GFW - Wellness Center - Part 12

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I hadn’t seen Brad since that weird "date" Reva set up. Weeks passed, and I'd totally dodged his texts and calls. Every time his name popped up, I felt this knot in my stomach, but I just couldn't bring myself to answer.

But here I was.

When I walked into the coffee shop, Brad jumped up so fast he nearly tipped his chair over! You could just see the relief on his face as he came toward me.

"Derek," he said, his voice quiet and warm. "I really thought you were never going to see me again."

I looked down, clutching my bag strap. "I just didn't know what to say. I wasn't ready."

He tilted his head and looked right at me. "And now?"

I hesitated, then sighed. "I'm... still not sure. But I didn't want to keep hiding. You at least deserved that."

Brad's shoulders relaxed. He pointed to the table. "Come on, sit with me. Let's just talk. No pressure, okay?"

I slid into the chair across from him. My heart was pounding, and I realized how different this felt from before. Last time, I was tricked and cornered. But now? I chose to be here.

And Brad? He wasn't teasing or pushing or pretending.

He was just... here.

Brad leaned in, his elbows on the table, looking me in the eye. I couldn't look away.

"I know I've been... a lot," he said with a small smile. "Texting and calling, even when you didn't respond. I'm sure it felt like way too much sometimes."

I nodded, pressing my lips together. "Yeah, it honestly did. That's why I stayed away."

"I get it," he said, his tone a lot softer now. "But I wasn't chasing you for the wrong reasons. I wasn't looking for a project or some kind of thrill. I just saw something in you I couldn't ignore. You've been going through all this, and you've handled it with more strength than you know."

His words made my chest feel tight. Strength? I didn't feel strong at all. I felt lost, confused, and just being pulled along by everyone else's plans.

"Brad," I said quietly, my fingers curled around my cup. "I don't even know who I am right now. I don't know if I'm supposed to be Derek, or... her. I don't know if I like men or women. Half the time I can't even stand to look at myself, and the other half... I catch myself thinking I look better than I ever did before."

He just nodded slowly. "That's exactly why I didn't give up. Because you're figuring it out. And I want to be here for all of it. Not to push you or decide for you. Just... to be with you while you figure it out for yourself."

I stared at him, my throat all tight. No one had ever put it like that before.

I sat there for a long moment, staring into Brad's eyes. What he said felt so good—he wasn't trying to corner me or force me into something I wasn't ready for.

Finally, I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. "Okay," I said softly. "I'll stay. For a little while."

We ended up talking for hours. We didn't just talk about me, though that came up often enough. We talked about everything—his job, his favorite books, the dumb stuff he and Jack used to do when they were younger. He made me laugh, a real laugh, in a way I hadn't in weeks.

At one point, he leaned back in his chair and really looked at me. "You know, you just relax when you laugh. It's like all that weight you're carrying just... slips away."

I blushed and looked down at my cup. "You notice too much."

"Maybe," he said with a shrug. "But I like noticing things about you."

Later, when the coffee shop closed, neither of us seemed ready for the night to end. We walked through the quiet streets, the cool night air on my skin. Brad didn't try to hold my hand.

As we walked under the soft glow of the streetlights, Brad glanced at me, his eyes lingering a little longer than usual.

"You know," he said with a quiet chuckle, "you look really pretty in that dress."

I froze for a second, my neck getting hot. "Pretty?"

He nodded, totally serious. "Yeah. I mean it. It just suits you—like you were meant to wear it. The way it fits, the way you walk... you're beautiful, Derek."

I swallowed hard, not knowing how to react. Compliments like that still felt so strange, almost like they were meant for someone else.

"You don't have to say stuff like that just to make me feel better," I whispered.

"I'm not," Brad said firmly. "I wouldn't waste my time lying to you."

When we got to the corner near my apartment, he stopped. "I don't want to push. But... would it be okay if we did this again sometime? Just like tonight?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I'd like that."

His smile got wider. "Good."

As I walked up the stairs to my apartment, the dress gently swaying around my legs, I realized I wasn't just thinking about James anymore.

Brad was on my mind, too.

Back in my room, I took off the dress and folded it carefully over the chair.

I was brushing out my hair when my phone buzzed.

It was Reva.

I hesitated, then picked up. "Hello?"

Her voice was quick and nervous. "Hey, Derek. I just wanted to check in. I know I messed things up before, but... I heard you met up with Brad tonight."

I sighed. "Yeah. We talked."

There was a pause on her end. "And? How'd it go?"

"I... don't know yet," I admitted. "But it wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be."

She sounded so relieved. "Good! That's really, really good. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself, okay?"

We said our goodnights, and the call ended.

I'd barely set the phone down before it buzzed again.

James.

"James?"

"Hey," he said, his voice super quiet. "I know it's late, but I couldn't stop thinking about earlier. What I said. I didn't mean to just dump that on you at work."

I sat on the edge of my bed. "You totally caught me off guard."

