Beginner's Guide to Gold Digging: Chapter 9

Author's note: hello! Heard y'all like multiple posts per week so here's another chapter!

Also, just a heads up: I'm looking for an agent for "Beginner's Guide to Catfishing" so I can have it traditionally published! This does mean I'll have to take down the online version once I start submitting (probably next week), so thank you everyone for your support! "Gold Digging" will continue its online serialization uninterrupted, and I'll probably leave a few chapters of "Catfishing" up here as a sort of free preview, but regardless, hopefully someday very soon you'll be holding a physical copy of BGC in your hands :)

And now for today's entertainment! Is it great to be alive on a Wednesday morning in Los Angeles/wherever you are or what?!

A Beginner's Guide to High Society

Lily

“This isn’t what I’m supposed to be,” I murmured as Cris held me down and spread my legs. My new vagina, freshly healed, was dripping wet as he tied my hands back and then did the same to my legs to keep them spread. 

He dropped his pants and put his lips on mine. “No. But it’s who you are. So maybe you’re not-”

My eyes shot open, my heart thundering, sweat dripping down my back. The fuck was that dream? That… That nightmare, I guess? Ugh, my wires were getting crossed by everything that was going on. I needed to be careful so I didn’t lose myself in this. 

I was on my living room couch, a blanket spread over me, a pillow under my head, Void asleep on my chest. I must’ve fallen asleep watching wrestling. But there was something else, something I was forgetting-

“Morning!” Cris voice called from the kitchen. The living room led right into through an empty doorway, and I could see him at the stove, flipping a pancake over, wearing an apron.

Had I… Hm, I must’ve called him over last night. Some vague memories flickered inside my brain about wanting to show him something I liked, then he could do the same. I suppose that was as good an explanation as any for why he and Rob were having pancakes together. 

“Morning,” I said softly, starting to pull the blanket off of my body, scooping my bunny up into my arms. The little guy opened his eyes and stretched his hind-legs, so I set him on the floor to scamper about as he liked. 

“Oh no, don’t get up,” Cris said, taking a full plate of pancakes off of the table and bringing them to me. “You can eat right here. It’s not quite breakfast in bed, but regardless, enjoy. They’re still hot. And I was very pleased to see you have real maple syrup, not that processed crap most people use. You’ve good taste.”

“Wow, thanks Cris,” I said, hanging my legs over the side of the couch, wafting the delicious fried-batter smell mixing with the woodsy, sugary aroma of the syrup. 

“No problem, angel,” he said. Ah, that was more like it. It had felt so wrong when Julia had called me that last night. Not that I didn’t want her to call me cute pet-names and whisper sweet-nothings into my ear, but… Angel was what Cris called me. It didn’t sound right on anyone else’s lips. Anyone else saying it wouldn’t send this warm tingling sensation up my back.

It was nice. Waking up to him was nice. 

I dug in, and he stayed standing there, eyes half-hooded and flashing that objectively pretty smile again. He seemed more at ease here than he had in his own house. “I woke up and had an idea,” Cris said, arms folded behind his back. “You should me yours-”

“Now you show me yours!” I beamed. 

In the kitchen, Rob nearly choked on a sip of coffee. Weird. 

“There’s a museum I want to take you to today,” he said. “The Isabella Stewart Gardner. Used to go there all the time.” 

“I’ve never been!” I said in between mouthfuls of pancake.

“I know how much you love gardening and I know you like art, even if not necessarily this kind. So, I think you’ll dig it.”

“Cool!” 

“And if you’re still feeling up to it afterwards, we can do something you like.”

“Even better,” I said. “And thanks again for breakfast.”

“No problem, angel. No problem at all.”

Rob walked over to us and clapped Crispin on the shoulder. “Yeah, Cris, thanks for all this. Hey, uh, do you mind if I talk to my sister privately for a moment?”

“Sure,” he said, his pretty smile never wavering. “I’ll use the bathroom while I wait.”

He walked off, and I watched him as he left. His posture was so strong, so firm, so self-assured. His massive shoulders and tight butt moved in time with each other as he wandered up the stairs in search of the lavatory. “Hmm,” I intoned. 

“Yeah. Uh, Lily, what’s going on?” Rob asked. 

“Nothing,” I said. 

