gayannabeth

  Of course, one drink wasn’t enough for the two of us, so we stopped by a liquor store on the way home to grab more.

  I felt super self conscious as Rachel picked up a can of bckberry cider. She bit her lip as she held it, looking around. “Is it bad that I kinda wanna try a few fvours?” She asked.

  “Um, no,” I said quietly.

  Rachel gnced at the shelves. “Um, alright then… how about…” she grabbed an orange fvoured drink off the shelf. “And…” she picked up a pineapple fvoured one.

  “Ok, dude…ette, I think that’s enough.”

  She gave me a baffled look. “Dudette?”

  I nodded. “Um, yeah, you told me not to call you dude anymore.”

  She cringed. “I take it back. Dude is way more preferable to dudette. Dudette sounds so fucking cringey.”

  We started heading to check out. “You’re right.”

  “I know,” she said. “Don’t call me dude either, though. No dude, no dudette.”

  “Got it,” I replied, giggling. Oh fuck me, I’m giggling now? I’m really getting into this ‘pretending to be a girl’ thing, aren’t I?

  When we went to check out, I was asked to show my ID. I nodded, starting to take it out of my wallet.

  Then I spotted the picture on it. Boy me. Oh right.

  I cringed as I held it up for the worker to look at. She squinted at it. “Ma’am, I think you took your brother’s wallet.”

  I flushed. “No, um, th-that’s me…” I trailed off, looking anywhere but at the store employee or at Rachel.

  “Oh!” She said, “you’re, um, one of those transgender women, then?”

  I froze. Was I? Well, no… but, if it got us our alcohol, I could… pretend? I was already pretending to be a girl, which, considering most people I knew already knew me as a guy, did actually mean I was pretending to be a trans girl anyway. I nodded, feeling guilty.

  “Alright then, dear,” she said. She turned to Rachel. “And you?”

  Rachel froze. “I’m twenty!”

  The woman sighed. “I do still need to see ID, dear. Don’t worry.”

  Rachel dug around in her… was that a purse?! Anyway, she took her wallet out of her purse and showed the woman her ID, her face red.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You got yourself a purse?” I asked Rachel once we were back alone in my apartment.

  She nodded. “Well, I needed a bra…” she trailed off.

  “That does not remotely transte to getting a hot pink purse!”

  Rachel frowned. “Ok, well, I figured that if I wanted to better pretend to be a girl, I’d need some girl clothes. Since I was getting a bra for my, um, boobs, I was already buying clothes, right?”

  I nodded. “That makes sense. So you got some girl clothes at the same time too.”

  “Exactly!” Rachel expined. “Right, so, I got this outfit plus some others. And then, I realised the pockets on these jeans are tiny, so I got a purse.”

  “And, did it have to be hot pink?” I asked.

  “Of course! Pink is just such a girly colour, I had to so I could sell pretending to be a girl.”

  “You know, people are going to think you wanted to be a girl,” I commented, hoping to spark some sort of epiphany in her.

  She blushed. “Well- What- Why would they?” she stammered out.

  “I don’t know, man.” She flinched and I felt bad for using that word, but continued speaking anyway. “It seems to me like you’re embracing this whole girl thing quite a bit. You just needed a bra, but you’re getting yourself a whole new wardrobe and a purse and whatnot.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything!” Rachel excimed defensively. “Whatever, let’s just go get drunk and Smash.”

  “Py Smash,” I said.

  “What?” Rachel blushed. “Oh, fuck. No no no no. No!”

  I giggled. Fuck, what was with me today?

  “Alright, lemme just grab my drink from the fridge, then we’ll get settled in.”

  It didn’t take long for the effects of the alcohol to be felt. I looked at my can, confused, sure that for the level of intoxication I was feeling, I should’ve finished it, but it still felt half-full. Weird.

  Rachel, meanwhile, had finished her can, and was sprawled on the couch, her controller forgotten on the ground next to her.

  “Lillith,” she said, her words slightly slurred. “Is good name. Why’d you pick it?”

  I took another sip from my drink. “I dunno,” I said. This was true, I’d first used it in a game so long ago that I now forgot why I’d chosen it.

  “I dunno why I chose Rachel either,” Rachel said. “It’s just… a pretty name.”

  I nodded. “It is.”

  Rachel grabbed one of her other drinks — the pineapple one — and opened it., taking a sip. “Fuck, this is really good. Here, try a sip.” She’d been doing this all evening too, offering me sips from her drink. I’d also given her some of mine. I was pretty sure that I’d had more to drink than her, but she was definitely more drunk than I was — probably because she was much shorter than I was.

  I took a sip from the drink, and had to agree with her.

  I’d long since transitioned from pying against her to pying against the CPU since Rachel was too drunk to pose much of a challenge for me.

  “My boobs hurt,” she commented, unprompted.

  “Don’t they hurt because they’re growing or something?” I remembered reading that somewhere.

  “Why would they be growing? I haven’t pyed the game since Thursday.”

  “I dunno, man.” Rachel flinched again. Fuck, I gotta stop saying that. “Girl, sorry,” I said.