"I know," he admitted. "But I meant it. Every single word. And I just... needed you to know that before you went to sleep."

My throat tightened. Brad's compliments, James's confession—it was all so confusing!

"James... I don't know what I'm supposed to feel right now," I whispered.

"That's okay," he said gently. "You don't have to know yet. Just... don't shut me out."

When the call ended, I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Two voices, two men, both pulling me in different directions.

The next morning, over breakfast, I found myself stirring my coffee more than drinking it. My sister watched me for a second, then leaned forward.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

I hesitated, then just blurted it out. "I think... I should give myself a girl's name."

Her eyebrows went up in surprise. Instead, she gave me a small smile. "That actually makes sense."

I rubbed my forehead. "Don't get mad at me, okay? I don't even know why I'm saying this out loud."

"I won't," she promised. "So, what names are you thinking about?"

I shook my head. "I have no idea. Everything sounds wrong."

She tapped her chin, then grinned. "What about... Daphne?"

I blinked. "Daphne?"

"Yeah," she said. "It's elegant, a little classic. You've got that graceful look when you walk now. Even if you don't notice it."

I sat back, letting the name roll around in my head. Daphne. It felt weird, but not bad. Like trying on a new dress—you weren't sure at first, but it might just fit.

"Daphne," I repeated quietly.

That morning, I finally got it together and decided to go back to the gym.

My sister had laid out one of the tighter outfits she'd picked up for me—sleek black leggings with a shimmer and a fitted crop top that showed just enough midriff to make me doubt myself in the mirror. The neckline was lower than anything I'd worn, and with the sports bra underneath, my small but growing curves were impossible to hide.

I hesitated at the door, my heart pounding. Do I really want to walk into the Women's Wellness Center looking like this?

But then I thought of what the doctor said—progress, routine, acceptance. I took a deep breath, pulled my hair into a high ponytail, and went for it.

When I walked through the glass doors, the noise in the lobby got quiet for a second. A couple of women looked my way, their eyes going from my outfit to my face.

Reva was already inside, leaning by the mirrors with her clipboard. When she saw me, her lips curved into a knowing smile. "Well, look at you!" she teased, her eyes sparkling.

As the warm-up started, I could feel more eyes on me than usual, some curious, some approving, and some a little surprised.

As class got going, I noticed little changes in how the women around me treated me.

Sara, who had always given me a half-smile before, suddenly leaned in closer during stretches and whispered, "That top looks amazing on you. Where'd you get it?"

I froze, caught off guard. "Uh... my sister picked it out."

She grinned. "She has good taste!"

During the partner exercises, Lili—who had been polite but distant—chose me right away. As we balanced through lunges, she said, "You're getting really good at this. And... you carry yourself differently now. More... confident."

Her words caught me off guard, almost the exact same thing James had said.

Even the women who had once looked at me awkwardly seemed more relaxed, as if my appearance now gave them a reason to include me. A few even asked casual questions—where I worked, if I was free for smoothies after class, if I'd been keeping up with the same beauty influencer they followed online.

It was so weird.

For so long, I had felt like an outsider in this place, tolerated but never fully accepted. But in that moment, sweating right there with them in clothes that showed more of me than I ever thought I'd reveal, I realized they weren't treating me as "the guy in the women's gym" anymore.

They were treating me as one of them!

As the last of the women left, laughter and chatter fading into the hallway, Reva caught my eye.

"Derek—stay a minute?"

I froze, my heart thumping. She had never singled me out after class before, at least not like this.

When it was just the two of us, she set her clipboard on the bench and crossed her arms, her expression a lot softer than usual.

"First off..." she sighed, almost nervously, "I owe you an apology."

I blinked. "For what?"

"For that night," she said quietly. "The... setup with Brad. I thought I was helping, but I realize now I put you in a spot you weren't ready for. It just wasn't fair."

I shifted awkwardly, memories of that "date" still bugging me. "Yeah... that really threw me off."

Her shoulders fell. "I know. And I'm so sorry. I should've respected your pace instead of trying to control the situation."

I looked at her for a moment. "Why'd you even do it?"

She paused, then stepped a little closer, her voice dropping. "Because I care. More than maybe I should. I've been watching you change, and it scared me how fast it was happening. I thought if I guided you toward someone safe—someone like Brad. But I forgot you needed to be the one to choose."

My throat tightened. No one had ever said it that way before.

"I'm not mad at you anymore," I admitted. "Just... confused. About everything."

Reva gave a small, almost relieved smile. "Confused is okay."

She had never spoken to me like that before. There was always authority in her tone, a teasing edge, or the firm confidence of a trainer pushing me harder.

Did she mean it as a friend? Something more? Or was it just guilt for everything she and my sister had planned without telling me?

I kicked at a crack in the sidewalk.

By the time I got to my apartment, my head was spinning. I unlocked the door quietly, slipping inside to find my sister lying on the sofa with her laptop open.

