Chapter 8 -- Besties
I printed off the new picture of George and put it in the baggie with the ken doll body. "You ready for this?" I asked Mason.
"I think so. If it's not right, just bring me back in my own body." I snapped a shot of him, printed it off, and put it in the baggie with the head. I put the current picture of him into the box to delete it. When I pushed the button, I felt movement inside my pants. His boxers had vanished from my body. I was kind of into that. The other clothes that had been in the corner were also gone.
Without taking any detours, I projected the new combination. "How do you feel?" I asked.
"Short," he said. "But I definitely feel like I'm me. This is workable."
"What do we call you in public?"
Mason thought for a moment. "He's George Carter, so maybe I'll be Carter to pay my respects to him. Something unassuming for the last name, though. Smith, maybe?"
"Alright, Carter Smith. Where do you want to go in your little tuxedo?"
"Yeah, no. The tux isn't coming along? And I'm sorry to do this to you, but we only have one pair of pictures with things that would fit him. Can you print off the one of me with the outfit I'll wear?"
"Why are you sorry?"
"Because you were clearly simping for George, and I'm about to put him in 501s," Mason said.
"I was so not simping," I protested.
"Uh huh. Give me the camera and then turn around. Make him a mannequin, so I don't have to explain to myself why I'm being disrobed. Might as well do the same with the other outfit. George might want it."
So he was about to get me the outfits I wanted without me having to worry about him being pissed off about me undressing him. Sure, these new pics would be for `George.' Still I was getting what I wanted without a hassle.
The whole process didn't take very long at all. He wasn't wasting time enjoying stripping the copies of himself, like I would have. He understood each step I had to do with the projector, even if he couldn't touch it himself. I could have probably been brain dead by that point and he could have walked me through it.
When all was said and done, and he let me turn around, he was standing there in a cream colored sweater that was slightly big on him, but still cute, and his legs in light blue jeans poking out from underneath. They bunched up at the bottom where they were too long for Goerge's body, but, once again, not too bad. The fact that he had the shiny black dress shoes on instead of Mason's boots from the picture told me that the boots were too big as well.
"Should I ask how I look?" Mason asked.
"The sweater's hanging down past all the parts that would catch my eye, so it's really just George's adorable face that makes you stand out."
"I had to really tighten this belt. Adult sizes only go down to a 28 inch waist, and even these are baggy on him," Mason noted.
"You only outgrew those this year," I pointed out. "No shame in being a late bloomer."
"Yeah, but combine that with being the gay kid in a backward school like Iron Rapids, and it's going to be hell," Mason said.
"We might be in the run-down, low-rent, ass crack of the city, but at least we treat people like people, no matter how different. How did my mom get out of there so liberal?" I asked.
Mason shrugged. "Some people are just destined to be who they are, no matter where you put them, I think. Oh, before we leave, print off a second camera so we both have one."
The quick shift in topics threw me for a moment. When it registered, I wished I had thought of it. "You're actually a genius, Mason George Carter." He laughed at the name. "Alright, so what do you think our best plan of action is? More shopping?"
"Improved shopping," he said. "We have a wad of cash so we can buy things for real if someone gets suspicious. I say we go across to the good part of town and hit the mall. I know some stuff there you're going to want." He pulled up the bus routes and split the cash between us. "Save the singles for bus fare and try to break the big bills first. The more small bills we have to copy, the better. Also, any time you have a chance, take a picture of the store cash registers, open if possible. We can print off their money, and find a way to break into them if we need to."
"How much thought have you put into this?" I asked.
"More than is healthy," he admitted. "Remember, buy something cheap everywhere we go so we can get the registers open and break the 20s and 50s. Even if it's just some crap you'll throw away after we leave."
As we waited for the bus to arrive, I thought I saw Mom's coworker Peggy pull past us into the complex drive, but I wasn't sure it was her. Did she live in our area?
We hopped on the southbound bus and took it to the midtown transit station. I sat by the window and absently took pictures on the way. "What are you doing?" Mason asked.
"Honestly, I don't know. I just like the scenery," I told him. "It's not like I'm going to run out of space."
"True," Mason replied. I caught him making sure to take pictures of women's purses and men's wallets when he could do it without being caught.