“Really? A month ago you wouldn’t let this guy look at you, and now he’s spending the night on our floor while letting you have the couch all to yourself? What’s that about?”

“He slept on the floor?”

“Yeah. And you two are hanging out constantly. You’ve basically been at each other’s sides nonstop since Friday night, and you’re gonna be together all day today AGAIN.”

“Yeah, we’re friends now. What’s wrong with that?”

Rob face-palmed, raking his fingers over his cheeks and sighing heavily. “Okay, fine: the direct approach it is. You know he likes you, right? Not like a friend, either. Likes you as in ‘wants you to be his girlfriend.’”

I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. 

“What was comical about my previous statement?” Rob asked, eyes narrow. 

I rubbed at my eye and took a deep breath. “I just… It’s absurd. Totally absurd.”

“Which part?”

“The part where you said he likes me, you doofus,” I laughed again. “That’s fucking absurd. There is no way he like-likes me.”

“Why?”

“Because… I mean come on, why would he? This is me we’re talking about.” I gestured down at my body, tucking an errant curl behind my ear. “You really think a guy like that would be interested in this?”

My brother did the thing he’d always done when he was annoyed by and skeptical towards something: he scratched at the side of his head and squinted at me, shoulders slumped and jaw agape. “Okay, putting aside the part where I’m your brother and it’s difficult for me to answer that question without sounding deeply weird, you do realize that you’re not nearly as unappealing as you’ve convinced yourself you are, right?”

I rolled my eyes, stabbing at my pancakes with my fork. “I’m trans, doofus.”

“Yeah, and that guy we’re building the gym for is engaged to a trans woman,” Rob pointed out. “Lisa is trans and she’s married to a cis woman. You yourself have dated cis women in the past. It’s not actually that crazy for a cis person to date trans women.”

“Have you?”

“A couple. They all reminded me too much of you, though, so it felt weird.”

I blinked. “Huh. Fair enough. Well… I’m a nerd.”

“Yes, because no guy wants a nerdy girlfriend. No guy has ever thought ‘ah man it’s so cute when my girlfriend rambles about her nerdy hyper-fixations.’ That’s never happened once.”

“I’m fat.”

“Oh for- you are not fat! You’re in better shape than me, and I do manual labor for a living,” Rob said. He drew a deep breath in through his nose. “Look, I’m trying to do my job as your big brother here. And, speaking as a straight cis guy in his thirties, it’s not too often I sleep on the floor of a girl’s living room, make her pancakes from scratch, and then plan fancy outings for us to do together all day after we’ve already spent the whole weekend hanging out if I only see her as a friend.”

“Yeah, but he knows I’m gay,” I said. That’s what I’m supposed to be-

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not gonna catch feelings,” Rob said. 

“Yes, but Crispin is a gentleman, and in the microscopically slim chance he finds me even mildly attractive, he’d still respect my boundaries. Plus, I just don’t see it happening. Especially because… Well, it would complicate things between us.”

“Why? Because you work together? By the end of the summer, that won’t be true any more,” Rob pointed out.  

“Yeah, but I still wanna be his friend when this is over,” I said, looking down at my plate. “He’s good to me, and I feel good when I’m around him. Lighter. Happier. Like I’m floating on top of a pool of warm water inside the center of my soul. I feel like around him, I get to be me, even if I’m not entirely sure who that is yet. Like he’s willing to let me try things in a way I usually won’t let myself. Plus, teasing him is wicked fun.”

My brother blinked at me so rapidly it was like he was trying to break a world record.

“What?” I asked. 

“Yeah, I ain’t touching all that,” Rob said. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Oh, uh… Well, there is one thing?”

Rob closed his eyes and braced for impact. “Yes?”

“Cris and I are actually in a fake engagement right now. It’s so he can get his parents off his back and in exchange he’s paying for a bunch of stuff for me. Including fixing the garage.”

Slack-jawed, Rob stared at me for about a minute straight without saying anything. 

“What?” I said. 

“Nope,” Rob said, burying his face in his hands before throwing them up in the air. “Just… Nope.”

“What does that mean?”

He turned around and began to walk away. “It means I ain’t getting involved. Have fun.”

“Bro-”

“Just… Yeah, Imma let your therapist handle this one, ‘cause I ain’t qualified.”

