GFW - Wellness Center - Part 7

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The aroma of dinner still lingered as I replayed the day in my mind. James's surprised look when he saw my nails, the warm welcome from Camille and the others, it all felt so real, like I wasn't just getting by anymore. After tidying up, I flopped onto my bed, scrolling through my phone until a familiar name popped up: Reva.

"Hey you," her message read, "Still good for our date? Let's meet at the City Mega Mall tomorrow at 11 am. And wear something feminine. I want to see that side of you."

The next morning, I woke up with that fluttery mix of excitement and nerves. Today was the day of a real date with Reva! My outfit was already laid out: a soft cream wrap top, rust-toned trousers, and those blush loafers we'd picked out. Simple, elegant, and just the right touch of feminine.

As I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my top for the third time, my sister walked in, makeup bag in hand. She gave me a quick once-over. "Not bad. Cute, actually."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks?"

Ignoring my sarcasm, she sat on the bed, unzipping her bag. "You know what would pull this all together?"

"Don't say contour," I warned.

She smirked. "Relax. Nothing dramatic. Just a little something. A touch of tinted lip balm. Maybe some concealer under your eyes. Your brows are already shaped we might as well honor the effort."

I hesitated. Makeup felt like a big step, another line to cross. But then again, so did painted nails, blouses, and confidently walking into a women's gym in a sports bra. And I'd already crossed those.

"I don't want to look fake," I admitted quietly.

She shook her head. "You won't. You'll look polished. Subtle. Like you care. Which, let's be honest, you clearly do."

I sat down in front of the mirror, and she worked quickly, dabs of concealer, featherlight strokes on my brows, a hint of balm on my lips. When she handed me the mirror, I was speechless. It wasn't dramatic at all. It was me, but like someone had gently wiped away the uncertainty, leaving behind someone I almost recognized. Someone Reva might see and smile at.

"You're ready," my sister said, beaming.

After the makeup, she gently tugged at my hair. "Okay," she said, "makeup is done. Now, we need to deal with this."

I rolled my eyes. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's almost shoulder-length now, Derek. You can't just brush it behind your ears and call it a day." She grabbed her flat iron and brush, plugging it in before I could protest. I sat still as she parted my hair, brushing through it gently. "Honestly," she muttered, "I don't even remember the last time you had a haircut. This is practically a bob already."

"It's not that long," I protested, though I could feel the strands brushing my shoulders.

"It is. And it suits you."

I stayed quiet as she straightened and shaped the ends, giving the layers a bit of movement. Then she took a cream-colored clip I didn't even know we owned and gently pulled back the front strands, pinning them together at the back. I stared at myself, stunned by how different and yet so right it looked.

She stepped back, admiring her work. "There. Effortless. She's going to fall for you."

"She?" I asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

She smiled. "You know what I mean." I smiled too.

"You're ready," my sister repeated, grinning.

I checked my reflection one last time before leaving the house. I ordered a cab I didn't trust myself to navigate the mall parking lot in this emotional state and waited by the curb, my heart ticking a little faster with every passing car.

When the cab arrived, I hopped in, smoothing my blouse without even thinking. The driver, a kind-looking middle-aged man with sunglasses perched on his head, glanced at me in the mirror and smiled politely.

"Good morning, ma'am. You're headed to City Mega Mall, right?"

I froze for a half-second. "Uh, yeah," I managed, my voice quieter than usual. "That's right."

He nodded and pulled into the street, adjusting the AC. "Nice weather today. Got a shopping trip planned?"

I gave a tight smile. "Something like that." I rested my hands on my lap, my eyes flicking down to my matte brown nail polish, still perfect.

The cab pulled up outside the City Mega Mall, and I stepped out slowly, holding my breath as the doors glided open. I wasn't sure if it was the delicate click of my loafers, the gentle sway of my styled hair, or the way my wrap top hugged my chest just enough to remind me that I didn't look like I used to. I had never walked into a mall feeling quite like this before.

And then I saw her. Reva.

She was leaning casually near a fountain, scrolling through her phone, looking like she had all the time in the world. She wore a light blue midi dress with white sneakers and a light denim jacket. Her hair was half-up, her makeup effortless, her posture as confident as ever.

And when she looked up and saw me, her expression changed. Slowly, her lips curved into a gentle smile.

"I am impressed," Reva said. She tucked her phone into her bag and walked toward me without hesitation.

"You came," she said, her voice warm.