The scenery improved immensely after we transferred buses, left downtown, and entered the south side of the city. I was so used to the profusion of grays and browns, all the green and blue of the south side gave me a shock of vibrancy. There were no low rent apartments. Upscale condos and large single-family homes filled the landscape. I hadn't been out that way since middle school, when we would visit our friends, like C.T., whose families had money to spare. I knew enough of the world to know that even those people weren't loaded, just comfortable. Lucky them.
Reaching the mall didn't take long, and we were free to roam just after three in the afternoon. Mason bypassed the entrance to the interior of the mall and led us a little ways off to one of the exterior entrances to Macy's.
"So, at the end of last summer, Dad gave me and Jamie gift cards for here with ridiculous amounts on them. It was some bullshit about wanting to make sure we were well-dressed, but with cards our mom couldn't use to pay the bills with. It's been his thing since the divorce, to give as much as he can to us without letting Mom have anything. It's like he thinks he can win the divorce or something. Anyway, this is where I got the stuff I wore at the beginning of the year. Sad thing is, with the jumps in height I did this year, none of it fit by the end of winter, and Mom had to get me all new clothes anyway, so I was back to goodwill basics."
He led us through the store to the escalators and to the men's department on the second floor, then directly to the Levi's wall. I got hard as I browsed. "I kinda thought that, if you had your own, it might make things less tricky when you run across someone else in them," he said softly. "What size are you?" he asked.
"32 squeezes a little, but it's still good. Fat has some give to it, fortunately," I said. "28 inseam is what fits right, but most pants don't go below 30."
I was a bit paralyzed with the choices and what to do. Mason ended up pulling a pair of dark blue in both 32/30 and 34/30. "Try both on in the changing room and see what works best. Even if the 32 is perfect, take a pic of the bigger size, so you have options for later, just in case."
Just in case I got fatter. Even though he probably wasn't thinking it, and I knew he definitely didn't care, I added the unspoken words in my head. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong. I went to try them on. The 32s were, in fact, too tight, and I felt slightly sick to my stomach about that. The 34s nearly fell off me; they were so loose. I was confused.
I took them back out to him and mentioned the weird sizing. "Yeah, we're used to so much of our clothes having stretch built in, we don't always notice that the manufacturers are really inconsistent with sizing." We dug through the poorly sorted stacks of the same color to find a few more of each size and I took them in. One of the 32s fit right, as did one of the 34s. In fact, one of the 34s was even too tight. What the actual fuck? That would have sent me home crying if I'd tried those first. I got shots of the ones that fit and the ones that were too big.
We spent the next hour doing the same thing with each color. The woman working the department eyed us, but when she saw that Mason was refolding them all and sorting the stacks correctly, she let us be. I noted that Mason kept looking to see when she looked away, and would take pictures of entire stacks of other styles that were laid out on display tables. Clever boy.
"Do you remember the one you like the best?" he asked.
"Actually, yeah," I told him, rifling through the stacks. There was a pair of really dark jeans that seemed to touch me everywhere without squeezing. I found them and he took them from me.
"Good. We're buying this pair. I have to break a hundred and I'd like to leave here without looking suspicious."
"My mom will wonder where I got them," I protested.
"We'll figure something out. We have to eventually anyway, unless you like only having nice things when she can't see." He handed me the only hundred we had. It felt weird spending so much on one thing. "Besides," he added, pulling up my sleeve to show my tattoo, "long sleeve weather is almost over. This is going to be an issue soon. Now, you buy the pants and I'll hang out behind the register to try and get a shot."
It was surprisingly easy, since the counter was in the center of the department. Mason didn't even have to try and be sneaky to be on the other side -- he just had to browse the merchandise over there. We left with the store bag and headed into the mall proper.
I had to have looked like a tourist as I looked around in wonder. Everything was shiny and pretty, with plants and lights and polished metal everywhere. I couldn't help but snap some pictures.
"Haven't you been here before?" he asked.
"No, Mom said that seeing all the things we couldn't have would make me sad," I replied. Mason sighed in response.
He checked the map kiosk and took us toward the bathrooms. "Go take the tags off and get changed," he said.
"Huh? Why?"
"Because I just realized I'm being all business about this and you're on an adventure. We can stop being so focused and have some fun. Putting those on will be fun for you."
I didn't argue, darting down the hall and into the bathroom. I pulled every tag and sticker from those jeans, and slid them onto my body, just enjoying the act of buttoning them up. My cargos went into the store bag.
