- my new friends- as we head out of the office and to a nearby pub. However, we only make it ten steps before…

“So how did you meet the Angels, then?” Lizzie asks, making me smile- the first questions I was going to be asked was either this or something else, and to be honest, I’d much rather it was this question than the ‘other one’.

“I met them through Nikki Thomas,” I reply. “The Angels’ PA?”

“Don’t recognise the name,” Lizzie replies, making me giggle.

“Ooh, I am SO telling her that!” I giggle. “I went to uni with Nikki’s then-girlfriend/now-wife, and obviously we have, umm, something in common…” I brace myself for an awkward silence, but fortunately…

“Oh, wait, I think I remember that wedding,” Terri pipes up. “Wasn’t Krystie Fullerton the, like, vicar for that one?”

“She was indeed, well remembered!” I giggle. “I was a bridesma-“

“Ah, and Jamie-Lee Burke and Steph Abbott were bridesmaids too, weren’t they?” Lizzie interrupts. Jesus Christ, I think to myself, never mind ‘always the bridesmaid and never the bride’, now I’m not even a frigging bridesmaid…

“Umm, yep!” I say, chuckling to try to avoid offending my new colleagues. “I, umm, I was too.”

“Oh, cool!” Lizzie giggles. “So what’s Charlotte Hutchinson’s house really like? Is it as big as it seems on TV?” 1, 2… Maybe 3 seconds of fame? I think to myself.

“Ehh… Not really,” I reply, ignoring Lizzie’s (hopefully) unintended slight. “The party room’s maybe five or six times as big as my living room back home, not counting the bar area.”

“So cool,” Terri chuckles. “I would give ANYTHING to go to one of the Angels’ parties.”

“Well, now you have someone to ask to take you as a ‘plus one’,” Alex teases, making me giggle and roll my eyes.

“…I suppose I could ask,” I shrug, giggling again as I get cheers from all of my new friends.

Naturally, everyone else also asks this question, even Ciara and the three boys, and even after we arrive at the pub questions keep coming in about the celebrities. My new friends are especially impressed by the fact that I was a witness at Jamie-Lee Burke’s wedding (much more than me being a Bridesmaid at Nikki & Sarah’s wedding) and are very impressed by my ‘fellowship’ tattoo. However, any time the conversation looks to be heading toward the meaning behind the tattoo, it gets steered in another direction entirely, usually by Terri or Lizzie, as though everyone’s afraid of stepping on a sensitive area (so to speak). Though as is often the case, it’s this pussyfooting around (pardon the pun) that’s making me feel the most awkward. That being said, though, I can’t help but wonder whether the others feel that me and Tom barely speaking is just as awkward, considering that everyone now knows how long we’ve known each other. God knows Tom probably does. Hell, even I do, at least a little…

The seven of us eat dinner at the pub and eventually leave just after 7:30pm. On the way home, I can’t help but feel a little ambivalent about my new job. The whole group is certainly friendly, the work will be interesting and right up my alley and the pay is alright. However, I can’t get over the ‘Tom factor’. I mean yes, he is in a relationship, but he is attractive and has always seemed interested in me (and not just in a 'curiosity' sense). He's never seemed like 'Prince Charming' material though- so why do I keep thinking about him?

“’Bout time,” Katie says, not taking her eyes off her phone as I walk through the front door. “I’ll call off the search parties, then?”

“Oh shut up,” I retort. “I sent you a text, didn’t I? Only got a few minutes’ warning myself, it’s an ‘office tradition’ apparently.”

“Meh, fair enough,” Katie shrugged. “Meet anybody nice today?” Oh- jeez, I’m not THAT boy hungry, I think to myself.

“…As in?” I ask defensively.

“As in, ‘did you make any new friends at work today?’” Katie replies. “I’m not THAT interested in your sex life, god’s sake!”

“Well- then yes, I did make some new friends,” I reply.

“Knew you would,” Katie says with a smile.

“One of whom was Tom Randall,” I say bluntly, and I can almost hear a record needle scratching inside Katie’s brain.

“…Tom Randall?” Katie asks, frowning as I nod. “As in ‘known since primary school and harboured a huge crush throughout uni’ Tom Randall?”

“It was secondary school and I didn’t harbour a huge crush,” I say defensively. “Okay, maybe… he’s involved, anyway, and it’s been years since I last saw him, so there’s no chance of any, you know, ‘spark’, right?”

"I thought the last time was Snikki's wedding?" Katie asks.

"Which is over a year ago," I retort. "Hence more than one year, hence 'years'."

“If you say so,” Katie shrugs, an annoyingly smug smirk on her face. “While you’re up could you make us a cup of tea?” I roll my eyes as Katie quietly (and unsuccessfully) tries to suppress her giggles at what has become a running gag between us.

“Sure, as long as you don’t mind me dilating first and then using my stent to stir it,” I retort, making Katie laugh out loud.

“Eww,” my freckled friend chuckles as I head upstairs for my final ‘obligation’ of the day. The rest of the evening passes by unremarkably, catching up on the TV saved on our set-top box and updating and installing all of the software onto my laptop that I'll need for work. And, of course, dodging any Tom-related questions my flat mate fires at me.

I again wake up at 6:45am the following morning and follow what has quickly become my new morning routine of bathing, dilating and dressing for the office before leaving the flat, only stopping to knock on Katie’s bedroom door before I go (she isn’t at work until later in the day). A short while later, I’m once again stepping into the reception area of the building that includes the X-1 office, only today I’m stepping in with confidence instead of a mixture of nervousness and terror. That confidence remains as I greet my new friends & colleague en route to my desk, it remains as I set up my laptop ready for the day ahead, and it comes crashing to a halt when Tom pulls up a seat next to me.

“Hey Jacinta,” Tom says, making me fidget in my chair, and not just because of my still-young vagina. “Did you- did you have a good evening?”

“Yeah, it was okay,” I shrug. “Got a bit of grief from my flat mate for being home late but that’s about it.”

“Cool,” Tom says. “I’ve, umm, I’ve lined up a few jobs for you this week, we’re going to make a major feature of the whole ‘teen fashion blogger’ thing so we’ve got plenty of people for you to visit the next couple of weeks. ‘Cause you don’t have a car yet we’re going to keep you mostly based in the London area for now, obviously we’ll pay any travel expenses you have.”

“Okay,” I say as I look over the itinerary Tom’s drawn up.

“Also,” Tom continues, “why did we barely exchange ten words when we were at the pub yesterday>” Okay, let’s be blunt about this then, I think to myself.

“Well, umm,” I mumble as I try to gather my thoughts. “I was, you know, getting to know everyone, and I already know you, right?”

“Yeah,” Tom says. “Is that also why your body language is screaming ‘uncomfortable’?” Naturally, this causes me to fidget again despite myself.

“…I’m only a few months post-op,” I reply. “It takes me a while to get, you know, ‘settled’.” I can’t help but smirk as mention of the operation causes Tom, like most men, to fidget as well.

“Okay…” Tom says. “But- but that’s not all, is it?”

“…Okay, maybe not,” I sigh. “It’s just- gah, I dunno… We do seem to keep running into each other though, don’t we? I mean at uni, then Nikki and Sarah’s wedding…”

“…Which was over a year ago,” Tom reminds me. “And we haven’t seen each other since. And it’s not like we were ever going out, were we?”

“Well- I guess not,” I say, giggling nervously as I try vainly to hide my embarrassment. “I did- I did always, you know, have a bit of a crush…”

“Can’t really say I’m shocked,” Tom says, chuckling as my cheeks turn bright red.

“Are- are you still-“ I mumble.

“Yeah, me and Caitlin are still going strong,” Tom says softly. “How- how about you? You seeing anyone right now?”

“Nah, not right now,” I reply. “Was seeing someone earlier in the year, we split up just before summer.”

“Oh- oh, I’m, umm, sorry to hear that…” Tom says.

“Nah, I dumped him,” I shrug. “Plenty more fish, right?”

“Definitely,” Tom says as I feel myself begin to relax. “Meantime, though, I really hope we can be friends, I mean, I hardly knew ‘Jason’ when we were at school, and-“

“I’d like that,” I say, smiling despite a feeling of disappointment growing within me.

I don’t know what exactly it is about Tom that gives me a ‘buzz’ inside. Sure, he’s an attractive young man, and admittedly most (okay, pretty much all) attractive young men give me a ‘buzz’ to some degree, but Tom… I dunno. Maybe it’s because I’ve known him since childhood, maybe it’s because we’re going to be working in close proximity, maybe it’s because I know his character, know that he’s a decent guy and I know he wouldn’t have a problem being with a transgendered girl- just maybe not with THIS transgendered girl. Only one thing is certain right now- Tom may be A Prince Charming, but he certainly isn’t MY Prince Charming no matter how hard I wish…

The rest of the day is spent preparing to meet the various teenagers I’ll be meeting over the coming few weeks, familiarising myself with their blogs and their styles and formulating ideas with Terri and Lizzie on what photos I want to take and how they’ll be laid out on the page. And, of course, answering more questions about the Angels. With the initial awkwardness with Tom (mostly) behind me, the day flies by and by the time the clock reads 5pm I feel like I could do another eight hours of work. However, as we get ready to go home, another kind of ‘awkwardness’ again rears its ugly head.

“No pub visit today, then?” I ask Josh and Alex in a teasing voice as the two of them get ready to head home.

“Nah, not on a work night,” Alex replies. “Well, not on a Tuesday work night, you know?”

“Yeah, we kinda need an early night,” Josh says. “First week of a new issue’s always the busiest, if we get a head start now there’s less pressure as the deadline gets near.”

“Yeah, Tom said the same thing,” I chuckle. “Makes sense, I guess, though I’ll be out and about tomorrow so don’t quite need an early night, heh.”

“Got anything planned, then?” Alex asks.

“Not really,” I shrug. “Just heading home and dil-“ I pause as I suddenly realise that the end of that sentence could’ve been many things, but my friends seem to know that it would’ve ended with ‘ate’, and I know they know that by the sudden extra width in their eyes. “…Umm…”

“It- it’s okay,” Alex says. “I- umm…”

“Do- umm, do you- do you mind-“ Josh stammers, his cheeks reddening as I try not to sigh. It’s not like this isn’t something I’ve had to handle in every new circumstance I’ve found myself, after all- well, all except for my closest friends and family, anyway.

“Look, guys,” I say, “I- I honestly don’t mind, you know, questions as long they’re, you know, respectful? Am I- am I really the only transgendered person you’ve ever met?”

“Well, you know, kinda…” Alex mumbles. “It’s just- I- I kinda can’t wrap my head around it, you know? Like, have you always known that you were- umm…”

“For as long as I can remember,” I reply, smiling as Josh opens his mouth to ask another question, only to be interrupted by our petite editor.

“Guys?” Terri asks. “We talked about this last week?” I bite my lip as guilty expressions spread across my two friends’ faces- obviously Terri had words with everyone else in the office ordering them not to ask me any personal questions. She obviously wants the office to be a safe space for me, and while I definitely appreciate this, there’s a big difference between ‘safe space’ and ‘wrapped in cotton wool’.

“I don’t mind, honestly,” I say, trying to spare my friends’ blushes. “I mean, like, it’s just part of who I am, you know? And they weren’t being insensitive…”

“Well- okay, if you say so,” Terri says, clearly not convinced by my sincerity. “If there ever is a problem-“

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it, honestly,” I say. “Seriously, I- I’d rather be asked the questions, you know, ‘included’ than be, like, an outcast.” I beam a sympathetic smile at Josh and Alex to let them know that not only am I not offended by their questions, I’m actually appreciative of them. Yes, the questions can be construed as personal, and yes, the ideal would be to be viewed as not a transwoman, but just a woman, full stop, but I don’t want to come across as cold and aloof. I want to make friends, and like it or not, people are going to be interested in this facet of my character. Just as long as it means they’re also interested in the rest of me…

“Well- okay, if you’re sure…” Terri shrugs.

“I am,” I say with a confident smile. “See you all tomorrow!” I smile as my new friends wave goodbye to me and I leave the office feeling that it’s become just a little bit more like a second home- just like any good workplace should.

I arrive back home just after 5:30pm and immediately head through to the kitchen to start getting dinner ready, but as I enter the room I’m greeted by a sight that suggests that I’m probably not going to need to cook tonight.

“’Bout time,” Katie says, leaning against the kitchen counter dressed in a tight tube top, a short black pencil skirt and sky-high stilettos and wearing a lot more make-up, perfume and hairspray than she did when she went to work this morning.

“…Date tonight, then?” I ask, heading toward the fridge to pick out a meal only for my friend to block my path. “Gonna need a little context here?”

“The context,” Katie says with a wide, devilish grin, “is that you haven’t celebrated starting your new job yet, as you well know!”

“Umm…” I reply. “I went out for dinner yesterday with my workmates?” This answer obviously isn’t good enough for Katie, who simply shakes her head in response.

“Well- yeah, but you haven’t celebrated it with US yet,” Katie says with a giggle as Nikki, Sarah, Lauren and Ophelia all emerge from the living room, all dressed for a night out and all wearing wide, proud grins on their face, with none wider or prouder than my BFF.

“Did you really think we would let you get away without a celebration?” Ophelia asks with an uncharacteristic giggle. “After all, you were recovering all throughout the summer so we could not celebrate then.”

“But now, we CAN,” Nikki says as she produces a stereotypical journalist’s hat with a fake press pass tucked into the band and places it on my head. “It’s been FAR too long since the super six were last, well, a six. Not that I of all people can blame you for needing a few weeks off, hehe!”

“Oh- girlies, this really isn’t necessary,” I protest, even though I know there’s no point in arguing once the girls’ minds are made up. “Besides which, I’ve got work tomorrow, I know a lot of you have too, right?”

“Nope,” Katie replies with a smug grin.

“Even though Krystie doesn’t do the Wednesday morning lessons anymore, Jon still avoids scheduling work for Wednesday mornings,” Nikki explains.

“And we have projects we can work on at home,” Lauren says, pointing to herself and Ophelia.

“And you said you’ll be on the road tomorrow,” Katie reminds me. “So you’ve got no excuse!”

“And we really, REALLY miss our sister,” Sarah says in a soft voice. “Yeah, so we’ve all got new ‘gangs’ at uni or work, but so what? They’re not family. This is.” As if on cue, Katie takes her phone out of her handbag, and within seconds the unmistakable opening bars of ‘We Are Family’ by Sister Sledge are playing and the six of us are dancing around the kitchen.

“Ah, the party starts here, hehe!” Lauren giggles as the music fades out.

“No,” Katie corrects her BFF, “the party starts when Miss Hanley’s dressed properly!” I giggle as five pairs of eyes shoot expectant glances in my direction, and quickly retreat to my bedroom to get ready for the day ahead. However, seconds after I start stripping off, a gentle knock comes from my door- a knock I instantly recognise.

“Come in, O,” I say, grinning as my brown-haired BFF swishes into the room in her long (but with a very high slit) floaty skirt. “No hubby to cling onto tonight, then?” Despite my angst about my own single status, I’m forced to grin as Ophelia giggles at the mention of her 19 year old spouse.

“Telemachus has decided to stay home and catch up on his reading,” Ophelia replies. “Something I most definitely do not miss about university!”

“Yeah,” I say with a sympathetic smile as I remember how badly my BFF struggled with her dyslexia while doing her degree. “So, then… How’s life in the love shack? Everything still okay?”

“Everything is wonderful,” Ophelia replies in a dreamy voice. “After twelve months I did not think it would be possible to be more infatuated with Telemachus than I was at the beginning, but that has certainly been the case. Then again, I never thought it would be possible to be infatuated with anyone…”

“Yeah,” I half-heartedly chuckle as I fish through my wardrobe for an appropriate dress.

“A better question would be whether or not everything is okay with you?” Ophelia asks. “Whether or not you are settled in living with Katie?”

“…Yeah, ‘course I am,” I shrug. “I love Katie, you know that, right?”

“I know,” Ophelia asks. “But are you settled?” I open my mouth to ask Ophelia what she means by her question, only to pause as she and I both know exactly what she meant.

“…Kind of,” I reply. “I still miss, you know, the early days of you and me living together, you know? But I guess we’ve got to grow up, we’ve both got careers, you’ve got a husband…”

“Yes,” Ophelia says with what almost sounds like a sad sigh. “It is ironic that in order to live with my husband, I had to move away from my soul mate.” Naturally, this causes my tear ducts to well up.

“…Really?” I ask my BFF between sniffles. “As I’m applying my mascara?”

“It is true, though,” Ophelia says. “I miss the old days as well. And not just because you are a far superior cook to both myself and Telemachus!”

“I am going to much SUCH a great wife,” I boast, making my BFF giggle.

“You absolutely are,” Ophelia assures me. “As long as you follow my example and always make time for your friends?”

“Well, duh!” I chuckle. “You know, dad sent me something he found online the other day, apparently it takes 50 hours for someone to go from being an acquaintance to a casual friend, another 40 hours to become a ‘real’ friend and another 200 to become a close friend.”

“290 in total?” Ophelia asks, smiling as I nod. “All six of us must have long since passed that figure.”

“Oh, by miles,” I say. “Wonder how long it takes to go from ‘close friend’ to ‘BFF’?”

“Well,” Ophelia says with a grin, “for me, it was three seconds.” Needless to say, this causes my freshly-applied mascara to get completely ruined.

“…If we’re late for the party I’m blaming you,” I grumble, making my BFF laugh again as I reapply my make-up. “Where we going tonight, anyway? Doubt many clubs will be heaving on a Tuesday night…”

“We shall be going to Charlotte’s house,” Ophelia replies. “Though it’s actually Jamie who’s organising it tonight, as Charlotte will obviously have her hands full!” I smirk as I think of the two beautiful baby girls our friend (not to mention national celebrity) Charlotte gave birth to a few months ago.

“Thank god her bedroom floors are soundproof,” I chuckle. “Ahh… I’m really looking forward to tonight now, you know? Even though I was just there on Saturday evening, heh. Wonder why Jamie didn’t theme the party then?”

“I think there are other people coming tonight,” Ophelia replied. “Other people getting ‘fresh starts’. As you might have assumed from the lack of notice the party was a last minute decision.”

“Well, I’m definitely not complaining!” I giggle as I put the finishing touches to my look for tonight and go back to the kitchen to show it off to my friends, all of whom obviously approve!

As we head down to the taxi, I can’t help but muse on how different my two groups of friends are- and how different I am when around both groups. My work colleagues would likely be surprised to see me now, in my expensive cocktail dress and Christian Louboutin stilettos, but then again, the rest of my 'gang' probably wouldn't recognise me at work either. Though I suppose this is hardly anything out of the ordinary, having separate professional and personal lives- it just means I'm becoming more of a grown-up. And the most important thing is that in both lives, I am unquestionably 100% female.

A short while later, the taxi pulls up outside the familiar, expensive home of Charlotte Hartley and her family and the six of us spill out, already buzzing with excitement ahead of the evening’s fun. Before we even reach the front door, we’re greeted by the hostess for the evening, who makes sure to greet both myself and Nikki with long, friendly hugs.

“Hey girlies!” Jamie giggles. “Sorry about the short notice, glad you could all make it today, hehe!”

“Oh, like it was ever NOT gonna happen!” Sarah giggles.

“Why is it short notice, anyway?” Katie asks. “I was doing your headshots all morning and you didn’t say anything, then all of a sudden I get a text at, like, 2:30pm saying ‘party tonight’.”

“There are a few visitors in town today,” Jamie explains. “Only found out myself around 2:30, heh, but I figured I wouldn’t pass up the chance to celebrate everyone’s new starts at once, hehe!”

“Who’s in town, then?” I ask, before stepping into the house’s party room and freezing as my question is answered.

There, stood near the entrance of the room, are my 18 year old Welsh friend (and ‘fellowship’ member) Ian… And stood next to him is his best friend Lee Charlton. Who, more significantly, is also my ex-boyfriend. My last ex-boyfriend. Who I dumped. Recently. Yikes.

“Oh, umm, hey guys!” I say in a voice that’s undoubtedly way too overenthusiastic. “You down from Cardiff today, then?”

“Umm, well, yes,” Ian replies, making me frown at the obviousness of my question. “Just signing the contract for our flat, getting to know the area, that sort of thing.”

“Okay,” I say. “Definitely gonna be living in Islington, then?”

“Yep,” Ian replies with a cheeky grin. “Just down the road from the Emirates so I’m hoping to catch a few matches. And hoping to give my grandma a heart attack by having Jeremy Corbyn as my MP, heh.”

“Cool,” I say, trying my best to avoid my ex’s gaze as an awkward silence falls over the three of us. “So, umm… Chest still sore?”

“Sometimes,” Ian- who had a double mastectomy this summer at the same time I was having my operation- replies. “Is your- umm, your-“

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Lee hastily says before almost sprinting away, leaving me and Ian looking momentarily dumbfounded.

“It would ask if he was squeamish,” I say with a heavy sigh, “but a: I already know how squeamish he is, and b: I reckon he was just looking for an excuse to get away from me.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Ian says, nervously scratching his head.

“Umm… Is there something you’re not telling me?” I ask. “Come on, I thought I was your big sister?” I attempt a supportive giggle, though this only serves to make my ‘little brother’ look even more anxious.

“Lee, he-“ Ian says with a very noticeable grimace. “He kinda- kinda has a girlfriend. In Cardiff, I mean.”

“Oh, umm, okay,” I say. “Well, umm, fair enough, I suppose?” And it is fair enough, really- I dumped him as he really wasn't 'Prince Charming' material so I can hardly fault him for looking for someone else. Though I won't deny it hurts a little that he, the sarcastic self-proclaimed nerd who fiddles around with robots all day, found someone before I did...

“Okay,” Ian says. “He met her after she recognised him from Robot Wars, he’s been playing on that fame all summer with any girl who’ll listen and all those who won’t, and eventually-“

“Yeah- yeah, Ian, no offence, but I’m really not that interested?” I say, biting my lip as Ian frowns at my blunt tone of voice. “Umm… How are you and Chloe doing?”

“Doing great,” Ian says with a typically boyish smirk. “Gonna miss her while I’m in London, but she’ll be coming here in a year’s time anyway.”

“Cool,” I say. “And to, umm, answer your, umm, earlier question… Still a bit sore, still a bit of getting used to. And your cheeks are about to turn red.”

“…Yeah, a bit,” Ian grimaces. “But, you know, I guess these tattoos are, like, an obligation to each other? To help and support, maybe? I dunno.” As I nod and try not to feel too awkward, I let out an internal sigh of relief as another member of our ‘fellowship’ approaches with a wide grin on her face and a pretty blonde girl following closely behind.

“Hey guy and girl!” Our friend (and rich, famous and successful singer) Stephanie says with an excited giggle. “Jacinta, Ian, I’d like you to meet my friend Ellie, Ellie, this is Jacinta and Ian. Shouldn’t need to say which is which, hehe! Ian’s also going to be starting at UAL this month. And don't worry, we'll throw you both a REAL party when you do start, hehe!”

“H- hi,” Ellie says with a nervous wave as I greet her with a hug and Ian greets her with a gentle handshake.

“Hi,” Ian says. “You’re going to UAL too?”

“Yep,” Ellie replies. “Studying, umm, music, heh…”

“Ah, cool,” Ian says. “Graphic Design here, heh. If you’re doing music you should speak to Stuart, Jamie’s husband, he’s a music graduate as well.”

“I’ll let you two talk shop,” I say as I slink away and join my flat mate en route to the bar.

“For the record, I didn’t know your ex was gonna be here,” Katie says.

“Given that you didn’t know WE were gonna be here until a couple of hours ago, I’ll let you off,” as I sit down at the bar (which has been thankfully vacated by Lee), though I immediately regret this decision. “…Okay, bar stools and my new hoo-hah are NOT a good mix…”

“Are you okay?” Katie asks, immediately concerned by my grimace of pain.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” I moan as I stand and try to get myself comfortable- only to start blushing as the party’s hostess approaches us.

“Miss Hanley…” Jamie sighs, making me roll my eyes.

“Yes, yes, I know,” I mumble. “Don’t think I did any damage but it’s gonna suck to dilate tonight…”

“For what it’s worth, I did the exact same thing a few months after my operation,” Jamie says in a sympathetic voice as she leads me to a nearby sofa and instructs Katie to bring over our drinks. “And as I’m 5 inches shorter than you, it REALLY hurt, heh!”

"Ouch," I grimace.

"How are- how are, you know, 'things', anyway?" Jamie asks.

"Still, you know, 'weird'," I reply, eliciting a sympathetic smile from my friend.

"It'll get less weird, trust me," Jamie says softly. "You were always destined to be a beautiful, successful woman with all the right 'parts'. We just had to earn them a bit more than the rest of the girls, that's all. Months from now, you'll have forgotten what it was like to ever have had any 'hang-ons' and you'll be mounting that bar stool like a pro. I guarantee it."

"I guess," I mumble as I remember my concerns from yesterday morning and realise I'm literally sat next to the perfect person to discuss them with. "Jamie, did- did you, umm, after, you know..."

"Don't be so bashful, Jacinta," Jamie says with a grin. "Whatever it is you need to ask, just ask. We're both girls who've shared something special. Not 'wrong', not even 'unusual', just 'special'. It's only natural you'd have some questions even after the operation and you know all you have to do is ask."

"Okay..." I say hesitantly. "Did- after the operation, umm, did- did you feel, you know... Like you had something that didn't really belong to you?" My famous friend pauses briefly before answering, contemplating her answer to a question she'd clearly never been asked before.

"Not really," Jamie replies, making me fidget. "Well, not consciously, I guess. I didn't know many transgendered people back then, certainly not as many as I know now, and I was the first person I knew who had SRS, and as all my friends were female, they had no problem with it... Jacinta, have- have you been, you know, bullied, or something at work?"

"Oh- no, not at all," I reply, chuckling as I remember the conversation I had mere hours ago. "Quite the opposite, my bosses have made it clear that even any inappropriate questions will land whoever asked it in boiling water, heh."

"Good," Jamie says. "So why all the, you know, angst?"

"I- I dunno," I sigh. "I mean, I've wanted this my whole life, but- ugh, it's like you said, I'm five inches taller than you and taller than most girls in the room. All the other girls in the room, come to think about it. Even with a real, you know, 'thing', I still feel like an impostor, you know?"

"Okay," Jamie says, taking a deep breath. "First, talk to your counsellor about this. Second, most importantly: why did you want to have SRS?"

"Because I wanted to be the person I truly felt I was inside," I instantly reply, smirking as I realise what Jamie's getting at. "And yes, having the SRS worked there, it's just- ugh, I dunno."

"It IS a big change," Jamie says softly. "Gradually, it'll be like you never had anything else, take it from someone who knows, hehe! So don't fret, and remember that you'll always have friends who love you and accept you for the true, AUTHENTIC woman you are, okay?"

"...Okay," I chuckle.

"In the meantime, relax and enjoy the party!" Jamie giggles. "Think you can do that?"

“Yeah, I guess,” I chuckle, before trying not to frown. “…Though thanks for inviting my ex, by the way.”

“Oh-“ Jamie replies, frowning before letting out a sigh. “…Yeah, I could’ve maybe used a bit more brain there, heh. Him and Ian will probably be hanging out with Stuart and the boys anyway, but if not, just come and find me, okay?”

“Heh, can do,” I chuckle. “Any other fellowship members here tonight, then?”

“Jess has a flight tomorrow,” Jamie replies. “Ashley’s obviously only 15, Laura- well, I messaged Laura, but haven’t heard back yet, so I dunno. You’d figure she of all people would kill to be at a proper Angel party- well, okay, a party at Charlotte’s at any rate.” I chuckle in response to Jamie’s remark as I start to relax. It’s obvious that she’s trying to take my mind off of Lee, but I don’t mind one bit- especially as it’s working. And I'm still amazed that someone with over 5 million followers on Instagram will take time out of her day just to cheer me up...

“Is Charlotte going to be down later?” I ask. “Does she even know you’re having the party here?”

“Yes and yes,” Jamie replies with a playful eye roll. “She’s just dealing with the twins at the moment, once they’re settled she’ll be down.” Needless to say, if I’m amazed at Jamie being my friend, it goes about a hundred times more for Charlotte. However, both girls have never been anything but sincere about their commitment to the phrase ‘You can never have too many friends’.

“…Speaking of,” I say in a teasing voice, “if Stuart’s here as well, who’s looking after the cutest member of your family?” This time, I get an eye roll AND a sigh.

“My parents,” Jamie replies. “And before you say anything, it’s harder to get her grandparents to NOT babysit at times, especially since she’s started talking!"

“Would this be the cutest member of the Milton family we’re talking about?” Katie asks as she returns carrying three glasses of sparkling wine atop a small tray.

“Why does everyone call Olivia that?” Jamie asks.

“Because it’s true,” Katie and I reply simultaneously, making us both giggle uncontrollably, a giggle that quickly engulfs Jamie as well!

“Touché,” Jamie giggles as she sips her wine. “Anybody at your new work got any kids, Jacinta?”

“Umm,” I start to reply as I think about my answer- only to find out I don’t really know about the private lives of any of my colleagues. Well, apart from one of them, anyway… “Dunno, really. Only known them a couple of days, heh.”

“Well, apart from the one you’ve known years?” Katie reminds me, making me silently curse.

“Who’s that?” Jamie asks, eliciting more silent curses.

“Just- just someone I knew from school,” I explain. “In Brighton. He went to LCF, but he was above me. Us, umm, he was a- a year above us.” Smooth, Jacinta, I think to myself.

“…And that’s all we’re going to be told, trust me,” Katie says, snorting with laughter as I give her a subtle elbow in her ribs.

“More boy trouble?” Jamie asks in a sympathetic voice that no doubt disguises a feeling of exasperation. I could hear the word ‘yet’ in her mind that was missing from the start of her question.

“When are boys anything BUT trouble?” I ask, earning a cheer from my friends and a clinking of our glasses. Moments later, Jamie lets out a squeal of happiness as her BFF appears in the room and quickly makes a beeline toward us, greeting the three of us with a friendly hug each.

“Hey girls!” Charlotte giggles. “Especially you, miss ‘gainfully employed’, hehe!”

“Thanks!” I squeak, giggling excitedly as the room is filled with music and, despite my ‘soreness’, I get up and start to dance the night away. Though I make a point of staying as far away from Lee as possible.