I nodded, my heart pounding. "Of course I did."

She looked me over, not just my outfit, but all of me. The hair. The nails. The quiet posture I didn't realize I was holding until now.

"You look," she paused as if searching for the right word, "beautiful."

My throat tightened. I hadn't expected to hear that from her. Not so openly.

"Thanks," I said, barely able to hold her gaze. "You do too."

She stepped a little closer. "I'm glad you showed up like this. I wanted to see you."

I swallowed hard. "This, this is me. I think."

Her smile widened. "Then let's go have a date with you, shall we?"

We walked side by side through the mall, Reva's arm still loosely linked through mine, her presence calming, grounding even. I was still adjusting to the thrill of being seen by her this way. Every step in my feminine outfit felt more natural by the minute. So when she led me into a fancy restaurant, I didn't question it.

The hostess guided us past white tablecloths, gleaming glass, and quiet, murmuring conversations to a table set for four.

I froze for half a second. Four?

And then I saw them. Two men were already seated. One stood as we approached, tall, tan, clean-shaven, with that smooth confidence that comes from never needing to prove anything. He leaned over to give Reva a kiss on the cheek and rested his hand lightly on her lower back as she slid into the seat beside him.

"Derek," she said, smiling casually as if this wasn't shocking at all. "This is Jack my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. The word dropped into my chest like a stone. Boyfriend?

And then she gestured toward the other guy, sitting directly across from her, broad-shouldered, sharp-featured, his blazer rolled up to the elbows. He looked me up and down with subtle curiosity.

"And this," Reva continued, "is Brad." She patted the empty seat beside him. "Go on, sit. He won't bite."

I sat down slowly, my heart racing. Reva had a boyfriend? This wasn't a date with her. This was something else. This was a setup.

I looked at her, confused, trying not to let it show too much, but she just smiled, like it was all completely normal.

Brad turned slightly toward me. "Hey," he said, offering his hand. "Nice to meet you." His voice was calm, his tone easy. He wasn't joking.

I shook his hand slowly. "Nice to meet you too," I managed.

The waitress arrived to take drink orders, and Reva leaned into Jack, already mid-conversation, laughing about something only the two of them understood. 

But Brad? He wasn't staring. He was just there, watching me the way someone watches a person they're curious about. And somehow… that made it harder to breathe.

I barely touched the menu. The low hum of conversation around the restaurant faded into background noise as I sat there, frozen in confusion. I kept glancing across the table at Reva. She looked… radiant. Relaxed. Smiling at something Jack had said, resting her hand lightly on his knee under the table like it was second nature. Like I hadn't just walked in thinking this night was about her and me.

I shifted in my seat, the smooth fabric of my trousers brushing against my thighs, my polished nails tapping lightly on the stem of the water glass. This wasn't a date with Reva. It never was. She brought me here for Brad.

I glanced at him again, handsome. And I hated that part of me noticed how good he smelled. I looked down quickly, trying to steady my breathing. This wasn't what I signed up for. I had worn feminine clothes, styled hair, and even let my sister do my makeup. But that was for Reva. For the connection, I thought we had. Not a setup. Not a blind date with a guy.

And Reva, she knew. She had to. She had watched me walk through every step of this change, clothes, posture, and she saw the confusion in my eyes more than once.

She knew I wasn't gay.

I couldn't sit there any longer. Not with Brad beside me, casually asking about my favorite cafés. Not with Jack and Reva locked in their own little orbit, like this was just another double date. Not with my heart pounding loud enough to drown out my thoughts.

I leaned in toward Reva. "Can we talk? Privately."

She glanced at Jack, gave him a small smile, and stood without hesitation. We stepped away from the table, past the polished glass windows.

"I thought this was… us," I said, my voice low but sharp. "You asked me on a date."

"I know," she said gently. "And I'm sorry. I should've been clearer."

"You set me up with Brad?"

She nodded. "He's a good guy. And he's been through a rough breakup. I just thought… maybe there'd be something there. You've changed so much, Derek. I thought you might be open."

I swallowed hard, barely keeping the emotions from bubbling up. "Do you even know what I am anymore?"

"I know you're not gay. I never said you were."

"Then why?"

"Because Brad knows," she said, cutting in gently. "He knows you're not a girl. I told him. And he still said yes."

I froze. "You told him?"

She nodded. "Yes. And he still wanted to meet you. Because he sees what I see. And maybe that doesn't need a label yet. Maybe it's just… you."