When I walked out, part of me felt like I had done something wrong, like I wasn't supposed to be wearing them. I felt like every other shopper was side-eyeing me. None of them were even looking at me, but the paranoia was killing me.
"Feel better?" he asked.
"I have no idea," I said. "How do they look?"
"To me, like a pair of jeans, but not baggy like you normally wear. They're nothing special to me. Ready for our next stop?"
As we made our way toward the food court, I grabbed his arm to stop him. "Hold on a sec," I said. The sun was being filtered through some colored glass from the skylight, and there was this couple standing directly in the golden glow. I kneeled down for the shot.
I showed it to him in the viewfinder. "That's actually kind of awesome," he said. "I didn't even notice them."
We moved on, and he stopped us in front of Cinnabon. "Get one for each of us. I'll try and get the register shot. Tricky angle, though, and people are watching. I really wish I had my height for this one. Oh, and remember to break a fresh bill."
"Oh my God," I said with a laugh. "You're starting to sound like my mom with all the instructions. I got this." While waiting in line, I wondered how my butt looked. I could feel it pressed against the denim, and I wasn't sure the last time I wore pants that showed it off. After I had the food, I asked him if he had the shot.
"Yep, let's go eat. I took a chance and guessed you've never had these."
"I've had cinnamon rolls before," I protested. He barked out a laugh in response.
We sat and he stared at me until I took my first bite. "Holy fuck," I said with my mouth full.
"There it is," he said.
We sat and ate for a bit as I kept my eye out for interesting sights and people. That's when I noticed a pair sit down not too many tables away from us. Mason's back was to them, but I had a clear view. Casey and Lyssa were there, gossiping and not paying a shred of attention to anyone around them.
Something about the way they were talking and laughing looked like it belonged on a book or movie cover. I had to snap a picture, then another, then another. Casey noticed me and got up.
"What's your fake name again?" I asked Mason.
"Carter Smith, why?"
"Don't turn around, but we may need it. Casey and Lyssa are here, and Casey's coming this way." He nodded and I could see him get more rigid, like he was ready to make a hasty exit.
Casey was styled to perfection, with his brown hair all brushed sideways, fluffy and soft. His white, short sleeved, button up was speckled with tiny dots of red, yellow, and blue, and tucked into a pair of form fitting red chinos, with matching dark brown loafers and belt. At the bottom, his pants were cuffed to show off his socks. "How did you get socks that matched that shirt?" I mused, realizing too late that it was out loud.
He paused, then smiled with a perfect set of gleaming white teeth. "You noticed! Thank you. It's Zac, right? Now, why were you snapping pictures of me and Lyssa?"
"Honestly? You two were looking movie-poster iconic and I couldn't let it pass."
He raised a flawlessly manicured eyebrow at me. "Let me see." I showed it to him. "Hmm...Lyssa, come here." She hesitated and slowly made her way over. He showed it to her.
"Damn, we look good," she said shyly. "This is a great shot, Zac." Why was she acting like I was going to bite her?
"Can you send this to me?" Casey asked.
"It's just a camera. No phone features. I'll have to upload it at home and email it to you," I told him.
"Works for me. You have anything to write with, or on, Lyssa?" he asked.
"I...I think so," she stammered, fishing in her purse, handing him a scrap of paper and a pen.
"What's got your panties in a twist, girl. We see Zac like every day, and," he paused to give Mason a once over, "and I've never seen this little cutie before, but he's not even remotely intimidating.
"You know who his best friend is," she said quietly through clenched teeth, still loud enough for both of us to hear. Mason tensed even more than he already had been.
"Lyssa! You still haven't smoothed that over? It was like six months ago," Casy said with a sigh.
I knew what this was about. I couldn't help myself. My defenses were raised to protect my best friend. "Is this about laughing in Mason's face when he asked you out?" I asked, no emotion clouding my voice. Mason, who had been staring at the table trying not to be seen, suddenly stared at me, his eyes wide. Even with George's face, I recognized Mason's `what the hell are you doing?' look.
Lyssa smacked Casey's arm. "I told you that's why neither of them talk to us." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, Zac, I was going through some major shit that day, and was in super-bitch no-one-better-fuck-with-me mode. The way I handled that with Mason was mean, and I shouldn't have done it. It's been kinda haunting me since then. I just don't know what to say now, especially after all this time."
