Gosh, Tav is beautiful.
It’s about the only thing going through my brain currently as she opens the door. I was envious of her at one point, at how effortlessly feminine she is, but compersion led to me just being happy for her shortly after I recognized just how jealous I was. I remember smashing that jealousy aside, ashamed of myself for some of the things I had thought at the time. It’s not like we choose what bodies we’re born with, and if she can flawlessly pass (that fucking word), I should be happy for her. And I am happy for her, truly. She’s still dysphoric about a few things, of course, because who isn’t, but I’ve never seen her get misgendered since running into her for the first time during Welcome Week, our university’s way of kicking off the start of a new school year, and a rare opportunity Gwen took to drag me out to, ugh, socialize.
I did meet Tav as a result of being forced to socialize, so I can’t really complain about it seriously. I still do complain, of course, because Gwen deserves it, but we both know I don’t mean it and that I probably do need to be forced outside sometimes. My depression room in our dorm is evidence enough of that.
But I’m not here to think. I’m here to cuddle a cute girl, play some games, get drunk, and do everything I can to not think about my day and how I need to have a more in-depth conversation with Gwen tomorrow… and probably clean the depression out of my room if I don’t wake up as a freaking cat again.
I should also get started on the essay for one of my psychology classes that’s due on Tuesday.
Stop thinking, Alice! Say something!
“Hi,” I say dumbly.
Tav rolls her eyes, smiles, and invites me in with a shrug. She’s wearing a black sweater and black pajama bottoms and still has the makeup from her day on, black eyeliner and black lipstick. Her face is covered in piercings, her arms are covered in tattoos, and her skin is a little less pale than my own. She has messy black hair that reaches her shoulders, her face is heart shaped, and her eyes are an icy blue. She’s shorter than I am, maybe five-six compared to my six feet. Or, she usually is, but I guess I’m slouching because she seems a little taller today.
I realize with a start that I’m staring, and worse, that I don’t have any makeup on, but if Tav notices, she doesn’t care.
Of course she notices, and of course she doesn’t care.
“Your hair looks good,” she says as I sheepishly make my way inside, tension oozing off of me as the familiar sight and smell of her dorm room greets me. It’s the same layout as mine and Gwen’s, a square room with the kitchen against one wall, an island in front of it, and two sofas and a coffee table. Two bedrooms face each other, with the bathroom on the left side of the room. Tav is lucky—something went wrong with her roommate apparently, so she gets the whole dorm to herself. It smells like sweat and something citrussy I’ve never been able to pin down, but which I’m sure isn’t a cleaning chemical.
“Thanks,” I say, blushing. I really do like my hair. The orange isn’t obnoxiously bright, it’s long and thick and wavy, and I’m confident it’s the reason I get gendered correctly as often as I do. She hasn’t complimented it before, so I guess it looks extra good today, even if I didn’t brush it before running over to her room. “And sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,” I add as an afterthought, setting my purse down on the counter and plopping myself down horizontally across a sofa.
Tav hums, and I hear the fridge opening. Ooh, beer night. “You’re fine. Busy day?”
“Ehhhh,” I mumble out, raising my hand above the back of the couch in a so-so gesture. Oh! Right. I should tell her. “Also, not really feeling up to sex tonight… if that’s okay?” I ask, and then I wonder why I asked instead of just stating it.
Tav is silent for a moment, but eventually I hear her moving and she comes into view with a four-pack of craft beers she knows I like. She brushes my legs with her hand and I begrudgingly straighten up as she sits next to me, setting the beer on the coffee table and clicking her TV and Playstation on. “You sure?” she asks, which isn’t the response I wanted to hear at all. Why couldn’t she have just said “Okay” and moved on? Why didn’t she reassure me that it is okay to not have sex?
“Yeah,” I say simply, suddenly not feeling so great.
“Whatever, it’s fine,” is her response, and it is cold, and I feel like I’m falling, or like my insides are falling out of me. She’s never acted like this before, and it’s whiplash. I can feel the passive-aggressiveness in her tone, in her whole vibe. She doesn’t want me here, but she isn’t kicking me out. She’s flicking through her games to get to one we both like and doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps care, that I’m pretty obviously uncomfortable. She… she’s sweet. She’s cool. She’s friendly and talks about her interests and gets me the beer I like and doesn’t ask for anything in return, not even money, and even when I left a twenty behind the one time, I found it slipped under mine and Gwen’s door the next day.