When I head home just after midnight, though, I am considerably less stressed out than I was 48 hours ago. Sure, there’s been a big change in my life, but the one important thing that hasn’t changed is the vast web of friends, and the party was just what I needed to be reminded of that. My friends will always be there for me whenever I need them, and that's a fact I can take to the bank. Just a pity that another fact is that literally all of them are also in relationships.

The following morning, despite my late night, I’m awake before my alarm goes off, and for the first time in a long while, I’m actually okay with waking up alone in my bed. I’m even okay as I pass by Katie’s bedroom and the loud noises coming from within en route to the shower. Last night proved that I don’t need a man in order to have fun- if anything, last night would’ve been more fun without any men present. Well, depending on physical you like your ‘fun’, anyway. Still though, despite my lack of ‘Prince Charming’, at least I’m not saddled with any ‘ugly stepsisters’- quite the opposite, in fact. And at work, I’m confident that Terri and Lizzie will go out of their way to make sure there’s no ‘ugly sisterhood’ there either. And I can put up with Tom’s presence constantly reminding me of my lack of ‘Prince Charming’- it’s not like I’m going to run into any other reminders in my job.

My work day is spent visiting the homes of the various young fashion bloggers I’ve been sent to photograph, which is relatively straightforward but still fun as I work with the young women (all of whom are under 18) to create images that will hopefully cause our magazine to fly off the newsstands.

My final stop of the day is at a house in the West of the city for a fashion blogger whose name seems familiar to me, but I can't quite remember why. However, when I knock on the door, it suddenly comes back to me where I know the name 'Ally Clarke' from.

"Hang on," a familiar man's voice comes from behind the door, a voice that makes my stomach sink and makes me immediately silently curse the heavens with every swear word I know in every language I know. If ever I needed proof that I am the universe's plaything, it's about to open the door in three, two, one...

"...Jacinta?" The unmistakable voice of my ex-boyfriend Simon says as he stares at me, wide-eyed. "What- what are you doing here?"

"Umm... I'm, umm, here to see your sister?" I reply. "For the magazine?"

"They- they sent you?" Simon asks.

"You knew when you got together with me that I was studying fashion photography," I reply, pointing to the camera bag on my shoulder. "Now I, you know, work in fashion photography." Oh for fuck's sake, just please let me get this over with... I think to myself.

"Who is it?" An unfamiliar woman's voice asks from inside the house- a voice that doesn't sound anything like how I remember Simon's mother or sister sounding.

"Umm- umm, no one babe, just someone here to see Ally," Simon replies. So, obviously, he's in a relationship too, I think to myself. Maybe I should've been named 'Ally' as well, with the surname 'McBeal' just to hammer it home even harder...

"Can I come in?" I ask, trying not to grimace as Simon nods and lets me in, and trying not to flinch as a painfully familiar pair of eyes lock onto me as I walk through the living room en route to the stairs. "Hi Jenson, nice to see you again."

Of course, I carry out my job professionally- Simon's sister has gone from being an annoying, almost stereotypical teenager to a driven young woman with her own YouTube channel, a significant following (as in 'larger than mine') on Instagram and looking toward studying at LCF next September (something she credits me for as her inspiration, gratifyingly). And, of course, she has a boyfriend as well.

I've had my share of wins in the past, but I've got to be overdue one at this point. Yes, I'm finally starting life as the woman I always wanted to be and I'm at the start of what promises to be a long, successful career, and those are major victories to be sure. If I'm honest with myself, I don't really need a 'Prince Charming', not right now- so why does the universe keep reminding me of all of my previous 'also rans'?

“Ow- owwwww…” I moan to myself as I wake up in my bed to discover that either my sheets had uncomfortably wrapped themselves around my torso as I slept, or I’d gone to bed last night with a boa constrictor (and not the ‘preferable’ kind). As I whip back my bed covers, I discover that neither of my assumptions was true - I am, in fact, wearing a corset that’s been laced down to about 4 nanometres and are pushing my breasts almost into my chin. However, I can’t help but smile at this revelation - especially when a glance at my phone reveals that today’s date is the 18th of December 2018.

Why the date is significant, of course, is because it means that yesterday was the 17th of December 2018, which means it was exactly 22 years to the day since the birth of one Ophelia Cassiopeia Love. Last night was spent at Charlotte’s house, dressed in elaborate regency-inspired costumes complete with wide hoops, bustles and, of course, extra-tight corsets. None of which I haven’t worn before, of course, but it felt particularly special yesterday, firstly because I was celebrating the birthday of my very best friend, and secondly because it was the first time I had worn such a costume as an (externally, at least) anatomically correct woman.

After untying and removing my corset (in that order, so as not to damage it, as I’ve been reminded countless times by my BFF) I reach into my nightstand to retrieve the small leather pouch that contains the bane of my existence - and, sadly, the key to me remaining an externally anatomically correct woman. I take a deep breath as I retrieve the thick orange rod from the pouch and smear the end with lubricating jelly.

"I'm every woman," I mumble to myself as I point the lubricated end of the stent toward my still-new vagina. "It's all IN ME..."

Once the stent is in place, I lay back and take several deep breaths to calm myself (another reason I was so eager to remove the corset) before grabbing my phone and scrolling through some of the photos from last night. However, for obvious reasons, I find it hard to concentrate on Facebook, as every time I read a comment, I keep expecting it to say something other than 'love the dress' or 'love the hair'.

Ever since I first pulled on a skirt, I’ve known that my need to live my life as Jacinta would rub some people the wrong way. There are plenty of morons online who feel that a man who wears a skirt is still a man; that a man who takes oestrogen is still a man with different blood chemistry; and there are even those who feel that a man who has SRS is still a man with mutilated genitals. And as hard as I try, I can’t help but let some of these comments get to me, and I’ve been drawn into several ill-advised ‘battles’ on social media about the topic as well. I get plenty of support in these battles, of course, sometimes even from close friends like Ophelia or Katie, neither of whom have any problem viewing me as just as female as they are.

Of course, as my counsellor repeatedly reminds me, the opinions of an online troll are worth less than nothing when it comes to how I live my life. The opinions of my best friends don’t even matter either - the only opinions that matter are my own. I AM a woman. I didn’t need a vagina for that to be the case, or even oestrogen, or even any women’s clothing. I’ve always been a woman, deep down inside. But I really, really wanted a vagina. I’ve earned it, and I’m going to make damn sure I keep it in healthy condition.

After I’ve finished going through the photos of everyone in their costumes, I scroll back to some older photos, especially those taken during my recent trip to America. As much fun as I had on that trip, it was very much a working holiday, and even this close to Christmas I have a lot of work to do selecting and editing photos for the magazine. Fortunately, as it is this close to Christmas, we’re allowed to work from home, and after the timer on my phone bleeps to inform me that dilating time is over, I head to the bathroom to try to shower away my hangover.

“O? You in the shower?” I shout, before grimacing as I remember that despite the fact that we’re best friends - sisters, even - and despite the fact that she spent a good chunk of last night practically glued to me, Ophelia and I no longer live together and haven’t done so for months. Ophelia lives with the other person she spent the rest (and by far most) of last night glued to (especially once they’d gone home) and would probably spend all of today glued to if it wasn’t a Tuesday - she had work and he had university. I let out a smile as I pass by the ‘wall of fame’ in the hall outside my bedroom, which contains hundreds of photos of friends and family, including (in pride of place) Ophelia and Telemachus’s wedding photograph. As lonely as I sometimes feel, I can’t help but be happy that my BFF has found someone so perfectly compatible with her.

My feeling of loneliness soon returns, though, when I realise that the woman who ACTUALLY lives with me isn’t replying to my query either. Normally this would be because it’s the day after a party, and she’s in an alcohol-induced coma, but today I know it’s because she’s sleeping somewhere else today - specifically, in the bed of the boyfriend she’s been dating for the last 6 weeks. Of course, I can no more begrudge them their happiness than I can Ophelia’s and Telemachus’s, even if Katie is dating a 6’ 2” swimwear model who she literally gets paid to photograph.

After showering, I head through to the kitchen where I make breakfast and continue looking through Facebook photos of last night. I hesitate before turning on the radio - knowing my luck, the first song I’ll probably hear is ‘Living On My Own’ by Freddie Mercury - but I eventually bite the bullet and switch it on, rolling my eyes as ‘Do they Know It’s Christmas?’ is played at me for about the ten thousandth time this month. Still, it does act as a reminder that as lonely as I feel right now, there are plenty of others who have it much worse than me.

Facebook, Christmas music and editing photos takes up all of my morning, to the extent that I don’t even bother getting dressed until after lunchtime - which proves to be a timely decision as minutes later my flatmate lets herself back in.

“Evening,” I say, earning a loud sigh from my flatmate as she drops her bag on the coffee table and herself on the sofa.

“Morning,” Katie retorts.

“It’s 12:21, I beg to differ,” I say, earning a tired snort from my freckled friend.

“…It was still morning when I left Charlie’s house, I’m still counting it,” Katie shrugs, before giggling and turning on the television. “Ahh… Kinda - well, you know…”

“Hard to tear yourself away from Charlie’s warm, umm, flat?” I ask.

“Especially with how cold it is outside,” Katie sighs. “Ugh, take me back to California…”

“Can’t argue with that,” I giggle. “Speaking of, you working today?”

“Yep,” Katie says with another sigh. “And I’m in the studio tomorrow and Thursday. Thank god JB closes the office over Christmas, heh.”

“…And speaking of THAT,” I say. “You spending it with your folks?”

“And my brothers,” Katie says with a mock disgusted snort. “Gonna be out the flat from the 23rd to the 27th. You going back to Brighton to be with your dad?”

“Ehh… Not quite,” I reply with a grimace. "Dad's coming to London, so we'll be having Christmas dinner with Sarah and her mum instead." While I can hardly begrudge dad for wanting a new relationship - god knows I’d be a hypocrite if I did - it still makes me feel uneasy, especially when I remember how close dad was to mum even after she passed away. Though as mum herself would undoubtedly remind me, that was over 15 years ago...

“Ah,” Katie says with a smug grin on her face, instantly twigging what I’m talking about. “The other brand-new relationship…”

“Don’t- don’t call it a relationship, please!” I protest. “They have a combined age of 100. Literally 100, they were both born in 1968.”

“So I think it’s cute,” Katie shrugs. “You want your dad to be happy, right?” Needless to say, this strikes a nerve, both because of mum and my own relationship status.

“Change topic, please,” I say firmly, making my friend grimace and bite her lip.

“O-kay…” Katie says cautiously. “Finished gift shopping yet?”

“Not that we didn’t hand over loads of presents yesterday?” I retort, making my friend giggle. “Almost. Got a couple of things I still need to get. Has Nikki already sent the presents to Team America?”

“Yeah, she sent them last week,” Katie replies. “Cost a fortune just to send, heh! But we do have lots of new friends over there too.”

“Very true,” I giggle. “I’m really looking forward to showing Jenna around London at next year’s AngelCon!”

“She WAS cool,” Katie giggles as we think of our newest friend, the transgendered PA to the Californiangels who might just end up earning 'Angel' status herself if Nikki's to be believed. “You in the office at all this week, then?”

“Tomorrow morning,” I reply as we head through to the living room. “Just to upload some files and run it by our editor. And it’s our office Christmas meal tomorrow evening as well, so I won’t be home until - well, earlier than you were today, but still late.”

“Hilarious,” Katie retorts. “So you won’t - gah, keep forgetting we don’t get dressed up as 6-year olds on Wednesday morning anymore.”

“What - the lesson?” I ask as I remember the regular midweek ballet lessons that Krystie Fullerton hosted for the Angels and their close friends, which eventually included myself and Ophelia. Naturally, back then I was more than excited by the prospect of spending a morning wrapped in a pair of pink tights and a black leotard!

“Yeah,” Katie says with a sad sigh. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t get to hang out with the Angels, like, ALL the time, but you know? It was a bit of fun, broke up the week…”

“I think Zoe still does a lesson on Sunday morning?” I say.

“Yeah - three problems with that,” Katie replies. “One, those lessons are mostly for girls who either work or have worked for the airline; two, they don’t break up the week as they’re on a Sunday; and three, do you REALLY think I’m gonna get up that early on a Sunday morning?”

“…Fair enough,” I say, before giggling. “Ahh… I could use a few lessons though, kinda lost some, you know, ‘flexibility’ over the last few months, heh.”

“If at any point you say anything about stretching your legs behind your head, I’m moving out,” Katie says, making us both giggle.

“Heh,” I chuckle. “We going anywhere tonight, then? Any parties, I mean? This close to Christmas, you’d have thought there might be something…”

“Yeah…” Katie said. “Might go to the pub later, but we both have work tomorrow morning. Heh, not like uni where we spend all day at the union bar and all night, well, in the same bar!”

“Heh, yep!” I sigh. “Ah well. Probably partied out after yesterday anyway, heh!”

“Well, make sure you’ve got enough energy for Viks’s party on Friday!” Katie advises. “Very considerate of all our friends to have birthdays around the same time as Christmas.”

“Pretty sure that’s their parents’ fault, but never mind,” I giggle as I sink back into my chair and try to focus on the TV screen, and try not to think about the fact that my flatmate will be spending this evening with her boyfriend, my best friend will be spending the evening with her husband, and I’ll be spending the evening with my work and, if I’m really lucky, my Netflix account. The prospect of spending another Christmas alone is NOT one I'm looking forward to one bit...

When I wake up the following morning, I let out a sigh as I immediately realise that I am once again alone in bed, alone in the flat, and have my least favourite task to perform before I can start the day.

As I lay on my bed dilating, I try to relax and take stock of my life lately - though given how long I've been single and how many mornings I've had to spend dilating, my life's had more stocktakes than an off-licence in Brixton. It’s been months since I last shared my big, queen-sized bed, and in these cold winter months, it feels emptier than ever.

However cold it is outside, though, I still have a job to go to; so after I finish dilating, I take a quick shower, eat a quick breakfast and dress for the day in a very clingy lilac turtleneck, a cute knee-length A-line skirt and my thickest pair of black tights. However, even this isn’t enough to keep out the cold as I leave the flat, and I let out a tired, frustrated sigh as I head to the nearby tube station.

A few minutes later, I stride into the familiar (and mercifully warm) surroundings of X-1 magazine’s main office, making my way straight to my desk where I set up my laptop and my camera.

“Hey Jacinta!” Terri - my editor - says with a giggle as she sits down next to me. “Thanks for coming in today and braving the cold!”

“Ugh, and the dark mornings!” I reply. “SO can’t wait for summer, heh.”

“Ugh, I feel you,” Terri says. “Even though it’ll be a dark evening, are you still up for tonight?”

“Oh, absolutely!” I giggle. “Never had, you know, a proper work Christmas do before.”

“Take it from someone with experience,” Terri giggles. “They’re not as fun as student union parties! Though we’ll try to make it enjoyable before we ‘break up’, heh. You got much planned over Christmas?”

“Umm, probably just spending it with my dad,” I reply. “No ‘special someone’ right now…”

“Aww,” Terri sighs sadly. “Well, you never know, maybe tonight…”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t cross my fingers,” I retort, before showing Terri the hundreds of photos on my laptop screen. “Any of these jumping out at you?”

“I, um, I like that one of Charlotte Hutchinson and Christina Da Silva,” Terri says, visibly uncomfortable with me suddenly changing the topic. “Anyways, Alex is writing the article, I’ll let you sort it out with him. And Jacinta?”

“Yes…?” I reply.

“Try and have a good Christmas, okay?” Terri asks with a smile, which I mirror.

“I will,” I say, before sighing as I turn back to my work. And as if on cue, the song ‘Lonely this Christmas’ by Mud plays on the office radio, making me sigh.

It’s not even like it’s going to be that hard to have a good Christmas - neither Ophelia nor Telemachus are close to their family, so they’ll be spending it with me and dad, and if dad spends some of the time with Beverly, it’s a good bet that Sarah and Nikki will be around as well, so there’ll be several full houses over the Christmas period. Full of three couples and yours truly…

“Alright?” Alex asks with a broad grin as he sits down next to me.

“Hi, yeah!” I reply with a forced smile. “Here are the photos from the AngelCon afterparty, pick any ones you like!”

“Ah, so wish I'd been there myself!” Alex giggles as he looks over the images on my screen. “What are you doing over Christmas, then?”

“Why is everyone asking me that?” I ask, before biting my lip as a guilty look spreads over my colleague's face.

“Umm, ‘cause it’s six days away…” Alex replies. “Jacinta, are - are you okay?”

“Ah - yeah, sorry…” I grimace. “It’s just - ugh, I dunno. But I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, sorry.”

“S’okay,” Alex shrugs. “Christmas isn’t a great time for everyone, I get it.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“Not me though,” Alex continues. “I absolutely bloody love Christmas. Me and Josh are gonna binge watch a load of films tomorrow - you know, Home Alone 2, The Polar Express, Santa Clause 1, you’re welcome to join us if you want?”

“Ehh… No thanks,” I reply. “…Though I do love the Polar Express, heh. Dad took me to see it when it first came out in the cinema.”

“Well, offer’s still on the table if you change your mind,” Alex says. “Though I suppose you’ll probably be spending all your Christmas with these girls, heh!” I grin as Alex gestures to my laptop screen, specifically the many images of Angels.

“Well - I’ll see them, I suppose,” I say. “Viks’s birthday is this Friday, then there’ll be the gift exchange on Christmas Eve, but that’s about it, really.”

“That’s still a lot cooler than anything I’ll be doing!” Alex chuckles. “Are there usually lots of people at the gift exchange?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty packed,” I reply. “Mainly ‘cause it’s literally for EVERYONE, not just the Angels, but other Heavenly Talent employees, friends of friends, their kids and so forth.”

“Sounds awesome,” Alex gushes. “It must be great to have so many friends, not just ‘cause they’re famous.”

“Yeah…” I say with a happy sigh as I realise that just because I don't have a lover, it doesn't necessarily mean I'll be completely lonely this Christmas - not with how many friends I have. That won't stop me from feeling lonely when I wake up alone on the 25th, though...

“Well - maybe one of these days,” Alex says with a grin. “If someone could maybe persuade Josh Benedict to buy the mag?”

“I think you’re kinda overestimating me there,” I chuckle as Josh (as in, the magazine’s other staff writer) sits down opposite us.

“Did I hear someone say my name?” Josh asks with a smug grin.

“Only if you’re 6’ 4”, black and the multimillionaire owner of a talent agency,” Alex replies, earning a pout from our colleague.

“I wasn’t the last time I checked,” Josh retorts as I frown in confusion.

“How do you know Josh Benedict is 6’ 4”?” I ask, before a wave of realisation washes over me.

“I interviewed him for the mag last year,” Alex replies as I nod - I now remember reading the interview in a back copy of the magazine I bought this summer before my interview.

“Yeah, I remember now,” I say. “That must’ve been an exclusive, then, because he does NOT give out interviews willy-nilly.”

“The BBC Breakfast show is making a big deal of the interview he’s giving this Saturday,” Josh concurs. “I know I’ll definitely be watching that!”

“Not if it wakes me up at, like, 6am on a Saturday morning you’re not!” Alex protests (Alex and Josh are flatmates in addition to being colleagues).

“My flatmate won’t even be up in time to watch it, I can guarantee that,” I chuckle. “And she works for him!”

“Now that must be a cool job,” Josh enthuses. One I didn’t get, I think to myself. Thanks for reminding me of that…

“Meh, this one’s not so bad, though!” I giggle.

“Speaking of ‘work’,” Alex teases his flatmate, “do you actually have any to do or are you just here to annoy us?”

“I’m waiting for Jacinta!” Josh replies indignantly. “Need those photos she took last week at that premiere in Leicester Square."

“Glad to see neither of you two would be able to do ANYTHING without me,” I say with a smug grin as my friends sigh and shake their heads. “Sit tight, Josh, I’ll be with you in a bit.” I smile as the curly-haired young man heads back to his desk, while Alex and I return to picking out photos for his article.

The rest of the day goes like this, with me supplying images to the magazine's writers, fielding questions about Christmas, getting excited about tonight's meal and trying not to feel like the most single person who ever lived.

Despite her own (allegedly) busy working day, Katie is already back from work when I return home, sprawled on the sofa watching TV.

“Hey,” Katie mumbles, not looking up as I drop my bag on the coffee table and kick off my shoes.

“Hi,” I reply. “Good day at work?”

“Yeah, it was fine,” Katie replies. “Hardly anyone in the office today, always that way before Christmas though.”

“Was Nikki not in today, then?” I ask, referring to my fellow transwoman and Katie’s usual ‘lunch date’ whenever she’s in the Heavenly Talent office.

“Nah, she was in Manchester with Charlotte for a TV thing,” Katie replies. “All of the other Angels are spending time with their family, which includes both JBs; Out of Heaven are all doing the same, especially after the Strictly final last Saturday… I was actually kinda lonely at work today, heh.”

“What, even despite the 6’ 2” underwear model who’s also signed to Heavenly Talent?” I tease, making my flatmate sigh and roll her eyes.

“He was on a shoot today somewhere else,” Katie replies. “Won’t be back until late so I’m sleeping here tonight. By myself.”

“Aw, diddums,” I reply with an eye roll of my own.

“So I’ve got used to some late night ‘cake’,” Katie retorts. “Sue me. Besides, haven’t you got a night out tonight?”

“Yeah, a work Christmas party isn’t exactly the same thing,” I say. “Still, should be fun.”

“I’d kinda like to meet your colleagues some time,” Katie muses. “They sound like a cool bunch.”

“Meh, maybe in the new year,” I say. “If you’re angling to be my plus one for the meal, think again.”

“Too tired today anyway,” Katie replies as she stretches. “And Lauren’s coming round in a bit too, Michael has to work late at the cinema so we’re keeping each other company.”

“Well - give her my love if I don’t see her,” I say, before heading through to my bedroom to get ready for the meal.

Even though it’s a meal with work colleagues, it’s still an opportunity to get dressed up that I don’t intend to waste. I pull on one of my fanciest dresses, a long-sleeved dark burgundy dress with delicate lace trim at the cuffs, the hem and the low-enough-to-show-some-cleavage-but-not-too-low-so-as-to-be-indecent décolletage. Despite the cold, I swap my thick black tights for a lighter pair, and the sensible flats I wore to work for a pair of 2.5" peep-toe pumps. A thicker cloud of perfume, more expensive make-up and my best jewellery later, and I look and feel like a million dollars.

"How can any guy NOT want this?" I ask the reflection in the mirror, before sighing and shaking my head. "Never mind, don't answer that."

After a short taxi ride, I arrive at the restaurant that’s been booked for our Christmas meal. It’s not the most upmarket place in the world - a little bit better than a Wetherspoons - but it is at least clean, and has been elaborately decorated for the festive period. It doesn’t take long to find our group’s table, where many of my colleagues are already sat - some of them, naturally, with their partners.

“Hey Jacinta!” Terri says as I approach the table. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Umm, sure, a glass of white, please!” I reply as I sit down, before smiling politely at the unfamiliar faces at the table. “I- I’m Jacinta, by the way, I’m the magazine’s photographer.”

“I’m Jake, Terri’s fiancé,” the handsome young man sat next to our editor says as he shakes my hand.

“I’m Justin, and I’m Lizzie’s boyfriend,” another handsome man says as our bubbly deputy editor gives him a gentle cuddle.

“I’m Phil, and I’m Ciara’s other half,” the other unfamiliar young man at the table says, before getting an elbow in his ribs from our webmaster.

“He’s my flatmate,” Ciara explains as Phil lets out a smug laugh. “And single, shocking as that might seem.” Oh really? I think to myself as I pay closer attention to Phil. He’s not the tallest man in the world - maybe 2 inches shorter than me in stocking feet - but seems fit, is good looking, has great hair, obviously has a good sense of humour…

“Well, it- it’s nice to meet you all,” I say with a smile, while stealthily trying to make flirty eyes with Phil. “I’m here by myself today, heh. Also single, flatmate’s busy tonight and it’d kinda cost a bit to bring my dad up from Brighton at short notice.” Okay, that was smooth, I think to myself as I try not to grimace. “Umm… Where are Josh and Alex?”

“Running late,” Lizzie replies. “As usual. They’ve texted us their order though, so we’re just waiting on you.”

“And hurry up, ‘cause I’m starving,” Phil says, making me involuntarily giggle even as Ciara gives him another elbow in his ribs.

“We can’t start until Josh and Alex get here anyway,” Ciara says. “And Tom and Caitlin.” Thought someone else was missing, I self-pityingly think to myself as my two old schoolfriends enter the restaurant and head toward our table.

“Hey guys,” Tom says with a grin as he and his partner sit down, mercifully at the other end of the table to where I'm sat. “You all know Caitlin, right?”

“Yep,” Jake, Justin and even Phil reply with polite nods. Way to make me feel like the outsider, I think to myself.

“Caitlin and Jacinta, of course, go way back!” Tom says, making my entire body tense up.

“Oh - really?” Lizzie asks with a friendly grin.

“We- we were at primary school together,” I reply. “In Brighton.”

“Of course, ‘Jacinta’ was a lot different back then,” Caitlin says with an obvious sneer. Nope, I think to myself, ‘outsider’ was much better than this.

“And that’s all that needs to be said about THAT,” Terri says as she returns with my wine, which I take a (probably too eager) swig of. “Are you guys ready to order?” More wine, I think to myself as I desperately try to avoid Caitlin’s gaze.

“Umm, yeah,” Tom says, clearly as uncomfortable as I am. "We'll have the Christmas spread for two, please."

“I- I’ll have the same,” I mumble. "For one! The, um, the Christmas plate for one."

“Okay,” Terri says as she summons the waiter over and places our order.

“So, Jacinta,” Lizzie asks, thankfully distracting me from the other end of the table. “First work Christmas do?”

“Umm, yeah,” I reply. “I’ve had a few other jobs in the past, but part-time, not, like, a ‘career’…”

“Well, we’ll try to take it easy on you,” Lizzie giggles. “Though we may want to hear a few more tales of your trip to America, hehe!” I can’t help but smirk as this attracts the attention of many at the table - Caitlin included.

“Have you been to America recently?” Phil asks, and despite myself I feel my smile widen.

“Yeah,” I say, playfully leaning forward as I speak so that just a little bit more cleavage is on show. “Spent just over a week over there last month, in New York and LA, covering the launch of the two Angels groups over there.”

“Ah, cool,” Phil says. “Isn’t the Angels the group with, umm…” I wonder what he could possibly be about to say next, I think to myself as I sit back in my chair.

“Careful,” Ciara hisses to her flatmate, who responds with a look of derision.

“I was going to say ‘the one with that girl who won Strictly a few years ago’,” Phil says. “Not ‘you know what’.” And I most definitely do know what ‘you know what’ means as I start to fidget uncomfortably in my seat. Needless to say, an uncomfortable silence quickly falls over the table.

“…Yeah, Hannah is in the Angels and she was on Strictly,” I mumble, before letting out a sigh. “Okay, quick show of hands, who DOESN’T know the ‘thing’ about me?” I sigh and nod as everyone at the table keeps their hands down. “Then okay, no need to puss-“ Choose a different word, Jacinta, I think to myself. “No need to tiptoe around it, honestly. Though as we’re going to be eating in a bit, you might want to choose your questions carefully.” Much to my relief, this earns a giggle from everyone at the table.

“You must get fed up of, you know, ‘explaining yourself’ everywhere you go, though?” Justin asks.

“Oh - you have NO idea, really,” I sigh. “I just - I just want to be accepted for who I REALLY am, you know? And I definitely fell on my feet when I started working for X-1.”

“Glad to hear it!” Terri says with a deservedly proud grin.

“So, umm, what do you do for a living, Phil?” I ask.

“I’m a pimp.” Phil replies, making my eyes go wide before I see yet another look of derision in Ciara’s face.

“He’s a nurse,” Our webmaster says.

“…Yeah, I’m a nurse,” Phil says with a smirk. “I actually work at the same hospital as Stephanie Abbott’s mum, do you know her at all?”

“…Who, Stephanie or her mum?” I ask, grimacing as the ditziness of my question.

“Umm, Stephanie,” Phil says. “Unless you moonlight as a nurse as well?” Despite myself, I can’t help but giggle girlishly at his joke.

“Yeah, I know Steph,” I say.

“We’ve been trying to get her in for an interview for ages,” Terri says.

“And believe me, I’ve been trying to pull strings,” I say. “We’ll still have to go through either Josh or Jon Benedict even if I do twist Steph’s arm.”

“Huh, thought you were going to say something other than ‘arm’ there,” Phil says, causing an awkward silence to fall over the table. Or at least, an awkward silence WOULD have fallen over the table, if I hadn’t giggled like an idiot again. What is wrong with me today…?

“Anyway,” Tom says. “Want me to, um, text Josh and Alex, see where they are?”

“Nah, I got a message from them a couple of minutes ago, they’ll, um, they’ll be here soon,” Terri says. “Anyone want another drink?”

“Please,” I say, holding out my hastily emptied wine glass.

“Might be an idea to get a few bottles for the table,” Lizzie says as she casts an uncharacteristically angry glance in Phil’s direction.

The rest of the night goes the exact same way, with me fielding yet more questions as we ate (and I drank), and me desperately trying to decide whether or not Phil might be 'Prince Charming' material after all...

“Wake up, it’s a beautiful morning…” My phone blares, each note of the classic nineties song cutting through my brain like a chainsaw until my tired fumbling manages to switch it off.

I gradually slide my way out of bed, every slight movement causing my hungover head yet more pain, before pulling on my warm, fluffy dressing gown and silently cursing myself for drinking so much last night. As I glance back at my bed, though, I realise that there's a good chance I drank a lot more than I thought.

There, poking out of the bottom of my bed, is a pair of size 11 feet, and on the pillow next to mine is the snoring, drooling head of Philip Mansfield.

“…Ah, fuck,” I moan to myself, before padding back to my bed and trying to shake the young man awake. As the feeling slowly returns to other parts of my body, I’m quickly able to determine that I had an impromptu 'dilating' session last night, and NOT using a plastic rod.

“Urgh,” Phil grunts as I shake him awake. “I - ugh, um - oh, hey babe!” Despite myself, I both roll my eyes and let out a giggle at Phil going from half-dead to full-flirt in three seconds flat.

“Hey,” I say. “We need to get you out of here before my flatmate wakes up.”

“What, not even any coffee?” Phil asks, deliberately not making any effort to get out of bed. “Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t have fun last night?”