He left the house after that, muttering under his breath, “Man gold digging has gotten complicated. Christ Almighty, it’d be simpler to bring back the gold fucking standard even though they shouldn’t because that would fuck the economy to death with a razor-studded dildo and no lube, but if you insist…” 

The fuck was that about?

I furrowed my brow and ate in silence for another few minutes before Crispin came back down the stairs. “Hey,” he said, still wearing that goofy, pretty smile. “Where’d Rob go?”

“He, uh… Said he wanted to give us some space,” I went with.

Cris shrugged. “Nice of him. So, what time do you wanna go to the museum?”

I looked at my phone to check the time. “Well, I’m supposed to get my hair done at Rose’s sister’s salon in an hour. Maybe after that?”

“Cool,” he said. “Rose wanted to show me and Julia a service at this church she started going to, so that should work out perfectly.”

“Great,” I said, finishing off my pancakes and then standing up. “And hey, thanks for being such a good dude.”

I wrapped my arms around him, nuzzling his chest with my cheek as we hugged. His back stiffened, and his arms went up and hung in the air for a moment before he finally returned my hug. God, I can’t believe Rob thought Cris was into me- I mean, look how awkward he was when I initiated physical contact. I loved my brother, but he was clueless about stuff like this. 

That warmth, that calm, tripled as Cris enveloped me, as I felt his heart beating through his chest. I’d never felt anything like it, but I knew it felt good, and that I wanted to feel more of it. Guess I’d just never had a friend like him before. 

“Okay,” I said, reluctantly pulling myself off of him. “I wanna shave my legs and do my makeup before I head to the salon.”

“Want me to call Naomi?” Cris asked. “She can pick us up, drop you off.”

“Perfect,” I said. “You are such a sweetheart, you know that?”

He flinched. Hm. Maybe that was too much sugar. Yeah, must’ve been: he was used to me teasing him all that time. Me being this nice was probably a little weird. Better spice it up.

“You know,” I continued, “For a douchebag.”

He laughed, a low, full-chested rumble that filled up the whole room. “Well what can I say? Anything for my angel.”

Two Hours Later

I stepped out of Ruth’s salon feeling abso-friggin-lutely amazing! I’d done my makeup again and worn one of the dresses I’d gotten yesterday, a flowing, long-sleeved purple one with white polka dots, made of a sheer fabric that covered my skin while still giving it room to breathe, outlining my ample figure without actually revealing it to the world. Since we were going someplace fancy, I figured I should look the part. It was also why I’d put on the ring: in case we saw anyone Crispin knew while we were there, it would help sell the idea that he and I were engaged. Plus, my new hairdo was beautiful: Ruth had taken my messy brown tresses, barely long enough to cover my earlobes, and fashioned it into a voluminous bob that emphasized my curls and swept across my forehead with some mild bangs. She’d also recommended a new brand of shampoo and conditioner to help it stay healthy and shiny, and gave me sample bottles of both. And the whole thing was so relaxing! Ruth washing and conditioning and drying my hair, snipping and shaping it into a work of art; perfection. It helped that Ruth, much like Rose, was super freaking pretty, and her fingers on the back of my neck felt nice, but there was also this sense of… 

Belonging, I guess would be the word? Like I was supposed to be there. Like I should’ve come to a place like this years ago but hadn’t let myself. 

Obviously, this couldn’t be an everyday thing, or an all the time thing, but… I wanted to enjoy it when I could. The screaming emptiness that usually filled my conscious mind was diminished by a lot when I looked like this, replaced by contentment and satisfaction and euphoria. It was sweet and lovely and I wanted more. As much as I could possibly get. 

Naomi’s limo pulled up, and I waved while wiggling my fingers, including the one with the diamond ring on it. The sun sparkled off of it on this warm day, and God, it was just so pretty. It almost made me jealous of whatever girl would actually get to wear it someday, because marrying Cris would almost be worth it to be able to hold onto this beauty. 

I climbed into the backseat, sitting next to Cris. Cris, who, for his part, had his jaw dropped and his eyes bulging. God, he was such a teaser. I mean, it felt good, but obviously he was just playing along. This was our roleplay. This was us. Some spice was in order, and once he’d earned it, some sugar. 

“Close your mouth, bugs will nest,” I said. Then, I busted out the accent. “Dahling.”