  Rachel gave me a confused look. “I- I’m not-” she cut herself off. “But… whatever, carry on.”

  “Right, uhhh…” I trailed off. “No, I…” I frowned. “What was I saying?”

  “Somethin’ about boobs, I think,” Rachel said.

  “Boobs,” I said. “I like boobs.”

  “You’ve got your own boobs now,” Rachel commented. “Actually, so do I!”

  I looked over at her to find her looking down at her chest, her hands positioned just over her breasts. As I watched, she grabbed one of them, then let out a gasp. “Fuck, why are these things so fucking sensitive?”

  “Um, Rachel?” I said. “I’m right here, ya know?”

  She looked up at me, blushing, her eyes wide. “I- I- Um- I- fuck.” She quickly pulled her hands away from her chest, looking anywhere but at me. “I- Um… would you rather I touched yours?” Her eyes went even wider. Did she really just say that?

  “Girl, what?” I said, shocked.

  “I didn’t mean to say that!” She took a long sip from her can of pineapple fvoured cider, then handed me the can, her face beet red, looking up at the ceiling.

  I wordlessly accepted the can, deciding not to comment on how… forward that comment was.

  I’d lost track of time. Eventually, after getting drunk enough that I lost five matches in a row against the CPU on the easiest setting, I finally put down my controller.

  Rachel was still lying on the couch with her phone, probably browsing Reddit or something.

  The TV was on, sitting on the home screen with YouTube selected. Had I… Yeah, probably. I opened YouTube up and browsed through the recommended videos, deciding to py the test Jet Lag video.

  Rachel looked up from her phone. “Oh, you watch this too?”

  I nodded. “It’s fuuun.”

  Rachel giggled. “Fuck yeah it is. Hey, can I get, um, your opinion on something?”

  “Uh, sure,” I said.

  She held out her phone, her photo gallery open. “Which of those should I post?”

  I scrolled through to find dozens of selfies, all from tonight, lying on my couch. Most were blurry, but I found a couple that weren’t.

  “Rachel… how many did you take?”

  Rachel hummed softly. “A loooottttt. Like, at least five.” She giggled, knowing full well that ‘five’ was a complete understatement.

  “This is a lot more than five.”

  Rachel let out a weird whining noise. “I just look really pretty right now.”

  “And?” I asked. Was this some ‘gender euphoria’ I was seeing from her?

  “I couldn’t help it,” Rachel mumbled. “Ok?”

  “Ok,” I said. “Um, these ones aren’t blurry and they looked good to me,” I said, selecting two of the selfies and handing Rachel’s phone back to her, then sat on the couch next to her.

  “Thanks, Lilly,” she said.

  She started typing something on her phone, then, presumably, posted those pics somewhere, before putting her phone down.

  “You are pretty,” she said, looking at me, her face flushed. “And I am not gay. Definitely not gay. This is not gay at all.” She nodded to herself. “You just look like a pretty girl.”

  “Um, thanks?” I said.

  “You welcome,” she replied. She was staring at me intently. I found myself staring back at her. Fuck, this girl was so pretty. I wanted to kiss her. I really did. But I couldn’t, she was straight — well, no, I guess, if she was actually a girl, that would… well, she’d be a lesbian, huh? She wouldn’t want to kiss me, I’m just pretending to be a girl, I’m really a-

  Then she leaned over and pressed her lips against mine, sloppily kissing me. I froze.

  After a few seconds she pulled away, giving me an embarrassed smile. “No homo.”

  I stared at her, my mouth agape. “What?”

  “I kissed you,” Rachel said. “But it’s not gay because you look like a cute girl, and I look like a cute girl, so, for both of us, it’s like kissing a cute girl, so it’s straight. Right?”

  I struggled to come up with a response. “Rachel… what the fuck?”

  She sighed. “I- I- wanted to. Did- Did you not…”

  I groaned. “N- No, it- it was f- fine, y- you can-”

  And then she started kissing me again, and I found myself kissing her back. Her lips were super soft, and I really liked the feel of her hand in my hair — oh, yeah, she’d apparently decided to hold the back of my head while kissing me. It felt nice and intimate.

  And then I felt her tongue poking at my lips – were we actually doing this?

  Yes. Yes we were. I opened my mouth just enough to poke my tongue out to meet hers. It was just as soft as her lips, but wetter. I fucking moaned into the kiss. I started running my hand through her soft bck hair.

  When we reluctantly separated, it was so that we could breathe, and then we were right back at it. All rational thought had left me, and, I imagine, Rachel as well.

  I could feel her thumb brushing my cheek, which was so unexpected and yet such a nice feeling.

  In the back of my mind, a small voice tried to remind me that we’d regret this, but I ignored it. How could I possibly regret something like this?

  We pulled apart again to catch our breaths. There was a trail of saliva still connecting us, but it broke almost immediately.

  “Fuck,” Rachel said.

  “That was…” I trailed off.

  Rachel’s face had gotten extremely red, but she was smiling. “Again?”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, leaning back in to kiss her some more.

  gayannabeth