I almost forget to take my shoes off when I open the door to our dorm room. The scent of yes is assaulting my nose in all the best ways and I need it need it need it!
I throw my backpack and purse to the floor, whip off my slides, and bolt into the kitchen—a dumb idea, since the kitchen is only five feet away from the entrance to our dorm. I tumble right into Gwen, nearly sending us both crashing down into the floor. She just half-laughs, half-yelps as I extricate myself from a quick, accidental embrace and set to searching for the source of that smell, that delicious smell, and then I spot an open can of tuna on the kitchen counter, sat beside some mayonnaise, a mixing bowl, some dried dill, lemon juice, and salt and pepper.
Aw, she was gonna make me a tuna fish sandwich.
Unfortunately, I have no desire to eat dried weeds, or bitter lemon juice, or whatever the heck salt and pepper are supposed to be. I sure as heck have no desire to consume mayo of all things.
I snatch the canned tuna off the counter and begin greedily shoving it into my mouth with my fingers, barely holding myself back from just pouring the whole thing out into one hand and devouring it as fast as possible from there.
Holy fricking crapballs this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.
Holy shit, this isn’t even fresh tuna.
We’re landlocked, so no fresh seafood for me, but we could still go fishing… in October…
Crap.
I need to try fresh fish now. Craaaaap.
Doesn’t matter. More tuna. Om nom nom.
This is way better than sex ever was or ever will be or ever can be. It’s like an orgasm in my mouth, flakes of tuna mingling with my tastebuds as I chew and swallow, chew and swallow, chew and swallow.
In no time at all, I have emptied the can of tuna and licked it clean, expertly (somehow) avoiding any sharp edges to lap up any flakes of tuna or tuna water I missed.
I look to Gwen, wanting.
“Jesus Christ, Alice,” she exclaims, her eyes wide and mouth twisted into something that I think is supposed to convey disgust. “That was maybe the grossest thing I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen you cough up goddamn hairballs. What the fuck.”
Okay, yeah, definitely conveying disgust.
“T-Tuna…?” I try, and then I remember to close my mouth so I don’t drool all over the floor. “More… more?”
“Holy shit your eyes are so big right now,” she remarks instead of, say, getting me more tuna.
“Tuna?” I try again, the question coming out as a bit of a whine.
“I—yes, there’s more, but that was my lunch. Yours is here,” she says, opening a cupboard and pulling out another can of tuna. “I went to Costco after my class today. Got a rotisserie chicken and a bunch of canned tuna. I was gonna leave it in your bowl, but… I dunno. Didn’t feel right? Whatever. More important things! Did you blow it with Cat? How was being back on campus with all the changes?” she asks, setting the yes please, more please down on the counter and going to town with a can opener.
The smell drives me wild all over again, and I suddenly find myself closer to Gwen than I remembered being a few seconds ago. Too close for her comfort, it seems, as she startles once she notices me.
“Alice! What the fuck! Stop being so goddamn weird for five seconds and let me make lunch, please,” she says, and I deflate. I didn’t mean to be weird… I just… tuna… it smelled good. I only wanted a little more… I didn’t want to scare her… I’m sorry… Gwen, I… no, I’m sorry…
“‘m sorry…” I mumble, dragging myself away from her and the tuna. I don’t really want it anymore.
She sighs. “No, I’m sorry, I just… I’m still dealing with everything, okay? Or trying to. C’mere, lemme give you a hug. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
I hesitate, but I do go for the hug.
It’s nice. Her hands find my shoulders after, and it’s even nicer. It reminds me of how she used to comfort me, and it reminds me of Cat.
“Day good… date tonight with Cat…” I say quietly. “Got lots of looks and stares. One of my profs didn’t recognize me. Lots of people ignored me. Few other people noticed I’m shorter… I didn’t like it. Cat was good, though. I like her. She likes me… Don’t… don’t wanna talk anymore. Cuddles?” Read the latest chapters at novelping.com.
Gwen looks pensive for a moment before she nods. “Sure. Go sit on the couch. I’m gonna finish up my sandwich and I’ll bring you some more tuna.”
I nod, but say, “No more, thank you.”
Ten minutes later, I’m cuddled up to her and purring softly, something I didn’t even know I could do as a human, or whatever it is I am right now. She finishes her sandwich and probes me for more information, which I’m happy to share, but I don’t have much energy for it. Call it a combination of a long day, the sports bra sucking major ass, and anxiety about wanting Cat to like me.
I told most people who asked that I stopped wearing platforms, started wearing contacts, finished voice training, and got better at using makeup… all over the course of one weekend. Because that’s super believable.
No one asked about my boobs, thank gosh, but I could tell they wanted to.
A few people hit on me. All guys, of course. Funny how they didn’t care about me when I was tall and not very attractive, not very femme.
I don’t even remember most of the people who talked to me. I didn’t know they knew me, or remembered me, let alone what I normally (used to?) look like. Maybe I overestimated how stupid people might be and outed myself as a freak and should never have tried being myself in the first place.
Uh, moving on.
The other news is that I don’t really match my driver’s license photo anymore. It still says:
Alice Ekyd, F, 21.
But the height is wrong, the face is wrong, the eyes are wrong, and I have no idea what I’m going to do about it except avoid it until I can’t. Yeah, that seems like a good idea.