“I can barely remember any of last night,” I say. “And I need to - umm, I need to dilate anyway…”

“’Dilate’?” Phil asks, before a smug look comes over his face. “Oh, you mean like what we were doing last ni-“

“Yes, yes, yes!” I say, before yet again giggling at the young man’s joke. “Though THAT doesn’t count until after I’m twelve months post-op.”

“And your current score is…?” Phil asks teasingly.

“Five months,” I reply. “And yes, ‘IT’ isn’t a problem after three months, even if my recovery isn’t going quite as fast as my doctors would like.”

“Well I can always give you more ‘help’ with that,” Phil offers, stretching out in bed and inviting me to join him - an invitation I find myself seriously considering…

“Don’t you have work today?” I ask.

“Rest day,” Phil replies smugly. “And I know you don’t have work today, at least I hope you don’t ‘cause of how much you drank last night!”

“No, but my flatmate DOES have work!” I hiss.

“So let her go out first,” Phil shrugs, making me giggle yet AGAIN. “She knows you were out late last night, right? So, she won’t be expecting you up early.” I pause briefly to contemplate his words - he is, of course, true. But he’s also someone I met less than twelve hours ago…

“I - I will call you, I promise,” I say. “But - but we barely know each other, you know? Can we at least, like, go on a date before shagging again?”

“Suit yourself,” Phil shrugs, before getting out of bed and standing before me stark naked. He's definitely fit, with a muscular chest, a six pack, and obviously a lot Or more than six inches of something else. “Just thought I’d remind you of what you’re passing up.”

“Well - how about I call dibs on it for tonight, then?” I ask with a sultry grin.

“If I can wait that long, sure,” Phil replies with a grin, before striding out of my bedroom, an action that leaves me confused.

“Umm, forgetting something?” I ask. “I don’t think ‘it’s’ going to be happy with you walking home naked in the middle of December.”

“Well, my shirt’s still in your living room, my pants are in your bathroom and we might have to hunt for my trousers,” Phil retorts as memories of last night come flowing back- along with an acute sense of embarrassment.

“…Okay,” I sigh as I lead Phil into the living room, where we quickly retrieve his shirt from the coffee table. I grunt in pain as I nearly trip over something large that had apparently been left on the floor last night, before freezing in terror as I gaze down at the floor, only to discover the thing I nearly tripped over looking back up at me.

“Morning!” Lauren says, her grin widening as my face reddens.

“Good morning, Jacinta,” my BFF says as she rolls over on the sofa to face me and my still-naked 'companion'.

“Hello again, girls!” Phil says with a grin as big as his, well, I'm sure you can guess.

“A- again?” I ask, before grimacing as memories of last night come back to me, of returning home, stripping each other off en route to my bedroom, nearly tripping over Lauren- again… “What - what are you two even doing here, anyway?”

“Katie felt lonely, so asked if we wanted a pre-Christmas sleepover,” Ophelia replies. “We knew you would be back late so we were asleep when you and your… friend arrived home.”

“WERE asleep,” Lauren clarifies.

“What - what time did we get back?” I ask.

“About 12:15,” Lauren replies. “We were in bed early because we were cold, and Katie has work today.”

“Something that could obviously not be said about you,” Ophelia teases, giggling as I hurl a cushion at her before handing another one to Phil to cover himself up.

“Don’t tell me - Snikki are in the bathroom?” I moan.

“No, just us four today,” Lauren replies. “Well, five when Katie wakes up.”

“Good morning,” my flatmate says as she passes us and plops down into her usual chair. “Nice arse by the way.”

“Thanks!” Phil says with genuine pride as he coolly leans against the wall, requiring me to hold his cushion in place.

“Yeah… All three of us are actually taken,” Katie says with a disapproving sneer.

“Also, I’m standing right here,” I interject.

“I think I saw your pants in the bathroom sink,” Katie says. “What the hell they were doing in there is anyone’s guess, but I’d really appreciate it if you could, you know, go and put them on.”

“Quickly, please,” Lauren says.

“…Your loss,” Phil says as he walks into the bathroom, leaving me holding the cushion and feeling about three inches tall.

“…Whatever you do, do NOT throw that at me,” Katie says. “I’m serious. Think we’re going to need to burn that cushion cover as well.”

“And possibly your Christmas tree as well,” Lauren says, pointing to the top of the tree, where our traditional angel has received an unusual extra decoration in the form of my bra.

“How did THAT even get up there?” Katie asks, before grimacing. “Actually - no, never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“I- I’m sorry you girls had to see that,” I mumble.

“Not as sorry as we are, believe me,” Lauren says, making me fidget awkwardly.

“I - um, I’m going to go and, umm, get dressed,” I say, racing back to my bedroom and blinking back tears as my cheeks start to burn.

Once I’m back in the sanctity of my room, I crash back down onto the bed and bury my scarlet-coloured face in my pillow.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” I moan, before turning my head and sighing as my bedroom door opens. “If that’s you, Phil, that was NOT a request or an invitation.”

“May I assume that also applies to me?” Ophelia asks, instantly bringing a smile to my face as I sit up.

“Yes, yes it does,” I say, before giggling and hugging my BFF as she sits down next to me. “Ugh, I am SO embarrassed…”

“I would say that you have no need to be embarrassed,” Ophelia says, “but that would be only half-true. No one in the living room or in here will ever criticise you for spending the night with a boy. THAT boy, on the other hand…”

“Oh come on,” I protest. “You’ve known him what, five minutes?”

“Five minutes that he spent stood completely naked in a room filled with unfamiliar women,” Ophelia retorts. “And you have only known him for a few hours longer.”

“Well - yes, technically,” I say. “But from what I’ve seen, he’s cute, he’s got a great sense of humour, and from what I can remember, he’s really good in bed…”

“He also took advantage of a drunk young woman last night,” Ophelia says, making me bite my lip and grimace. Technically, I suppose he did, but if I wanted him to stop, I know I’d have said ‘no’, and I’m sure he’d have stopped. I hope he would have, anyway…

“I knew what I was doing,” I mumble. “Look, O, I really like him, I - I want to, you know, make a go of this.”

“You could do SO much better,” Ophelia assures me.

“I haven’t done so far though, have I?” I moan. “That’s one other thing in Phil’s favour - he has no problems being with a transgendered girl. Even though I’m now post-op you know there’d be millions who wouldn’t-“

“And millions more who would,” Ophelia says in her natural voice, before sighing. “J, you’ve been going on for years about ‘Prince Charming’. Can you honestly say that Phil is your ‘Prince Charming’?”

“Can you honestly say that from those ‘millions more’, I’ll ever find ‘Prince Charming’?” I ask my BFF, who sighs and frowns.

“Yes,” Ophelia says bluntly. “I honestly believe that you will. Because you are a good person, and you deserve to be happy.”

“Ugh, like I wasn’t crying enough already,” I grunt as I exchange another hug with my BFF. “I know I’ll probably never love any man as much as I love you.”

“I feel the same way, even about my husband,” Ophelia whispers. “And yes, I recognise the hypocrisy of me advising against dating a man you just met when I married a man four weeks after meeting him. But Telemachus is sweet, loving and caring. Which you know.”

“…Yeah,” I say. Despite my initial reservations, I can’t deny that Telemachus is the perfect husband for Ophelia.

“In fact,” Ophelia says, “the whole reason for the sleepover last night was to discuss your man problems.”

“Uh - what?” I ask as my embarrassment starts to be overtaken by a feeling of offence. “I’m not THAT hard up for a man.”

“I’m sure the Neanderthal in the bathroom would disagree,” Ophelia retorts.

“Well - ugh,” I sigh. “I’d better get back out there, let them know I’m okay…”

“I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” Ophelia says, smirking at my frown of confusion. “And by ‘coast’ I mean ‘bathroom’.” I sigh as Ophelia leaves the room, before gesturing for me to follow her. Never thought I’d ever have to make the walk of shame in my own flat…

“H- hey girls,” I meekly mumble as I return to the lounge and sit down on the sofa where Ophelia had previously slept.

“Hi,” Katie says quietly. “Lover boy just left.”

“Wearing clothes, thank god,” Lauren says.

“Okay,” I shrug, though deep down, I’m disappointed he didn’t at least say goodbye to me. Are the girls right about him?

“Jacinta, really…” Katie says, before sighing. “We need to talk.”

“You’re not breaking up with me, are you?” I sarcastically ask, making my flatmate roll her eyes.

“You need to - ugh, there’s no delicate way of putting this,” Katie moans.

“Stop shagging anything with a pulse?” I ask. “Stop being such a slut?”

“That’s not a word I’d ever use, and you know it,” Katie scowls. “So you like having sex with guys. Big deal, so do all of us.”

“But I could pick my guys better?” I ask. “I don’t really have as wide a field to choose from as all of you, remember?”

“Yep, every guy wants a fat girl,” Lauren says, making me sigh.

“For the last time, Lauren, you are NOT fat,” I say.

“I’m a bigger size than any of you three,” Lauren retorts. “I guarantee that if the four of us went to a club looking to pick up guys, I’d be the last one to get one.”

“We could have this argument all day,” Katie says, regaining control of the conversation. “And god knows we have. Jacinta… Let us find you a guy, okay?”

“We know you better than you know yourself,” Ophelia says.

“With all due respect,” I say, “where are you going to magic up a guy from?”

“Anyone applying to be represented by Heavenly Talent has to do an audition, which is a photoshoot,” Katie replies. “Who do you think does that photoshoot? Dozens of fit guys passing in front of my camera every week…” Yeah, thanks for reminding me you got the cushy job too, I think to myself.

“One of which she’s already kept for herself,” Lauren teases, making her BFF blush.

“Finders keepers,” Katie says. “but you just say the word, Jacinta, and I’ll have them lined up around the block for you.”

“And because they’ve auditioned for Heavenly Talent, you can be sure they’ll be cool about ‘that thing’ too,” Lauren says.

“Ugh, I don’t - I don’t need charity,” I grumble.

“You didn’t need the pervert who just walked out this flat, but that didn’t stop you,” Lauren retorts.

“I just - I’m just fed up of being alone, you know,” I whine as I flop back in my seat.

“Oh - so what are we, then?” Lauren protests as she points to herself, Katie and Ophelia.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“We ditched boyfriend, fiancé and husband respectively for you,” Katie says. “And we know you’d do the same for us in a heartbeat.”

“Well - of course I would,” I say, before sighing. “But you all have guys to ditch, that’s the point entirely.”

“Jacinta, take it from me,” Katie says with a sigh. “You are far too good, and by good I mean sexy, and funny, and cute, and friendly, and kind, and everything else, well, ‘good’ to waste your time with guys like Phil. Leave it to us, we will get you a Prince Charming. I promise.”

“WE promise,” Ophelia says, giving my hand a supportive squeeze.

“Well - ugh, okay,” I sigh. “Do your worst, I guess.” I smile as my friends all cheer, though deep down, I can’t help but wonder whether or not even they’ll be able to find my ‘Prince Charming’. Simon, Lee and now Phil have all proven to be duds. Maybe there really isn’t anyone out there for me?

I fidget nervously in my seat as I watch the drama unfold in front of me. I’m sat in an audience not unlike the spectators at a Roman Amphitheatre, only instead of watching two gladiators fight it out, we’re enthralled by the sight of two middle-aged men sat opposite each other. One of the men is one of the most famous (and infamous) television presenters in the country, while the other is my father- and the prize on offer is far greater than any ancient gladiator could ever have dreamed of.

“This is something I don’t get to say very often,” the unmistakable, boorish voice of Jeremy Clarkson says as he looks my father in the eyes. “This, Mike Hanley, is your question for one million pounds.” A quiet gasp rises from the audience as my father, obviously nearly paralysed with nerves, quietly nods and fixes his stare on the screen in front of him.

“Which of the following US states joined the union most recently?” Jeremy asks. “A, Idaho. B, Utah. C, Arizona. Or D, Wyoming?" My father sits back in his chair with a concerned look on his face. He’s already won £500 000, a truly massive amount of money, but if he answers this question incorrectly, he’ll lose £468 000 of it- a fact Jeremy is quick to remind him of.

“Funnily enough,” dad says, “I had a feeling there’d be an American history question in here somewhere, and this is one of the things I looked up before coming on. So I know the answer is Arizona.” A loud gasp erupts from the audience and my legs start to tremble as dad confidently looks the tall presenter in the eyes.

“You’re saying Arizona?” Jeremy asks, his own voice trembling with anticipation.

“I am,” dad whispers.

“Is that your final answer?” Jeremy asks.

“It is,” dad says quietly with a nod of his head, taking a deep breath as the lights in the studio change and a loud musical sting fills the room.

“I think you know what I’m about to say,” Jeremy says, taking a deep breath. “But it’s something I’ve wanted to say for a while. You, Mike Hanley… Have just won one million pounds.” The entire audience erupts in a loud cheer as tinsel and confetti falls from the ceiling and dad almost looks like he’s about to faint as has to be propped up by Jeremy, who leaves his seat to shake my father’s hand and give him a firm pat on the back. At the prompting of one of the show’s producers, I rise from my seat with the intention of joining my father on stage, but before I take a step I also have to be steadied as the reality of the situation makes my legs wobble.

For the first eighteen years of my life I was the son of an at best lower middle-class father who spent his days fixing computers and his evenings reading and doing pub quizzes. Now, thanks in no small part to my father’s dedication to his hobbies, I’m the offspring of a millionaire. And thanks to his unconditional love and acceptance, I’m the daughter of a millionaire. And I have both the paperwork and the vagina to prove it.

This will no doubt go down as the one of the happiest days of my father’s life (though he’ll no doubt out it behind his wedding day and my birth), and it’s definitely one of the happiest of mine too, but the fact of the matter is that I still have no one I can celebrate it with.

Well, apart from my father of course, who always has been, and no doubt always will be there for me despite his new-found wealth. But even he will be spending much of his time (not to mention money) with the new woman in his life. I also have my BFF, of course, who will be ecstatic for my father… As will her husband. Dad’s girlfriend’s daughter is also one of my very best friends… As is her wife. Katie and Lauren will be thrilled by the news too… As will their boyfriend and fiancé respectively. And everyone at work will be happy for me, and very happy that I can get them an exclusive interview with my dad… Never mind the fact that I am the only single person who works there.

That’s not to say that I haven’t had any first dates since the Phil fiasco at Christmas. I’ve even had the occasional second date. But absolutely no third dates, and none of the first or second dates were with anyone I’d remotely describe as ‘charming’, let alone ‘Prince Charming’. I know I should be happy. I’m able to live my life as the woman I always dreamed of being. I have a job that I love, great friends and a father who would do anything for me and is now financially stable enough to make good on his promises. And yet, I can't think of a time I've felt more alone. I feel like everyone's moving on, while I'm stuck in quicksand...

“W- wow,” dad breathes as I give him a long, tight hug. “This- this honestly feels like a dream, heh.”

“Well, I can assure you that this is real,” Jeremy says as he hands dad a very plain-looking cheque, albeit one that has dad’s name in the ‘payee’ box and the figure ‘£1 000 000’ in the amount box. “You can literally take that to the bank.”

“Oh, believe me, I will!” Dad chuckles, giving me another hug before the director says ‘cut’ and an army of stagehands appear to clear away the confetti from the set.

“Well- congratulations again,” Jeremy says as he exchanges another handshake with my father. “I know a lot of people in the crew were rooting for you, and I for one am glad that our first jackpot winner is actually a decent, likeable guy."

“Thanks,” dad chuckles.

“Do you have any idea what you’re going to spend the money on?” Jeremy asks.

“Yeah… I’ve got a few immediate plans,” dad says as he smiles in my direction, making me giggle and blush and causing the presenter to turn his attention toward me.

“Right, well I’ve got two daughters who are about your age,” Jeremy says to me. “Don’t spend all your dad’s money on iPhones and shoes!”

“I won’t, I promise,” I chuckle.

“Right, well I’ll let you get on with it, and congratulations once again!” Jeremy says with a genuine smile as a member of the production crew approaches us, almost bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Congratulations!” The producer, a young woman only a few years older than me, says.

“Thanks,” dad chuckles, unable to stop staring at the cheque. “I- this’ll sound like a daft question, but is- is this cheque real?”

“Yeah, it actually would be,” the producer says. “Jeremy is authorised to sign cheques on behalf of the production company, though we will actually pay you the money by BACS transfer.”

“Oh, okay,” dad says, sounding a little disappointed as he hands the cheque over to the producer.

“Don’t worry,” the producer says reassuringly. “You’ll get the money in the next 24 hours. We just have a few things we need to talk about first, like publicity stuff. As you imagine, quite a lot of people are going to want to talk to you!”

“Yeah!” Dad chuckles.

“Jacinta, do you want to wait for us in the green room?” the producer asks. “We shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

“Oh- umm, okay,” I say as dad’s led away to one of the studio’s offices, while I let out a tired sigh as I return to the green room. It’s not like I begrudge dad his moment in the spotlight, of course- god knows he’s earned it- but as I sit in the green room all by myself, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been forgotten. Forgotten by life, forgotten by the world… Forgotten by love…

Dad returns about half an hour later when the recording session ends, and we stick around for a couple of hours to have a drink and chat to Jeremy, the producers and the other contestants, before deciding to call it a day and head back to the hotel. As the show is filmed in Manchester, both dad and I decided to take a few days off work, so we had the chance to relax before going back. We also opted to travel by train rather than drive up, dad reasoning that he’d be in no state to drive home after the recording- an assumption that proves to be correct when we enter our hotel room and he collapses heavily into the armchair.

“Dad?” I ask with a concerned frown. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve just won a million quid, what do you think?” Dad replies with a high-pitched chuckle. “I dunno. I think the adrenaline’s finally wearing off and I’m, you know, actually realising that yes, this is all real.”

“…I know THAT feeling,” I say quietly, earning a smile from my tired father.

“I can imagine,” dad chuckles. “The difference of course being that you had to work a lot harder than I did.”

“Well- I suppose,” I shrug as I think about the recovery period following my SRS.

In the four months since Christmas, having a vagina has slowly but surely felt more and more natural, just as all of my other post-operative friends assured me it would. I still have to dilate, but only once a day, and even that has gradually felt less and less awful to the point where I only need to sing ‘I’m Every Woman’ maybe 2 or 3 times a week. What at first felt artificial, like an open wound, has gradually become just like any other flesh and blood part of my body- precisely because it IS another flesh and blood part of my body. And, as my friends have also promised, I’m gradually forgetting what it was like to ever have a penis. Sadly, I’m also forgetting what it’s like to 'have' other guys' penises too…

“And you had to do all that while studying at university too,” dad says, smiling as I nod. “And racking up all that student debt too… Which as of tomorrow, will officially be zero.”

“Wh- dad, no!” I protest. “That’s, like, thirty grand!”

“Which will still leave me with nine hundred and seventy grand,” dad retorts. “Well, nine hundred and forty after I pay Ophelia’s loans as well. And don’t- don’t say anything. It’s my money, and if I can’t use it to make my children’s lives easier, what kind of dad am I?”

“Well- okay, I suppose,” I say, before grinning and giving my father a long, grateful hug. “And no, I’m going to say anything about you calling Ophelia as much your child as I am, because I definitely agree with you there!”

“I kinda figured that by now, you wouldn’t say anything,” dad chuckles. “Ahh… Kinda in a mood for an early night, you know? I want to try to get an earlier train, get back to Brighton nice and early.” I reply with a nod, as under the circumstances, I definitely agree with dad.

“Aren’t we booked on a midday train, though?” I ask as I start removing my jewellery and make-up.

“Yeah, like I can’t afford to pay the fee to change the reservation,” dad replies with a well-earned smug grin.

The following morning, not only does dad pay the fee to change us to an earlier train, but he also upgrades our tickets to first class, a completely new experience for us as we sit in the plush, reclining chairs and enjoy the complimentary coffee and snacks- a far cry from the rigid seats and lukewarm tea we endured on the trip north.

We arrive home shortly after 2 o’clock, and after dropping our bags in the hall, we head through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and get a snack, only to discover that someone else has already beaten us to the kettle.

“Good afternoon Mike, Jacinta,” Ophelia (who does have her own key to the house, before you worry) says with a smile. “I trust that your visit to Manchester was profitable?”

“Just a bit, yes,” dad says as we exchange hugs with my BFF and polite handshakes with her husband. “So much so that you two don’t need to worry about repaying your student loans anymore!” Telemachus too? I think to myself. That’s almost a hundred grand in one day…

“Oh- we really cannot accept such a generous amount of money,” Ophelia insists.

“Not even from a millionaire?” Dad asks, yesterday’s smug grin quickly returning to his face as Ophelia and Telemachus’s jaws both drop.

“Oh- oh my god, really?” Ophelia squeaks, her affected posh accent nowhere to be heard. “You won- you won a million pounds?”

“Keep it to yourself until the show’s broadcast, okay?” Dad replies as wide grins spread across the young couple’s usually stoic faces.

“Don’t- umm, do not worry, we shall maintain our silence,” Telemachus says, momentarily lapsing back into his natural Black Country accent. “When is the program broadcast?”

“Tomorrow night,” Mike replies. “By which point you’d better be back at university, so my money isn’t going to waste!”

“I shall, you have my word,” Telemachus says with a smile.

“Do you know- umm, have you decided what your money shall be spent on yet?” Ophelia asks.

“Not all of it,” dad replies. “Not yet anyway. I’m definitely getting a season ticket for the Seagulls, though. I want to be at the AmEx for every home game of the 2019-2020 season!”

“Of course,” Telemachus- who has zero interest in football- says.

“After that, I dunno,” dad shrugs. “Might finally get myself on the property ladder. Though I’ll definitely put some money aside so the three of you will have an inheritance.”

“Don’t- don’t think about THAT just yet,” I moan, earning a smile and a gentle hug from my father.

“I’ll also put some money aside for a big, fancy wedding for you too!” Dad teases. And definitely don’t think about THAT either, I think to myself as I suddenly feel VERY uncomfortable.

“As long as none of that money is reserved for a dress,” Ophelia says with a wide grin. “THAT shall be entirely courtesy of myself!”

“I wouldn’t dream of stepping on your toes there!” Dad says with a chuckle as we take our drinks through to the living room. “Ahh… You know, it’s called a ‘life-changing’ sum of money, but you don’t realise just how life-changing it is until, well, it changes your life, heh.”

“I can imagine,” Ophelia says. “And I have experience when it comes to events that change a person’s life.” Much to my surprise, when my BFF says this, she’s not looking at her husband, but is instead gazing happily at me.

“I think we all do,” dad sighs sadly as he sits down and gently taps the urn containing my mother’s ashes- a reminder that while dad may be pursuing a relationship with another woman, they will only ever be his second love. “Still, I think we can all agree that the four of us have more than earned our happy endings, heh.”

“I could not agree more,” Telemachus says as he gives his wife’s hand a gentle squeeze. And while I can’t argue that my life in the body I now have is a lot happier than my life as ‘Jason’, and my life in general is much, much happier than my life as 'Jason', the inescapable fact is that ‘happy endings’ rarely involve the main character being alone for the rest of their life…

After an afternoon spent chatting and eating a very fancy takeaway dinner, dad leads the four of us out to his car, and we’re soon on the A23 heading back to London. We drop Ophelia and Telemachus at their flat first before making the short drive to my flat. Before I jump out of the car, however, I pause, sensing from dad's facial expression that he has something important that he needs to say.

“Jacinta,” dad eventually says in a cautious-sounding voice.

“…Yes?” I ask.

”You know- you know things are going to change, right?” dad asks, smiling as I nod. “Probably a lot, for me at least. You’re going to find yourself at the centre of some media attention as well, for- well, I’m sure you know.”

“Yeah, kinda,” I chuckle. “Just my luck you win big on a quiz show on the same channel that has Piers Moron reading the morning news.”

“Well, if I do get challenged by him or anyone else about you, I’ll defend you to the death,” dad says with a warm, fatherly smile. “Because what hasn’t changed is that you are the most important thing in my life. No amount of money could change that.” I bite my lip as tears slowly start to form in my eyes- not that I ever doubted my father’s love for me, of course.

“Thanks,” I whisper as my father and I share a long, tight hug. “Heh, gonna be weird going back to work on Friday.”

“I can imagine,” dad says. “Does everyone at work know about the show?”

“Well- they know you’ll be on it,” I reply. “I haven’t told them anything else. Not yet, anyway, though I’m not back until Friday, so I reckon they’ll probably know by then, heh. Hell, they may even want an interview from you too.”

“I’d be happy to,” dad shrugs. “Any way I can help you out, heh!”

“Heh,” I chuckle. “How about you? Have you told anyone at work yet?”

“I imagine they’ll find out when I hand in my notice on Friday,” dad replies, making my jaw drop. “What? Did you really think I was going to stay in that place, fixing motherboards until I dropped dead of boredom?”

“I thought you liked the job?” I ask.

“I’ve had worse jobs,” dad replies. “But, you know, I want to enjoy my wealth while I have it?”

“What little you’ll have left after becoming the student loan fairy?” I ask, before grimacing. “Okay, that’s a bad choice of words for me…”

“I know what you meant,” dad says with a smile. “And it’s not like you’re taking out thirty grand loans every week, this is a one-off payment. And I’ll get plenty of money back when I sell the house in Brighton, too.”

“Wh- se- what!?” I exclaim. “You’re selling the house?”

“…I may rent it out,” dad mumbles, clearly taken aback by my outburst. “But I reckon I’d get more if I sell it… Jacinta, I- I’m thinking of, you know, moving up to London. Full-time, like.”

“Even after saying you were going to watch every home game next season?”

“It’s not like the AmEx is completely inaccessible from London,” dad retorts. “And I- I want to be closer to Beverly, you know?”

“…Oh,” I say.

“I- I’m going to see her now, tell her the news…” Dad mumbles. “Jacinta, I know that- I know-“

“Yeah, so do I,” I sigh.

“Your mother will always be your mother, your only mother,” dad explains. “And I do believe that she would want me-“

“Yeah, so do I,” I interrupt again. “Dad, it’s not like I’m angry or anything, you know I like Beverly. I mean, I just spent three years at uni with her daughter, and with what she does for a living, if I had to pick anyone to be a stepmother, I suppose I’d choose her, it’s just- I- I have a lot of memories in that house, you know?” Dad sighs sadly and leans in for another hug as tears start to well up in my eyes.

“I know,” dad whispers. “So do I, I- I just feel it’s time to move on. I mean, you have, right? Got your big job in London, living independently, constantly jetting back and forth to America…”

“And the ‘big thing’?” I ask, smiling as dad nods. “Meh, I guess… Will- will you bring mum to London?”

“…I haven’t decided yet,” dad sighs. “I mean, now that I can afford it, I was thinking I could get a headstone… I- I dunno, can we not talk about this now, please?”

“Okay,” I whisper, sensing that I've touched a very raw nerve.

“I’ll see you tomorrow if not before,” dad says, the smile returning to his face as he gives me another hug. “You take care, okay?”

“I will,” I reply, before getting my suitcase out of the boot and heading into the flat, only to find it empty. With a loud (and, under the circumstances, unnecessary) sigh, I flop down on the sofa and unpack my laptop, hoping that editing some photos for the magazine will take my mind off of things.

Needless to say, that doesn’t work, and within 15 minutes I’m instead lazily scrolling through Facebook for any updates with my friends, before heading over to the internet dating website I’m subscribed to in the hope that my profile may have had a few ‘bites’. Hell, even a ‘nibble’ will do me at this point.

As always, though, when I log on to the dating site, the only interest my profile has had are from guys who are either overweight, or who proudly announce their favourite football team in their profile, or worse yet, their love of Star Wars, or who are otherwise flawed in countless other ways. In the interest of full disclosure, my dating app profile is linked to my Instagram, Twitter and YouTube pages, all of which proudly display, even advertise my membership of the ‘T’ part of the LGBT community, which no doubt turns off a great many of the men who might stumble across my profile. I could, of course, try to deny that I was ever male- after all, I do have the vagina to back up that claim- but something like that isn’t easy to hide, and it’d only cause even more problems when the truth was revealed, as it inevitably would be. God knows I’ve heard more than a few horror stories from my friends about how that type of 'revelation' has damaged potential relationships. There is, of course, the opposite course of action- I could always register at an explicitly trans-friendly or even trans-only dating site, and while I’m certainly not opposed to the idea of dating a transgender man (I’ve met a few who are seriously cute), I don’t want to limit the pool from which ‘Prince Charming’ can appear. Even if that pool is already limited by the exclusion of transphobes- not that that’s too great a loss.

I spend the rest of the afternoon flitting between work and relaxation, only interrupted late in the afternoon by a text from my flat mate, explaining that she won’t be home tonight, leaving out the reason why- that she’ll be staying overnight with her boyfriend- as one, it doesn’t really need to be said; and two, it would be rubbing it in a bit. She does, however, also ask how dad last night, to which I reply with the simple message ‘no spoilers’ followed by a ‘sticking-out tongue’ emoji, to which Katie replies with a very friendly 'middle finger' emoji.

With all of my friends otherwise occupied tonight, I spend the rest of the evening on the sofa idly browsing through Netflix and trying not to think about the fact that even my dad has a more active love life than I do right now…

I’m woken up the following morning by the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by the sound of a foot making high-speed contact with a table leg and a thick London accent coming up with some very creative swear words.

“Hi Katie,” I half-shout, half-grunt into my pillow. “Good night?”

“Before I broke half of my foot, yeah,” Katie moans.

“You’re the one who insisted on putting the coffee table there,” I reply, sighing as I prop myself up on my elbows. “Are you okay? Do you want me to get the first aid kit?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine,” Katie sighs as I hear her bedroom door open and close. “I just came back to change, I’ve got, like, seven interviews today.”

“Do you want the shower first?” I ask.

“No, I showered at Charlie's place,” Katie replies, making me frown at her unsubtle ‘boyfriend brag’. “How was the recording?” Needless to say, this causes me to perk up more than a little.

“Ah-ah-ah, you’ll find out tonight,” I tease my friend.

“Oh come on, some spoilers, pleeeeease?” Katie asks, making me giggle.

“You can’t wait what, twelve hours?” I reply, trying my hardest to sound as smug as possible.

“I might be delayed at work,” Katie replies. “You can tell me whether or not he got into the hot seat, surely?”

“You’ll find out tonight,” I repeat, smirking as my friend lets out a frustrated moan.

“I’m going to come in there and sit on you until you tell me,” Katie threatens.

“I’m dilating,” I lie.

“…Okay, fine then, I’ll see you tonight,” Katie sighs. “Are we still having a watch party at this place?”