"Just tell him what you just told me. I bet he'll take it better than you think."
"You're right," she said. "I know you're right. I'm just super antsy. I've never been that cruel to someone, and I don't know how to come back from that. But yeah, I'll tell him in school tomorrow."
"You'll have to wait a week," I told her. "He's in Seattle visiting his dad this week."
"Next week then," she said distantly, then came back to Earth. "Speaking of rude, we haven't introduced ourselves to your friend. I'm Lyssa and this is Casey. We obviously go to school with Zac." She held out her hand and Mason took it.
"Carter," he said. "I'm...I'm from Ypsi." He showed his copy of the camera. "Zac and I are part of an online photography group. I came over so we could hang out and take some shots." The speed of his lies astounded me. I liked the story, though. "I haven't seen anything cool yet, but he's been nailing shot after shot. It's a bit intimidating." Overkill, but I was enjoying the boost.
"I had no idea photography was your thing," Casey said.
"Honestly, until recently, neither did I. I just thought I really liked looking at pretty places and things. Who knew I was actually studying composition?"
"Why pick the mall?" Lyssa asked.
"Safe meeting ground," Mason said. "Lots of witnesses in case he was some sort of creeper. Also, he'd never had Cinnabon before, so I had to introduce him."
In unison, Lyssa and Casey put their hands to their mouths. "Oh honey," Casey said.
I snapped a picture and showed it to them, causing both of them to bust into laughter. "I need this one, too," Casey told me. "This is meme worthy."
While I had them, I felt like I had to seize another opportunity. "Casey, can I ask you something?"
I wasn't sure if it was something in my expression, but Casey sobered quickly. "I'm feeling like something big is about to happen. Mind if we get our food and bring it over?"
"Carter?" I asked.
"Sure," Mason said, curiously eyeing me. Once they were out of earshot, "what's going on?"
"I don't get to talk to Casey outside of school, and I need to know some things," I said. "Does that ruin your plans?"
"My plans were to get out, have fun, and maybe get some useful pictures. We've done that, and I'm willing to pause the register shots if this is something you need to do."
"Thank you," I mouthed to him as Casey and Lyssa returned. They sat with us, with Casey next to me and Lyssa next to Mason, whose eyes widened. I had to stifle a laugh.
"So what is it you need to ask me?" Casey said.
"Casey, do you get a lot of shit at school? You know, for the gay thing?"
"I thought I would, but it really hasn't been that bad. We lucked out and got a pretty chill student body. One or two guys tried to start something, but I just let them know that I wouldn't hesitate reporting them. They tried to imply that only babies and girls tattled, as if gay bashing were on the same level as littering. I told them if they wanted to smoke behind the school or screw their girlfriends in the janitors' closets, I would keep my mouth shut, but I would never, ever, let hate crimes go unreported. I think they learned really fast how seriously I took my safety."
"Damn," Mason said. "You've got some balls on you. I'm impressed."
"Sometimes being a bitch is a superpower," Casey admitted. "Now, why has that been on your mind, Zac?" His tone shifted to one I'd never heard from him. He sounded caring and protective.
"I think you just figured it out," I said.
"Maybe, but saying it out loud is a massive step. I don't think I need to remind you that you're in company that will take it very well."
"I wanted to know what I had in front of me when I came out," I admitted. "I'm...I'm gay." Casey and Lyssa both left their chairs to come over and hug me.
"Welcome to the Letters," Casey said.
"Huh?"
"LGBTQIAAPP2SD+," Lyssa explained. "You think anyone wants to say that all the time? `Welcome to the Letters' sounds so much cooler. Does Mason know?"
"Yeah. He's been more supportive than I could have ever hoped for. He's seriously the best human being ever." I was laying it on thick, both because Lyssa needed to know how great a guy he was, and also because Mason needed to hear it himself. I caught his eyes welling up before he dabbed them with his napkin.
"Did you know?" Casey asked Mason, who nodded. "Wait, are you two...?"
"No," I interrupted. "Carter isn't into me like that."
"I'm Ace," Mason said, and my jaw nearly hit the table.
"You figured it out?" I asked him, ignoring Casey and Lyssa for a moment.