I… don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t feel… safe? Not in a physical way, I don’t think Tav would ever hurt me like that, but it’s just… it’s not… I just don’t feel safe, and I don’t really know why.
I want to get up and make an excuse and leave, but I can’t. It would be rude, uncomfortable, embarrassing and difficult and not something I, Alice, am capable of.
Octavia cracks open a beer, sips it, passes it to me. I wordlessly take it as she boots up the game, and I can see the screen but I don’t know what game it is. She isn’t saying anything, and then she’s passing me the second controller. I hold it in the hand that isn’t currently holding a beer because I can’t put the beer down but I probably should so I can play the game so she doesn’t get upset at me but I haven’t sipped the beer yet so I should do that first and then put it down and oh my hand is shaking and I’m spilling beer and Octavia is saying something to me and her voice is getting louder and and and I don’t feel safe safe at all I can’t be here can’t can’t need to go can’t go what’s happening why is she doing that where am I oh I’m in the hallway now and I flinch when the door slams behind me. My ears are ringing, ringing so loud I can’t hear anything but the high-pitched whine that has taken up residence inside of my ears, my ears, my ears. My eyes are being all weird as well, and I realize I’m crying, and then I’m in the elevator, and then I’m walking some more but I barely register it and I think I’m upset at the dormitory lighting again until I’m in front of Room 112, mine and Gwen’s room, and it takes me a few tries to insert my keycard and open the door, but I do, and then I’m inside and my slides are off again and my purse is dropping to the floor but I don’t remember grabbing it.
I stand still. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what to do. I cry, and the crying intensifies until I’m sobbing and wailing and pulling at the hair on the sides of my head, and I hear whisper-shouts and then Gwen is in front of me, her hands wrapped around my shoulders and pulling me into a hug so tight it squishes out all the negative feelings in me and then I’m—
Poof.
Oh. Ohhh.
That’s better.
That’s much better. My clothes have fallen to the floor and nothing’s restricting me and—wait, why is it much better now?
I hear a startled yelp, distinctly Gwen-ish, but I also hear a gasp. It is deep, masculine, and it can’t be me because I don’t have the appropriate voicebox anymore—I, Alice, am once again a cat.
…a cat currently being held in the arms of my best friend as she hugs me closer to her, nuzzling my face against her neck while I cry without making a sound. She asks me what’s wrong a few times, I think, but she stops after remembering talking isn’t something I’m capable of currently. I don’t remember much after Octavia passed me the beer, only being upset, not feeling safe, running here, and then being held by Gwen. My heart is calming down, and I didn’t even realize it was pounding. My ears have stopped ringing and I can feel what I think is adrenaline leaving my body, and then at last, I can make out words.
My whiskers are twitching irritably, my nose is wrinkling, and my ears are swiveling to track the other person in the room, the one who made the masculine gasp. I want to keep nuzzling close to Gwen, but I do not know who the other human in the room is, only that I feel the need to open my eyes, blink away the tears, and get a look at him. Regretfully, I do, but I still keep myself cuddled closely, burrowing myself further into the crook of Gwen’s neck while she pets me.
The guy is a dude in his boxers. He’d be attractive if I was into men. Taller than I am, muscle packed tight beneath olive skin, he has abs and a smooth, sharp youth-ish face with curly brown hair that pairs well with his glasses. He’s just sort of staring at me. Or at Gwen. Both of us?
Nah. Probably just me.
I assume he saw me turn into a cat, and I am confident in this assumption based on the fact that his jaw is hanging and his eyes are threatening to bulge out of his head.
Naturally, I hiss at him, and Gwen starts and turns around, still petting me, but obscuring my view of the new human in our dorm, the human I have never seen before. My guess is he’s Gwen’s Tinder date, which, damn girl, that was fast. Or, I think it was fast. I kinda lost track of time for a little bit and am not sure how long I was gone for. Either way, however fast Gwen got him in here, he is an unknown and I need to see him. I clamber down from my perch on Gwen’s neck, already missing the coziness of being nuzzled up against her, and snuggle up in her arms instead. I become a loaf and stare at the guy while Gwen tries to muster up something to say.