“Duh!” I reply, earning a happy giggle from my flat mate as she heads out of the flat, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I’m woken up a short while later by the sound of talking coming from the living room, confusing me as I could've sworn I was alone in the flat after Katie left. I slowly raise myself off of my bed and cautiously leave the room, my body seemingly resisting more and more with every step I take.

“H- hello?” I call out, my voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “Who’s there?” With increasingly small steps, I head out of my bedroom and into the living room, freezing at the sight of the last face I expected to see.

“Hello Jacinta,” the middle-aged woman says with a warm, loving smile.

“M- mum?” I whisper, scrunching my eyes closed as I try to reconcile the image in front of me. When I open them again, however, I’m back in my bed, back in the real world.

“…Where the hell did THAT come from?” I think to myself, taking several deep breaths to reassure myself that I am indeed actually awake.

Realising that it’d be futile to try to get back to sleep after THAT dream, I let out a sigh and throw back my bedsheets, before switching on my radio and reaching into my nightstand for my dilating kit.

“I’m every woman, it’s all in me…” I mumble to myself as I slide the thick orange stent into my vagina and muse on how mundane this action has become. Even though it’s no longer uncomfortable- far from it, in fact- the dream still makes me fidget.

It’s not like I don’t think about my mother, of course. It’s rare that a day goes by when she isn’t in my thoughts in some way, shape or form, and those thoughts have increased in frequency since my surgery. I often wonder how mum would react to her new daughter, and what kinds of things we’d be able to do together as mother and daughter that we never could as mother and son. Dad’s reassured me that mum would have accepted me just as easily as he did, and that they were in fact trying for another child when she got sick, something I always inferred as them trying specifically for a daughter. I still question, though, whether she’d approve of me shoving a plastic rod in myself every morning, or of some of the boys I’ve dated (or lusted after)…

After dilating, I take a quick shower before dressing for the day in what has become my go-to ‘casual casual’ outfit of a tight long-sleeved top (cut low enough to show a modest amount of cleavage, of course), a pair of nearly opaque black leggings and a short denim skirt. As I look at myself in the mirror, I can’t help but muse on the ways in which I resemble my mother, such as my hair or my nose. Growing up, I was always complimented on how much I looked like my father- well, I’m assuming it was meant to be a compliment, anyway, as for obvious reasons I didn’t see it as such- but the longer I’ve been transitioning, the more my mother has seemed to 'emerge' from me. Naturally, this makes me very happy indeed.

I also can’t help but wonder, of course, how mum would react to being the wife of a millionaire…

I again spend the day by myself, alternating between finishing off work for the magazine, checking social media and packing away our supermarket delivery- or rather, most of our supermarket delivery. I leave out the several bottles of wine and beer that were delivered, along with the sweet and savoury snacks. Katie arrives home just after 5:30pm, which I take as my cue to retreat to my bedroom to change for the night ahead.

Even though we won’t be leaving in the flat and all we’ll be doing is watching television, it’s still a party, and as such, my ‘casual casual’ outfit needs to give way to something a lot less 'comfortable'. First, of course, I fix my make-up- bronzer, thick eyeshadow and mascara and blood-red lipstick. I have to smile at the fact that what took me ages when I was sixteen takes me mere minutes now that I'm twenty-three. Once that’s complete, I exchange my cotton bra and panties for a sexy black lace thong and a bra that is a lot more 'enhancing' than this morning's. Even though there won’t be any single boys coming tonight, I’m going to make an effort anyway, as it's always been the case that the better I look, the better I feel. And tonight, I intend to look as sexy as possible, and feel as good about myself as it’s possible to get. I mean, as the daughter of a millionaire, I have to make an effort, don’t I?

Once my underwear is in place and my body is appropriately shaped (‘shape’ being very much used as a verb in this contact), I pick out a pair of fancy silver earrings and my favourite necklace, followed by a pair of thin black tights from my hosiery drawer before picking one of my favourite dresses out of my wardrobe. Even though it actually has a label in it, rather than being designed by Ophelia, Sarah or Lauren, it's still gorgeous. It's jet black, has short, cap sleeves, a plunging neckline, a skirt that just about comes to mid-thigh if I'm diligent about yanking it down often enough and is so skin-tight you'd swear it was made out of lycra. A pair of matching pumps with a 3.5” stiletto heel complete my look, and as I examine myself in my mirror, I feel incredible- the person looking at me from my mirror has never looked as girly or as gorgeous as they- or rather, I do right now. If only more people could see this side of me- especially those looking for a 'Cinderella'…

After taking a full-length photo for my small in number but still loyal Instagram followers, I head out into the living room, where Katie is also wearing a short, fancy dress- and a wide grin on her face as well.

“Swit-swoo Miss Hanley!” Katie teases as I do a slow turn to show off my dress. “Didn’t realise we were inviting an entire football team tonight?”

“Oh, aren’t you hilarious?” I snort. “I do sometimes dress up for my own benefit, you know? And yes, I know that sounds weird now that I’m post-op.”

“Not really,” Katie shrugs. “Nikki’s told me she still does the same, for the same reason. Hell, even sometimes I’ll get dressed up for the sake of getting dressed up, and I’m, you know, ‘no op’. And then, of course, there’s-“

“Ophelia,” we say simultaneously, sharing an affectionate giggle at the thought of my BFF.

“I think every girl’s entitled to a ‘category four’ evening now and again,” I say with a grin.

“How about every boy?” Katie asks with a sly grin.

“I wouldn’t know,” I reply with a smug grin. “I’ve never been one!” Katie and I share another giggle as we finish setting out the snacks and, most importantly, the drinks for tonight.

The other partygoers arrive shortly after 7pm, all dressed fancily- none more so than my BFF, who is wearing an extremely form-fitting floor-length dress made of black lace with intricate silver and gold thread stitched throughout. The skirt of the dress has a slit on the left-hand side that goes almost all the way to her hip and the sleeves and décolletage are made of a dark, translucent mesh material with delicate gold fractal patterns sewn throughout. On her feet are sturdy-looking strappy sandals with a 5” platform heel and silver and gold threads, like the ones in her dress, are weaved all throughout her waist-length hair. And, of course, her waist has been pulled down to around 22 inches by a torturous-looking corset.

“I need, need, NEED that dress!” Katie squeaks as she examines my BFF’s newest creation. “Hi Telemachus.”

“Good evening, Katie,” Telemachus replies with a warm smile.

“Second fiddle again?” I tease the tall young man, who simply chuckles quietly.

“I would be content to play one millionth fiddle to my beloved,” Telemachus replies as he exchanges a soft, gentle kiss with his wife, earning happy sighs from all of us.

“Tonight, however, we are all playing second fiddle,” Ophelia announces. “To Mike.”

“To Mike!” The assembled crowd all cheer- though I obviously replace ‘Mike’ with the word ‘dad’.

“Do you know how he did, then?” Lauren asks.

“We do,” Ophelia replies. “And no, we shall not tell you ahead of time.” My BFF and I share a smirk as we’re bombarded by a chorus of boos from our friends.

“Meh, we’ll find out in the next few minutes, anyway,” Sarah shrugs. “I’ve texted Jexy and told them how to set up the VPN so they should be able to watch along as well.”

“Isn’t it, like, mid-afternoon where they are?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Sarah replies. “But do you really think they’ll miss this?”

“They’ve never even met my dad,” I chuckle.

“No, but they have met you,” Nikki says with a grin as she links fingers with her wife. Needless to say, a couple of tears trickle from my eyes at the love and acceptance that comes at me from across an ocean.

“Are we expecting anyone else?” Lauren asks as the undoubtedly first of many bottles of wine is opened and we all pour ourselves a glass.

“Just Becky,” I reply. “Oh, and Josh and Alex from work.”

“No one else from work coming?” Nikki asks. “Didn’t you say you work with someone who knew you and your dad from Brighton?”

“Who, Tom?” I ask. “I asked him, didn’t get a reply though. And me and his girlfriend… Ehh, long story.” That runs all the way from ‘besties’ to ‘can barely stand to be in the same room as me’, I think to myself as I remember my history with Caitlin and the other girls I hung around with all throughout primary school.

“Yeah, I had a few ‘friends’ from school who were like that,” Sarah sighs as we all start to take our seats.

A short while later, after the last of our guests have arrived, the theme tune to the long-running game show plays and the excitement level in the flat intensifies. There’s some (mostly) good natured boos when Jeremy appears on screen, followed by loud cheers when dad appears, and even louder ones when he wins fastest finger first and takes his place in the hot seat. The excitement level starts to cool down as dad starts answering the questions, but when he reaches £8000 without using up a lifeline the excitement levels reach fever pitch and the tension becomes palpable. It eases off slightly when dad hits £32 000, his chosen ‘safety net’, but it goes right back to the level it was before when he hits £64 000, and then £125 000. By £250 000, the entire apartment can only communicate in excited squeaks, including the men, and even including me, even though I watched the show being recorded. The £500 000 question is met with even higher pitched squeaks, but when dad announces that he knows the answer to the million-pound question, the entire flat falls silent. Again, even know I know what happens, even though I watched it live, the next few seconds seem to take an eternity as dad locks in his answer. When Jeremy announces that the answer is correct, though, the entire flat explodes in cheers and I find myself swamped by hugs from all directions.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god!” Nikki squeaks. “This is so amazing!”

“I know!” I squeak.

“Oh my god!” Sarah gasps. “I mean, I knew your dad was clever, but- wow!” Countless other ‘oh my god’s and squeaks of congratulations fill the flat for the next fifteen minutes before the atmosphere in the flat finally starts to settle down.

“This still seems so unreal,” Nikki says as she fans herself with her hands. “I mean, I know a millionaire!”

“You work for Joshua Benedict,” I remind my friend. “He’s still just a bit richer than my dad!”

“Well- yeah, I guess,” Nikki says with a girlish giggle. “Has he spoilt you yet, then? I didn’t see a Lamborghini outside…”

“You don’t see a driving licence in my purse either!” I retort, making everyone giggle again. “Seriously, I don’t want to be the type of person who lives off of ‘daddy’ all their life. I like my job.”

“Glad to hear it!” Alex says. “You know Terri’s gonna try to extort an exclusive interview out of your dad, right?”

“Well- that I can probably arrange,” I reply with a giggle.

“We are no longer burdened by student loans, though,” Ophelia says, earning me, her and her husband good-natured jeers from everyone else.

“Well- I kinda get that,” Sarah chuckles. “It’s not like my mum hasn’t written off a lot of my loans, heh.”

“And with your mum and Jacinta’s dad now getting together…” Katie teases, making me and Sarah roll our eyes simultaneously.

“Well, at least neither of us can say ‘they’re only in it for the money’ anymore,” Sarah says with a sarcastic snort of laughter. “Not that either of us would.”

“Agreed, totally,” I say.

“Though if the three of us do go into business and want a start-up loan…” Sarah teases, earning an angry glare from me that makes her giggle. “Kidding, really!”

“Though it would not be out of character for Mike to have thought of that already,” Ophelia says, and I’m forced to agree.

“None of the three of you are planning on going on the Apprentice, then?” Katie asks, making everyone laugh- my BFF loudest of anyone.

“It would be interesting to see how Lord Sugar would react to oneself,” Ophelia says, smiling as everyone chuckles.

“He would see you as an intelligent, articulate and talented young woman,” Telemachus assures his wife. “For that is what you are.” Needless to say, everyone ‘aww’s as the couple exchange a kiss, including myself- though I am relieved when my phone buzzes yet again to notify me of another text message.

“Go on, who’s that one from?” Lauren asks.

“Jessica and Paige,” I chuckle. “They must’ve found a way to watch from America too. Ooh, and there’s one here from Alexa and Jenny that just says ‘Skype’?”

“Ah- yeah,” Sarah chuckles. “Have you got your laptop handy, and can you sign into Skype on that?”

“Umm, sure,” I say, retrieving my laptop from the bottom of the coffee table and switching it on.

“Do you have a spare HDMI cable?” Sarah asks.

“Umm… Do we LOOK like the kind of people who have spare computer cables hanging around?” Katie replies, earning an angry stare from our friend before we share a quick giggle.

“Touché,” Sarah giggles. “Jacinta, are you signed into Skype yet?”

“Just a second,” I reply as I type in my password. Within seconds, my laptop beeps to inform me of an incoming call. After setting it up on the table so that everyone can see the screen, I click on answer and am immediately greeted by the grinning faces of our friends from Minnesota.

“Hey girlies!” Alexa and Jenny yell into the screen. “And guys, hehe!”

“Ah- yep, might be a few unfamiliar faces here today,” I giggle. “Guys, this is Alexa and Jenny, our friends from America that we were telling you about. Jexy, allow me to introduce Josh and Alex, who I work with at the magazine.”

“Nice to meet you,” Alex says with a polite wave.

“Are you our subscribers from America?” Josh asks, grinning as Jexy nod in reply. “Reckon you could get us a few more?” I giggle as Alex gives Josh a playful whack on his arm, before making it up to him with a gentle kiss.

“Aww, are you a couple too?” Jenny asks. “How sweet!”

“Yeah,” Alex replies with a sigh. “Took us some time before we could come out publicly about it, but- well, I’m sure most people here understand that.” I smile sadly as most of the room- those of us who are transgender or in a same-sex relationship- nods in agreement.

“And we’re two of those people,” Becky, my old friend from university, announces. “I’m Becky Hamilton, this is my partner Zara. It’s nice to meet you at last!”

“Likewise,” Jenny says with a warm smile. “Sarah and Jacinta speak very highly of you, and the fun they had in the university’s LGBT society.”

“Well, they’re fun people,” Becky says with a grin as she squeezes her girlfriend’s hand.

“And last, but probably least, is this guy,” Katie says as she gives her boyfriend a quick, tight cuddle. “Alexa, Jenny, this is Charlie, the guy who’s been keeping me warm for the last few weeks!”

“Nice to meet you too!” Alexa giggles. “Gonna be really great seeing you all in the flesh when we come over in July for AngelCon.”

“Totally,” Jenny agrees. “So, like, is this a couples call today or something, then?”

“Well- almost,” I reply as I suddenly feel like not just a third wheel, or a fifth wheel, but a fifteenth wheel…

“Oh- sorry, Jacinta,” Jenny grimaces. “Sometimes kinda forget, I mean, especially in that dress!” I try to hide my sadness and smirk at my friend’s compliment- something made easier when Alexa pouts and her wife has to make it up to her.

“And you are surely going to have guys kicking your door down soon,” Alexa reassures me, before grimacing herself. “Oh- not just because of the money, I mean, but- well, you know…”

“I get it, really,” I say with a smile. “And thanks.”

“Though that was AMAZING,” Jenny gushes. “I had no idea your dad was so smart, Jacinta!”

“Yeah, he- he’s always had a love of quizzes, heh,” I reply.

“Well- I was stumped after the 8000 question,” Jenny confesses. “Maybe because the questions are all for, you know, Brits- well, obviously, heh.”

“Meh, I was stuck after that point too, heh,” I chuckle.

“And I would have struggled to even answer any of the questions,” Ophelia confesses, making me smile- she’s very defensive when it comes to her dyslexia, so for her to confess this must mean she is completely at ease 'opening up' in this crowd. A far cry from the shy loner I first made friends with almost six years ago.

“Oh- Ophelia…” Alexa sighs. “Who needs book smarts when you can make dresses like THAT?” I (along with the rest of the room) grin as Ophelia shows up and does a slow twirl to show off the delicate stitching of her dress.

“I think there are only two people in this room who can claim to have any talent there whatsoever!” Nikki says, making her wife and Lauren both blush. “And believe me, I have tried!”

“Your dresses weren’t THAT bad,” Sarah teasingly reassures her wife. “Though you two can let Katie- your Katie- know that we’ve just about got her dress done so we’ll be all ready for this summer.”

“That of course assumes that we will have finished Lauren’s dress by then as well,” Ophelia teases, making our raven-haired friend blush as her fiancé cuddles her tighter.

“Ahh, we’re really looking forward to that too!” Jenny sighs happily.

“We all are,” Katie- Lauren’s maid of honour- says with a grin. “But I think we’re getting away from today’s superstar- by which I don’t mean Mike, but his super-sexy daughter, hehe!” I blush and grin bashfully as I am once again made the centre of attention, pretending to be coy even if I was secretly getting a bit annoyed at all the wedding talk.

“Who’s also wearing an amazing dress,” Alexa teases, making me grin even wider.

“Even if it was bought in a shop rather than made by her ultra-talented friends,” Lauren teases. “Though it’s not like she can’t afford the occasional designer dress now, hehe!”

“…Dad kinda wiped out my student loan,” I explain to my American friends. “And Ophelia’s and Telemachus’s as well.”

“Wow, that- that’s really cool of him,” Jenny gushes.

“As far as he is concerned, I am his daughter,” Ophelia explains with a shrug. “And as far as I am concerned, he is most definitely my father, and as such, Jacinta is most definitely my sister.”

“I have learned to accept that Jacinta may well be more of a soul mate to Ophelia than myself,” Telemachus says with an uncharacteristic smirk as my BFF slides up next to me and gives me a very uncharacteristic hug.

“D’aww,” Alexa coos.

“It was kinda a tough day when O moved out,” I say. “Though my replacement flat mate is- ehh, okay, I guess.” Everyone in the room (apart from Katie, anyway) shares a giggle as she flicks a very unsubtle middle finger in my direction.

“How are you two doing, anyway?” Katie asks our American friends. “All settled in back in the mansion?”

“Yep!” Alexa replies with a grin. “Been here a few months now, everything’s great where SOMEONE isn’t falling out with their family…” Yet another giggle spreads throughout the flat as Jenny pouts, which is only ended when Alexa begins nuzzling her neck.

“If you want stories about families falling out,” Jenny says, “you should’ve been here when Danny was working on the place.” This time it’s Alexa’s turn to put and Jenny’s turn to make it up to her, which causes yet more giggles.

“How about you, Jacinta?” Alexa asks. “Is your dad buying somewhere big that you could maybe move back into?”

“Umm, if he is, it won’t be here,” I reply. “In London a million quid will barely afford this flat! Though he has said he’s umm, leaving Brighton…”

“Aww, I was looking forward to going back to the beach there in summer,” Jenny says.

“Meh, well, we still can, just as, you know, tourists…” I mumble.

“We should’ve moved into our new place by the time you two come over,” Sarah says. “Hopefully I’ll be working by then so we can afford a two-bedroom place, meaning no more air mattress!”

“I dunno,” Alexa muses. “I- sorry, we had some fun times on the air mattress, hehe!”

“We don’t need to know about what you two did on the air mattress!” Katie protests. “Though if you really miss it that much, we could always have a sleepover at this place when you’re over, just us girls?” Despite not being consulted about this invitation, I certainly don't have any problem with it, so I eagerly nod in agreement with my freckled friend.

“…Sounds perfect,” Alexa says with a grin as her wife nods.

“Though my dad won’t be paying for any champagne, caviar and truffles for that party,” I say with a grin. “I assume you won’t mind prosecco, pizza and Pringles?”

“Absolutely not, as long as you’re all there,” Jenny replies with a warm grin.

“Though I reckon Miss Hanley may be waist-deep in marriage proposals by then,” Alexa teases. “Especially if she looks as hot as she did on TV tonight!” I giggle and blush as I’m reminded that I did have a small on-screen cameo tonight, though I think my American friend may be more than a little optimistic…

We continue chatting with our American friends for another hour before they’re called away to dinner, covering topics such as homes, families, weddings and holidays. The party continues for a short while after Alexa and Jenny’s departure, as our limited living space means no dancing, which means no music, and with many of us, myself included, having work tomorrow, everyone departs just after 11:30pm. This includes Katie, who goes back to Charlie’s place, leaving me once again alone in my own home. I know I should be happy to have so many wonderful friends, but the sudden silence after so many hours of excited noise is almost deafening.

“Wake up it’s a beautiful morning…” My phone blares at 7am the following morning, waking me from my slumber and boring several holes in my hungover skull. Why I didn’t take today off work as well is beyond me, especially as today is Friday. Maybe I didn’t expect dad to do as well as he did, maybe I wanted to save my limited annual leave allowance, or maybe I actually wanted to go into the office so I can actually see some other human faces today- never mind the fact that I had plenty of ‘face time’ last night.

Nonetheless, a couple of hours later, I arrive at the office, dressed in my usual attire of a smart top and a short black pencil skirt, and am greeted by my editor who has an extremely excited grin on her face.

“Hey Jacinta!” Terri squeaks, almost bouncing up and down with excitement.

“You watched it last night, then?” I ask with a giggle.

“Like I wouldn’t?” Terri replies. “That was SO amazing! You looked really good too.”

“For the ten seconds I was on screen?” I ask, earning another giggle from the petite young woman.

“Ten more than any of us recently!” Terri replies. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party last night, kinda had a lot of work to catch up on, heh.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” I say with a giggle. “And we were kinda packed yesterday anyway. Have Josh and Alex made it in yet?”

“Not yet,” Terri replies. “It’s just you, me and Ciara in at the moment, and she’s going to want to see you when you’ve got a free moment, but first, we need a chat.”

“Umm, okay…” I say as I follow Terri into her office. Usually it’s not a good sign when your boss wants to see you privately, but given how excited she was to see me, I doubt she’s going to fire me.

“Firstly,” Terri says, “I’m kinda surprised you didn’t come in here today handing in your notice!”

“Well, umm, it was my dad who won the million quid, not me,” I hesitantly retort. “And even if I did, I- I like working here, you know?”

“Glad to hear it!” Terri says. “You’ve really gelled well with the team over the last few months, and I don’t need to tell you how much your contacts with places like Heavenly Talent have boosted our sales figures. Though we would still be delighted to have you around even without those contacts, they’re just, like, the icing on the cake, hehe!” Obviously, this puts a genuine smile on my face.

“Thanks,” I say as my cheeks start to redden.

“On the topic of contacts, though,” Terri says, her demeanour suddenly becoming more serious, “can you get us an exclusive interview with your dad?” My editor smiles sympathetically as I chuckle- I’d been expecting this question, and she obviously knows I’ve been expecting it too.

“I don’t know about exclusive,” I reply. “ITV will probably have the last word there. He won’t say no to me interviewing him though, heh!”

“Yeah,” Terri says, letting out a light chuckle before grimacing. “You’re not- you’re not actually a journalist, though- don’t get me wrong, we’ll definitely send you down to get pictures- especially as it’d be in your hometown, if not your actual home- but we’d send, like, a writer down to do the actual interview.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling slightly deflated even if what Terri’s saying does make sense. “Fair enough. Will it be Josh or Alex coming with me, then?”

“I was thinking of sending Tom,” Terri says softly, making me fidget.

"Umm, he's not a writer," I retort. "He's a researcher."

"I know," Terri retorts, “but he’s from Brighton too, so he knows his way around, and didn’t you say your dad already knows him, and vice versa?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call them mates,” I reply.

“Well, either way, if you’re up for some overtime, can you set up an interview for tomorrow?” Terri asks. Gets it out of the way, I think to myself.

“Umm, sure!” I reply. “Shall I liaise with Tom when he gets in?”

“Oh, he- he won’t be in today,” Terri replies, and suddenly it’s her turn to look uncomfortable. “I’ll let him know, you get on to your dad after you talk to Ciara, okay?”

“Umm, sure,” I reply, though I am more than a little confused- my history with Tom is well-known here, but why it would make Terri uncomfortable is beyond me.

Rather than waste any more brain cells trying to figure it out, I leave the office and go to talk to our webmaster, spending the next couple of hours going through the photos I edited and agreeing on a layout for the next few stories we’ll be uploading to the website. Once we’re done, I head back to my desk, discovering en route that Josh and Alex have indeed made it into the office- both still looking a little rough after last night!

“Hey boys!” I tease the young couple, who both respond with frowns. “Hey, don’t blame me, I didn’t make you drink that much last night.”

“Nah, you just enabled it,” Alex replies, before grinning. “It was a great party though.”

“Yeah, many thanks again for last night,” Josh says with a tired smile.

“You’re very welcome,” I reply with a grin. “And yes, I am still working on getting you two into one of Charlotte Hartley’s parties, hopefully last night you'll have gained a few more people who'll speak up for you.”

“There’s no rush, honestly,” Alex insists. “Have you read any of the tweets from last night?”

“Umm, no,” I reply. “Kinda been trying to avoid them, heh, I’ve really gone off Twitter lately.”

“Yeah, we noticed you’ve not been tweeting as much,” Alex says. “They’re mostly complimentary of you and your dad, though.” Which means that some are UNcomplimentary, I think to myself. And those are the ones I wouldn't have been able to get past, and that's the precise reason I've sworn off Twitter. Even if those tweets were outnumbered by a hundred to one...

“Here’s a good one,” Josh says, opening the tweet on his phone. “It goes ‘This Mike guy is seriously clever, and his daughter’s fit too’.”

“…Is there a reply to that that tells the OP I’m trans, by any chance?” I ask, sighing as Josh frowns.

“Well- yes,” Josh grimaces. “But the OP then goes on to say that he still would. And he’s not a bad-looking guy, either.”

“Thanks,” I say, trying my hardest to sound sincere even as I grimace. “I know that was meant as a compliment, but-“

“Eh, fair enough,” Josh says, putting his phone away. “Sorry… We just figured, you know, you looked a little down yesterday evening despite everything, and- well, we know for future, heh.”

“I do appreciate the gesture, really,” I say. “What are you two working on today?”

“Just putting the finishing touches to the interview we did with that Albon guy, the racing driver,” Alex replies, making me smile as I remember the time I spent last month photographing the young sportsman at his plush home.

“I like how you call him ‘that Albon guy’ when he has the same first name as you!” Josh teases his boyfriend, who rolls his eyes in response as they continue tweaking their article.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” I say with a giggle. “I’m doing overtime tomorrow, and I kinda need to make a phone call, heh.”

“Oh really?” Josh asks. “Who are you taking photos of, has Terri finally arranged that Lukas Dhont interview you’ve been begging her for?”

“It’s actually my dad, believe it or not,” I chuckle. “As you predicted last night, yep. So me and Tom are heading down to Brighton tomorrow, assuming dad agrees to the interview, which in fairness, is a fairly safe assumption.”

“You’re going down with Tom?” Alex asks with an awkward look almost identical to our editor's. Him too? I think to myself.

“Yes…” I reply. “He’s from Brighton too, so we’ll know our way around easier than either of you two. Is this a problem?”

“No- nope,” Alex replies as he and his boyfriend simultaneously shake their heads. Weird…

“Well- okay then,” I say, shaking my head as I return to my desk and plug my laptop in to charge, before getting my phone out of my bag. Much to my surprise, though, when I go to call dad I find I’ve already had two missed calls from him today- god knows why he'd need to call me, though I guess it’s a question I’ll find the answer to soon, I think to myself as I return dad’s call.

“Guess who I was talking to this morning!” Dad exclaims as he answers my call after 2 rings.

“…Hi to you too,” I say, before sighing as I realise dad’s expecting an answer from me. “Oh- I dunno, Gary Barlow?”

“Close!” Dad chuckles, making me confused.

“…Robbie Williams?” I ask hesitantly.

“No, I’ll put you out of your misery,” dad says.

“Please do,” I sigh.

“It was Piers Morgan,” dad says, leading to an awkward silence.

“…That’s not much of a brag,” I say bluntly. “And how is Gary Barlow a ‘close’ guess?”

“Because they were both judge-“ dad begins.

“-Judges on Simon Cowell shows, okay, I see now,” I interrupt. “So you were on Good Morning Britain, then?”

“Nah, Piers just called up for a chat,” dad retorts, making me roll my eyes. “Yes, I was on the show, it was about 8:40 this morning, I tried calling you but I didn’t get an answer, so I figured you’d be on your way to work or already at work.”

“I’ll have to watch it on catch-up when I get home,” I say. “I’m actually calling for kinda the same reason.”

“You want to talk to Piers Morgan too?” Dad asks, making me roll my eyes again.

“No,” I snort angrily. “The magazine has asked me to ask you-“

“Sure, I’ll do an interview,” dad interrupts, making me grin. “When were you thinking of coming down, or will it be by phone?”

“Can we come down tomorrow?” I ask. “Or will you be too knackered after being on the Graham Norton show? Or maybe Jonathan Ross?”

“Tomorrow will be fine,” dad says. “I should be free all day so just let me know when’s convenient for you.”

“I’ll talk with the guy who’ll actually be doing the interview,” I say with a tired chuckle. “And I’ll have to check train times to Brighton as well.”

“Ah- well, there you kinda won’t,” dad says with an audible grimace. “I’m- I’m going to be staying over at Beverly’s house tonight.”

“…You two have something special planned, then?” I ask.

“Actually yes, and that’s another reason I was trying to get hold of you,” dad says, making me frown- interfering with dad and his lady friend’s ‘special time’ is the last thing I want to do…

“Umm, okay…” I say hesitantly.

“I’ve made a booking for us at a fancy London restaurant,” dad explains. “To celebrate the win. It’ll be me and Beverly, you, Ophelia and Telemachus and Beverly’s daughter and her wife. I figured you’d appreciate the chance to get dressed up, be treated like a princess for one evening…”

“Sounds perfect,” I say with a smile.

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30,” dad says. “I’d better go now, I’ve got the Mail calling me in about 20 minutes.”

“The hardships of being a national celebrity?” I ask, smirking as dad laughs in response.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” my father says.

“Bye,” I say softly as I end the call and sit back in my chair with a tired sigh. I don’t begrudge dad his fifteen minutes of fame, of course, and I am looking forward to tonight- even if going from ‘fifteenth wheel’ to ‘seventh wheel’ isn’t much of a promotion…

Nonetheless, when I return home, I waste no time in stripping off my work clothes and fixing my hair and make-up into something more appropriate for an evening at a fancy restaurant. I apply a similar level and style of make-up to last night, though I also take care to repaint my nails a deep red colour to match my lipstick, and I tie my hair into as elaborate an updo as I can manage in the limited time available to me. With my look complete, I open up my underwear drawer and pick out a similar bra and thong to last night, though instead of the same cheap tights I wore last night, I instead opt for a fancy pair of hold-up stockings- after all, dad did say it was an excuse to get dressed up tonight. With my make-up and underwear sorted, I open my wardrobe and pause as I ponder the choices in front of me.