Why was he crossing his legs? How bizarre. And weirdly mesmerizing, his long stems moving over each other. In my nightmare, they’d been used to spread mine apart, to expose my opening to him. My heartbeat accelerated as the nightmare floated through my mind again, and I shimmied closer to him as Naomi shifted into drive and pulled us out of her parallel parking job. Cris would never actually do anything like that. He wasn’t that guy, wasn’t the kind who would ever try to… To fix me. He accepted me as I was. He’d proven that when he’d spent a month putting up with my bullshit about not letting him look at me. And sure, he’d ogled me a little bit when we first met, but… I dunno. It didn’t bother me nearly as much as it used to. 

“You look good,” Cris said, finally looking at me again. 

“Thank you, dahling!” 

“Goddammit- must you?”

“I must!” 

“But I asked you to stop,” he chuckled. 

“Well it’s your fault for force-femming me,” I said, sticking out my tongue. 

“Force-femming… What? What even is that?”

“You’re forcing me into traditional femininity,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder so he couldn’t escape the power of my teasing. 

“Lily, this entire thing was your idea.”

“The fake engagement was not my idea.”

“Yeah, but the makeover was.”

“Only because circumstances forced me to. Circumstances you caused,” I said, squeezing his hand. There. Just the right ratio of sugar to spice. “So, no matter how you slice it, it’s your fault I’m all girly now.”

“D-do you wanna go home and get changed?” he said. “Put on a pair of sweats?”

“God no, I just like teasing you,” I said. “It’s more fun when I look like this. Plus… I dunno. I’ve been missing out. This stuff is pretty fun. I feel like a princess.”

“And you like that?”

“I… I do, yeah,” I said, and the gaping emptiness, for a moment, vanished entirely, replaced by tranquil contentment and belonging. 

“Okay, but I’m not calling you princess,” Crispin said. “That’s what Kyle calls Rose and it would feel weird.”

“Aww, I can’t be Princess Angel?” I said, our thighs pressing together. 

“Definitely not. That sounds like one of those Japanese cartoons Preston is into.”

“Preston is into magical girl anime?” I said, raising an eyebrow. 

“One of the many confusing things about my brother, yes,” Crispin said. “But yeah, you’re just… My angel.”

“That’s all,” I said, putting a hand to my chest and gasping with faux-indignation. “A mere cherub before your divinely masculine presence, my dahling-”

That was when Naomi burst out laughing as we pulled up to a red light. 

“What’s so funny?” I said. 

“You two are a trip, that’s all,” the older woman answered.

“Naomi,” Crispin said, leaning forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please-”

“Sorry, sorry,” she said. 

I looked back and forth between them. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” Naomi said. “Don’t worry about it. Just, uh… You guys are selling the act really well. That’s all. Color me impressed: I definitely wouldn’t be able to pull something like this off if I was in your situation, Lily.”

I pulled my hand out of Cris’ and shimmied away from him by a half-inch. A cold, cloying sensation ran from my mind to my chest. She was right. I was too good at this, and this wasn’t what I was supposed to be. 

Cris, for his part, took my hand this time, and the cold diminished. “She’s just a good actress, is all. A very good roleplayer.”

“Fair enough,” Naomi said, though I could see her forehead wrinkling in the mirror. 

And the way Cris was looking at me with those hooded eyes and that pretty smile of his, and I… I recognized that look. It wasn’t like the ones I usually saw on men when they lusted after me. It was different. There was… There was real affection behind it. It was like how Kyle looked at Rose, how Rob looked at the girls he’d gotten involved with over the years, how some of the guys on the crew looked at their wives. 

Was there a chance that… No, no it couldn’t. There was no way he… 

And even if he did, there was no way I…

The warm feeling, the peace in my soul, the bliss and contentment and belonging, suddenly seemed more frightening than intoxicating, and I shoved it down deep into the abyss of my mind. 

“Something wrong?” he asked. 

Those eyes… They were kind. They were the eyes of someone who only wanted to be good to me. The question was… Why did he want that so badly? 

I needed to know. For my own sake, for his, for the sake of… Of our friendship, I needed to know what was going on in his head. The idea of asking him outright felt like standing in front of a stampede of bulls and hoping I wouldn’t get flattened by the answer. But I needed to know. 