She fails to come up with anything.
“So… what the heck,” he says after an awkward moment of silence, and I giggle a bit, which comes out as a hss-hss. I was not expecting him to use baby swears. Gwen holds my weight with one arm, and my tail swishes in the air while her free hand absently pets me. I want to imagine she looks like a Bond villain, petting her evil cat, but she’s wearing an oversized t-shirt instead of a lab coat and still smells like the strange guy—AH! Stop it, Alice! Stop noticing the smell of what they were doing before you got here!
To be fair, I’d have probably smelled it even without my cat senses, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Um. So… so…” Gwen stammers uselessly.
I am quite content with the knowledge that I am unable to do anything in this situation. I don’t have to talk! I can let them figure it out and worry about the guy knowing what I can do after I see more of his reaction. Gwen has a pretty good douche radar (with the exception of Cody), so I don’t think I have to worry about him trying to blackmail us for money under threat of outing me or selling me to the government or something weird like that.
…
…eh, even then, no one would believe him. I’m safe, and he couldn’t catch me if he tried. I’m too fast and slippery, at least if running away from Gwen this morning is any metric to go off of.
“Why did that girl turn into a cat?” he asks.
“Ummm… she didn’t? It was a magic trick?” Gwen asks.
Girl. Girl. I forgot how bad Gwen was at lying.
“I saw it happen… uh…”
“Gwen,” Gwen supplies, annoyance in her voice. I give the guy a hiss for forgetting her name.
He jumps.
I snicker. Hss-hss.
“Look,” Gwen sighs, “you should probably go.” When she gets the first words out, I feel her straightening up. Yes! Get ‘em, girl! “I’ll like, maybe text you later? And… don’t tell anyone about this, please. Like, they won’t believe you anyway, but still.”
“Dude, was that—that was your roommate, wasn’t it?”
Oh no, he’s not dumb.
“No!” Gwen says too fast. Goddamn it. “Just go, please.”
He lets out a groan, seemingly thinking about what he should do. Eventually, he opens his mouth to speak, closes it, opens it, closes it, and then, finally, gets some words out.
“Fine… I’ll—I’ll go, and I… I won’t tell anyone. And, uh… sorry… for not, um, leaving as soon as you asked,” he says, heading to Gwen’s room, presumably to get dressed.
“Uh… you’re fine?” she half-says, half-asks as she follows him, still carrying me, and I can hear a mixture of relief and mild confusion in her voice. I also find his apology for essentially just taking a moment to process a little strange, but that could be because I’m not used to men… well, backing down. It honestly might even be a little unnecessary given he saw a girl turn into a cat and a pile of clothes. Not literal clothes, duh, but that’s what I’m imagining when I try to think of what it looked like from his point of view.
He finishes getting his clothes on, jeans and a simple white t-shirt, and locks eyes with Gwen for a moment before turning his attention to me.
“Mrow,” I meow, giving him a little wave of my paw.
His eyes go all wide again and he just shakes his head, chuckling nervously. “This is, without a doubt, the weirdest hook up ever,” he says, smiling a stupid little smile that makes him look all charming and shit. Damn, Gwen, you lucked out with this one. “I’ll… see you around, Gwen, and… uh… cat.”
“Mrow,” I repeat, and, following an impulse, I jump out of Gwen’s arms and land on the floor, barely making any noise. I’m so graceful.
I walk over to him cautiously, sniffing him some more to be extra sure there isn’t anything weird on his clothes before I rub up against his leg. I let out a mao as I do so, letting him know it’s okay to pet me if he’d like to. He seems chill, he listened to Gwen, and I don’t think he’s a threat.
Besides, it might make him feel better about this whole situation. It’s not like I’m doing this for some reason I don’t fully understand. That’d be weird.
He bends down and gives me a brief scratch behind one of my ears before laughing nervously again and standing to face Gwen. Her head is tilted, and she’s watching me with an amused expression.
“You are so freaking weird,” she tells me before sharing a few more words with Tinder Man and saying goodbye. To my surprise, they exchange numbers. When he’s gone, Gwen turns and crouches down, raising her arms as if to tell me it’s okay to jump up and get more cuddles.
I do just that.