Dad did say it was a fancy restaurant, the implication being that it’s black tie, so I’ll need a suitable dress, and in this instance, only a black dress will do. Last night’s dress would be ideal if not for one slight flaw- it’s so short it’d show off both my stocking tops and a good amount of thigh above them when I sit down. Fortunately, it’s far from being the only black dress I own. UNfortunately, I own so many black dresses that picking just one is going to be a bit of a challenge.

I spend the next twenty minutes trying on and stripping off nearly every black dress I own. I go through countless mini-dresses, floor length evening dresses, strapless dresses, dresses with loose, translucent sleeves, bodycon dresses, bandage dresses and some styles that I don’t even know the names of, including several designed by Ophelia that have built-in lacing in the waist. I eventually settle on a sleeveless dress with a high neckline and a skirt that comes to my mid-calf, but has high splits on both sides that show generous amounts of leg (but fortunately no stocking tops). I pair the dress with my most expensive earrings and bracelets and finish my look with my favourite pair of black 4” Christian Louboutin stilettos.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I feel like every inch the princess dad said I would tonight. All throughout my childhood, I would have given anything, literally anything to be able to wear these clothes and to look the way I do- to say nothing of being able to feel the way I do right now, dressed in these beautiful clothes. All that’s missing is my prince…

However, as I’m reminded when my fancy taxi comes to pick me up, tonight isn’t about ‘Prince Charming’ or even ‘Princess Jacinta’- tonight is about the ‘King’, my father, who is on hand to greet me at the entrance to the restaurant along with his partner, her daughter and her wife- the latter two of whom greet me with eager, excited hugs when they see me!

“Hey girlie girl!” Nikki teases, her immaculately made-up face sporting a wide grin.

“Hey Jacinta!” Sarah squeaks excitedly. “You are looking HOT tonight!”

“Thank you!” I reply as I do a twirl to show off my dress to my friends. “You two are looking great too!”

“Thanks,” Sarah giggles as she and Nikki show off their own elaborate dresses. Sarah’s is obviously one of her own creations, a knee-length black bodycon dress with a single sleeve and a mesh panel on the front that shows off just enough cleavage to titillate, while Nikki’s dress is a very tight-looking strapless bandage dress that shows off her figure beautifully.

“Hi dad,” dad says, making me roll my eyes before smirking and giving him a gentle hug.

“Hi dad,” I say with a mock sigh. “You’re looking good tonight, both of you.”

“Thank you, Jacinta,” Beverly says, not doing a twirl like her daughter and daughter-in-law, but still looking very elegant in her smart black dress.

“Is that a new suit?” I ask dad, who simply grins.

“My old one was getting a bit- well, old,” dad says. “I figured I’d treat myself, and don’t worry, I’m not going to spend every penny I won on clothes, I’m not any of you three.” I, along with my friends, let out an offended pout- though it quickly descends into a shared giggle as we’re forced to concede that dad isn’t 100% wrong!

“I prefer clothes that money can’t buy, anyway,” Nikki says, sliding up to her wife and linking her fingers with hers in their private, special way.

“Speaking of which,” Sarah says as the final taxi arrives and Telemachus steps out, before helping his wife out of the car and causing all our jaws to drop.

“Oh- wow,” Nikki gasps.

“She finished it, then,” Sarah whispers.

“Is that- is that Andromeda?” Dad asks as my BFF approaches and greets all five of us all with delicate, gentle hugs so as not to disturb the elaborate creation she’s wearing.

Ophelia’s dress, which she has nicknamed ‘Andromeda’ after the daughter of Cassiopeia in Greek mythology (Cassiopeia also being Ophelia’s middle name), is probably the project Ophelia has worked on the longest. She started designing it as early as the summer holiday after our first year of university and began constructing it shortly afterward- and ‘constructing’ is the correct word.

Having been present during a lot of the design process, I know there’s as much going on underneath the dress as there is on the outside. The entire garment is built around a hybrid corset/bodysuit that was designed to bring the wearer’s waist down to a torturous eighteen inches- and Ophelia’s waist doesn’t look too far away from that. The corset has the added effect of pushing her breasts almost up to her chin- or would, if it wasn't for the construction of the dress's bodice. Said bodice is made of a combination of black satin, lace, a tights-like mesh material and lycra that only Ophelia could make look as beautiful as it is. The ‘frame’ of the bodice is the black lycra material that seems to shimmer in the twilight, with satin panels around the waist giving the illusion of making Ophelia's waist even narrower. Delicate star-like patterns have been cut out of the bodice and filled in wish the mesh material, the stars becoming denser until they reach the décolletage, which is made entirely of mesh with the occasional satin star sewn in. Ophelia became inspired when she learned that the Andromeda galaxy contains a trillion stars- and this dress doesn't look like it's too far behind. The epaulets (the only parts of the bodice that aren’t skintight) are made of billowy lace with a delicate pattern sewn throughout, and what look like bicep-length black satin gloves are actually sewn onto the epaulets.

The skirt is just as elaborate as the bodice. A short underskirt of lycra comes down to the middle of Ophelia’s thighs, and is necessary to preserve her modesty as the rest of the nearly floor-length skirt is made entirely out of lace, albeit with ‘stars’ made of satin and/or mesh sewn throughout. The skirt is extremely voluminous, creating the illusion of waves as it ripples and swirls around Ophelia’s legs with every step she takes on her 5” stiletto heels. Obviously, Ophelia has accessorised as well- all seven of the rings she usually wears are visible on the outside of her gloves, which also have ‘extensions’ (for want of a better word) added to the end to accommodate Ophelia’s inch-long nails. A black choker with an expensive-looking opal cluster is fastened around her neck, and a pair of sparkling chandelier earrings are hanging from her earlobes. Her make-up, which is heavy at the best of times, seems to make her skin sparkle in the light, as though she has tiny crystal stars stuck to her face. Her hair, which is normally elaborate anyway, is tied into a sky-high bouffant style, with sparkling crystals and pearls weaved throughout. It must have taken Ophelia hours to get ready, but it was clearly worth every second- she might well be the most beautiful woman in the world right now, and considering her childhood, she is far more entitled to think of herself as ‘Cinderella’ than I am. The difference, of course, is that she’s already married her ‘Prince Charming’…

“…I want one,” Nikki says bluntly. “I don’t care how much it costs, or how long it takes, I NEED one.”

“I am flattered,” Ophelia says with a proud smile. “However construction of a garment such as Andromeda is time-consuming, and I am already designing a dress such as this for someone else. I would, however, be only too happy to put you second in the queue, once I am finished with the next dress.”

“Who are you making the next one for?” I ask, feeling confused and more than a little jealous.

“She is making it for her best friend,” Telemachus says, sending an uncharacteristic smile in my direction as Ophelia gently takes my hand in hers. Needless to say, this causes more than a few tears to well up in my eyes.

“Oh- god, O…” I moan. “Good job I bought my mascara with me…”

“Did you really think I would make such a special dress for anyone before you?” Ophelia asks as everyone watches with wide grins on their faces. “It shall take me some time to finish, what with my work, and the wedding dresses we are making for Katie and-“

“I- I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait, heh,” I chuckle as we head into the restaurant.

“And it’ll save my credit card some punishment,” dad teases. “Hopefully.” I roll my eyes as my friends all giggle at my expense, though in truth, I couldn’t be happier to be the butt of the joke on this occasion. Even though I’m dining with three couples, it doesn’t feel like it- in fact, it feels much more like a family meal, and that’s precisely what I am- a member of this family, and I know I’d make things a lot more awkward if I wasn’t here than if I was. I’m not excluded at any point during the meal, even when Nikki and Sarah try feeding each other their dessert, prompting dad and Beverly to try- though Ophelia opts out for fear of getting food on Andromeda! Tonight might be all about dad, but I felt just as loved as anyone tonight.

Even if, when I return home, I am the only one of us who’s sleeping alone…

“Wake up it’s a beautiful morning…” My phone blares, momentarily confusing me when I check the screen to discover that it’s Saturday, only to remember that today’s the day I’m meant to be interviewing dad- or rather, today’s the day my old school friend’s meant to be interviewing dad while I sit back and take photos.

“Morning!” My flat mate says as I head through to our small kitchen to make myself some breakfast. “Good night last night?”

“Well- you put, like, a hundred likes on the photos that we took last night, so you tell me,” I retort, earning an eye roll from my friend.

“Yeah, but those were all of Ophelia’s dress!” Katie says, and I giggle as I’m forced to concede the point.

“Well- yes,” I say. “And yeah, I did have fun. And yes, that dress was even more amazing in person than the photos!”

“I bet!” Katie giggles. “Why are you up this early, anyway?” I can’t help but frown at my friend’s hypocrisy –she is extremely morning-phobic, especially so on Saturdays.

“…Really?” I ask, making my flat mate roll her eyes and giggle.

“We’re going to see Charlie’s parents today, in Herefordshire,” Katie explains. “It’s a long drive, so, well- yeah.” Already at the ‘meeting parents’ stage? I think to myself. “That’s also why I’m wearing a skirt instead of shorts, want to make a good impression, you know?”

“Okay,” I shrug. “Have you not met his parents before, then?”

“Nah, not with them living so far away,” Katie shrugs. “Hell, he ain’t even met mine, either, and they live in London!”

“Has he met either of your brothers yet?” I ask. “Your oldest younger brother’s eighteen now, isn’t he?”

“Nah, not until November, so hands off,” Katie replies, making me playfully sigh and roll my eyes. “And stop changing the subject! You ain’t told me why you’re up this early either!”

“Well, sadly, for me it’s for work,” I sigh. “Interviewing my dad today. Well, I’m photographing my dad, Tom’s interviewing him.”

“Ooh, Tom, eh?” Katie teases, making me roll my eyes. “Been a while since I heard THAT name, hehe!”

“Yes, because I’ve mostly been working with Josh, Alex and Ciara the last few weeks,” I retort. “Ugh, I- I need to dilate. You already showered today?”

“Yeah, and take your time in there,” Katie teases. “I am of course referring to both the shower and the-“

“Yes, thank you!” I interrupt, sighing as I finish my coffee and head back to my bedroom, where I dilate, singing 'I'm Every Woman' louder than I've done for a long time...

Once I’ve finished dilating, I take a quick shower and applying a light layer of make-up before heading back to my bedroom and picking out my outfit for the day. Unlike last night’s ‘special’ underwear, today I opt for a very plain unpadded white bra and even plainer white granny panties, followed by a pair of opaque black tights. It is May, though, and it’s likely to be a bit warm for tights this thick, but today I don't want to give anyone the wrong impression- whatever that 'impression' is, anyway. As such, I also pick a turtleneck top (albeit a relatively thin one) and a floaty knee-length skirt out of my wardrobe, and a pair of comfortable flats off my shoe rack- a far cry from the expensive heels I wore last night. A pair of plain gold studs and my black watch complete my look, and when I look at myself in my mirror, I can't believe how plain I look when compared to the last two nights. Fortunately, for me, ‘plain’ also means ‘girly’, as for me, everything means ‘girly’, so on this occasion, 'plain' isn't necessarily bad.

With Katie having long since left the flat, I stick around for a bit, catching up on emails and Facebook, before letting out a long sigh as I head out of the flat and toward the nearest tube station. I have to change trains in order to get to Beverly’s house, and when I arrive at Notting Hill Gate, my colleague is already there waiting for me.

“Hey Jacinta!” Tom says with a smile that looks VERY forced.

“Hey Tom,” I reply. “Umm, good day off yesterday?”

“Meh,” Tom replies with a non-committal shrug. “As good as it could be, I guess.” Okay, that was cryptic, I think to myself. Maybe he’s nervous because for once, he’ll be doing the interview himself rather than arranging it?

“Did- umm, were you watching on Thursday?” I ask.

“Yeah, I caught bits of it,” Tom replies. “Watched it again yesterday on catch-up, just to, you know, prepare for the interview.” Getting weirder… I think to myself.

“Right…” I say as we get on our train. Tom isn’t usually this evasive- it was awkward at first, when I started working for the magazine, because of our history, but over the last few months, things between us have become almost normal. So what’s changed? “Did you- did you see any of the photos I put on Facebook last night? I mean, you’ve got to set up an interview with Ophelia after THAT dress, right?”

“Yeah, I- I haven’t looked yet, I will when I get home,” Tom says, making me sigh in frustration.

“Okay, what is it?” I ask.

“…What?” Tom asks defensively.

“You know what,” I reply. “This. All- well, ‘this’. Last time I talked to you we actually, you know, talked. So what’s changed?”

“Caitlin and me, we- we split up,” Tom explains, making me fidget awkwardly in my seat.

“…Ah,” I mumble.

“Yeah,” Tom sighs. “On Tuesday. We’d been drifting apart for a while, and I thought that moving on together would- ugh, I dunno what I thought. All I know is that I’m now a fully paid-up member of ‘Club Single’.”

“Well, take it from a lifelong member of that club, it’s not a lot of fun,” I sigh. “No wonder they were being awkward at work yesterday, heh.”

“Umm, why would work be awkward?” Tom asks. “It’s not like me and Caitlin were married or anything, and- oh.”

“…Oh?” I ask.

“I get what’s happened,” Tom sighs. “Caitlin and I split up, and they naturally assume I’m going to jump straight into bed with you.”

“Yeah,” I say with a nervous giggle as my stomach starts to do somersaults. I've always been attracted to Tom, even- or perhaps especially- when he's been unavailable. And it’s not like Caitlin’s a friend, after all- she made THAT clear the last time I saw her at Christmas. But as attractive as he is, nothing about Tom screams ‘Prince Charming’. He’s the guy I chat with about work while grabbing a coffee, the guy who fills in my spreadsheets rather than filling in- well, THAT should really go without saying. ‘Prince Charming’ needs to be more than just cute, he needs to be, well, ‘charming’. The guy you drink champagne with in a fancy restaurant, not the guy you share a pint with in the pub after work… Doesn’t he?

“Well, no chance of THAT happening, right?” Tom asks with a nervous-sounding chuckle.

“Nope!” I reply with a nervous giggle of my own. “Do- do you think you’ll stay friends with Caitlin?”

“I dunno,” Tom shrugs. “Think she’s moving back to Brighton, so- ugh, I dunno. Do you stay in touch with any of your exes?”

“Don’t- don’t say it THAT way,” I chastise my friend, who blushes and giggles. “Make me sound like I’ve dated an entire bloody rugby team! But to answer your question, no, not really… My- my friend Ian invited me to a Star Wars marathon at his flat today, but his best friend will be, and he’s my ex, so I’m gonna pass. That, plus- and bear in mind, I DO love Ian, umm, like- like a brother, but- but watching Star Wars for twelve straight hours with a bunch of sweaty nerds sounds like my idea of hell.”

“Well, it IS the day for it,” Tom says, making me frown in confusion. “Star Wars day? May the fourth, as in ‘May the fourth be with you’?”

“You total geek!” I tease, making my friend chuckle. “Maybe I should give you Ian’s address?”

“I’ve kinda got work to do,” Tom chuckles. “Ian’s your transgender friend, isn’t he?”

“Well- one of them, yeah,” I reply, making Tom grimace.

“Ah- yeah, sorry, I- I didn’t mean it like THAT,” Tom says.

“It’s okay,” I shrug. “I knew what you meant. But yeah, he’s a friend who’s transgender, was raised a girl, is now a man. Kind of a cute man too, even if he is a bit short for me, heh.”

“Ah- yeah, I can kinda get why,” Tom says. “Not many, you know, biological women who are 5’ 10” or taller. Ugh, and I definitely didn’t mean THAT like THAT…” I place a gentle hand on my friend’s shoulder as he grimaces yet again.

“It’s okay, again,” I chuckle. “Though after eight months of working with me I’d have hoped you’d have figured that out by now, heh.”

“I’ll learn eventually,” Tom chuckles. “Though would it help if I say I only said that because I don’t see you as ever having been male? Or should I just get my foot surgically grafted to my mouth now and have done with it? …And yes, I just realised I made a joke about ‘surgical grafts’, so I’d better get used to the taste of shoe leather, heh.”

“I wouldn’t make those jokes around my dad if I were you,” I tease. “So, are- are you feeling a little bit better, then?”

“A little,” Tom replies with a sad smile. “I do like talking to you, Jacinta.”

“Same here,” I say with a smile. “, So, then, you- are you ready to interview my dad?”

“Meh, ready as I’ll ever be,” Tom shrugs. “I got a few pointers from Lizzie about what to say and how to say it, so- yeah, I’ll give it a go.”

“Still think it’s weird,” I say. “The reason you were sent with me is because you know your way around Brighton, but now we’re not going to Brighton, so- eh, I’m probably overthinking it.”

“Meh, probably,” Tom shrugs as our train reaches its station and we disembark.

It’s only a short walk from the station to Beverly’s house so we arrive a short while later, dad greeting me with a long hug before exchanging a manly handshake with my colleague.

“Hi Tom!” Dad says with a grin. “It's been a while, heh!”

“Yeah,” Tom says as I set up my camera. “I’ve just got a short list of questions I want to ask you; Jacinta will get a few candid shots of us talking, then she’ll shoot a few posed shots at the end, okay?”

“Yep, sounds good,” dad replies.

“You’re not getting sick of giving interviews yet?” I tease my father, who simply chuckles in response.

“We won’t be long, I promise,” Tom says. “Then we’ll let you get back to enjoying your fortune, heh!”

“I don’t mind, honestly,” dad says. “I quit my job yesterday, so it’s not like I haven’t got loads of free time!”

“You really have left the computer shop, then?” I ask.

“Well, that was my job, which I just said I quit, so- yes,” dad replies. “Bit of an end of an era, I know, but it was time.”

“Okay…” I say. “I- umm, I’m just about set up, so you can start whenever.”

“Okay,” Tom says as he gets his iPad out of his rucksack and makes himself comfortable.

As promised, the interview doesn’t last long- only thirty minutes, at the end of which dad poses for some photos, including a few self-timer photos with me. With his work done, Tom bids us farewell, while I take my time in packing away my camera and equipment so I can chat to dad a bit more.

“There, that wasn’t so painful, was it?” Dad chuckles.

“Umm, pretty sure I should be the one asking you that,” I reply, making dad laugh even more.

“Ehh, I’m getting used to it by now,” dad says. “Just in time for my fifteen minutes of fame to come to an end. Not that I’ll be sorry when that happens, but- yeah.”

“Oh well, you’ll just have to take comfort in the one million pounds you won earlier this week,” I say, making dad laugh again.

“Oh, I will,” dad chuckles. “How about you, Jacinta?”

“Hmm?” I ask. “What about me?”

“What will you take comfort in?” Dad asks, confusing me.

“Umm, my job?” I reply. “My friends… What are you getting at, dad?”

“The way you were looking at that young lad who just left,” dad replies, making me sigh in frustration.

“Tom and I aren’t an item,” I say. “He’s only just got out of a long-term relationship. His ex was actually Caitlin- you know, who I was friends with in primary school?”

“Oh- her,” dad says. “God, yeah, I remember her. Haven’t thought about those days in years, heh.”

“Yeah, nor have I,” I snort. “Reason being she may have been ‘Jason’s friend but she had no interest in being ‘Jacinta’s.”

“Ugh,” dad spits. “I’m sorry to hear that, Jacinta. Tom didn’t seem to have any problems with you, though?”

“Nah, Tom’s cool,” I say, before rolling my eyes as dad smiles at me. “Just not ‘Prince Charming’ material.”

“Yeah, well, neither were Simon and especially not Lee,” dad reminds me. “Though it’s not like you don’t have plenty of time- I mean, you’re only 23, I’m the wrong side of fifty and- well…” Despite myself, I can’t help but crack a smile as Beverly walks through from the kitchen carrying three mugs of tea before giving my father’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. After the dream I had about mum a few nights ago, even this gesture makes me feel a little awkward, but that feeling soon passes when I see the look of genuine happiness in my father's eyes.

“I guess,” I shrug. “Kinda hard when I’m literally the only single person I know.”

“I know,” dad says softly. “But I know it won’t be for long. And I just won a million quid on a quiz, so I know a thing or two about, well, ‘knowing things’, heh.”

“And what you’re feeling is far from out of the ordinary,” Beverly advises. “There are countless transgender people out there, even those who are post-op like yourself, who feel what who they are will prevent them from finding love. Take it from an expert- this is simply not true, not in the slightest.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t for Nikki,” I snort.

“Nikki was extremely lucky in that she found her soul mate early in life,” Beverly retorts. “Most cisgender people aren’t even that lucky. I wasn’t that lucky. Nor were you. But that doesn’t mean it’s never going to happen.”

“And you shouldn’t expect ‘Prince Charming’ to ride up wearing a morning coat and riding in a horse and carriage,” dad says. “Odds are just as good he’ll be wearing jeans and a t-shirt and riding the Tube. Just as long as he’s right for you.”

“Can- can we please forget about my non-existent love life for now?” I ask as I feel my insides start to churn with embarrassment.

“Just as long as you don’t,” dad says softly. Chance would be a fine thing, I think to myself as I finish packing away my camera gear.

Of course, I know that dad and Beverly are both correct, that expecting a handsome stranger to swoop in out of nowhere and sweep my off my feet is silly. But I’ve always known- or at the very least, always suspected- that when ‘Prince Charming’ comes along, I would know instantly that I was in the presence of the man I would spend the rest of my life with.

As it turned out, I couldn’t have been more wrong…

“Say cheese!” The photographer says as the nine of us all pull wide, happy grins- and no one's grin is wider or happier than the bride's. I smile as the tall, handsome groom approaches... and kisses the woman stood six feet to my left.

It should really have gone without saying that at this particular wedding, I’m not the bride- Lauren is. And while I can hardly begrudge her finally marrying the man she loves (they have been together for ages, after all), the fact remains that of the nine of us, eight are in a relationship with the man or woman of their dreams… and I’m the one that isn't.

“Okay,” the photographer says. “This time, just the bride, the groom and their families.” I maintain my smile as I stand aside for Lauren's parents and Michael's family, but inside, I’ve never felt more alone. Fortunately for me, though, I'm not truly alone- not when I have as many friends as I do.

“You really should not feel so anxious,” my BFF says as she approaches me, her burgundy-coloured bridesmaid’s dress rustling with every step she takes. “All this wedding means is that you are next.” My forced smile becomes genuine as Ophelia takes my hand in hers- a reminder of the unconditional (albeit platonic) love that we have for each other- but I still can’t help but let out a sigh.

“I wish I was as confident as you, O,” I say. “And besides, I think Katie would have a thing or two to say about that.”

“Nonetheless,” Ophelia says, “If you were to randomly select nine women aged 23 or less, how many of them would you expect to be married?”

“…Less than seven,” I sigh. “Okay, I know I shouldn’t be so anxious. I’ve got ages to find my ‘Prince Charming’. I still feel, you know, uncomfortable, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Ophelia says, her natural accent slipping through- which only happens when she’s emotional. It doesn’t take long for me to realise that in this case, the emotion is ‘irritation’. “If you feel uncomfortable right now, how do you imagine I feel wearing this dress in this heat?”

“…Touché,” I say, trying not to giggle as Ophelia stealthily wipes a bead of sweat from her brow.

The reason it’s so hot is down to two things- firstly, today is the 13th of July, and secondly, Lauren, in her infinite wisdom, decided to have her midsummer wedding on the island of Cyprus. Lauren’s father’s mother is Cypriot (Lauren’s grandfather was Scottish and met her while stationed by the RAF in Cyprus) and Lauren’s always been proud of her heritage. I will admit, though, that part of me is with Ophelia in wishing that Lauren’s heritage was Norwegian or Icelandic instead.

“I shall be glad when it is September,” Ophelia says, grinning as her husband approaches.

“I shall be more glad when it is October,” Telemachus says, taking Ophelia’s right hand in his as I release her left hand. “For then we may celebrate our anniversary!”

“Oh please,” I snort. “You two celebrate your anniversary every day!” I grin as both Ophelia and Telemachus smile bashfully, before nodding in agreement.

“Touché,” my BFF giggles. “Though today it would be inappropriate for us to ‘celebrate’. Just as it was last week.” I smile as I remember back to seven days ago, when we were thousands of miles away on a completely different continent… but doing exactly what we’re doing today, namely celebrating the wedding of one of our friends and sweating a lot.

That wedding was the wedding of our friend Katie (not ‘our’ Katie, but Katie Fahey, ‘American Katie’) to her fiancé Danny, who’s the older brother of our friend Alexa. Rather than Alexa and Jenny’s elaborate ceremony last year, Katie’s wedding was a very intimate, family affair in the local church of Katie’s hometown, but was no less beautiful than any other wedding I’ve attended. And, of course, Katie was just as beautiful as any other bride in her wedding dress, as were Alexa and Jenny in their bridesmaid’s dresses.

And yes, the nine of us that flew over from London did get teased about being nine Brits who flew to the United States on the 4th of July. The flight from America back to London this Monday just gone (the 8th) was much more fun though, with thirteen of us flying together (well, eleven, as Danny and Katie were in first class). The flight this Thursday to Nicosia was fun too, albeit with nine of us flying standard class while Lauren and Michael flew first class (Katie and Danny are honeymooning in Venice and only came to Cyprus for the ceremony and the reception). What I couldn’t ignore, though, was that there was an odd number of people on each flight- and I was always the odd one out. It was either 4, 5 or 6 couples plus me. It’s hard to remain optimistic about your love life and it’s hard to even ignore your single status when it’s constantly being rubbed in your face…

“Hey you three!” Jenny says as she and her wife approach where we’re stood. There’s that odd number again, I think to myself…

“Hello Jennifer, Alexa,” Ophelia replies politely but with a wide grin. “I trust you enjoyed the ceremony?”

“It was BEAUTIFUL,” Jenny gushes.

“Almost as beautiful as ours,” Alexa says, smirking as her wife pouts. “Almost. But not quite, hehe!”

“You’d better say that, Mrs!” Jenny says in a playful growl, before sharing a kiss with her wife.

“Have you enjoyed the celebration of your anniversary?” Telemachus asks.

“It’s been great!” Alexa replies. “It’s been really fun getting to see parts of the UK we didn’t get to see when we were over here last year.”

“Yeah, I saw the photos of you two with Natalie and Zoe on Canal Street,” I tease my friends, who both blush.

“I actually think I’m still hungover from that,” Alexa giggles. “Though I am really looking forward to seeing Brighton as well.”

“We drove through there when we were over a couple of years ago,” Jenny says. “But didn’t get the chance to properly see it.”

“Well, you are fortunate that you will have two natives of the city to guide you when we return to England,” Ophelia says with a grin.

“Though as proud as I am to be from Brighton,” I say, “our beaches aren’t a patch on this!” The five of us all smile as I gesture to the vast expanse of sand where the wedding took place, and the bright blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea beyond.

“That much is certain,” Ophelia chuckles. “I am afraid that England may be a let-down after today.”

“Meh, as long as you guys are all there, it’ll be good enough for me,” Jenny says with a smile that we all mirror.

“So you’ve changed your mind about Venice, then?” Alexa asks, making her wife pout.

“I… May need some additional context,” Telemachus says.

“Jenny wanted us to go to Venice, with Katie and Danny,” Alexa explains. “I pointed out we would kinda be gatecrashing their honeymoon.”

“Ah,” Telemachus says. “So it would be not unlike if Ophelia and I accompanied Jacinta on her honeymoon?” What honeymoon? I self-pityingly think to myself.

“I still want to go to Venice…” Jenny mumbles petulantly.

“Well, you can always go next year,” I suggest with a shrug. “AngelCon 2020 will be in Rome, after all.”

“That’s true, I suppose,” Jenny says, the smile returning to her face. “Though I reckon AngelCon 2019 will take some topping!"

“Yep!” I say. “A lot of hard work for me, but it’ll at least pay well, hehe!”

“Hehe!” Alexa giggles as we’re dragged back in for yet another photograph.

After yet more photographs, we’re escorted to the marquee that’s been erected on the beachfront, where we’re all served a delicious seafood dinner, before the groom, best man and father of the bride all make their speeches. The cake is cut next, before Lauren clambers onto the top table, ready to throw her bouquet. As always, I and the other single women are ushered to the centre of the room, ready to catch the bouquet, but as I wait for Lauren to make her toss, I’m keenly aware that the group I’m in is much smaller than the other one- and I’m the only one of my friends in this group.

“Okay,” Lauren announces. “Everyone ready? One, two… Three!” Despite myself, I feel my arm reaching upwards toward the bouquet, which bounces around many of the other women before finally coming to rest… in my hand.

“Oh come on, not fair,” one of the other women (who I think is Lauren’s cousin) moans. “You’re, like, eight inches taller than me!”

“Tough,” I reply with a smug grin as I pose for the cameras with the bouquet- though I quickly remind myself that the old superstition concerning the bouquet is just that- a superstition. I’m hardly likely to be the next woman to get married when I don’t even have a boyfriend…

With the excitement of the bouquet toss over, the tables are cleared to make way for the happy couple’s first dance, and as Michael and Lauren share a slow dance to 'One Day Like This' by Elbow, I sit to the side and watch dreamily. Within seconds, though, I’m interrupted by someone sitting down next to me- the last face I expected to see right now.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Simon Clarke, my ex-boyfriend (and first ever ‘serious’ boyfriend) asks, making my eyes go wide and momentarily stunning me into silence. “…or, you know, euro for your thoughts or whatever money they use in Cyprus?”

“Umm, hi…” I say uneasily. “What- what are you even doing here today?”

“Umm, Michael’s one of my best friends?” Simon replies, gesturing to his suit, which is identical to those worn by the best man, Michael’s groomsmen and several of the other men at the reception.

“…Yeah, okay, may have forgotten that,” I mumble. “It has, you know, kinda been a while…”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Simon chuckles. “You- you look great, you really do.”

“Thanks,” I say. “You- you look good too.”

“Thanks,” Simon chuckles, triggering an awkward silence between the two of us.

“So, umm…” I mumble. “How- how are your brother and sister?”

“They’re fine,” Simon shrugs. “Ally just passed 200 thousand followers on Instagram, which she’s pretty proud of.”

“Yeah, she should be,” I chuckle. “Maybe I’ll be interviewing her again soon for the magazine?”

“Possibly,” Simon shrugs.

“Does- does Jenson still do his weird staring thing?” I ask.

“Actually, he does,” Simon replies with a chuckle. “Turns out he does that for all my girlfriends, not just you ‘cause- well, you know…”

“’Cause I’m 5’ 10”, got a male jawline and wear size 9 shoes?” I ask, smiling as Simon blushes. “It’s okay. And it’s kinda good to know Jenson wasn’t just singling me out, heh.”