“No,” I smiled, getting close to him again, resting my head on his shoulder again. I could get the answer out of him without having to actually ask, I was sure. Cris was respectful and gentlemanly, but he was still a guy. If he really liked me then he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from letting it spill out at some point. 

He only needed a bit of… Pushing. And if he did like me, then… Then we could talk about what it meant for us. Obviously, we couldn’t date, that wasn’t what I was supposed to be, but… I didn’t… I didn’t mind being friends with someone who was attracted to me. 

However improbable the idea of a guy who looked like Crispin Winfield being into me was, I had to know for sure. Then I could sort out this weird feeling in my chest and my stomach and… In my heart and soul. This bizarre warmth and peace and satisfaction I got from being around him. Especially when I was around him like this. 

We sat silently with each other the rest of the ride, and I didn’t let go of him for a minute. As we pulled into the parking lot, however, I finally did at the sight of the absolutely beautiful stone mansion (hell, the stone estate) before my eyes. 

“Holy shit,” I said. 

“Indeed,” Crispin said, his chin resting on my shoulder this time. It felt familiar, like it had been there before, like… 

Nah, that didn’t make sense. 

“Thank you, Naomi,” Cris said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Say hi to the wife for me.”

“Will do,” Naomi nodded. 

We got out of the car, hand in hand, and approached the ornate brick and stone mansion. “Naomi’s gay?” I asked. 

“Yup,” Cris said. “She and her wife are adorable, by the way. I’ve met her a few times.”

“Oh. Wow. And Naomi… Knows you really well, huh?”

“She’s been with my family my whole life,” Cris said. “She’s kinda like my aunt, in a lotta ways. It’s funny, uh, when my dad first started dating Karen, I was only seven years old, and I was just so damn upset that he was moving on so quickly with some woman I didn’t know, and I asked Naomi why she couldn’t just marry my dad instead. And that was when she explained the whole ‘gay people’ thing to me.”

I chuckled. “How’d you take it?”

“I said that was probably for the best, because it meant she didn’t have to be married to my dad,” Cris replied. 

“There sure are a lotta significant lesbians in your life, Winfield.”

“Yeah, I know, right? I mean, what are the odds?”

“What indeed,” I said, the feeling of an incoming stampede of bulls returning to me full force. Cris got it. He understood where the line was. There was no way he actually liked me knowing full-well it would never happen. 

And it would never happen.

So why did I want to know so badly? 

We entered the museum, and my breath was nearly stolen away. The dark yet cozy interior of the old mansion was immediately apparent from the stone hallways and influx of natural light. Cris went up front and bought us two-tickets for a self-guided tour, then came back up and locked his arm around mine. 

Panic shot through me again, and I needed… I needed reassurance. He couldn’t like me, and I needed assurance of that. I needed to know this was still all part of the act for him. And if it was for him, it was for me as well. Obviously. Why wouldn’t it be?

We started walking together, and Crispin started talking with that rich, authoritative voice I loved to hear. “So. Once upon a time, there was a lady named Isabella Stewart, and she met and fell in love with a man named Jack Gardner. Her dad gave them a big old house, and, after a few personal tragedies, a notable struggle with her mental health, adopting her nephews, and some travels around Europe, she decided she wanted her house to be an art museum.”

“This is where they lived?”

“No, she realized eventually their house wasn’t big enough. And, uh, then Jack died.”

“Oh no,” I said, eyes widening. 

“Yeah. But she wanted to realize their shared dream. So she hired someone to build this place. Museum and garden in equal measure.”

“Okay, but how is it a garden? Is it just because of her husband’s last name?”

“Actually,” he said, “Well, it’s easier if I show you.”

We rounded a corner, and show me he did. A greenhouse served as the courtyard and centerpiece to the place, with sunlight streaming in from the glass ceiling and shining over the painted walkways and lush greenery. Trees and flowers of varieties I couldn’t name sprouted in a beautiful arrangement, reaching up through the different floors of the house. Open corridors overlooked it on every level, all green and silver and golden. A silvery-purple stone centerpiece surrounded by small spires gave it all a core, a symmetry, a weight, and…

“God, it’s so fucking beautiful,” I whispered, leaning against the stone railing separating us from the greenhouse. 

“Yeah,” Crispin said. “She is.”

He was looking right at me when he said that. 

