“I thought no one knew about this place?” I ask.
“I meant outside of my sorority.”
One of the girls locks her eyes on us. I think it’s Bren, whom I met yesterday. “Ohmygod, and who is this with you, River?”
She also doesn’t remember me. This is probably a good thing.
“Oh,” River swipes a hand through the air, “he’s an old friend.”
“I hope he’s coming tonight.” Bren wiggles her brows.
“You mean the preseason game?” River asks. “I don’t think he’s interested—”
“Yeah, I’d love to come,” I say. Blake and his cronies will be there. Maybe I’ll corner them after the game and try to find out where they took us last night.
“Awesome.” Bren winks at me. “I’ll buy you a beer.” She heads across to the other side of the restaurant and piles into a booth with the other girls. They all giggle and steal glances at me.
As for River, she’s seething, and if I were to guess what her sour expression means, it’s jealousy.
Now I know for sure something beyond my physical transformation is happening. Instead of being dismissive and cruel, people are doing the opposite. Smiles and flirtation. Kindness. Everyone except Keni.
River’s odd behavior gives me an excuse to venture out alone for an hour before the game to shop for bigger clothes. There’s an outlet mall near the city, so I drop her off at her place and take her car, since I don’t have one. Why not? Never needed it. I used to stay in my room most of the time, except when I had classes. I tried getting a job once, but no one would hire me. One look and they said the job was filled. The city bus served all my loner needs.
I did get a driver’s license, though, at the insistence of my parents, who said I needed it for emergencies.
Relieved to have a little time alone to think, I head down the highway, gripping the wheel of River’s tiny red car. I feel like a giant in this thing, a nervous giant. I’ve only driven a handful of times, and cars are zooming past me, honking. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.
“The speed limit is fifty-five!” I yell at one guy, who flips me the bird and passes. “Not like I’m in the fast lane here!” It’s the slow lane.
I decide to focus on something less mentally warping than my lack of driving skills.
Keni. I think of her sweet smile and little laugh when we met. There was a light in her eyes that mesmerized me. My dick tingles. My neck gets all sweaty and hot.
I swear, if God handed me a book of women and said, “Hey, Huff, pick one. Pick your dream girl.” It would be Keni.
And look, I’m not stupid. I get that I don’t know her. I’m basing everything on her looks and our first encounter, but that’s the point. I’ve never met anyone who made me want to get to know them. That’s why her reaction today was disturbing.
So much anger.
There has to be a reason, just like there has to be one for my transformation. Yes, a perfectly rational explanation. Maybe I’m actually dead, and this is purgatory. Or I’m really in my bed sleeping? Coma?
No. This is real. I know fantasy from reality. Dreams never have this level of detail or continuity. In a dream, one second you’re walking through a forest, searching for a treasure, and the next you’re taking off your clothes to swim naked under a waterfall while ten beautiful women watch and throw money at you.
No? Just me?
The point is, dreams don’t stay on one single rail. They jump lines. So whatever’s happening is real. Unbelievable, but real. The question is, what am I going to do about it?
I have no idea, but having clothes that fit feels like a good place to start.
I arrive to the shopping plaza and rush through a few stores. I score some large tees, which are still fairly snug in the chest and shoulders, but that can’t be helped. I find jeans that hopefully fit and take those to the fitting room.
I strip off my sweats and look in the multi-angle mirror. Wow. This is the first time I’ve really had a good look at myself.
I pivot side to side. I don’t believe it, but I can’t find anything wrong with me. I’m shredded, right down to my ass, thighs, and calf muscles. And my dick is the kind of thing guys brag about having to other guys. It’s the kind of dick you proudly show off in the locker room, and it buys instant respect.
Of course, my amazement is mixed with fear. What will happen if word spreads about this? What if it’s not permanent?
I tell myself to take things one step at a time. Enjoy it. Enjoy the gift of not being a scrawny, useless pussy people either ignore or trample on. Don’t slap the gift horse.