“Yeah,” Simon chuckles. “He’s actually being tested for autism next month, to see if- well, yeah.”

“Yeah,” I say, triggering another awkward silence that this time is broken by my ex.

“So, umm,” Simon says. “I hear you- you’ve well… Had an operation?”

“You mean THE operation?” I ask with a smile. “Yep. Coming up to twelve months, actually.”

“Cool,” Simon says. “And is- is it-“

“It’s fine, really,” I say, my smile widening. “It’s just, you know, part of my body, flesh and blood. The funny thing is, I didn’t really realise how much I needed, well, ‘it’ until after the operation. Now it- it’s like it, well, it’s always been a part of me- umm…” My voice trails off as Simon’s cheeks get redder and redder.

“Umm…” Simon mumbles. “Are you- are you, you know, seeing anyone? ‘Cause I saw you catch the bouquet and, well, I kinda thought…”

“Yeah, you- you thought right,” I say. “In that I’m currently single. Are… are you seeing anyone?”

“I was, I’m not anymore,” Simon replies, smiling as the traditional wedding dances come to an end and various couples take to the dancefloor. “So, umm, do- do you want to, you know…?”

“…I’d love to,” I whisper in reply, smiling as Simon gently takes my hand and escorts me to the dancefloor, where we share a slow, intimate dance together, then another, and another, before the DJ frustrates me by announcing a fifteen-minute break, just as Simon and I were getting into a groove...

As the dancefloor empties and Simon walks off to get us both a drink, I head over to where my eight friends are gathering, including the bride, who directs a scowl in my direction as I approach.

“Umm… hi?” I say nervously, wilting under Lauren’s stare.

“Miss Hanley,” the dark-haired bride says in a voice that I can immediately tell is teasing me, “don’t you know it’s bad form to be cuter than the bride on her wedding day?”

“Oh- come on,” I say, rolling my eyes as Lauren and the others all giggle. “As if anyone could be cuter than you today, MRS Yates!”

“She’s got you there,” my flatmate (and Lauren’s maid of honour) says as the bride giggles.

“Ah, it’s true, though,” Lauren says. “About us ALL being cute, hehe!” I join in the group cheer this statement elicits.

“Are you going to take Michael’s surname, then?” Nikki asks.

“I actually dunno yet,” Lauren replies. “I mean, god knows we’ve had enough time to think about it, but it’s a big decision, you know? The name I’m going to have for the rest of my life…”

“Well, I know I’m not taking Charlie’s name if we get hitched,” Hendo says.

“Why’s that, Hendo?” Alexa asks.

“Well, for starters, it’d be awkward calling me ‘Hendo’ when my surname ain’t Henderson anymore!” The freckled girl replies, earning giggles from everyone. “Also, Charlie’s surname is ‘Hook’, and ‘Katherine Hook’ sounds too much like Peter Pan’s enemy!”

“Whereas ‘Ophelia Percival’ would be no syllables away from being a Shakespearian heroine,” my BFF says with a grin. “Hence why I kept the surname I originally chose for myself. Though if we do choose to have children, they will take their father’s name. And no, before you inevitably ask, I am NOT pregnant.”

“You guys could always double-barrel?” Sarah suggests, though this suggestion still makes Lauren frown.

“Then I’ve got the problem of whether to be ‘Burnett-Yates’ or ‘Yates-Burnett’,” the bride says. “It’s a silly thing, but I’m so used to being at the start of the alphabet that going straight to the end of it would take some getting used to, heh.”

“…Burnett-Yates it is, then!” Nikki says, making Lauren sigh and shake her head.

“Easy for you guys,” Lauren says. “P and T are close to each other, so are Q and T. And so are C and H, come to think of it!”

“Who are ‘C’ and ‘H’?” American Katie asks.

“Jacinta Hanley and Simon Clarke,” Hendo says, making me blush as eight pairs of eyes turn excitedly in my direction.

“I thought I recognised him!” Sarah teases. “Are you two back together, then?”

“And you actually found someone good enough for the great Jacinta Hanley?” Jenny teases. Yeah, ‘cause high standards have always been my problem in the past, I think to myself.

“…He’s one of Michael’s friends,” I explain. “And yes, we dated in the past, but no, we’re not back together, I only just found out that he was here.”

“So ‘only just found out’ equals ‘let’s have not one slow dance but three’, then?” Nikki teases, making me roll my eyes.

“I was just saying ‘hi’,” I reply.

“So what would you have done if you wanted to say, ‘it’s great to see you again’?” Hendo asks, laughing as I pick up a pile of confetti and hurl it at her.

“Why are we talking about my so-called love life when we should be celebrating Mrs. or Ms. Burnett-Yates-Burnett-Whatever?” I ask, smirking as Lauren blushes and rolls her eyes.

“Yours is more interesting, for starters,” Nikki teases, giggling as I scoff. “No offence, Lauren.”

“Oh, none taken, I definitely agree with you!” Lauren says, making me sigh. “Maybe I should tell Jexy and Katie about Phil…”

“If you do, I swear I’m going to shove-“ I say, grabbing a handful of confetti only to be interrupted by a manly cough from behind us.

“Excuse me,” Michael says with a grin as he extends his hand to his new wife. “May I have the honour of the next dance, Mrs. Yates?” Needless to say, the mention of ‘Mrs. Yates’ earns good-natured jeers from the other eight of us.

“I’ll explain THAT later,” Lauren giggles as she smooths her elegant strapless gown (a Sarah and Ophelia creation, naturally) and follows her husband back to the floor, followed closely by Nikki & Sarah and Alexa & Jenny. Shortly afterward, the two Katies’ partners arrive to escort them back to the dancefloor, and when Telemachus shows up a short while later, I brace myself to be alone, but much to my surprise, Telemachus instead sits down and hands me and his wife a drink each.

“A young man at the bar asked me to give this to you,” Telemachus says, handing me a fancy-looking cocktail.

“Ah- yes,” I say. “Kinda forgot that Simon said he was going to get me a drink, heh.”

“Well, he at least did not forget,” Ophelia says. “But- but in all seriousness, J, are you planning on resuming your relationship with him?”

“I- I don’t know,” I sigh. “I mean, he IS single, and he DID ask… Well, okay, he asked me to dance, not go on a date with him, but, you know, it is kinda, you know, implied a bit?”

“He would be a fool if he had not asked,” Ophelia says, making me smile.

“Question is, would I be a fool for accepting?” I muse.

“If I may enquire,” Telemachus says, “what was the reason for your separation? Feel free not to answer if the reasons are personal.”

“No, no it’s okay,” I sigh. “I mean, we had fun, but, well, he- ultimately, he just wasn’t, you know, ‘Prince Charming’.”

“Finding her fairytale prince has been a lifelong obsession of hers,” Ophelia explains to her husband as I roll my eyes.

“I fail to see any reason why there should not be a fairytale prince for Jacinta,” Telemachus says with a smile. “After all, I was able to find my fairytale princess.” I smile as the young couple share a tender kiss, though inside, my mind is racing. Was I too hasty in writing off Simon as ‘Prince Charming’? He’s definitely older now, more mature, sexier than he was before… Maybe he was ‘the one’ after all, but we were both too young first time around? All I know for certain is that I won’t be able to answer that particular question while I’m sat with Ophelia and Telemachus, so I finish my drink, make my excuses and head around the side of the dancefloor to the bar, where Simon was last seen. However, en route to the bar, I glance at the dancefloor, where I see Simon dancing… with another woman.

My anger levels instantly rise, especially as I see the smiles on their faces, and every instinct tells me to storm onto the dancefloor and confront Simon in front of everyone… but rationally, I know that’s the last thing I should do. Firstly, we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. We were, and we may well be again, but right now, we’re not. Secondly, they’re only dancing, it’s not like they’re kissing or anything, and it’s not like I haven’t danced with other guys myself today. And thirdly, most importantly, it wouldn’t be fair to Lauren for me to make a big scene on her wedding day. I most definitely am going to talk to Simon about it, though- and if anything, I’m almost pleased that I’m angry- if I didn’t really like Simon, I wouldn’t be bothered about him dancing with another woman, after all.

I make my way to the bar and order a drink before carefully parking myself on one of the seats (remembering the little ‘accident’ I had at Charlotte’s house that one time), observing the packed dance floor with a smile. It isn’t long before the current song ends, the DJ announces another break and the dance floor clears. I try to suppress my smile as Simon makes his way over to me, though the fact that he’s already looking guilty does allow some of my mirth to seep through.

“Who was that?” I ask, giggling involuntarily as Simon fidgets.

“She- umm, just a friend, one of Michael’s-“ Simon stammers, before sighing as I finally burst out laughing. “…Very funny. We’re not even back together yet and already you’re taking the piss out of me?”

“We’re girls, we’re allowed to take the piss out of guys for our own amusement whether we’re going out with them or not,” I explain.

“The things we poor men go through…” Simon says with an overdramatic sigh as he sits down next to me.

“You poor BOYS, more like,” I tease. “It’s okay. I’ll let you off this time, hehe!”

“Thanks,” Simon chuckles. “So, umm, when are you flying back?”

“Monday,” I reply. “Though I’m not back at work until Wednesday.”

“Same here,” Simon says. “Probably same flight, heh.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Are- are you still working at the cinema?”

“Yep,” Simon replies. “It was pretty mental when Endgame came out, we were doing, like, 4am screenings for it, and even they were packed!”

“Did you get to wear a spandex Captain America costume?” I tease.

“Nah, I wore the Star-Lord costume I wore when Guardians 2 came out,” Simon replies. “Not really got the body for Captain America, heh.”

“Oh, I dunno,” I purr. “I seem to remember it was pretty good…” I grin widely as Simon chuckles and nervously licks his lips…

Needless to say, when I wake up the following morning, I’m not in my own bed, and the tingles I'm feeling throughout my body tell me I had a LOT of fun last night. However, when I look around, I find myself alone in bed, making me frown with confusion. I run on the assumption that he’ll at least have sent me a text or a Facebook message explaining where he is, only to remember that I left my phone in my room last night, along with my handbag… and my room key. Thankfully, as twelve months have passed since my operation, I don’t need to dilate every morning (and what Simon and I did last night ‘counts’ anyway), but I DO need my purse, and a change of clothes, and most definitely a change of underwear as well…

I grimace as I scoop the thong I wore yesterday off of the hotel floor before pulling the fancy dress and shoes I wore yesterday back on. I’m going to need to head down to reception to get a spare key and hopefully not run into anyone I know along the way, so I won’t have to explain why I’m holding my underwear in my hand…

En route to reception, however, I have a brainwave- all I need to do is hide my thong in one of the many plants dotted throughout the hotel, then retrieve it once I’ve got access to my room. Genius! It doesn’t take me any time to locate a plant that’s out of the way, and I carefully stuff the offending article out of sight, and when I turn round, I find myself staring straight into the eyes of my newly married American friends.

“Hi Jacinta,” Katie says in an uncertain voice. “What- what are you doing…?”

“Oh- umm, nothing!” I say hastily, moving so as to block my discarded underwear from view. “Just, umm, just, kinda, you know, lost my room key…”

“…In a plant?” Danny (Katie’s husband) asks.

“…Maybe,” I say as I start to fidget uncomfortably. “I, umm, I definitely had it last night…”

“Is- is that it?” Danny asks, pointing to the tiny scrap of fabric visible behind the plant.

“Umm, no, no, it- it’s a different, umm, colour,” I say hastily, trying to prevent my eyes from widening as I realise my hiding spot wasn’t quite as good as I’d hoped. “I- I’m on my way to reception to, you know, get a spare…”

“Well- okay then,” Katie says with a shrug. “Will we be seeing you at breakfast?”

“Sure,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief as the couple head off toward the hotel restaurant.

Thankfully, I’m able to get to reception without any further incident, and after they let me into my room, I take a quick shower before changing into clean underwear and a loose summer dress. After I’m dressed, I check my phone, where there is, as expected, a barrage of social media notifications relating to the wedding, but no message from Simon. I let out a sigh as I head down to the restaurant, which is already pretty full, but there’s no sign of Simon here either. After grabbing a light breakfast of summer fruits I head to where my BFF and my flatmate are sat with their other halves and try my hardest to pretend that nothing happened last night- not easy when I get close enough to the table to hear their conversation.

“…Kid found- get this- a THONG behind one of the plants,” Hendo says as I try desperately not to cringe or blush. “The parents were playing hell at reception! I wouldn’t want to be the person who has to claim THAT from the lost & found!” Nor would I, which is why I’m not going to, I think to myself. That was one of my favourite thongs, too…

“Somebody clearly had an exciting night, then,” Ophelia says, before directing a knowing smirk in my direction.

“Clearly, yes,” I say hastily. “So, umm, are- are the bride and groom down yet? Speaking of, well, ‘exciting nights’ and all that…”

“I think they’ll be a while,” Hendo says with a playful wink, making me roll my eyes as I take a sip of my drink. “As will Simon…” Despite myself, I still nearly cough up half a glass of orange juice at the mention of my ex (and maybe future) boyfriend’s name. “…Something wrong, Jacinta?”

“No,” I lie. “Why- why did you mention Simon’s name?”

“Same reason you nearly choked on your drink,” Hendo replies with a smug grin. “People did kinda notice you two leaving the reception together…”

“We- we were just, you know, catching up, that’s all,” I half-lie. “Anyway, when did Lauren and Michael leave the reception?”

“Don’t change the subject!” Hendo protests, smirking as I roll my eyes. “So… Are you two definitely back together, then?”

“No,” I reply firmly. “Well- not yet, anyway…” My cheeks turn red as my four friends all grin and playfully jeer me. “Like I said, we were just catching up, that’s all. I didn’t even know he was going to be here today.”

“Yeah, of course you didn’t,” Hendo teases. “Not like he’s one of Michael’s best friends, or anything…” Thankfully, my blushes are spared at this point by a round of applause that I eagerly join in- not to herald the arrival of the happy couple, but two other happy couples that hopefully will act like a lightning rod to any further teasing.

“Oh- shut up,” Sarah protests as she, her wife, Alexa and Jenny walk through the packed restaurant. “This time, we KNOW we didn’t do anything last night.”

“Yeah, but it’s tradition now,” Hendo retorts with a smug grin, before turning back to me. “Will you and your exes be a new wedding tradition, too?”

“…It’s literally happened ONE time,” I reply. “And seriously, why all the interest in my love life, anyway?”

“Because we want you to be happy,” my BFF replies. “As happy as we are. You deserve nothing less.”

“…Thanks,” I mumble, my cheeks somehow reddening even further.

“And when you’re happy, you get mercilessly teased too,” Hendo says, her grin widening. “And speaking of…” This time, everyone, myself included, rises to their feet to applaud the arrival of the two newlyweds, who enter the restaurant hand-in-hand and looking at each other with pure love in their eyes. Try as I might, I can’t quite picture Simon looking at me the same way Michael looks at Lauren. I can’t picture ANY boy looking at me the same way…

“Thanks, everyone!” Lauren says with a grin as she and Michael get their breakfasts before sitting at a table by themselves.

“…So,” I say in what will inevitably be another vain attempt to change the topic, “what are everyone’s plans for the day? Beach, then more beach, then packing for tomorrow’s flight?”

“Sounds about right,” Charlie (Hendo’s boyfriend) replies.

“We may look at some of the local shops, later in the afternoon,” Ophelia (who isn’t a big fan of the heat, and that's putting it mildly) says. “You would be more than welcome to come along with us if you want, Jacinta.”

“Assuming you’re not ‘otherwise occupied’ with Simon…” Hendo teases, before giggling as I toss a packet of sugar at her face.

“…Haven’t even heard from him since last night,” I mumble, finally giving up on denying what happened last night. “He hasn’t texted me or anything.”

“Hardly gentlemanly behaviour,” Telemachus criticises.

“Meh, it is what it is, I guess,” I shrug. “Whatever that means, anyway…”

“It means that if he’s serious about getting back together with you, he needs to up his game,” Hendo says sternly.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if he IS serious, that’s the thing,” I sigh. It wouldn’t be my first one-time fling at a wedding, after all- though I am forced to concede that Hendo is correct. If Simon does want to get back together with me, doing a bunk the night after sleeping with me really isn’t the best way to go about it. And yet, it’s not a deal breaker- far from it, in fact…

Thankfully, the topic of conversation quickly moves on to yesterday’s wedding, and both Simon and what passes for my love life are quickly forgotten about as we finish our breakfasts and head back to our rooms, where I exchange my dress for a very scanty dark turquoise bikini, a long, floaty beach cover-up and a pair of flip-flops. After touching up my make-up, I check my phone again, only to discover there’s STILL no message from Simon. After letting out a long sigh, I head down to reception, where many of my friends are already waiting in their swimwear- and, much to my surprise, so is the young man I spent last night with. Unsurprisingly, most of the eyes in the crowd turn toward me and Simon as we head out of the hotel and toward the beach, though I have no intention of putting on a show for my friends- nor do I have any intention of speaking to Simon until he apologises for this morning.

Once we reach the beach, I set out my towel near Hendo and Charlie, making a point of placing it as far away from Simon and his friends as possible, though it isn’t ten minutes before the bespectacled young man approaches me anyway.

“H- hi,” Simon says nervously.

“Hi,” I reply stoically, not looking at Simon as he sits down next to me on the sand.

“Yeah…” Simon grimaces. “Sorry about ducking out this morning, but I always go for a run in the morning, and when I got back you were already gone and- well, yeah.”

“You could’ve texted me,” I pout.

“I, umm, I kinda- kinda don’t have roaming on my phone…” Simon mumbles. “I mean, yes, I could’ve texted you, but it’d have cost, like, £50…”

“…Okay, you’re forgiven about not texting me,” I say, a smile slowly creeping back to my face. “But going out for a run? How did you have the energy after last night?” I grin as Simon chuckles bashfully at the memory of last night’s ‘workout’.

“Yeah…” Simon says with a grimace as he slides closer to me. “I- I don’t know what I was expecting, really, but- but it was definitely different from the last time we- well, yeah…”

“Different better, or different worse?” I ask.

“…Different, well, ‘different’,” Simon replies. “I mean, it- it’s not a case of ‘better’ or ‘worse’, as both, well, ‘ways’ are great, you know?”

“Glad to hear it,” I chuckle.

“I’m guessing, probably, you know, it- it was different for you?” Simon asks hesitantly, smiling as I nod. “Duh, stupid question…”

“Meh, I get that it’s hard for a lot of people to wrap their head around it,” I shrug. “Well- metaphorically speaking, anyway.”

“It- it really is no different from, you know, any other woman…” Simon says, before trailing off and mumbling as he looks away from me.

“…What?” I ask. “I do take that as a compliment, you know, and well, I’m okay with the fact that you’ve had other girlfriends, heh!”

“Well- okay…” Simon chuckles nervously. “It’s just, you know, talking about other girls while you’re trying to ask a girl out is, well, kinda not great, you know?”

“So… Are- are you asking me out?” I ask.

“If you- if you want to go out with me again, well, sure, I guess…” Simon says, grimacing as I frown. “I mean- I mean yes, yes I am definitely asking you out.” I smile as Simon's confidence visibly increases, but I immediately frown again as I realise that the question won’t be as easy to answer as it apparently was to ask.

“I- I’ll need some time to think about it,” I say, smiling sympathetically as Simon sighs. “That’s not a definite ‘no’. I just- I do kinda remember why we broke up, you know? And yes, both of us are different people now than we were then- obviously, I don’t just mean physically- but, well…”

“Can- can you let me know when you’ll, you know, decide?” Simon asks, clearly deflated by my not immediately saying ‘yes’.

“It’ll be soon, I promise,” I whisper, smiling as Simon sighs, before smiling sadly and giving me a gentle kiss before heading back to his friends. I let out a sigh of my own as I lay back on my beach towel and try to soak up the sun’s rays- Simon’s offer is tempting, he’s undoubtedly a different person to the boy I dated nearly three years ago, but the question I’m unable to answer is the big one- is he Prince Charming?

I’d always assumed, almost certainly wrongly, that I’d recognise ‘Prince Charming’ the second I set eyes on him, that it’d be love at first sight, just as in all the (usually terrible) romance films I’ve watched over the years. During my relationship with Simon, it gradually became clearer and clearer that he wasn’t ‘the one’. In all the time that’s passed, there’s nothing to say for certain that anything’s changed. Well, apart from myself. And Simon, for that matter. We’re both very different people than we were in 2016. Maybe this time round, he WILL be Prince Charming. Is it possible that I’ve already met Prince Charming, but I just didn’t realise it?

We stay on the beach until mid-afternoon, when the heat begins to get the better of us and we head to the shelter of the hotel bar. Both on the beach and at the bar, Simon and I keep our distance from each other, though I do notice his occasional glances over to me as if to ask, ‘have you decided yet?’. And each time my eyes meet his, I avert my gaze, replying to his question with an implied ‘not yet’.

With an early flight tomorrow, none of us stay up late, instead choosing to spend the evening packing and catching up on our sleep (with me sleeping in my own bed tonight). The following morning, a chartered bus arrives to transport all of us (apart from Lauren, Michael and their families, who are staying on a little longer) to the airport. After bidding farewell to Katie and Danny (who are returning to Venice for the rest of their honeymoon), the rest of us tiredly check in to our flight to London, and we’re soon in the air, heading westward toward home. Once the ‘fasten seatbelts’ light goes out, I take the opportunity to get out of my seat and stretch my legs, but mostly to chat to anyone other than the six-year-old boy I somehow found myself sat next to. Obviously, most of the passengers today were sat with their significant others, and as I don’t have an ‘other’, significant or otherwise, I kinda drew the short straw with the seating arrangements. Fortunately, there are spaces on the plane where I can ‘perch’ to talk to my friends- those who aren’t busy cuddling up next to each other, anyway.

“Hey, miss ‘Experienced Traveller’!” I tease my BFF, who lets out a mock sigh and shakes her head, before a warm smile spreads across her immaculately made-up face.

“Hello to you too, Jacinta,” Ophelia replies. “And to answer your next question, he is even less fond of flying than I am, so has taken an anti-nausea pill that has had a side effect.” I smile sympathetically as I glance across Ophelia to where her husband is uncharacteristically slumped in his chair, sleeping the flight away.

“Your next couples retreat will be where, then?” I tease. “Croydon? Birmingham, maybe? Ah- no, wait, he-“

“Telemachus was born and grew up not far from Birmingham,” Ophelia reminds me. “He is even less eager to return to the city where he grew up than I would be to return to the house where I grew up.”

“Assuming it hasn’t been condemned,” I snort, earning a chuckle from my BFF. “Have you spoken to any of them recently? Your real family, I mean.”

“…Well, yes,” Ophelia replies. “I’m speaking to my REAL sister right now.” I sigh and wipe a tear away from my eye as Ophelia has a quiet giggle at my expense.

“You know what I mean,” I say. “Your biological family.”

“I don’t care about biology,” Ophelia says dismissively. “My so-called ‘mother’ could have died last year for all I care. The same applies for my sisters.”

“What about your nieces and nephews?” I ask softly, earning a frown from my BFF.

“…I pity them,” Ophelia replies quietly. “Especially- especially if they turn out to be like me.”

“What, awesome?” I ask, earning a sad smile.

“Unsuited to living with people like my sis- like Charlene, Kylie, Sharon or Candice,” Ophelia replies. “Perhaps I am being paranoid. It is something I have not thought about in many months, so why- why are you bringing it up now?”

“Umm, you did,” I remind my BFF, who frowns. "When you talked about the place where you grew up."

“…Perhaps I have been thinking about it more than I care to admit,” Ophelia sighs. “I have been thinking a lot lately about closure, as though one chapter of my life is about to come to an end while another is just beginning.”

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling the same way,” I confess. “Running into Simon kinda hammered it home a bit, heh.”

“I can only imagine,” Ophelia says softly. “And shall you and Simon be resuming your relationship? I did see you conversing with him on the beach yesterday.”

“I- I don’t know yet,” I confess. “Maybe… I- I just need more time to think about it.”

“Well, I am sure you will make the right decision,” Ophelia says.

“More than can be said for me,” I sigh as Telemachus slowly stirs. “Good nap, Telemachus?”

“It was certainly preferable to being awake on an aeroplane,” Telemachus complains, before smiling as his wife turns her attention toward him. I take this as my cue to wander away, briefly glancing to the back of the plane where Simon is sat along with many of Michael’s (and, I suppose, his) other friends. With a sigh, I walk in the opposite direction, quickly stumbling across more friends who can hopefully distract me from my dilemma.

“Hey girlies!” I say as I sit down opposite the group of young women who have quickly become known to the rest of us as the ‘fearsome foursome’. “Good holiday so far?”

“’So far’?” Nikki protests. “I’m back at work tomorrow! It was a miracle I was able to get time off for the wedding, this close to AngelCon…”

“We would’ve loved to go to the beach with you guys tomorrow if we hadn’t been busy,” Sarah says, making me frown in confusion.

“Wait, do- do you have a job now?” I ask. “You kept THAT quiet…”

“No, I don’t start until next month,” Sarah replies. “But I’m not going ANYWHERE without Nikki.”

“D’aww,” Nikki sighs as she exchanges a gentle kiss with her wife, which naturally prompts Alexa and Jenny to share a kiss of their own.

“Urgh,” I say, making a pretend retching noise that earns playful jeers from my four friends. Thankfully, them being this preoccupied with each other means they at least don’t ask me about Simon…

“So, it looks like you’ll have to babysit Jexy tomorrow,” Sarah says, earning fake laughs from our American friends and real ones from myself and Nikki.

“We don’t need ‘babysitting’,” Jenny petulantly pouts. “Though it would be nice to be shown the city by someone who grew up there.”

“It’d be my pleasure, really,” I chuckle. “There’s quite a few others coming down tomorrow as well, kinda a ‘rest day’ before the madness that will be AngelCon. Well, it’s a rest day for some of us, anyway!” Alexa, Jenny, Sarah and I all giggle as Nikki sulks. “All you really need to see is the beach, anyway. Though they probably won’t be a patch on the ones we just left!”

“Cyprus was really cool,” Alexa giggles. “It’s funny, you know? I always thought it’d be like a middle east country, same-sex couples like us would be, you know…”

“Yeah, but Cyprus is still an EU country,” Sarah says, before pushing the overhead call button. “And all this- well, ANY talk of politics makes me want a drink.”

“Natalie will be there tomorrow if you REALLY want to talk politics,” I giggle. “Though I think her wife’s set up a ‘Boris box’ just in case he does become the next PM, heh. But, like Sarah says, that’s MORE than enough politics!”

“Damn right!” Jenny giggles as Sarah orders drinks for all of us from the flight attendant. “When are you back at work, Jacinta?”

“Wednesday,” I reply. “Nikki very kindly got me backstage access to AngelCon, which my magazine is REALLY excited about, so I’ve got a lot of prep work to do.”

“Well we definitely look forward to reading it!” Alexa says with a warm grin, reminding me that thanks in part to me, our magazine has international subscribers- something both Terri and our publishers are very appreciative of.

“Though I’m surprised you still work there,” Jenny says in a teasing voice. “What with being the daughter of a millionaire and all…”

“Oh- really?” I sigh. “From you of all people?” I smirk as Jenny pouts, before giggling and sighing as the rest of our friends also laugh.

“…Touché,” Jenny concedes.

“In fairness, though, I do love my job,” I admit. “Though life is a little easier with no student loan repayments, heh!”

“I can imagine,” Sarah giggles.

“So, when are you two flying back to America?” I ask.

“A week today,” Alexa replies. “After AngelCon.”

“You’re not sick of us already, are you?” Jenny asks with a mock pout that I immediately see through.

“On the contrary,” I giggle. “The more time I get to spend with you guys, the better!”

“Well, you’re always welcome to come over anytime you want,” Alexa says with a warm, friendly smile. “These two are coming over for Thanksgiving again, and we always have plenty of space.”

“You mean there’s a house large enough for the four of you?” I tease, giggling as I earn fake, sarcastic laughs from my friends. “Seriously though, I’d love to, but I-“ …Don’t want to feel like even more of a fifth wheel than I am right now. Or seventh, ninth or any other odd number you want to count to… “…I’ll think about it.”

“Well, you’ve got four months to make up your mind,” Alexa says. “We’ll save a space for you just in case.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, smiling as the two couples turn back toward each other, which I take as my hint to make my way back to my seat. Fortunately, when I arrive, I find my ‘travelling companion’ fast asleep, and I take care not to wake him as I fasten myself back in my seat and try to get comfortable for the rest of the flight.

Even though Cyprus is technically in Europe, it’s about as far from the UK as it's possible to get, meaning it’s another four and a bit hours before we finally arrive back in London, by which point all of us are tired from our journey (and Telemachus is looking more than a little queasy). Our large group starts to split apart as we get taxis back to our homes, though with Katie staying overnight at Charlie’s house today, I find myself hitching a ride in Ophelia and Telemachus’s taxi for two reasons- first, their flat is less than half a mile from mine, so we can split the cost of the taxi, and secondly, I only plan to stay in my flat for a few minutes. And even that's only to pick up the post and drop off my dirty laundry, before repacking my travel case with clean clothes, underwear and a selection of bikinis and swimsuits. Once I’m packed, I swap out the SIM card in my phone for my usual British one, and when I switch my phone back on, I’m unsurprised to find a voicemail waiting for me from my father. Without even listening to it (as I already know what it’ll say), I hit the button to return the call, which is answered within two rings.

“Hi Jacinta,” dad says. “Back in one piece, then?”

“Well, a very tanned piece, but yeah,” I reply.

“Glad to hear it,” dad chuckles. “How was the wedding?”

“Beautiful,” I reply. “Same as Danny and Katie’s, or any of the other dozens of weddings I’ve been to in the last few months.”

“Well, I’m sure yours will be the most beautiful of the lot,” dad reassures me, though I’m far from convinced.

“Yeah, well, unless I marry myself…” I snort. “Meh. Anyway, we’re going to be getting on the train in a bit, so we should be with you soon.”

“Okay,” dad says. “I’ll get the kettle on ready for when you guys get here. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed your holiday, you’ve really worked hard this year.”

“Yeah, well, the hardest work is going to be this weekend coming,” I chuckle. “I would’ve preferred a holiday AFTER that, but I’m okay working around my friends under the circumstances, heh.”

“Yeah,” dad chuckles. “I’ll see you in a bit, Jacinta.”

“See you,” I whisper, before hanging up the call and sighing.

