Otto thinks maybe it's time to try something new. Includes: Girlparx; Transfem Otto Wood; Gender Dysphoria/Euphoria; Lesbians having a damn good time.
“Hey, Otto?” Awsten’s voice rings over the phone, staticy and distant. Just like always. A comfort when he (she?) doesn’t know how to feel.
“Hey! How are you?”
“Uh. I’m good. Why are you calling this late, dude?” Otto swallows. The word isn’t all the way off, just… not as good. It makes the air feel sticky.
“Yeah. Right. Sorry. I can let you go I just-” She just what? She doesn’t feel like a boy and she doesn’t know who else to go to? “I just don’t feel great. Forgot it’s so much later over there. Sorry, I should go.”
“Nah, nah you’re good. I’m up anyways, no worries,” The girl on the other end assures Otto, her voice soft and warm.
Their conversations are always the same, jokes and nonsense and stuff no one cares about because there is no other way to have a conversation with Awsten. This time though, there’s an air of foreboding over the entire thing. Otto can’t tell if that’s just her projecting or if Awsten feels it too. Otto can’t tell a lot of things anymore, she can’t tell if she even fits in this body.
“Do you ever feel like you don’t… want to be a girl?” She asks, interrupting one of Awsten’s stories without a care. There’s a 90% chance they’ll somehow end up back on that topic anyways.
“Not really. Why? Do you sometimes feel like you don’t wanna be a boy?” Awsten responds in a teasing way, something that’s supposed to be light and funny. It doesn’t land, but Otto forces a laugh anyway.
“I guess, yeah. Like it’s always just there, hanging over my head. I don’t know, it doesn’t matter.”
“My therapist would say you’re shutting people out. I do care, you know. I’m here for you whatever happens, whether you’re a boy or not.”
The words remind Otto why she's still friends with Awsten. No matter how much she chatters away, no matter how annoying and clingy and pushy she can be, there’s a plus side to it. She will never be left in the dust by her, no matter what. Otto is a runner and she knows it. She’s never been good at sticking around, once something gets fucked up she leaves. She’s always been like that, as long as she can remember. Awsten is a glue that sticks to her and never breaks, that reels her back in again and again. She’s grateful for it now in a way she hasn’t been for a long time.
The nail polish has a distinct, chemical smell to it that itches Otto’s nose. She doesn’t like it much. She decides it’s worth it when her nails look like hers for the first time since she was a kid and got bullied out of painting them. They shine a glittery yellow, one that Awsten picked out for her off of Amazon. It doesn’t look all that different from the million others on the site to Otto, but seeing it in person makes her glad to have the second opinion.
She lets her nails grow out too. Not a lot, just enough to be there. To be obvious without being too obvious. It’s fun. She realizes that’s why she likes it, because it’s fun. She hasn’t had this kind of meaningless fun in a long time and it breaks through the gray monotony in the forefront of her mind.
“Nah, there’s no point in shaving,” Awsten says, laughing at Otto’s confused look.
“But, like, won’t people-”
“People aren’t you. If you want to shave, go ahead. I mean I did when I was in, like, highschool. But there isn’t a real reason to. And people can go fuck themselves, they don’t have anything to say about it. They don’t deserve an opinion on your body, not any part of it.”
Otto blinks slowly. She lets the words sink into her skin. Awsten is right, she’s never judged other people for not shaving so why would she worry about being judged?
“If people are going to judge you, then they’ll find anything. At least if it’s not shaving they aren’t attacking you for anything else, you know?” Awsten continues. She takes up so much of the conversation that anyone else would be annoyed, but Otto appreciates it. She can marinate in her thoughts and focus on the hand held in hers instead of finding something to say.
The department store they’re walking through is bigger than any of the ones in Houston and filled with twice as much stuff as Otto thinks she’s ever seen. Awsten doesn’t stop talking even as they get to the checkout. Their cart is just a pile of new clothes and makeup products. All of them for Otto to try, all for them to have a stupid makeover. Just for fun, just to see if Otto feels better in it than in her usual clothes. See if she feels more comfortable then in her bare skin.
Awsten carries all the bags except for one no matter how much Otto tries to protest. The only one she doesn’t carry is so she can still hold onto Otto’s hand on their way out.
Otto doesn’t even try to sleep on the couch, she just follows Awsten into her bedroom when they go to bed. She doesn’t wash the makeup off. She thinks if she does she might cry, because Awsten was right. It feels good. It feels like her face belongs to her like this, layers of contour that make it look so different. They make it look like it does in her head, not like it does in the mirror. She stays in the nightgown, too. Soft and silky across her thighs. It’s longer than it’s really meant to be on her since she’s borrowing it from Awsten, but she likes the way it’s tight over her chest.
Awsten tugs her into bed. Her arms curl around Otto’s waist, warm and unmistakable.
“I, uhm, I thought you were a… lesbian?” Otto whispers. She feels stupid for saying it the second it’s out of her mouth. It falters out at the end, disappearing in the air between them. In the small, small amount of air between them. Awsten laughs.
“Honey, you said ten minutes ago you think you aren’t a boy after all. If that’s not the most lesbian I’ve ever felt then I must have severe fuckin’ amnesia.”
Otto kisses her. If she lets herself think about it any longer she’ll talk herself out of it just like every time she thinks about anything for too long.
Otto wakes up the next morning to the sweet smell of pancakes already cooking on the stove and she follows it out to the kitchen. Awsten didn’t bother to get very dressed, just a sports bra and some of Otto’s old boxers.
“Hey,” Otto says, draping herself over Awsten’s shoulders as she flips the pancakes.
“Hey yourself, sleepyhead. There’s still foundation on my pillowcase, by the way.” Awsten is smiling and her voice is nothing but happiness. Nothing but fun. It melts away at Otto’s worries about the rest of the world, about what they might think. She lets herself be there, in the moment. She lets herself just have fun with her girlfriend.