A pulse of heat and light shot up my spine and went into my brain, frying every proverbial circuit and shutting down every last thought. He really meant… He really thought I was… I mean, he had eyes. And maybe now that I looked like this, it was harder for him to look away? That had to be it. But it didn’t mean… It couldn’t mean…

“Come on,” he said, still gripping my hand, green eyes sparkling in the sunlight, body wrapped in a tight suit as he led me forward. I just wish I knew where, exactly, this path we were on led to. “There’s so much great stuff here.”

“Yeah,” I said, staring at his shoulders.

He showed me room after room, each a time capsule to a long-forgotten era, decorated with gorgeous art from masters of the craft: Vermeer, Singer Sargent, Rembrandt, Botticelli, Manet… God, it was amazing. I zipped around each room, going from painting to painting, light practically shining out of my eyes, I was so excited. Cris ran to keep up with me as I dashed to each work of art, squeeing and humming to myself as I drank it in. 

“I take it that you like this place?” Cris said as we walked up the stairs to the next floor of the building. 

“I love it!” I exclaimed, squeezing his hand. “I took a few art classes in community college- it was just an associate’s degree, but I wanted to get better at drawing to help with the company’s projects, and that led to an art history class and another one on graphic design… I just love this stuff. Good pick.”

“Thanks,” he said as we finished the ascent to the next story. “Would you ever want to have your drawings displayed anywhere?”

“Mmm, no I don’t think so,” I said. “It’s a hobby. It’s a hobby I love, but that’s all it is.”

“Fair enough,” he said. 

The floor was sparsely populated, and I noticed something: blank sections of wall in between paintings. There was this duo of people standing by one of them with a tape measure for some reason, but I disregarded them and focused on the horrible gaps in between the beauty. “What happened here?”

“Oh yeah, there was a heist a while ago,” Cris said. “Bunch of paintings were stolen. To this day, nobody knows where they are.”

“That’s so sad,” I said, walking over to one of the blank sections. It was a hole in the world, a swath of emptiness where something magical belonged. 

“The lady herself wanted these sections kept blank,” Cris said. “In case someone ever found any of the paintings.”

“Something to fill the holes in her heart,” I said, pulling Cris close. 

“Yeah, it- wait, what are those two doing?” Cris said, pointing at the duo, a tall, skinny white guy and a shorter southeast Asian guy, both clad in all black. 

The two of them did a double-take, looking at each other and us before both jumping out an open window. Evidently, their clothes were hang-gliding suits, because they flew away on the summer wind.

I blinked rapidly. “The fuck?”

“I think they were trying to burgle the place,” Cris said. “Must’ve been scoping it out.”

I noticed something else, then: his hand, held in my own, was trembling. But why would… Unless… 

“So why were they measuring the blank spot?” I said, putting my other hand on Cris’, caressing it, trying to assuage his worries and fears. Maybe he… Maybe he was nervous about the possibility of upsetting me? 

“We should go talk to security,” Cris said. 

“Do you mind if I wait here?” I said. “I… I wanna keep looking.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah, that’s fine,” Cris said. 

He started to pull his hand out of mine, but the shaking got worse, so instead, I dragged him towards me. Oh, Cris. It made sense now- he was just being a good friend, and didn’t want to complicate things. I gave him a big squeeze and said, “Thank you for a wonderful Sunday afternoon. Dahling.”

“No problem, angel,” he said. 

I barely heard it, though, because I felt something then: Little Crispin, poking me in the stomach through the fabric of his dress pants. Not that it was particularly little, but you get the idea. He gulped as he realized it, probably from feeling the impact. 

We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us blinking or opening our mouths. 

Finally, he said, “Right. I’ll be back in five.”

“Cool,” I squeaked. 

My brain spun around like a hamster-wheel. That… Okay, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He was a guy. He got boners in public sometimes. It happened. Pre hormone replacement therapy, it happened to me. And it was mortifying. But it didn’t mean anything. Sometimes you just… Saw a very pretty girl, and you got in close proximity with her and… 

And… 

It didn’t mean anything. 

Well, okay, it meant he found me physically attractive, which… I didn’t know what to do with that. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know it intellectually- the day one ogling hadn’t happened because he thought I was ugly. Even though I was ugly.  But I guess he didn’t think so? 

No accounting for taste.