A few minutes later, the sound of a car horn comes from outside, and I exit my flat with my travel suitcase to find my BFF and her husband waiting in the back of a taxi with their stylish travel cases.

“Hey guys,” I say as I fasten my seatbelt and the taxi whisks us away toward Victoria station. “Everything okay at home?”

“Everything was as we had left it,” Ophelia replies with a smile.

“And is everything okay inside there?” I ask, pointing at my BFF’s husband’s stomach.

“Everything is much more settled now that I am back on solid ground,” Telemachus replies in a tired-sounding voice that betrays just how much he hates air travel. “Though I confess I do wish that we had more time to ourselves before heading out again.”

“Well, you’ve got the whole summer ahead of you,” I reply. “When Ophelia isn’t working on her next award-winning designs, anyway!” I giggle and Telemachus allows himself a sly smirk as my BFF starts to blush.

“…I have yet to win any awards, as you are well aware,” Ophelia mumbles.

“Except for at the end of university, when you took home a very large cash prize for your end of course fashion show,” I remind my BFF.

“And the photographs you uploaded to Instagram of Andromeda received a combined total of over sixty thousand likes,” Telemachus says. “Assuming, of course, that you view acceptance and adoration as a prize?”

“Which you are very aware that I do,” Ophelia says with a smirk. “And they were certainly sixty thousand more than I thought I would receive on this day five years ago.”

“Is there a particular significance to this date in 2014?” Telemachus asks.

“None whatsoever,” Ophelia replies. “I was still living with my mother and younger sister on that date. Which is why it bears no significance to me.”

“I understand entirely,” Telemachus says. “But I do wish sometimes that your so-called mother could see you now, if only so you can show her the happiness and success that you have earned since leaving that house.”

“She would show no interest,” Ophelia snorts. “She would show no remorse for my upbringing nor pride at my success. All that would interest her would be any money I have, which she would attempt to steal from me for alcohol or cigarettes.”

“I can vouch for that,” I mumble. “You really are better off not knowing them.”

“I still have difficulty believing that such people could be kin to such a precious soul,” Telemachus says, linking his fingers with his wife’s and immediately bringing a smile to her face.

“We do not choose our biological families,” Ophelia muses. “Only our real ones.” I bite my lip to keep myself from silently crying as Ophelia looks deep into my eyes with a wide smile on her immaculately made-up face.

We arrive at the station minutes later, and after a short wait, we’re on the train heading south toward the town of my birth. When we arrive at Brighton station just over an hour later, both Ophelia and I let out tired sighs when we see my father waiting for us in the concourse holding a piece of cardboard with the names ‘Hanley/Love/Percival’ written on it in Sharpie.

“…Really?” I ask, earning a wide grin from the older man as he takes mine and Ophelia’s cases and leads us to the station car park.

“Well, if you won’t let me drive you down here,” dad retorts with a smug grin. “And it’s not like I’ve got much else on my plate right now, heh.”

“Okay, fine,” I sigh. “Is everything in the house packed up yet?”

“Not quite,” dad replies. “Just the personal things, my books, my computers… I’m thinking of leaving the furniture, though, for when I rent it out.”

“So are you no longer planning on selling the house, Mike?” Telemachus asks.

“Nah, too many memories,” dad replies. “So I figure I’ll rent it out. Besides, it’s not like I need a big cash lump sum right now!”

“No, I can tell,” I say as dad leads us out to his car- not his old car, but rather a four months old four door Mercedes-Benz coupe. “When- when you were packing your things, did- was, umm, was mum’s- mum…”

“Something like that doesn’t belong in a box,” dad whispers, taking a deep breath to compose himself before forcing a grin on his face. “So, anyway, let’s get your cases loaded, then you can tell me all about Cyprus! I’ve never been there before, and you all look nice and tanned- even you, Ophelia!”

“I thought that for once, I might follow along with the crowd,” my BFF replies. “But only because I deeply care about this particular crowd.”

“We’ll get you bowing to peer pressure soon enough,” I tease as I lower myself onto the passenger seat of dad’s car, while Ophelia and Telemachus slide onto the back seat.

“Don’t you dare,” dad chastises. “Don’t ever change who you are, Ophelia. You’ve worked too long and too hard to be the person you were meant to be. All three of you have.”

“…Thanks,” I whisper as we head home.

Even after living mostly away from home for four years, the second I walk through the front door it’s like I’ve never been away. I drop my bag in the usual spot in the hall, head through to the kitchen to make a drink, finding my favourite glass in its usual spot in the cupboard, before heading through to the living room and sitting in my usual spot on the sofa and smiling sadly as I see mum’s urn in its usual spot in pride of place on the fireplace. Of course, as I’m reminded when I sit down, I’M a very different person than I was when I last lived here, mostly in a physical sense but emotionally as well. I can’t help but feel a sense that a major chapter of my life is about to come to an end, and a new one is about to begin, and whether that new chapter will be better or worse, I can’t say. Of course, this could easily be down to the fact that tonight will be the last time I sleep overnight in this house for a very, very long time…

“Can I make you all something to eat?” Dad asks. “Or shall we get a Deliveroo tonight? My treat, of course.”

“Oh- we can pay for our own meals, seriously,” I say.

“Well, yeah, but I have more money than you,” dad reminds me, smiling as I sigh defeatedly. “And you’ve spent virtually all day on planes, trains and automobiles so you must be knackered, so you three just sit back and relax, I’ll get us all some dinner then we can relax and watch a movie tonight, how does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you Mike,” Ophelia says as she elegantly lowers herself onto the sofa next to me.

“Suck up,” I whisper, making my BFF giggle. “And let me guess- does this movie we’re going to watch star Steve Martin and John Candy by any chance?”

“Good guess!” Dad says as he plucks the DVD off of the shelf. “You three get comfortable and take some weight off your feet, I’ve done nothing all day, so let me wait on you, okay?”

“That would be perfect, thank you,” Ophelia says politely, before turning to her husband. “When I lived here before, Mike would often entertain us in the evening with movies he enjoyed when he was younger, usually made in the 1980s.”

“…I have actually seen Planes, Trains and Automobiles before,” Telemachus confesses with a smile. “My father was as enthusiastic about old movies as Mike. Movie night in the house where I grew up constitutes many of the few positive memories I had of my childhood, as it was one of the few times when my siblings would not bully me.”

“Well, at least you know your sister-in-law isn’t going to bully you today, or ever,” I say with a smile.

“Indeed,” Ophelia confirms. “Not your biological sister-in-law, but your REAL sister-in-law.”

“I sometimes forget just how genuine the love is between the two of you,” Telemachus says with a happy grin.

“I do not,” Ophelia says as she gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “I Just wish I had had the chance to know Jacinta from an earlier age.”

“I wish I had had the chance to BE Jacinta from an earlier age,” I sigh. “But there’s no sense in dwelling on that, I suppose.”

“We three have all earned our happy endings,” Ophelia says confidently, even as I’m left wondering how any ending can be ‘happy’ when it doesn’t involve a ‘Prince Charming’- unless Simon is the one I’ve been looking for this whole time…

Nonetheless, the rest of the evening is spent relaxing, watching the movie and filling in dad on our holiday, sharing photos and videos of the holiday and relating some of the funnier stories- though I decide not to mention how my thong ended up in the hotel's lost and found. I also decide not to mention my run-in with Simon, either... All three of us are tired following our long journey, and with all of us still operating on Cyprus time, we head to bed shortly after 10pm (which is just after midnight according to our body clocks). As such, I wake up just after 7am the following morning, and judging by the sound coming from downstairs, I’m not the first in the house to wake up.

“Good morning, Jacinta,” Ophelia says as I head into the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee. Unusually, even though it is 7am, Ophelia isn’t already dressed and made-up but is instead clad only in her summer nightwear of a long, delicate (and, obviously, home-made) satin nightgown, and Telemachus is wearing a very uncharacteristic pair of lounge pants and a plain white t-shirt.

“Morning,” I reply. “You two are up early, didn’t fancy a lie-in, then?” I smirk as this question, as always, elicits bashful grins from my two friends.

“It would not be proper when we are guests in this house,” Ophelia replies.

“Oh please,” I snort. “You’re no more a guest than I am.”

“True,” dad says as he enters the kitchen in his dressing gown and pours himself a cup of coffee. “Heard you moving about downstairs and figured you’d all be up by now even if it is only 7 o’clock and people your age shouldn’t be up for another five hours, heh!”

“I personally blame the time difference between here and Cyprus,” Ophelia retorts.

“Though this way we also get to show our friends as much of Brighton as possible,” I say. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to this, heh!”

“Your friends came down last summer, didn’t they?” Dad asks.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t quite as, well, ‘mobile’ then,” I say, grimacing as an awkward silence fills the room as everyone remembers the reason why I wasn’t ‘mobile’ last year, specifically the same reason I didn’t need to ‘tuck’ anything when I sat down at the kitchen table.

“…Well, you are now, so might as well make the most of it!” Dad chuckles. “I’m going to be in most of the day if you want to drop back at any point, like for lunch or anything.”

“Thanks, we should be okay though,” I say.

“Any idea where you’re going first?” Dad asks.

“Beach,” I reply, earning a chuckle from the older man.

“Didn’t need to ask, did I?” Dad laughs. “Well- you three have fun, and stay safe!”

“We shall, as always,” Ophelia says with a smile.

“I’ll let you three shower first, then,” dad chuckles as we take our breakfasts through to the living room and watch television together as the family that we truly are.

Eventually, we take turns in showering before getting dressed for the day ahead. Obviously, I pull on a bikini, a short denim skirt, a loose, floaty blouse and a pair of flip-flops. Equally obviously, Telemachus opts for a stylish white button up shirt, a pair of tan-coloured trousers and a pair of very smart brown shoes that makes him look a lot older than his twenty years, but which suits him nonetheless.

Ophelia, of course, has gone all out. Rather than a bikini, she’s pulled on one of her special, customised one-piece swimsuits in black and purple that has cutout mesh panels throughout and a built-in waist cincher to keep her waistline nice and narrow. Over her swimsuit is a loose bolero jacket made of the same mesh material as the cutouts of her swimsuit, and covering her legs is a long, floaty skirt made of the same material but cut into strips that flutter wildly with every step Ophelia takes on her 4” wedge-heeled sandals. Despite most of her body being covered from the neck down (and her head being covered by a wide-brimmed sun hat), she still somehow looks beach-ready, and as always, I’m jealous that I can’t look as effortlessly feminine as Ophelia- then again, very few people can. And I know that if I asked for the same outfit, Ophelia would make one for me in a heartbeat, and make it work for me too- after all, as she’s so keen to remind me, I’m just as much a woman as she is.

“Is this ‘Beach Andromeda’?” I tease my BFF, making her grin as we leave the house.

“’Beach Andromeda’ would be far more elaborate than this,” Ophelia giggles. “Though I am eager to see what reaction this will get from the beachgoers today. Among other people…” I frown as Ophelia’s cheerful demeanour suddenly vanishes

“…O?” I ask, confused by my sister’s sudden surliness.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said on the aeroplane,” Ophelia explains. “You were right in saying that this is an unexpected opportunity to obtain closure, something I never did when I left the home where I grew up.”

“W- wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I ask.

“Yes,” Ophelia says, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I wish to go and see my mother.”

“Ophelia,” Telemachus whispers. “You have never had anything positive to say about that woman. You have cut her out of your life, which is no more than she deserves. Why put yourself through unnecessary stress now?”

“Because I need to tell her that she was wrong,” Ophelia says. “All throughout my childhood, she and my sisters mocked me for wanting more than to be the- the parasites that they are. For wanting to read, for wanting to work, for wanting to earn what they are happy to take or steal. I have earned my happiness and success through hard work. She has never earned anything in her life. She needs to know that.”

“She won’t listen to you,” I caution, making my BFF pause and hopefully reconsider her decision.

“…Then I shall speak anyway,” Ophelia says. “Whether or not she chooses to listen is her decision. But I have made up mine. May I count on your support?”

“Of course,” I reply softly. “Always.”

“You do not even need to ask whether or not I shall support you,” Telemachus says, gently liking his fingers with his wife’s.

“Thank you,” Ophelia whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. “Thank you both. I do not lie when I say that I am deeply anxious about this. But I shall not change my mind.”

“Only if you’re absolutely, 100% sure,” I say softly.

“I am,” Ophelia says, taking another deep breath. “Let’s do this.” I silently nod as Ophelia and I make the short walk to her old home, though inside, I’m almost as nervous as she is. Theresa Lowe is one of the most unpleasant people I have ever had contact with in my entire life- bigoted, self-centred and entirely without empathy, despite being the so-called mother of five children. I still can’t believe that someone such as her can produce someone as amazing as Ophelia, and it’s even more baffling that Ophelia would ever want anything to do with her again- until I remember that before all else, Theresa is still Ophelia’s mother. If I had the chance to see my mother again, I would jump at the chance without any hesitation- but then again, my mother loved me. I’m not sure the same could be said of Ophelia’s mother…

A short while later, the three of us walk up the short path that leads to Ophelia’s old front door, and it’s clear from her shivering that Ophelia is terrified by the prospect of what’s coming next.

“We don’t HAVE to do this,” I say softly. “We can just turn around, and-“

“No,” Ophelia says firmly. “If I don’t do it now, I never will.”

“That might not be the worst thing,” Telemachus says.

“Just once,” Ophelia says. “I just need to do this once. Then we can go to the beach with our frie- with our REAL family.”

“Well- okay,” I say, taking a deep breath as Ophelia knocks on the door. “Be strong, O.” My BFF smiles at me as if to say thank you, before taking a deep breath as the door slowly opens and the familiar frame of her mother appears.

Even though it’s only been a few years since I last saw her, the change in her appearance is dramatic. Her hair is long, lank and unwashed and has notable grey streaks throughout. What few teeth remain in her mouth are either yellow or brown, and she’s put on at least thirty pounds since the last time I saw her. And, as always, my eyes water as she is accompanied by a cloud of body odour and cigarette smoke. Judging by the sneer on her face, Theresa doesn’t look very happy to see her daughter for the first time in four years.

“H- hello, mother,” Ophelia says politely, earning a sneer from the older woman.

“What d’you want?” Theresa spits in her crude, unrefined accent.

“I am in Brighton for the day and wished to visit to see how you were,” Ophelia replies.

“And why you still talk like a knob?” Theresa asks with a mean snort of laughter, before scowling as she sees me stood on her doorstep. “And why you brung that tranny to my house!?”

“SHE is my best friend,” Ophelia replies firmly. “It is a pity you are too blind and close-minded to recognise HER as the WOMAN she is. And this gentleman is my husband. Telemachus, meet my mother. Mother, this is Telemachus, your son-in-law.”

“Em-pem-acuss?” Theresa says with a snort of evil laughter. “What kind of name’s em-pem-acuss? And who’d ever want to marry you?”

“Infinitely more men than would ever want to marry you,” Telemachus answers, earning an angry sneer from his mother-in-law.

“Why you not just fuck off, you fucking little rats!” Theresa yells in a loud, unashamed voice.

“Rats?” Ophelia asks, her eyes widening and her affected accent slipping as she struggles to contain her laughter. “I’ve struggled all my life to be better than I am, to be better than- than this! You NEVER cared! And thanks to my surname, nor did any of my teachers. I didn’t learn to read or write until I was ten years old thanks to you and the legacy you gave me. I was written off all throughout school and bullied at home simply for wanting to be more than a PARASITE who lets everyone else do the hard work! I am happy in my life. I have earned my happiness through hard work- MY hard work- to overcome my dyslexia, my shyness… I have a degree. I have a career I love and that I’m good at, and most importantly of all, I have people in my life who love me and who I love in return. What do you have?”

“Tch, you fucking fuh…” Theresa snorts, before angrily slamming the door in our faces. Instantly, both Telemachus and I surround Ophelia and wrap her in a tight group hug, holding her upright as the adrenaline drains from her body and she starts slowly weeping.

“You- you are amazing,” I whisper as Ophelia takes several shaky breaths to try to calm herself down. “I would never have been able to do what you just did. And everything you said was 100% true.”

“Exactly 100% true,” Telemachus says, allowing his own affected accent to slip and his natural Black Country voice to seep through for the first time in all the time that I've known him. “And I- I think I owe you an apology. Previously, I- I had not entirely believed some of the things you had said about your childhood. Now I do.”

“You do not need to apologise,” Ophelia said, smiling as her husband gently wraps an arm around her waist. “You have both shown me more love in the last 60 seconds than that woman did during the first eighteen years of my life. You are both my REAL family, and you always have been. As have Katie, Lauren, Nikki, Sarah- everyone. Families are built on love, not DNA.”

“Well that’s appropriate,” I say. “As your name literally is ‘Love’, so both of our families are built on you.”

“I- I did not intend that,” Ophelia says with a bashful chuckle.

“It is nonetheless true,” Telemachus says. “I cannot imagine a single minute without you. Or without my true sister-in-law.”

“Aww, thanks, bro-in-law!” I say, giggling as I give Telemachus a gentle hug that makes both him and Ophelia smile happily. “Sooo… what do you want to do now?”

“I want to go to the beach,” Ophelia replies determinedly. “I want to relax, read my Kindle, and have fun with my family. My REAL family. And I want to forget all about Theresa Fucking Lowe.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” I say. “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say fuck?”

“It shall also be the last,” Ophelia says with a grin. “I reason that if I am entitled to say that once during my lifetime, that was the most appropriate occasion on which to say it.”

“No arguments from me,” I giggle as we head to the nearest bus stop to take us south toward the coast.

Unsurprisingly, when we arrive at the beach, it’s already crowded, though there’s plenty of space for us to set up and relax in the sun. Before long, Katie (Henderson, who’s pleased that she can be known by her first name again while ‘American Katie’ is in Italy) arrives, accompanied by her boyfriend, Alexa and Jenny, all of whom quickly make their way over to where we’re sat. Shortly afterward, our friends Natalie and Zoe arrive, accompanied by Natalie’s sister Ellen and her fiancée Amelie. Thankfully, no one asks what Ophelia, Telemachus and I were up to this morning, and Ophelia doesn't offer up any clues either- all of us are just happy to be surrounded by friends on a beautiful summer's day. And equally thankfully, no one’s asking me about Simon, either. However, just as I think everyone has arrived and I’m trying to relax on my beach towel, I’m interrupted by a familiar silhouette blocking my sun.

“Hey!” I protest as the young blond-haired man smirks. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you Ian, but could you stand somewhere that won’t give me a lopsided tan?”

“Sorry, sorry!” The young Welshman chuckles as he sits down next to me and removes his loose t-shirt, revealing the flat, firm chest that he worked just as hard to earn as I worked to earn my 'non-flat' chest and 'flat' crotch. “Thanks for the invitation today, though. Gives me an excuse to not go back to Cardiff for a bit longer, heh!”

“I thought you were living in London full-time now?” I ask. “Ever since you signed for-“

“Yeah- well, yeah, kinda,” Ian interrupts, fidgeting awkwardly. “Grandma wants me to come home for at least one week over summer, though, which means dealing with mum as well, and- yeah. Not really looking forward to that, heh.” I smile sympathetically, even as I muse on how many of my friends seem to have the same problems in their lives, even beyond the 'obvious' connection that Ian and I share.

“I bet,” I say softly. “So, who did you travel down with?”

“Oh, the- the usual,” Ian replies, grimacing as another familiar face sits down on the other side of me- the face belonging to Ian’s flat mate, who just so happened to have been my boyfriend for six months.

“H- hi Jacinta,” Lee says nervously, before removing his own t-shirt to reveal that he’s a lot more buff than the skinny nerd I dated last year

“Hi Lee,” I mumble. “You look- you look well.”

“Thanks,” my ex mumbles. “You’re looking great too…”

“I- I think I’ll leave you two to it,” Ian says, making me internally curse as I’m left alone with Lee. Naturally, an awkward silent moment passes between us as I remember the times we shared last year. The fun- both in and out of the bedroom- the way Lee made me laugh, and most of all, the very abrupt way I ended it with him right before I went in for my SRS.

“So, umm…” I mumble.

“Yeah, hi,” Lee chuckles. “Again, as we’ve already said ‘hi’ once, heh.”

“Yeah,” I giggle. “So, are- are you seeing anyone at the moment?” And you open with THAT question? I think to myself as I feel every cell in my body squirm with embarrassment.

“Not at the moment,” Lee replies. “Are- are you?” Well, I walked into THIS one, I think to myself as I ponder how to answer the question- an answer that hinges on how I intend to answer Simon’s question. Am I going to get back together with him? Things with Simon ended for a reason, after all, and after Simon, Lee was like a breath of fresh air. He was funny, sweet, VERY ‘eager to please’… But things also ended with him for a reason. However, in the time that’s passed, Lee’s obviously changed a lot. But then again, so has Simon…

“Not- not really,” I reply with a smile. “I’m kinda keeping my options open, heh.”

“Heh,” Lee chuckles nervously. “So, umm, I- I’ve kinda been thinking about you a lot lately. Like, we used to have a lot of fun, you know?”

“What, like when you drove me around your back garden on a go-kart in the middle of winter?” I retort.

“…You’re seriously telling me that WASN’T fun?” Lee asks, and despite myself, I let out a girlish giggle. Lee’s sense of humour was always his best characteristic, and it hasn’t changed in the time we’ve been separated. No man has ever made me laugh like Lee has- even if he is a bit (well, okay, a lot) of a nerd. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing, of course…

“…Maybe a little bit,” I say. “Are you still building your gadgets and gizmos?”

“Well, I’m studying robotic engineering at University College London, so it kinda goes with the territory,” Lee says with a smug grin that makes me roll my eyes before giggling again. After all, if he's studying a subject like that at a university as prestigious as that one, he has every right to be smug.

“How did you do in your first year?” I ask.

“Just about scraped a first overall,” Lee replies. “Going to need to up my game a bit for next year, heh.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Do you- do you know where you’d want to work yet? When you graduate, I mean?”

“Well, hopefully I’ll do a master’s or a PhD first,” Lee says. “The dream job, though, is definitely NASA. Who knows, maybe I’ll work on some of the robots that’ll be used by the first person to walk on Mars? And don’t tell me that WOULDN’T be cool.”

“…Maybe a little,” I say, though internally, I’m more than a little impressed. Working for NASA is a lot more impressive than working for a fashion magazine. Also a lot more impressive than working for a cinema, Like Simon…

“I’m hoping to get an internship there next summer,” Lee continues. “Of course, competition for that will be FIERCE, though I’d happily settle for interning for the European Space Agency instead. But, you know, summer at JPL in California, getting hands-on with the most advanced technology ever built by humans, who can say no to that?”

“Hell, it’s even making ME want a go!” I giggle, earning a smile from Lee. “You know, you- you’re a lot different than I remember.”

“Well, I have been hitting the gym a bit more,” Lee says, again making me giggle.

“Not like THAT,” I retort. “Well, okay, maybe a little like THAT, but, you know, you seem a lot more- a lot more grown up. And I don’t mean that in a bad way, you know?” Another reason our relationship ended was the small but still significant age gap- I was a few weeks away from my 22nd birthday when we started going out, while he’d just turned 18, which I didn’t expect at first to be as big a deal as it turned out to be. A year at university though, especially one like UCL, has definitely made him a lot more mature- and a lot sexier, too…

“I know,” Lee says with a smile, before nervously biting his lip. “So, umm, do you have any other plans for the summer? Any holidays or anything?”

“I’ve only just got back from holiday!” I chuckle. “Going back to work tomorrow, not all of us can have huge three-month holidays in summer!”

"Not even the daughter of a millionaire?" Lee asks, before chuckling as I stare at him witheringly.

"...You watched that, then?" I ask.

"You did kinda hype it on your Facebook," Lee reminds me. "So, well, yeah, I- I kinda did, heh. So did Ian. We were nowhere on the last few questions, your dad's a really smart guy."

"Thanks," I chuckle quietly. "And for the record, I paid for my own holidays this year."

"Okay, okay," Lee chuckles. “So, umm, did you go anywhere nice? I mean, I already know you went to America and Cyprus, I saw your Facebook photos, but, like, did you go anywhere nice in America or Cyprus?”

“Well- yeah, I had fun,” I reply with a grin. “And that's twice in as many sentences that you've mentioned Facebook. You still stalk me on there, then?”

“I don’t ‘stalk’,” Lee retorts. “I’m a friend who plays close interest to your Facebook activity. Now if we weren’t friends, THEN it’d be stalking.” …And once again, I find myself giggling at Lee’s joke and nodding in agreement.

“I’ll let you off this time,” I giggle. “Given that we have seen each other naked, you looking at my Facebook photos is kinda okay…” My voice trails off as I realise that the last time Lee and I saw each other naked, I looked a lot different than how I look now. Lee was cool with it, of course- his best friend is also transgender, after all- but it is still a sensitive area (so to speak).

“…Yeah,” Lee grimaces. “I notice you didn’t upload any photos of THAT, heh.”

“I think Facebook kinda has a few rules against it,” I say. “But to answer your next question, honestly, it’s fully healed, it’s like, you know, just normal for me now.”

“Yeah, I don’t- I don’t REALLY know what that’s like,” Lee chuckles.

“Ah- yeah, I guess,” I say, my cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

“And I wouldn’t have asked, either,” Lee says. “Kinda figure it’s, you know, a personal thing.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t really get much more personal,” I say, smirking as Lee’s cheeks start to turn red.

“I bet,” Lee says. “God knows I don’t ask Ian any of- well, THOSE questions, but-“

“But you’re both BOYS,” I interrupt, making Lee chuckle again.

“We prefer ‘men’,” Lee says. “’Guys’ will do in a crunch, though.”

“And the difference is…?” I ask, before shrieking with laughter as Lee suddenly springs to his feet and scoops me up in his arms.

“BOYS have less upper body strength,” Lee says, before chuckling as he gently lowers me back onto the sand. As I catch my breath, I suddenly realise that I have one of my arms wrapped around his neck while the other is gently caressing his chest- just as I would whenever we made out, or even when we made love... memories that are foremost in my mind right now.

“Okay, point taken,” I giggle. “GUY.”

“Heh,” Lee chuckles as he lowers himself down next to me. “So, I’m guessing you’re heading back to London tonight, then? If you’re at work tomorrow, I mean?”

“Yep,” I sigh. “Got a ticket booked for just after 5pm, want to show my friends some of the city first.”

“I could always give you a lift back if you want?” Lee offers. “I can drop you at your door, you won’t have to deal with the tube at rush hour.”

“…I’d like that,” I say with a smile as my mind starts to race- in the ‘Prince Charming’ stakes, maybe Simon has just slipped into second place…

We stay on the beach topping up our tans until lunchtime, when we all decamp to a nearby café. I’m not sure whether or not to be thankful that Lee chooses to eat with Ian rather than with me, though I am thankful that on my table, everyone's so hyped following the wedding that they don't even think to ask about the guy who was virtually powerlifting me a short while earlier. After lunch, Ophelia and I give our friends their promised mini tour of the city, taking in sights like the Pavilion and the i360, before eventually culminating in a big group photo at the end of the pier that I make sure to share with everyone before we all disperse for our various rides back to London. Before we leave the pier, though, my BFF approaches me with a wide grin on her face.

“Hey O,” I say with a smile. “Where’s Telemachus?”

“Making use of the facilities,” Ophelia replies. “Which gives me the opportunity to ask you whether or not that was your ex-boyfriend I saw you talking to on the beach earlier?”

“…I was kinda expecting you to bring THAT up at lunch,” I chuckle.

“With Natalie, Ellen and Alexa discussing football, another kind of football and politics, it was difficult to find the opportunity,” Ophelia retorts. “Though I was not prepared to let you return to London without commenting that I am not the only person today encountering a face from their past. However, while my mother shall remain in my past, shall Lee remain in yours?”

“Don’t know what you could possibly mean,” I unashamedly lie.

“I am inexperienced with relationships beyond my own,” Ophelia says, “Though my understanding is that most men don’t scoop other women up in a bridal carry unless they are intimate with them, or plan to become intimate.”

“We were just talking, that’s all,” I say. “You know Lee, he’s a joker, he- we were just playing around, having a laugh, that sort of thing.”

“If you say so,” Ophelia says. “The question is, what shall you tell Simon?”

“…What about Simon?” I ask.

“Unless you plan on dating both Simon and Lee simultaneously?” Ophelia asks. “Given your history with men, I would not recommend this.”

“Maybe I don’t want to date either one exclusively?” I retort, before sighing. “…Okay, maybe I do. It’s just- Lee’s changed a lot, you know? He used to be this immature kid, now he’s a slightly less immature slightly older guy. With a great body, too…”

“Well, I look forward to discussing it further on the train home,” Ophelia says, making me grimace.

“Ah- yeah, about that…” I say as I head toward where Ian and Lee are walking, my BFF following close behind me.

A short while later, I say goodbye to my friends- including Ian- at the railway station, before heading to Lee’s car and lowering myself onto the passenger seat with a wide, yet nervous grin on my face.

“Well, we’ve certainly given them a few things to talk about on the train,” I say with a nervous giggle as I fasten my seatbelt and we head back north.

“Meh, let them talk,” Lee shrugs, mirroring my smile. “I’m glad you accepted my offer of a lift, though this car does have five seats, so technically I could’ve given Ian a lift too, and two of your other friends."

“I didn’t want to let a train ticket go to waste,” I shrug.

“Your dad is literally a millionaire,” Lee retorts. “£20 for a train ticket is, like, a drop in the ocean.”

“Yeah, dad’s a millionaire, but I’m not,” I say, before sighing. “…And maybe I wanted to pick up our conversation from where we left off. Is that really a bad thing?”

“Well, I certainly don’t think so,” Lee replies with a smile. “I- I really have missed you over this last year, Jacinta. I mean, okay, yes, I’ve dated other girls since, but- umm, maybe I should stop talking?”

“…Maybe,” I reply with a smirk as Lee squirms. “But in fairness, I’ve dated other guys too, and none of them have really made me laugh like you do. In a good way, I mean.”

“As long as you only laugh at me when I’m fully clothed,” Lee says, earning another giggle from me.

“Don’t worry,” I say reassuringly. “You have nothing to apologise about in THAT area, hehe!”

“Always good to hear,” Lee says, though my comment seems to make his cheeks redden even more.

“What- what’s up?” I ask.