"Yeah, I think so. That Graysexual page you found me helped a lot. I move between kind of liking girls to not really liking anyone, depending on the day. Most days it's no one."
"Is this your first time saying it out loud?" Casey asked him.
"I wasn't able to nail it down before today, so yeah." Casey and Lyssa crossed to his side to hug him, too.
Once they sat back down, we went back to our food. "You know I have to ask this," Casey said. "Who do you think is hot?"
"Like, everyone," I said, "not like it matters. Everyone's straight or taken."
Casey laughed. "If that ain't the truth."
"Didn't I hear you say you had a boyfriend that goes to Yates?"
"Yeah, because there's no one available at Butler. I'm screwed next year when he goes to college on the west coast."
"You just found out Zac's gay," Mason pointed out. "You really should tap that before someone else does." I choked on my Cinnabon.
"Personal rule. A guy needs to be out for six months before I'll date them. It's an unstable time starting out, and I don't want to play in that minefield. And no, telling us isn't coming out. It's a step, but it's got to be public knowledge for it to be the real coming out. I'm not telling you you have to do that yet, either. You have to be comfortable enough to tell the world, and then you have to figure out what the real you is all about." Casey picked up the camera and held it toward me. "This is a really good start. It's you learning you."
"Your loss," Mason replied.
"Maybe," Casey said. "I see potential there."
"Potential?" I scoffed. "I'm a chubby poor kid with acne. I'm not flawless like you."
Lyssa choked that time. "Shut up," Casey told her. He returned to me. "I'm flattered that you think I'm flawless, but this is all smoke and mirrors. Flawless rarely means effortless."
He took my hand and brushed it across the top of his hair. It was crunchy and kind of sharp. "I thought that would be softer."
"Looks that way, doesn't it? I have it cut specifically to look that way and spray it with the highest hold hairspray every day. Otherwise, I'd be a frizzed out puffball on the daily. Then there's this outfit. It looks damn good on me, doesn't it? These shoes have no insulation, the air flows right up the legs, and I don't have anything under this flimsy short sleeved shirt. It's just barely 50 outside today and I may as well be naked out there, but it's all in the line of beauty. Another secret, Buttercup: my acne's worse than yours. This is all makeup, with grooming to pluck out my unibrow."
Lyssa stood and lifted her shirt a little, showing a beige compression garment underneath. "Spanx. My middle's just like yours. Plus I have on a boustier top to push what little I have up to fake out some cleavage. When I get the money, I want to suck out my middle and pump it into my boobs."
"In fact, if you can supply the cash, I know just how to buff and pluck you into gorgeousness," Casey concluded.
"He has the cash," Mason supplied.
"Really?" I asked him.
He nodded with a big grin. "Part of what we were doing today was getting you outfitted so you can actually feel good about yourself."
"What did you do so far?" Casey asked.
"Just the new pants," Mason said, gesturing for me to stand.
"Lift the shirt, just to the waistline, and spin," Lyssa instructed. "Your butt's little, but not embarrassing, and those show you off pretty well.
"Nice change from the bargain basement tents you usually wear," Casey added.
"You noticed my clothes?"
Lyssa chuckled. "Casey notices everything everyone wears. If you breathe, you've been judged. Shall we begin?"
We all stood and took care of our trash and she led the way. "Undergarment first, so we have something to build on." She led us back into Macy's and to a different section of the men's department. "They have Spanx for men, too." She grabbed a generic torso shaper and brought us to a different register than the one we'd used before. Mason was sneakier about taking the picture that time.
"Mind if we open this and have our friend put it on in the dressing room so we can try more stuff on," Lyssa asked the clerk. She allowed it, and I managed to get it on without too much of a hassle. I noticed that my large shirt hung differently, more like a dress, and fell about as low on me as the sweater Mason was wearing on George's body.
I barely stepped out of the changing room when Casey shoved a bunch of stuff at me. "Tuck the t-shirt in, but not the button up, and only button the middle two buttons. Make sure to put the belt on, because we're going to get you shoes that match them next.
"Yes Ma'am," I told him. I closed the door and looked at the shirt. "Uh, small? Mediums don't even fit right. I've been wearing larges."
"The mediums would have fit you fine," Casey said through the door. "You just don't like that they show off your body. Put the t-shirt on. It's long and slim; designed for tucking."
