Chapter 8 - chapter Eight

I sucked in a mouthful of air that tasted artificial and stuffy. Were all the women's shops like this one?

Racks and racks of dresses, shirts, and pants went on for what seemed like miles. The most shocking thing was how many dresses looked exactly the same; I had rarely seen two women wearing the same dress. How did they manage?

"Nicole?"

I turned my head quickly to Pete, who was standing next to me. He didn't look terrified at all. How many times had he called my name? A new name was going to be hard to get used to. "Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"Uh…" My fingers bunched into the bottom of my over-sized shirt. "I think so."

"Where do you want to start?"

"I have no idea." I swallowed hard. "Probably black." I nodded quickly, trying to convince myself that I knew what I was saying. "I like to wear black." My eyes grazed over the rows of clothes.

Fuck.

Pete threw a glare my way but then he let out a low chuckle. "I know this isn't a fancy place like you would have in the city…"

"No, it's fine," I hurried to cut him off. Shit, I couldn't have him dragging me to some fancy place. They would know in a second that I wasn't a chick.

"We probably won't have very much help here, but luckily," he wiggled his eyebrows in my direction, "you have me."

My forehead wrinkled more and more the longer we stood there. "Maybe we should get started."

"Right." He rubbed his hands together briskly. "What size are you?"

"What?"

~

"Breathe in through your nose," Pete suggested with obvious humor, "and then let it out through your mouth."

"I'm fine," I panted. "Everything is fine."

Pete had decided that lunch was what I needed after my harrowing shopping experience. Five precious bags sat next to me on an empty chair; Pete was across the table.

I had left the shop in a pair of comfortable fitting jeans and a light pink shirt that buttoned all the way up the front. It must have been more appropriate but the material felt really strange when it rubbed against my ass.

Leaning across the table, I pulled Pete's glass of sprite towards me and took a long drink. Since my college days, I didn't drink sugary things like that, but I never missed the opportunity to take a few sips of Pete's.

Considering that he also ordered a water every time we ate together, he never minded my guilty pleasures. And, unlike most people, he never gave me shit for it.

"That…was intense." I sagged forward until my head hit the cool wood of the table. "I'm never doing it again." I looked up at him through bleary eyes.

"You're kind of strange, aren't you?" Pete took his sprite back and pulled the straw out of the glass before he took a drink himself.

Weird. But whatever.

"How so?"

"Don't most women enjoy shopping?"

"I guess," I shrugged.

A pretty blonde came to our table with a basket of bread. "I'm Jennifer," she beamed at Pete. "Are you ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?"

Pete and I came here often enough to know what we wanted, but he usually ordered for both of us. "I'll have whatever you order for Nick," I told him without opening my menu.

Jennifer didn't take her eyes off of Pete as he told her what we wanted. That was fine with me; this way I could watch her ass without looking like a creep.

"Damn," I hissed through my teeth as she walked away. "Does my ass look as good as hers in jeans?"

"You like her ass?" He took a breadstick from the basket and broke it in two, offering me one half. I took it without hesitation.

"It's a no brainer," I grinned. "A little young, but hot."

"Are you gay?"

"What?" I choked on the bread that was still in my mouth. "No, I'm not gay."

"Do you have something against gay people?"

Very, very carefully I set my half-eaten breadstick back into the basket. Pete and I had had this talk many times before. Nearly everyone in my family had a problem with gay people – no one as much as my grandpa.

"I don't have anything against gay people," I sniffed, "but my grandpa would never let me…" Even if he would let me – I wasn't gay.

"I know." He laughed, easing the tension that had cropped up. "But…"

"But what?"

"The way you were looking at the waitress…" he let his voice trail off suggestively.

Of course, I realized all at once. To Pete, I was a woman now. Checking out other women would make me look gay to him. Obviously.

But it wasn't like I could pretend to like men. That wasn't happening – ever. So, I guess in this body I was going with gay.

Pete was gay and he was my favorite person in the world. No matter what grandpa said, being gay was probably alright.

"Well." I retrieved my bread. "Maybe I am."

To be able to get things back to normal, I needed to figure out how to do some good deeds. The hotel was the best place to be able to do that. There were enough people here, yet it wasn't overcrowded like the city.

"I think I'm going to stay here," I concluded out loud.

"At the restaurant?" Pete glanced around. "You could just ask for her number."

My tongue clicked against the roof of my mouth. "I don't even have a phone."

"We'll get you one."

"I meant," I half growled, "I'm staying at the hotel."

"I thought you wanted to stay at the apartment."

Was he misunderstanding me on purpose? "Working at the hotel," I corrected.

"Until Nick gets back?"

"Yes." I could do this; I could get back to being myself. I had to.