“Oh- nothing,” Lee mumbles. “Just- just this talk of ‘areas’…”

“Yeah, well, like I said before, it’s not ‘sensitive’, it’s just part of who I am,” I say, before taking a deep breath. there's no real way to word my next question without actually coming on to Lee, and I don't want to give him the wrong impression- assuming, of course, that it is a 'wrong' impression. “…Would you like to see it?”

“…What, now?” Lee replies. “Might cause a pile-up if I did…”

“I meant when we get back to London,” I say softly. “Can you maybe, you know, stop by for some coffee before heading home?”

“Only if it’s decaf, this late in the evening,” Lee says, making me roll my eyes.

“Okay then,” I sigh. “Do you want to drop round to have some s-“

“I knew what you meant,” Lee teases, again making me giggle despite myself. “And the answer is definitely ‘yes’. If, umm, well…”

“…Yes?” I ask.

“You did say before that you were, well, only sort-of not going out with anyone right now,” Lee says. “Am I, you know, ‘playing in another guy’s garden’?”

“Well, first, it’s MY ‘garden’, and I decide who ‘plays’ on it,” I retort with a frown that softens as Lee mumbles an apology. “And second, I- I still really like you, Lee.”

“…I like you too,” Lee says. “So, umm, would you- would you think about, you know, making this, like, an ongoing arrangement? Not just, like, the ‘coffee’, but, umm, well-“

“If you want to ask it, just ask it,” I say.

“Will you- umm, do- do you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend again?” Lee asks. You had to ask, I (admittedly hypocritically) think to myself. Just as with Simon, this isn’t going to be an easy question to answer. I do like Lee, sure. He’s funny, he’s sweet (in his own unique way), he’s sexy too, but he most definitely wasn’t Prince Charming. However, that was twelve months ago, and he’s changed a lot since then. Then again, so has Simon, and I haven’t given him an answer yet…

“Let- let’s take it one day at a time,” I whisper, sharing a smile with Lee as we head back to London.

When we arrive back at my flat, it doesn’t take long for our clothes to hit the floor. But even after we've 'finished', I find myself wanting to be around Lee even more- though just talking, as friends. It may seem obvious, but it took me until now to realise that if I can't be friendly with 'Prince Charming', the relationship simply won't go anywhere. And of all my exes, Lee is easily the one I most consider a friend, something definitely helped by how fond I am of his best friend- the closes thing I have to a little brother. The more we talk, the more convinced I am that Lee COULD be Prince Charming… but I’m still far from certain that he IS. All I know is that my decision just got a lot harder…

I spend the rest of the evening trying to distract myself with television, Facebook and catching up with work ahead of tomorrow. However, as much as I try, I can’t get the two young men out of my mind. I’ve spent so long being obsessed over finding my ‘Prince Charming’, and now I’ve had two candidates fling themselves at me in the space of 48 hours. Two candidates I’d previously rejected, sure, but they’re definitely back in contention now… I think. I know I’ve been too picky in the past, and that’s only got worse as time’s gone on. I’ve become so focused on finding ‘the one’ that ‘a one’ just isn’t good enough for me anymore. I want a man who can satisfy all of my wants and desires. I don’t want to settle for 90%, or even 99%, I want 100%. But is 99% really so bad? Does the perfect guy, ‘Prince Charming’ even really exist? Given the amount of people who marry and later divorce, is ‘Prince Charming’ even really a thing for anyone? In the end, I want someone who makes me happy, and Lee and Simon both certainly fit that mould. But do they make me happy enough?

I’m woken the following morning by the sound of the television coming from the living room, making me sigh. Katie had said she was staying overnight at Charlie’s house, but must have come home to shower and change her clothes. When I enter the living room, however, it’s not Katie’s face that greets me, but rather a face I’ve been seeing with increasing frequency in my dreams.

“M- mum?” I ask.

“Hello again,” my mother says with a warm smile as she gestures for me to sit down next to her.

“Wake up it’s a beautiful morning…” My phone’s alarm blares, waking me from my slumber and making me groan with frustration. After mum passed away, I dreamed about her a lot, but as time went on, the dreams became less and less frequent, maybe twice a year at most. But this dream is at least the tenth one I’ve had in the last four weeks. I just wish I knew what the dreams meant, and what mum had to say to me…

Even though I’m looking forward to going back to work, I still let out a sigh as I get dressed in my plain light blue top and floaty grey skirt. After all, my holiday is now over, and I did have a lot of fun while I was away. Well, right up until I was faced with a virtually impossible dilemma, anyway…

“Hello, miss globetrotter!” Lizzie teases, making me sigh and roll my eyes in a mock dramatic way as I enter the office and head to my desk to set up for the day. “Enjoy your holiday?”

“Yeah, it was great, thanks!” I reply with a genuine smile that my deputy editor mirrors. “Kinda looking forward to getting back into the swing of things, though.”

“Yeah, I bet!” Lizzie chuckles. “Well, no real rush today, you just take your time getting back up to speed. It’s Saturday that’s going to be the big day, anyway!”

“Very true!” I chuckle as I think forward to AngelCon 2019 3 days from now. The backstage press pass I've been able to blag off of Nikki, which gives me the ability to take countless exclusive photos for the magazine, has made Terri and Lizzie very happy with the number of extra sales it'll inevitably generate for the magazine. And even better, of course, is that I’ll be spending the whole weekend ‘working’ with my friends.

“Terri’s going to be in a bit later, I think she wants to talk to you about the Twitch streamers feature we did last month,” Lizzie says. “And I know Ciara wants some photos for a feature on the website. But in the meantime, I want to hear about America and Cyprus!”

“Well, there’s not really much to tell,” I chuckle. “The weddings were both beautiful, the countries were hot…”

“Yep, I saw the photos, and I can definitely tell by your tan!” Lizzie teases as she gestures toward my bare legs. “Meet any nice guys while you were over there?” Straight to THAT question, then, I think to myself as I force a smile on my face.

“’Nice’ guys?” I retort. “Do they even exist?” I share a giggle with the bubbly young woman in the vain hope that this will divert the topic of conversation.

“Ah, but seriously, though?” Lizzie asks, making me groan internally.

“Seriously,” I say with a grin. “I had a LOT of fun in Cyprus, and I’ll leave it at that, hehe!”

“Atta girl!” Lizzie giggles, giving me a gentle cuddle before heading to her desk. I take the opportunity to set up my camera and my laptop and log in to the magazine’s servers, but before I can start any work, I’m interrupted by two other familiar faces sitting down opposite me.

“You do actually still work here, then?” Josh teases, smirking along with Alex as I roll my eyes.

“Ha ha, hilarious,” I retort. “The office didn’t burn down in my absence, then?”

“Well, Josh did buy a pair of hair straighteners, so nearly,” Alex says, earning an elbow in the ribs from his boyfriend.

“I hope you’re joking,” I chuckle, before playfully ruffling Josh’s long, curly locks. “Why would you ever straighten hair like that?”

“Told you,” Alex chuckles.

“I’ve always wished I could have, you know, curly, more voluminous hair,” I muse. “My friend Nikki has wavy hair and is always going on about how she wished her hair could be straighter, like mine, but mine’s only straight because the- well, the ‘Y chromosome owners’ in my family typically have thinner hair, and- and, I, umm, I lost you a while back, didn’t I?”

“…Yeah, just ‘cause we’re gay, it doesn’t make us hairdressers, heh!” Alex says with a laugh. “Though I think we’ve just proved that your, well, your Y chromosome is probably just another X one that’s been folded over a bit, heh.”

“Now who’s being stereotypical?” I giggle, before sighing and smiling as my two workmates return to their desks.

Just as I’m about to start work- again- on editing my photos for Ciara, I sense another person sitting down next to me, which elicits another sigh- though the smile quickly returns to my face when I see who it is.

“Hey you!” I say with a giggle. “Miss me?”

“Maybe a little,” Tom replies, sharing my smile as he relaxes back into his chair. “Did you enjoy your holiday?”

“Yeah, it was great, thanks!” I reply. “I mean, I’ve been to America before, but it’s still an amazing country, and Cyprus is really hot too, heh! Then again, so is England right now!”

“Yeah, I saw some of the photos from yesterday,” Tom says with a grin. “If I’d known you were going back home yesterday, I’d have tried to cadge the day off and gone with you.”

“Yeah, that- that might have given people the wrong impression,” I chuckle as I think back to the many times that my friends have mistaken Tom- who admittedly is one of my oldest friends- for more than just a friend. “Lee being one of them…”

“Who- Lee?” Tom asks. “As in your ex-boyfriend from Wales? Was he there yesterday?” Why do you sound jealous? I think to myself.

“Yeah, he came down with his flat mate from uni,” I reply. “He- he actually wants us to get back together.”

“Okay,” Tom shrugs, a stoic expression taking over his face. “And do- do you want to get back together with him?”

“…Maybe?” I reply with a grimace. “It wouldn’t be such a hard decision, but I ran into Simon at the wedding in Cyprus too. He’s another ex, by the way.”

“Yeah, I remember you talking about him before,” Tom says. “Always a tough choice when you’ve been separated a while, you kinda look at your ex through rose-tinted glasses, especially if you’re still single.”

“Yeah,” I sigh sadly.

“God knows I’ve been thinking about Caitlin a lot recently,” Tom says, making me fidget uncomfortably.

“Has- has she asked you to-“ I stammer.

“Nah,” Tom shrugs. “Dunno even if I would if she said yes, the way we ended- yeah, not fond memories, heh.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, though as I do, I can’t help but remember my own former friendship with Caitlin. After my mother died, it took months for me to return to primary school, and when I did, I’d never felt more alone. I’d always been a bit of a loner, a bit of an odd one out- for obvious reasons- but I’d never been as scared as I was during that September. And then, out of the blue, three girls came over to me and invited me to join their clique, and all of a sudden, I knew what it was to have real friends. Or so I thought, anyway- by the time we were all thirteen, Caitlin, Jessica and Noor had all decided they’d had enough of me, and by the time we left secondary school, they hadn’t so much as looked at me in months. And then, when ‘Jacinta’ finally met Caitlin, she treated me the same way you’d treat something you stepped on in the street, never mind the fact that she, like me, grew up in the LGBT capital of the UK. And then she started going out with a guy I always fancied…

“Anyway,” Tom says, taking a deep breath. “I actually came over as I need to give you this.” I smirk as Tom drops a laminated lanyard on my desk- my backstage pass to AngelCon this Saturday. “Got ones for Josh and Alex too, as I’ve lined up a few interviews for them. And I got one for myself too.”

“What, are you going to do more interviews, then?” I tease, giggling as Tom rolls his eyes.

“Ah- no, no I’m not,” Tom chuckles. “That interview with your dad is the beginning and end of my, well, ‘in front of the scenes’ journalistic career. Nah, I’m just going along to make some contacts, that sort of thing.”

“The contacts I’ve already made, you mean?” I say, giggling as Tom rolls his eyes.

“Well, just in case your dad buys you an apartment in Monaco or somewhere,” Tom retorts, making me roll my eyes. “Or you get yourself a rich husband, heh.”

“Neither Simon nor Lee are THAT well off,” I say. “Assuming I decide to go out with either of them, anyway…” I sigh as Tom heads away to talk to my colleagues, before turning back to focus on my work. Over the last few months, Tom has become one of my closest friends, and while (as I've said before) friendship is a key ingredient for being 'Prince Charming', Tom might be TOO good a friend. After all, we hear far too often about friendships that get ruined by sex- and Tom’s friendship is something I’m not prepared to risk.

With no further distractions, I take the opportunity to immerse myself in my work, quickly catching up on the workload that had built up while I was away. Terri arrives later in the morning and calls me in to see her, just as Lizzie said, but the meeting only lasts a few minutes, as Terri only wanted to go over which photos she wanted to use for the Twitch feature in our next issue. And, of course, talk about my holiday. Once that’s all sorted out, I head back to my desk and get back to my work, awaiting my next interruption from our webmaster. However, when she eventually arrives in the office, I realise I underestimated just how much of a distraction she would be…

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late,” Ciara says as she enters the office… followed closely behind by Phil Mansfield. The same Phil Mansfield whom I slept with at Christmas, who was a complete embarrassment in front of my friends, and who is looking straight at me as he walks through the office…

“H- hey,” I say nervously as the two newcomers sit down opposite me.

“Good holiday?” Ciara asks as I mentally prepare to have the exact same conversation I had with all of my other colleagues.

“Yeah, it was good, thanks!” I reply with a forced smile. “Did- did you say you wanted to talk to me about photos for the website?”

“Nah, that can wait, I want to hear about America and Cyprus!” Ciara says with very uncharacteristic enthusiasm. All the while, Phil sits back silently, staring at me intently. I take a deep breath and smile as I recap my holiday for the fifth time today, before trying not to cringe as Ciara excuses herself and heads to her desk, leaving me alone with Phil for the first time this year.

“…So, hi then,” Phil says awkwardly.

“Yeah, hi,” I say. “Long time no see, heh. Are you- are you, you know, keeping okay?”

“Not bad, thanks,” Phil says in an uncharacteristically laid-back way, with none of the swagger or bravado that seemed to define him last Christmas. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I say. “So, umm…”

“Yeah,” Phil says, before grimacing and sighing. “I- I may as well come out and say it, I- I came here with Ciara today because I wanted to see you.”

“…No work today, then?” I ask.

“Night shift,” Phil replies. “I’m a nurse, remember?"

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” I chuckle. “So is- is that why you and Ciara were up so late?”

“Well… sort of,” Phil says. “Yes, I kinda sleep 7am to 2pm when I’m on nights, but I’m up ear- well, quote-unquote early today as I’m not at work tonight.”

“…So you AREN’T at work today, then?” I ask with a smug grin.

“My shift ended at 6am, which is still technically today,” Phil replies with an equally smug grin. “Ciara usually sleeps in, that way we don’t disturb each other when either of us leaves for work. But no, we’re not sleeping in the same bed, or even the same bedroom.” That was specific, I think to myself. Then again, he did say he came here specifically to see me…

“O-kay…” I say hesitantly. “Do you- do you have anything planned for this evening, then?”

“Well… Not yet,” Phil says. “I was wondering, you know, if- if you wanted to maybe get a drink tonight?” …Six months and you’ve chosen NOW to ask me out again? I think to myself as my mind starts to spin.

“Phil, I- I-“ I stammer.

“I know we got off on the wrong foot,” Phil says. “Well, so to speak, anyway. Got off, that i-“

“I got it, yeah,” I interrupt.

“But I- I really can’t stop thinking about you,” Phil says. “Especially in the last few weeks. Can we- do you think we can, you know, try again? I promise not to be a total idiot and pose naked in front of your friends again?” I pause to think as Phil asks me this question. The answer SHOULD be easy- both Lee and Simon are better ‘Prince Charming’ candidates, after all- and yet I can’t bring myself to simply say an outright ‘no’. After all, Phil is sexy- he’s tall, fit and has a classically handsome face. His sense of humour might not be for everyone, but he is still a funny guy, and his recent ‘change’ may even have made him funnier. Also, if we’re talking ‘Prince Charming’ stakes, then nurse certainly beats out cinema worker or engineer (let alone student engineer). And there’s also the fact that Phil is the first guy I ever had sex with post-op, so any 'awkwardness' is already out of the way…

“I- I need time to think about it,” I whisper, trying not to grimace as Phil’s face is filled with disappointment.

“Well- okay,” Phil says. “You have my number, you know where I am.”

“Sure,” I whisper, before letting out a long sigh as Phil walks away to meet up with his flat mate.

Over the course of the last 72 hours, three different guys have propositioned me, all of whom I’ve been with before and all of whom I’ve really liked. They all have their plus points, sure, but they all have flaws that I previously thought ruled them out of the running for ‘Prince Charming’. However, they’re all very much back in the running for one very good reason- they’re all willing to totally overlook my ‘flaw’.

Not that I consider being transgender to be a ‘flaw’, of course- it’s simply part of who I am. I am a woman, but I wasn’t born that way, but that doesn’t stop me from being a woman nonetheless. However, there are millions of potential ‘Prince Charmings’ in the UK alone who would see the way I was born as disqualifying me from being ‘Cinderella’. I would never even dream of dating a transphobe, of course. Even if he was a firefighter who owned a Lamborghini and who looked like Chris Hemsworth, even the slightest hint of transphobia would mean he’d be kicked straight to the kerb. However, that does also mean that the task of finding ‘Prince Charming’ is considerably harder for me than it should be.

And yet, not one, not two but three attractive young men want me to be their ‘Cinderella’. They’re willing to look past my 5’ 10”, broad shouldered frame, my size nine feet and my masculine jawline to see the woman that I truly am underneath- a woman they want to be their girlfriend. They don’t care about the stigma of having a transgender girlfriend- they simply like me for me. And that is the most ‘Charming’ thing any guy, or any Prince can do for a girl like me, and that’s what makes the decision so difficult…

Thankfully, Phil leaves a short while later, allowing me to get back to focussing on my work. After a few more chats with my editors (including a request from Terri to try to get exclusive photos of Mary Carter’s new baby, a boy named Logan who was born on the 8th) the clock finally ticks over to 5pm, and I let out a long sigh as I pack away my stuff and get ready to follow my colleagues out of the office. Before I go, however, I check my phone, and smirk as I find two texts- one from my flatmate, the other from my BFF- inviting me to one of our favourite pubs for a few pre-dinner drinks- and if both girls are texting me, it’s a safe bet there’ll be more than just those two there. Obviously, I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to hang out with my friends (and take my mind off my dilemma) so with a wide grin on my face, I text back to let them know I’m on my way. However, my suddenly improved mood doesn’t go unnoticed by my colleague.

“Don’t let Terri see you’re THAT happy to be getting out of work!” Alex teases, making me giggle and roll my eyes.

“I’ve just got a text inviting me to a pub for a few drinks with my friends,” I retort. “I think I’ve told you before about my friends from America? They’re over this week for AngelCon so I kinda want to spend as much time with them as I can.”

“Ah, cool, is this the same-sex married couple where one of them is transgender?” Josh asks.

“That’s them,” I reply with a grin. “Last time everyone was at this particular pub together, things got a bit, well, messy, hehe!”

“Sounds cool!” Josh says, before taking a deep breath. “Can- can we come? I mean, would it be okay if, you know, we tagged along?”

“Well- it is a PUBLIC house, I guess,” I chuckle. “Though you two did nearly pass out from boredom when I talked about my hair earlier, heh. Are you ready for that multiplied by seven?”

“…We can put up with it for one night, I guess,” Alex replies with a smart aleck grin.

“BOYS,” I sigh, before giggling as we leave the office, only to stop a few steps later when more of my colleagues stop as well.

“Did you say you’re going to meet your American friends at the pub?” Tom asks, grinning as I nod. “Cool, can- can I come too? I mean, umm, I reckon they’d be a really interesting story for the magazine, and-“

“Sure, why not?” I chuckle. “Anyone else?”

“I wouldn’t mind coming along,” Ciara says with a shrug. “Just so the boys don’t start to outnumber us too much, heh! I just need to get something from home first, it that’s okay?”

“Sure!” I chuckle. As long as the thing you’re getting isn’t Phil, I think to myself. “You can never have too many friends, right?”

“Right!” My colleagues giggle as I accompany the three men the short distance to the Heavenly Talent-owned pub, where my six friends are already gathered.

Naturally, my friends all greet me with a tight hug, which they all also share with Josh, Alex and Tom, most of them having met the three men before either at uni or at my ‘Who Wants to Be a Millionaire’ watch party in May. It doesn’t take long for the conversation to get up to full swing as I and my colleagues are bombarded with questions about work, while we grill Nikki and Katie about what to expect at AngelCon and Tom gets Jexy’s contact details for an interview. The mood changes, however, when Ciara arrives twenty minutes later- and just as I’d feared, she’s brought Phil along with her.

“Hey guys, hey Jacinta!” Ciara says with a cool smile. “Hey everyone, I’m Ciara, I’m in charge of X-1’s website, and this is my flatmate Phil.”

“Who some of us have already met!” Katie says as Phil and I seem to be in a race to see whose face can get the reddest the quickest. “First time wearing actual clothes, though.”

“Umm, did- did we miss something?” Nikki asks.

“That depends on how you would define the word ‘miss’,” Ophelia says with a knowing smirk. “In these circumstances, the word would be ‘no’.”

“Yeah…” Phil grimaces. “Kinda think I do owe you all an apology for THAT, heh…”

“Apology accepted,” Katie chuckles as I pray for the ground to swallow me up. “And I’ll fill you guys in later on what happened last Christmas.”

“…Oh, THAT,” Nikki says, before quickly becoming overrun by a fit of giggles that her wife and their American counterparts share. Is there anyone who doesn’t know about this? I self-pityingly think to myself.

“…Yeah, THAT,” Ciara sighs as she playfully shakes her head and tuts at her flat mate.

“I’ll be on my best behaviour tonight, I promise,” Phil says, before heading to the bar to get a drink.

“…So, anyway,” I say in a hasty, desperate attempt to change the subject. “What have you two been up to today?”

“Us?” Alexa replied, smiling as I nod. “We went to Madame Tussauds, had a look around, had our photographs taken with the Queen, William and Kate and loads more.”

"Including Theresa May?” I ask. “While she’s still in there, anyway?” Even politics is a better topic of conversation than me and Phil, I think to myself.

“…Not this time,” Jenny replied with a half-grin, half-grimace. “For what it’s worth, we also skipped over- what was it Natalie called him?”

“The orange fart,” Alexa said with a giggle. “I’ve got to admit, I didn’t believe you at first when you said that in British English, THAT word means THAT, hehe!”

“And in a few days’ time,” Sarah giggles, “we’re probably going to have a Johnson as prime minister, which in American English means-“

“The least appropriate thing to talk about at THIS table!” I interrupt, triggering a mass giggle. “Ahh… What have you got planned for tomorrow, then?”

“Well we WERE going to take a day out to relax,” Jenny replies. “Until your friend decided that our story is something that your readers would find interesting!”

“And to be fair to him, he’s got a point!” Nikki says, giggling as both halves of Jexy start to blush.

“It’s certainly more interesting than my story,” I chuckle, earning sympathetic smiles from my friends.

“Well, yours hasn’t ended yet,” Katie reminds me.

“Indeed,” Ophelia says as my cheeks start to redden from the sudden attention I’m getting. “Your story shall not be complete until you receive the happy ending you so richly deserve.”

“Riding off into the sunset with ‘Prince Charming’,” Alexa teases, giggling as I roll my eyes.

“…Do I need to tell Rachel to set up the karaoke machine?” I say (or rather, threaten), earning blushes from Snikki and Jexy.

“Ah, they’re not wrong, though,” Nikki sighs happily. “Why have you two never got together, though? Assuming that you didn’t when you lived in Brighton, anyway?”

“Wh- who, us?” I ask as I look back and forth between myself and Tom. “Yeah, kinda- kinda a bit awkward, heh, I mean, he-“

“I kinda- kinda went to school with ‘Jason’,” Tom says, making me cringe at the use of my deadname. “And went out with one of her old friends as well…”

“Yeah, it’d be really kinda awkward,” I chuckle. And a fourth option is the last thing I need right now, I think to myself. “Better as friends.”

“Some of the best couples in the world started as friends,” Sarah muses as she links her fingers with her wife’s, while Alexa and Jenny do the same.

“And he’d be much better than captain cushion over there,” Katie whispers to me as she gestures to the oblivious Phil.

“So, Alexa, Jenny,” I say hastily. “What d’you have planned for Friday?”

“Hopefully going to the big party before AngelCon at Charlotte’s house,” Alexa replies. “Assuming someone can get us on the guest list?” I giggle along with everyone as Alexa pouts at Nikki, who overdramatically sighs.

“…I think that can be arranged,” Nikki says with a giggle as the topic of conversation mercifully moves away from my chaotic love life.

We only stay at the pub for another hour before we all disperse and head back to our homes for dinner, Ciara and Phil thankfully leaving first, followed by Josh and Alex, then Snikki, Jexy and finally Katie, leaving just the three Brighton natives in the pub.

“Anyway, umm, I’d better head off too,” Tom says. “’Cause I’ve set up this interview last minute and Josh and Alex are both busy tomorrow, I guess I’m the one who’s going to have to do it, heh! I’ll text you tomorrow, let you know when and where to meet.”

“Sure,” I say, exchanging an awkward hug with the young man before he walks away. “…No Telemachus today, then?”

“He is even less of a fan of public houses than I am,” Ophelia replies. “And besides, I had been led to believe that tonight was to be a girls’ night.”

“Ah- yeah…” I grimace. “Sorry if I, you know, brought along a load of gatecrashers, heh.”

“You are forgiven,” Ophelia says, her grin widening. “A wise person once taught me that you can never have too many friends.”

“Jamie?” I ask, frowning with confusion as Ophelia shakes her head.

“You did,” my BFF says softly. “I dread to think where I would be today if not for your friendship.”

“Oh- oh for god’s sake, O, don’t make me cry in the pub…” I mumble.

“Which is why it constantly pains me to see you unhappy because of your single status,” Ophelia says. “Though I do believe that will end soon. You deserve to find your ‘Prince Charming’. Would I be right in assuming that Phil has extended to you the same offer that Lee and Simon did?”

“Emphasis NOT on ‘extended’?” I ask, smirking as Ophelia giggles at her unintended double entendre. “But yeah, he did. Because my love life was apparently too simple, heh.”

“If I were to have one wish,” Ophelia said, “it would be for you to find the same happiness with your husband that I have with Telemachus. But I believe that you already know who your ‘Prince Charming’ is, deep down inside.”

“…Want to give me a clue?” I ask.

“I said that YOU know, not that I do,” Ophelia teases. “Though as we are platonic soulmates, I do have my suspicions. But that is all that I shall say for now. Shall I see you on Friday?”

“Probably before,” I reply, smiling as I exchange a hug with my BFF outside the pub, before making my way to the nearest tube station to take me home.

When I arrive, I find myself alone once again, a text on my phone confirming that Katie is once again staying overnight at her boyfriend’s house. After a quick microwave dinner, I change into my slouchiest clothes and flop down on the sofa with a long sigh. I have a tough decision ahead of me. Simon, Lee and Phil all have great qualities that work in their favour. They also each have more than a few flaws that go against them. I’ve felt very strongly about them in the past, and they very clearly feel strongly about me. No matter who I choose, I’m going to end up disappointing two of them. Maybe I’ll choose none of them and disappoint all three? As Ophelia said, I deserve to find my ‘Prince Charming’. I’ve not had to endure as much as many other transgender girls, but I’ve had more than my fair share of loneliness.

Well, okay, that isn’t true either. As this evening proved, I have a vast network of friends, all of whom will be there for me if I ever want them to be- especially my BFF. ‘Platonic soulmates’ is as accurate a description of the two of us as I’ve ever heard, and as guilty as I feel for thinking it, a part of me almost wishes that she’d never met Telemachus, and that the two of us would’ve ended up together forever- even if sex would’ve been completely off the table. However, I know better than to dwell on such negative thoughts- Ophelia deserves her ‘Prince Charming’ just as much as I do, and I know that even if we marry others, we will always be together forever. I just wish I was as confident as she is about knowing who ‘Prince Charming’ actually is…

I don’t know exactly when I drifted off, but when I open my eyes, suddenly, sat next to me on the sofa, is the smiling face of my mother. Unlike all the previous times I’ve seen her in my dreams, though, I’m not shocked or scared to see her, but relieved. Consciously, I know she’s just a figment of my imagination, but if Ophelia’s right, and I do know who ‘Prince Charming’ is, then that’s exactly who I need to speak to right now…

“H- hi,” I say nervously.

“Hi,” mum replies with the same warm smile I remember from my childhood. “You’ve come here a lot.”

“Yeah,” I say with a sad sigh. “I- I know this is a dream, I know it’s not really you.”

“I’m as real as you want me to be,” mum says. “I’m as real as you need me to be.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I- I need help.”

“You’ve got a hard choice to make,” mum says. “But I know you’ll make the right decision.”

“I don’t,” I snort.

“Well you should,” mum insists. “I’m a part of you, remember? You know who ‘Prince Charming’ is. You’ve known all along.” I grimace, before relaxing as another face looms into view- the face of the man I immediately know I’m destined to spend the rest of my life with.

Of course, I don’t actually ‘know’ know this, as this is still a dream, after all, but in the context of the dream, as the young man sits down next to me, I’m filled with a feeling of certainty that I’ve never ever felt before. However, it also fills me with a sense of sadness, as I realise that my nap- and with it, my dream- is coming to an end.

“I- I don’t want you to go,” I sob, tears streaming from my eyes as I lean to my mother for a tight hug, the first I’ve received in over eighteen years.

“But I’m not going,” mum reassures me. “I’ll always be a part of you, Jacinta. My beautiful, perfect daughter. I wish I’d got to know the real you earlier. But I am proud of the woman you’ve become. And we will see each other again. I promise.”

“Heh,” I sniffle. “I- I don’t even believe in heaven…”

“But I do,” mum whispers as the living room starts to fade. “I love you, Jacinta.” I open my eyes to find myself back in the cold, harsh light of reality, my cheeks stained with tears and mascara as the dream starts to fade from my memory.

I try my hardest to remember every last detail of it- the way mum looked, the way she sounded, the feel of her hug… However, the harder I try, the more the details start to slip from my mind, all except one- the face of ‘Prince Charming’.

Filled with a sense of determination, I head through to the bathroom to repair my hair and my make-up, before heading through to my bedroom and exchanging the t-shirt and shorts I’d changed into when I got home for a short summer dress and a pair of 2” wedge-heeled sandals. I take several deep breaths to calm myself before grabbing my summer jacket and my handbag, leaving the flat and summoning a taxi to take me to my destination.

During the short taxi ride, my mind races over and over again as I try to convince myself I’m making the right decision. Logically, I know there are many reasons why I shouldn’t get with the guy I’m going to see, and I’m going to disappoint the others, maybe totally destroy any potential future relationship with them if it doesn’t work out with the guy I’ve chosen. But I can’t escape the feeling that the guy in question IS ‘Prince Charming’, and that Ophelia and ‘mum’ were both right- that I knew all along. And I know one thing for certain- I’ll never find out for certain unless I take the plunge…

My nerves jangle as I climb out of the taxi and walk up to the flat’s front door, and as I knock, I feel my legs turn to jelly and I have to prop myself up against the doorframe to stop myself from falling over. The door opens a few seconds later, and I bite my lip to stop it from trembling as the young man gazes at me.

“Jacinta?” the young man says. “What are you doing here?”

“H- hi,” I say breathlessly. “Can I come in?”

TO BE CONTINUED