I pulled the black t-shirt on and it stretched, hugging every curve, including the ones the compression garment made. "I can see the lines from the Spanx," I told him.
"That's what the other one is for." Sure enough, the deep burgundy shirt covered up the remaining flaws. Plus, with the bottom buttons open, it showed off the belt buckle and my fly. From the neck down, I was looking sexy AF.
"Hmm," I managed to say.
"Care to share with the rest of the class?" Casey asked.
I replied by opening the door and walking out. "Dayum," he said. "You're a whole snack right now." He pulled off all the tags and stuffed my other shirt and belt into the bag with my pants. He held the parts with the bar codes. "They just need these."
When we walked out, I could see Lyssa grab Mason's arm and turn him to look. "Now that's hot," she said. "Any less Ace now?" she asked Mason.
"No, but I'm impressed," he replied. "You wouldn't, by chance, be planning on becoming a stylist when you graduate, would you?"
Casey shrugged. "It's a possibility, but I'm not done exploring yet. Let's pay here and then go for shoes."
We managed to hit a third checkout in Macy's, and Mason worked his magic to take a shot of his fourth open register of the day. We were going to be swimming in cash. The shoes Casey picked out at some outlet I'd never heard of matched my belt perfectly, and yet were still styled like skate shoes.
"Have we killed enough time?" Casey asked Lyssa.
"Just about. Let's walk that way."
"You're going to love Calypso," Casey told me, taking the arm that wasn't holding the bag, which was continually getting heavier as the clothes I'd been wearing at the beginning of the day got stripped from my body and thrown in.
We reached a place called Tricho, and Lyssa led the way. Two women stood behind the counter, and one of them beamed when we walked in. "I'm glad you had some free time for us today," Lyssa said to her.
"When you told me you had a friend who you were glamming up for a big coming out party, I couldn't say no." Calypso's voice was deep and masculine, but her body was all female. I knew better than to pry.
"You outed me?" I asked.
"Only to me," Calypso replied, looking me up and down. "And that was just to make sure they had my attention. Obviously, I'm going to squeeze Family in. And my my my, don't you look adorable. I'm going to sex up your hair to go with your outfit."
She led me to her station and got to work right away. "Oh girl, these cowlicks! Did you get Fantastic Sams or is this a home job?"
"My mom cuts it, but she makes sure to tell me every time that she doesn't know what to do with them."
"You see this?" she said, pointing to the part in front that always stuck up, no matter how much I plastered it down. "You're trying to tell it what to do, when you should be working with it." She pulled it even more vertical, and some more to join it, making it do this flippy thing in the front. She then proceeded to shave in and shape the sides and the back. When she showed me the finished product, I had to blink several times to make sure it was me.
"Wow," I said.
"You, sweetie, are going to make all the dicks hard tomorrow," Calypso told me quietly with a wink. Then she had me hop off the chair and swatted my ass as I walked to the front of the store.
Casey actually moaned.
"That means he approves," Lyssa said.
"How about you, Mighty Mouse," she said to Mason. "As cute as you look with that cut, it's stuck in the 90s. Not to be a downer, but it makes you look like Matthew Sheppard."
"Who," I asked.
"One of us," Calypso explained softly, voice tainted with anger. "He was murdered for being one of us. His death caused a lot of us to come out, step up, and take action. He was just a kid, like you; just as cute, too. Anyway, we can bring your style to the present so you're not the walking ghost of a dead kid."
But he was. At least, George was, and Mason was walking around in his body. I knew the answer before he said it. He wasn't about to change George's body without consent. "Not this time, but I'll think about it. Thanks."
We paid and left a big tip for Calypso, then they took me to Sephora. Casey was unusually silent until we reached the makeup counter. He sat me in the beautician's chair. "We want to smooth him out without making it look like he has makeup on, but maybe with some very subtle kicks of masculine sexuality in there. If he walks out of here with a face to turn heads, we'll buy whatever you used on him."
I could almost see the dollar signs in the beautician's face.
"What's wrong?" Lyssa asked him under her breath. I didn't think they wanted me to hear that. "Too hot now?" I caught the tiny nod he gave her.