She looked up, instantly seeing the expression on my face. Her brow furrowed.

I set my bag down by the door, trying not to let my voice crack. "Reva talked to me. Like, really talked."

My sister closed her laptop slowly, her eyes getting narrow with curiosity. "Okay... start from the beginning."

And just like that, I knew this conversation wasn't over—not with Reva.

After class, instead of slipping into another soft blouse or fitted trousers, I pulled out the men's clothes I'd stuffed in my bag the night before, which my sister had brought like she promised: a plain button-down shirt, slightly loose pants, and my old leather belt.

It felt so strange—like I was taking off one skin and forcing myself back into another. The shirt felt boxy, the pants were heavy. My reflection in the mirror showed a man's outfit on a body that wasn't quite as masculine anymore.

By mid-morning at the office, I could feel it—eyes lingering a little too long, quiet comments that stopped the moment I looked up. At first, I thought it was just paranoia, but then I caught my reflection in the glass wall near the conference room.

The shirt I'd chosen was thinner than I realized, and the fabric clung in all the wrong places. My nipples showed clearly through, pressing against the cotton, and the faint outline of my growing chest was undeniable. I crossed my arms quickly, my face getting hot.

It wasn't just that. My waist was narrower now, my hips were rounder, and with my hair brushing just below my shoulders, the person staring back at me didn't look like a guy at all.

I tried slouching at my desk, pulling my blazer closed, anything to hide it. But even then, the discomfort became unbearable. Finally, I slipped into the restroom, locking myself in a stall.

Staring down at the shirt, I whispered under my breath, "I can't do this. Not like this."

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the sports bra I had. It felt like defeat, putting it back on under my men's shirt—but the instant support, the smoothing effect, made it less obvious. At least I could breathe again!

Still, when I stepped back out, I knew the truth: no matter what clothes I picked, my body was changing faster than I could hide.

And there was no going back.

The day dragged on in a haze of discomfort. Sitting at my desk in men's clothes that no longer fit right felt like trying to squeeze myself into a version of me that didn't exist anymore. The collar scratched against my neck, the pants hung awkwardly, and every time I shifted in my chair, the shirt pulled against my chest in a way that reminded me I wasn't hiding anything as well as I thought.

And yet... no one said a word.

Not a single joke, not even one of James's usual comments. The office was busy with work as usual, papers shuffling, phones ringing, keyboards clacking. It almost felt like everyone was silently pretending not to notice.

James walked by once, glanced at me, and for the first time in weeks, said absolutely nothing. No teasing, no questions, not even a smirk. Just a nod before he moved on.

Somehow, that silence felt heavier than anything else.

By lunchtime, I sat alone at my desk, picking at a sandwich, wondering if I'd made a mistake. Why does wearing men's clothes feel more like a costume than anything else?

I thought dressing this way would give me a sense of control, but instead, it made me feel more exposed, more out of place than ever.

I thought I could make it through the day without anyone mentioning it, but during the afternoon break, Camille caught me by the coffee machine. She tilted her head, studying me with a soft smile.

"You know," she said carefully, "men's clothes don't really suit you anymore."

I blinked at her, the words stinging and comforting at the same time. "What do you mean?"

Camille shrugged, as if it were obvious. "Your body, your hair, even the way you walk—it's just not masculine."

Later, James slid into the empty chair across from my desk. He didn't joke or tease this time; his eyes were steady, more serious than I'd ever seen them.

"Camille's right," he said simply. "You look... natural this way. But in women's clothes, not men's." He hesitated, then added, "Honestly, you look lovely as a woman. Way more than you do trying to be a guy."

I stared at him, my throat tightening. Part of me wanted to argue, to laugh it off. But the truth was, hearing him say it out loud broke something inside me.

As I packed up my things at the end of the day, my phone buzzed. It was Brad.

I’m outside. Thought I'd pick you up today.

After everything that had happened between us, I wasn't sure how I felt about seeing him—but part of me was curious.

When I stepped out of the building, Brad leaned casually against his car, his eyes checking me out. For a second, I braced for judgment. But instead, his lips curved into a slow smile.

"You look... simple," he said simply.

I hadn't even told him about the awkwardness of trying to dress like a man again today, but somehow, he said exactly what I needed to hear.

As I was about to get in the car, James suddenly showed up at the entrance. He looked straight at me, then at Brad, his expression unreadable.

I walked over to him quickly, my heart pounding. "About what you said yesterday—about me asking that question—"

His jaw tightened. "Yeah, I was mad. You threw it at me like it was a joke, and it wasn't funny. But..." He breathed out, looking me over again. "Today? I can't even be mad. You just... scared the hell out of me because I don't know what that means for us."

Before I could answer, Brad called out, "You ready?"

James's eyes widened, shock and something else flickering across his face. He turned and walked back inside without another word.

I stood frozen for a moment before Brad touched my arm gently. "Come on. Let's go."