Gwen’s reaction to all of this is to suggest getting high and then to figure out next steps, but I decline, not really feeling up to doing too much with my upcoming date, which is in three hours.
That gets Gwen going.
“Okay, you need to brush your teeth first, fish-breath. Then I can dress you up in some of my clothes. Don’t know what to do about shoes, so just go in your slides and then wear socks. I could do your makeup, but honestly, I don’t think you need it. You’re… you look really good. For clothes, you’ll need…”
And so it goes.
I feel like having a nap, and as Gwen is busy laying out different outfits for me to try on, my mind wanders and I can’t help but think about how much I’ve neglected the things I used to do.
I haven’t showered since last Wednesday, but I smell fine and my hair looks better than ever.
I haven’t taken my anticistamines and antiboyotics, and I’ve become more feminine than I ever did while I was taking them. Shit, I haven’t had to tweeze off any facial hair.
I think I’ve brushed my teeth a few times, but I can’t remember for sure. Either way, Gwen’s suggestion that I do for tonight is a good one.
I also haven’t done my “normal” morning routine since last Thursday. No toast, no skincare, no stretching.
I haven’t bothered to tell any of my other friends about my new condition—I’ve been a little scared to do so, and it’s not like we hang out super often. They’re more Gwen’s friends than mine anyway, people she introduced me to during our first year of uni. At least they all seemed to like me just fine with how I was before, but they’re not strangers, so I care more about their opinions, and I don’t want them to judge me negatively.
Being a cat is fun. It’s amazing. I might be acting a little weird, but that’s okay as long as people don’t get upset at me for it.
“How about this?” Gwen asks, pointing to a few pieces she’s laid out on her bed; ripped jeans, a white graphic tee, and a red plaid overshirt that’ll make me overheat.
“Can’t wear too many layers,” I note, slipping off my shorts to try on the jeans. They’re tight on my hips, but they fit well enough. The shirt is a shirt, so it’s fine. I hope this isn’t too casual, because I like it.
“But the red brings it all together,” Gwen pouts.
“Sweating through your clothes, believe it or not, is not attractive.”
I shake my head. “No idea. Something with chicken. Or chicken with something. She said her roommate wasn’t going to be home—I think she’s doing drama or something? I dunno.”
“And… you didn’t ask why she felt comfortable putting her hand on you?”
“Didn’t feel important,” I say, wandering over to the bathroom to check myself out. Gwen follows.
“Ask tonight. And text me her dorm number so I can rescue you if she turns out to be a creep.”
“I will, I will,” I say absently, turning to see myself from different directions in the mirror. Gwen flicks on the light as she enters, and I briefly catch my pupils shrinking back down. Huh. Cool.
The girl in the mirror looks good. She looks happy, excited, maybe slightly nervous, but in a good way.
“Yeah girl, you’re hot as fuck,” Gwen says, and I blush as I realize she noticed me noticing me. “Think you’re gonna tell her about being a cat?”
“I haven’t even told her I’m ace yet, fuck,” I gasp. “What if she’s like Octavia? What if she’s expecting sex? Fuck, that’s what watching a movie means. Should I text her and say I’m not feeling like doing anything?”
“No!” Gwen blurts, coming up behind me to shake my shoulders while I continue taking myself in. “Stop catastrophizing. If she’s good, she’ll be fine with it, or she’ll say she’s looking for something with sex—and that’s okay. She deserves to be happy, too. If she’s bad, well, you’ll know, and I’ll be here for you. Good?”
“Y-Yeah…”
“Good girl. Now, are you going to tell her, or not?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit truthfully. “It feels like something to keep super secret, but I also don’t want to keep it secret. I wish that everyone knew, and that I could just live my life without people being weird about it. ‘Cause like, if half the world was like this, if half of humanity could just turn into cats, it’d be the most normal thing ever.”
“I get that,” she says, resting her head on my shoulder while she hugs me. “I think you’ll be fine. As Gwen, selfish bitch supreme, I’d tell you not to tell her. But as your friend… do what feels right. I can’t tell you what to do with your life, but I’ll be here if anything goes wrong.”
“You’re a pretty good friend, huh?” I say, a little more sleepily than I like.
She kisses my cheek. She’s never done that before. It feels really nice.
“I try to be. I’ve fucked up a few friendships in the past and I hate wondering where I could be with those people today if I hadn’t ruined things. Same time, though, I’m not sure it’d be with you, and that would be a tragedy, because you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I love you so goddamn much.”
“You cannot just drop that on me before a first date,” I whine. “I love you too, but what the hell, man. I thought we were friends.”
She just snickers. “Good friends fuck with their friends’ heads before first dates. I get in your head so you don’t.”
“I’m not sure that—”
“Hush! I’m in your head, renting it for free and all that. Please kick me out before you be gay and kiss, and please remember to buy me some snacks to make up for the tuna. Also, I got more toilet paper—receipt’s on the counter. If you can e-transfer me half whenever, that’d be great. Also also, do you need a nap before tonight?”
“Words fast,” I groan.
“I’ll take that as a yes. You go nap, I’ll wake you up fifteen minutes before you need to go over to her place. Has she texted you the room number yet?”
I check my phone—she has. “Other dorms, through the skywalk. Room 313. Annnd, there, I texted it to you as well. I go nap now.”
I would nap on the couch if there was any sunlight on it, but the sky is still overcast. Dang.
I settle for flopping onto my bed and proceed to pass out immediately.