I had to stop listening when the woman doing my face started explaining how to apply it all. I had a strong feeling this was going to become routine. The fact that she was able to make all the zits vanish and look like smooth skin made my eyes well up. She blotted them before they leaked. She then used an eyeliner and eyeshadow that were brown instead of black so they added some depth without looking like I was wearing makeup. A light mascara gave slight extension and color without looking feminine, as did a stain a couple shades darker than my lips.
"Fuck me," Casey breathed. "No, seriously, fuck me: right here on the counter." He shook his head. "Push up your sleeves just past your elbows," he said, unbuttoning the cuffs and pushing the right sleeve up. "Of course you have a sexy tattoo on your wrist."
"Which is why I need to put the sleeves back down," I told him. "My mom doesn't know about this." He smacked my hand when I went to push the sleeve back down.
"Nope. Don't you dare cover this up in public. It just means we have another stop to make."
I paid for everything, breaking the last of my big bills while Mason got the register shot. He was damn good at that. As we walked behind Casey and Lyssa, he traded envelopes with me. "You sure? We're going through a lot," I whispered.
"This is what I wanted," he replied in kind. "You've been down in the dumps for too long. Running into them was the best thing that could have happened on this trip. I had no fucking clue how to go about it. Oh, and you won a free makeover. That's your cover story. That's why we're only doing one complete outfit."
"I think she'll buy that. For the millionth time today, you're amazing," I told him.
"I'm about to get better." He took a picture of Casey. "He's really into you. I actually think if, given the chance in private, he might want to, you know. If you explain to him that he's a copy, so it doesn't go against whatever he's using to hold himself back, I think he'll go for it. It's obvious that the real him wants to jump you, so it's not like you'd be violating him, especially if you give him complete autonomy to say no."
"We're here, guys," Lyssa said, turning to us. "Care to fill in the rest of the class on what you're whispering about?"
Mason got a wicked grin on his face. "Zac was starting to get down on himself again, saying none of it mattered because there still wasn't anybody who would date him. I was explaining to him that, even as an Ace, I could tell that Casey's boyfriend is the only thing stopping him from kicking his six month rule to the curb and dragging him into the men's room."
Casey turned bright red and turned his back on us, entering the store alone, while Lyssa started giggling. "I don't think he's wrong," she told me. "Here's the thing: one out of ten guys likes other guys, according to the statistics. We've got a school of over 2000. That's roughly a thousand guys, a hundred of which are about to notice you on Monday. You might be causing some of them to come out really soon. Be patient." She cocked her head for us to follow her in.
Her words stunned me. Mason shoved me forward to break me out of it. I hadn't noticed where we were, but the store was full of leather goods, like coats and bags and accessories. That's where Casey was waiting, composure regained.
"These will work," he told me, holding out a thick leather band with patterns etched into it. "Wrist," he said. I held it out and he fastened the cuff around it. It definitely looked good, and it hid the tattoo brilliantly.
"Just the one?" a male voice asked from behind a display. The man who walked out was at least six feet tall, with medium brown hair brushed up and back. His entire face and body combo looked like he was designed to walk runways in Milan. He had on a loose brown shirt that was unbuttoned to reveal over half his shaved chest, and was tucked into worn, faded blue jeans, clearly button fly, but not Levi's, boot cut, with actual boots on his feet, and a modest western buckle on his belt. He had a necklace hanging down with a strange design I'd never seen, and about a day's worth of stubble. Both of his wrists sported leather cuffs, similar to the one on my wrist.
He was so hot, but also looked like he was over 20, so he probably shouldn't be into me. "Should I balance it out?" I asked him.
"Yes, but not those," he said. He went behind the counter and pulled out a drawer. He worked there? From inside, he lifted a pair that not only matched my shoes and belt, but they had braiding on each edge, and steel rings riveted onto the backs. "May I?" he asked.
"Uh, sure," I replied, partially mesmerized. He gently took my arm and unbuckled the cuff that was on it, grazing my skin multiple times. Each time sent a jolt of lust through my body and straight to my dick. He continued brushing my skin with his fingers as he put the new cuff on me, and I wasn't sure how my knees didn't buckle. I managed to keep myself from moaning as he moved to my left wrist and did the same.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"They look good, but why these?"
He leaned in right next to my ear to whisper. "Because you can thread rope through the rings and get tied up in all sorts of fun ways." He leaned back. "If that's something you want in your life, that is."
My face heated up a million degrees, give or take. "What did he say?" Mason asked.