It was because I looked like this now. I looked like a woman who was part of his world. That had to be it. I looked like the type of girl who he hooked up with. Maybe that was why he’d been so weirded out by me femmeing myself up for this whole endeavor. I was doing it for me, not him, and now he… Now he really did think I was hot, I guess? But he didn’t want to make me uncomfortable. He respected my boundaries, respected that this wasn’t what I was supposed to be, and knew it would complicate our already complicated friendship, so he was keeping quiet about it. And I was… Basically torturing him by giving him awkward public boners. 

Goddammit. 

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t a big deal. I was his friend and he found me physically attractive but that didn’t mean he was into me in a ‘let’s date for real’ kind of way. That would be crazy. He knew it and I knew it. And in a few months, it would be immaterial, because even if we stayed friends (which I very much wanted to) we still lived in different worlds, and I-

“You don’t belong here, you know,” a new voice sang out from behind me. A festering ulcer of dread formed in my stomach as I turned around and saw my ex-girlfriend approaching me. She was flanked to her left by a beautiful, curvy woman in a pearlescent silver wrap-dress, their arms locked together. And to her right was… Crispin’s dickish little brother? The fuck?

He had a woman on his arm as well, a willowy brunette in a pink sundress that revealed a valley of cleavage. And to his right was… Some guy and girl I didn’t recognize. The guy was taller than Preston but shorter than Crispin, with red-brown hair and biceps that looked roided-out, while the girl was a bleach-blonde and rocking a blood-red pantsuit.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, meeting Olivia’s angry cerulean gaze. 

“I could ask you the same question,” Olivia smirked. “And why are you wearing that gaudy diamond ring?”

“He’s enjoying a day out with his fiance, would be my guess,” Preston sneered. 

“Pres, honey, we talked about this,” Olivia said, patting the younger Winfield son on the cheek with a disturbing amount of affection. What in hell? “She is a girl. A terrible one, an edge case, a try-hard, but still a girl. If she wasn’t-”

“You wouldn’t have deigned to date her, fair enough,” Preston said, rolling his eyes. “Still think you can do better.”

“I mean, I’d say she’s doing much better,” the girl on Olivia’s arm said with a haughty laugh. 

I bunched my fists, anger and fear competing for space inside my head. “Sorry, how do you two know each other?” I said, trying and failing not to glare. 

“We go to the same country club,” Preston said. “I went there yesterday after my asshole brother assaulted me in my own home for the crime of telling the truth. And I ran into my old friend from my polo days, and we had a good jaw-session together about a strange… Girl… Named Lily, only to realize we were talking about the same Lily. Fancy that?”

I glowered. Then I looked at the other two. “And you two?”

“Friend of Crispin’s,” the guy said. “Name’s Chuck. This is my wife, Valentina.”

“Charmed,” Valentina said with the most practiced, condescending look on her face imaginable. Fucking hell-

“And you know, my good friend Olivia here shared the most curious bit of trivia about you, Lily,” Preston said. “She said you’re not even into men.”

The cavity in my soul expanded. “I’m… I-”

“And if you’re not attracted to my brother at all, then logically, that would make you… What? Some kind of gold digger?”

“It’s certainly a role that would suit her, especially now that she’s all tarted up like this,” Olivia laughed. 

I grinded my teeth, relying on anger to beat back the shame and sorrow. “Well Crispin thinks I look beautiful like this. So there.”

“I suppose that’s all that matters to you,” Olivia said. “I mean, after all, it’s what you do. You offer yourself up to people with money and power and class and milk them for all they’re worth, then break it off the second they get inconvenient. It’s what you did to me.”

“That is not what- you cheated on me!” I said, my voice raising with each syllable.

“And?” Olivia said. 

“And adultery is a sin,” Crispin’s beautiful, soothing voice reached out from behind me, taking my hand once again. He wasn’t trembling anymore. Good. 

“It’s not really adultery if the relationship wasn’t real to begin with,” Olivia said, that smug fucking smile polluting her beautiful face. “Which, I assume, will be your excuse when you get sick of this sad, histrionic little baby.”

“Don’t ever talk to her like that!” Cris snarled, stepping forward, anger razor-edging his words. His fists gathered so tightly that his knuckles cracked, and I recognized his posture from the last time he’d encountered Olivia: he was ready to put up hands. 