"Not important," I told him.
"Pretty sure I know," Casey said, staring directly into my soul. "I won't judge you if you like that pair better, but I also know why. If what he told you appeals to you, absolutely don't hesitate. You'll regret not getting them. I'd go with the other ones myself, but that's just my taste. Aesthetically, they both look good."
I cocked my head at him, but then nodded. I got what he was saying. He didn't want to be tied up, but if I did, he didn't care. I thought about it. "You know what? I think I'll go with this pair." The sales guy smiled at me, his canines slightly larger than average, giving his teeth a sexy wolven feel.
"I also have a matching collar in here, if you want it." He pulled out an identical thick leather collar with rings on each side, the back, and one at the buckle. I felt another tickle downstairs.
"I think this necklace would look better," Casey interjected. He held one up that was a ring with Celtic knots, secured with a simple leather strap, that would hang just above the opening in my new shirt. He slipped it over my head and it lay there nicely. "You're right, though. A necklace was definitely called for."
The man rang me up. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."
We left the store and Casey grabbed my bicep and dragged me far from the entrance. "Ow!"
"That guy crossed the line back there. He was being a total creeper. I got the worst vibes off of him."
"You too?" Mason asked. "I know I was missing something with the cuffs, but I didn't miss how much he was hitting on Zac."
"He was really hot, though," Lyssa said, glancing back toward the entrance.
"Don't you start," he warned her. "I'm going to have to drag both of you out of this mall so that predator won't stick you in a white van."
I held my wrists together over my head. "You gonna drag me out in cuffs, officer," I breathed at him.
"Oh," Mason said. "I get why those cuffs are different now. Ew."
"Do your best to keep Zac from going back there, Carter, please," Casey asked him.
"Will do." I was already planning out how I would get back there to buy the collar, but I didn't need to tell them that.
"Did you at least get pictures," I muttered to Mason.
"Really?" he asked, deadpan. I nodded and he rolled his eyes at me.
"Did I hear something about pictures?" Lyssa asked. She'd obviously only heard that word. "Zac, stand by that pillar."
I stood as Casey posed me, hooking my thumbs into my pockets and adjusting my angle, making me look off to the side and up a bit, and pout ever so slightly. All three of them snapped photos at various angles including up close. That was followed by all of them comparing shots and showing them to me.
"The fact that that's me is kind of freaking me out," I said. "In a good way," I quickly added.
Mason's watch beeped. "Hey Zac, last bus to get us back to your place before your mom is in fifteen minutes."
I sighed. "All good things must come to an end. Casey, Lyssa, this has been some of the most fun I've had this year. Thank you so much for being part of it, and for all your help."
Casey hugged me. "I had a blast. This was my first full makeover, and I got to glam up a sleeper hottie who also happens to be a gaybie. It's going to take a lot to top this for me."
"Gaybie?" Mason and I asked in unison.
Lyssa came to hug me next as Casey hugged Mason. "Gay baby," she explained. "Someone who hasn't been out long. It's a term of affection in the gay community. Anyway, I had fun too. Not very often I get to spend so much of another person's money."
As we walked away I turned back to take a last look, and caught Casey quickly look away. I grinned. Mason and I both had our cameras out to get more last minute shots, and I made sure to scope the leather store as we passed it, but I couldn't see the sexy clerk. It wasn't until we were almost at the exit that I caught sight of him leaving the hallway where the restrooms were located. I got a quick shot in while Mason wasn't looking. The guy noticed me, grinned, and took a shot of me with his phone, winking.
Author Notes:
Yes, Zac has a lot of self image issues, and yes, he does focus on his weight a lot. He's based on how I was in high school and what I perceived to be true. Being gay in high school, especially with the physical ideals Hollywood presents as being normal' gives a lot of boys massive body dismorphia, and Zac's not immune to that. Boys don't connect that other boys just aren't ready to be out, and consider the lack of romantic attention to be because they're hideous. Keep that in mind before coming at me with fat shaming' and `fat-phobia'. This is a case of low self esteem and a lack of self acceptance, the same thing I had to fight through as a teen, and still struggle with. (Also, if you haven't noticed, Casey and Lyssa aren't the best role models for this, and because Mason has no attraction to Zac, nothing he could say would make Zac think he was attractive.)
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