And much like last time, something about that… Really pissed me off!

“Cris,” I said, tugging at the back of his shirt. 

“Just let me handle this, Lily,” he said. 

“No, don’t!” I snapped. 

His shoulders slumped. “I’m white-knighting again, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, ya’ are,” I said, all my anger suddenly directed at him. Unbelievable- he was gonna make it worse. Didn’t he understand how bad Olivia could get when she was upset?!

“Sorry,” he said, taking a step back.

“I know,” I breathed. God, he was only a step short of beating his chest like a fucking caveman. What the hell did he think this was? What the hell did he think I was? It’s not like I was even worth it, no matter what his boner thought. 

“The cracks are already in the foundation, I see,” Preston laughed. 

“Hm,” Crispin grunted. Then he turned to face Chuck. “What are you doing here, man? Since when are you friends with my shit-head brother?”

“I thought he was your friend,” I said. 

“He was my frat brother at Harvard,” Cris explained. Ugh. Of course. 

“Hey, just looking out for you, one Harvard man to another,” Chuck shrugged. “Can’t help but think she looks just a bit out of place here, though.”

Out of place. I didn’t belong here. Not in this museum, not on Crispin’s arm, not in his life, not in his world. Not in this dress. This wasn’t what I was supposed to be. 

The thought of going back to where I was, though? That was way more heinous to me than anything these assholes could throw my way. Some (not all, but definitely some) of my anger shifted away from Cris and back towards the interlopers who’d ruined this beautiful day in the first place. Out of place, huh? Like hell. 

“I think I’m right where I belong,” I said, taking Cris’ hand once again. 

“If you say so,” Chuck said, clearly bemused. 

“I do in fact say so,” I returned.

“And I agree,” Crispin said. 

“Oh yeah? Let’s test that theory,” Preston said. 

Crispin, of course, was pissed off. “Preston, I swear to God-”

“You’re on,” I answered. Fuck it, if I could hack it with those models I could hack it with this crowd just fine.

He smirked. This little fucking shit. “Cool. I guess now’s the perfect time to tell you: you’ve been approved as Crispin’s plus-one for our parents’ anniversary party on Fourth of July. Mom wanted to tell you herself, but-”

Crispin grabbed Preston by the lapel. “Is it death that you seek, little brother?”

“Crispin, for fuck’s sake!” I snapped.

To his credit, he let the man-child go and backed up once more.

“I’ll be in attendance,” I said to Preston. Then I locked eyes with Olivia. “And you know what? I’ll outshine everybody there.”

Olivia scoffed. The girl on her arm, meanwhile, said, “Well at least try to wear something nice then. Though that’s clearly a foreign concept to you.”

I gave her the middle finger and dragged Cris away by the collar.

“And do less of that, you townie,” Preston called after us.

We cleared two stairwells before I finally let Crispin go.

“Lily,” Cris said, “you don’t have to-“

“No, I do,” I said. “And I’m gonna go and I’m gonna prove to them I’m good enough for you, so help me God!”

“Okay, uh…”

I stopped in my tracks, turned and faced him, jabbed a finger at his chest. “Oh, and Winfield? To borrow your little catchphrase, never do that again.”

“… I said I was sorry.”

I exhaled, a tiny bit of the hot air in my chest releasing. “I know you’re sorry. But you do enough for me already, and I need you to believe I can handle myself. So unless I’m in physical danger, don’t do that white-knighting shit again. Capiche?”

He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. “Okay. I promise.”

A little bit more of the burning rage-vapor dissipated. But not all of it. So I reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. A little bit of sugar to help the medicine go down. And… His heart was in the right place, even if he was being a macho idiot about it. “Thank you. Now, I’d like to go home.”

“I’ll call Naomi.”

“No,” I said. I was tired and mad and he was… God, I kept making his life more and more complicated, and he was all too eager to let me because he… He was a good friend. He cared about me. He wanted to protect me, from his world and from his family and maybe from himself as well. But I didn’t need that. I needed him to respect me. “I’ll call a rideshare. I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Okay?”

He gulped, the column of his neck working furiously to swallow whatever it was he wanted to say. What was the deal with that? He had no filter around anyone besides me, like he thought I couldn’t take it. “Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Finding one last granule of sugar, I smiled. “You will.”