I looked away, jaw tight. "I wasn't ready for this," I whispered.

"I know," she said, her voice calm. "And you don't have to be. I won't ever push you again."

I didn't answer right away. Part of me was angry. Part of me felt tricked. But the part I couldn't ignore? A tiny spark of curiosity about Brad.

After our talk, I didn't leave. I probably should have part of me wanted to. But I followed Reva back to the table anyway, unsure of what I'd say or do next. And somehow… the moment passed.

We sat through brunch, an extravagant spread of fresh fruit, pastries, delicate omelets, and too many refills of orange juice. Jack and Reva talked and laughed like nothing was wrong like this was all exactly how it was supposed to be. Maybe for them, it was. I barely tasted my food.

I felt Brad watching me a few times.

After the last round of coffee, Reva stood and stretched. "We're going to walk around a bit," she said casually, slipping her hand into Jack's. "You two finish up." Before I could respond, they were gone, fingers interlaced, easy and unbothered.

And then it was just me and Brad. The quiet sat between us for a moment, too heavy to ignore.

He finally broke it. "You don't have to say anything if you're uncomfortable."

I glanced at him, then down at my nails resting on the white linen tablecloth. 

"No," I said. "I want to ask you something."

He nodded, listening.

"Why did you agree to this? To meet me. After Reva told you…"

"That I am not a girl?" he finished calmly.

I hesitated, then nodded.

He leaned back in his chair a little, not in discomfort, more like he was settling in for the truth. "I won't lie, I was surprised at first. But I trust Reva. And when she showed me a picture of you when she told me how you carry yourself, how you've been changing… I didn't see a label. I saw someone interesting."

I looked away, unsure what to say.

"And honestly?" he added, his voice lower now, more personal. "After what I went through with my last relationship, I don't care about conventional anymore. I care about honesty. Realness. And you're the most real person I've sat across from in a long time."

My throat tightened. I didn't know what I expected him to say maybe pity, maybe confusion.

"I'm not sure who I am yet," I said quietly.

He smiled. "That's okay. You don't need to be sure for me to want to get to know you."

I stared down at the rim of my coffee cup, turning it slowly in my hands. My nail polish caught the light, still neat, still undeniably feminine. Brad hadn't looked away once. Not when I spoke. Not when I struggled to find the right words. And not when I'd admitted I didn't even know who I was trying to be anymore.

Then he said it calmly. "You look beautiful, Derek."

I blinked, startled by the simplicity of it.

"I'm not a girl," I said reflexively, my voice quiet, unsure.

Brad just nodded, his gaze steady. "I know." He didn't flinch. Instead, he added: "I really don't care whether you're a girl or a boy. I care that you're you. And that you walked in here dressed like this, sitting across from a guy you didn't ask to meet, still showing up."

His voice didn't rise. He didn't try to impress me. I didn't say anything right away.

After that, the four of us wandered back into the mall. It felt odd like we'd done this before, Reva and Jack walking slightly ahead, arms linked, laughing about something no one else heard, while Brad and I trailed behind them.

We passed store after store until Reva slowed in front of a bright, modern boutique. "Ooh," she said, tugging Jack's hand. "I want to try something." Without waiting, she walked in, Jack in tow.

Brad gave me a small smile and gestured toward the entrance. "Shall we?"

I hesitated for a second, still unsure about what I was doing with him, let alone in here, but followed anyway. The store was clean and quiet, lit with warm lights and decorated with delicate textures and muted tones. Reva disappeared into the fitting rooms with a handful of outfits, already beaming.

Brad browsed casually, flipping through racks without pressure. I kept my arms folded, trying to take up as little space as possible. Then he stopped in front of a blue designer dress. It was simply fitted at the waist, with clean lines and, square neckline. He held it up and turned to me. "You should try this one."

I blinked. "What?"

"You'd look great in it," he said, as casually as if he were suggesting a jacket. "Seriously."

I looked at the dress, then at him. "I… I don't wear dresses. Not really."

"You've worn everything else," he said, beaming. "Why not just try?"

My stomach twisted. My heart started pounding again. It wasn't rejection, I feared it was what might happen if I liked it. The old Derek might not wear a dress. But this version?

"Okay," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just to try."

Minutes later, I stepped out of the fitting room. The blue dress fit better than I thought it would like it had been waiting for me. It hugged my waist, and my shape and made my reflection pause in the mirror.

Brad looked up; he really smiled warmly. "Told you," he said.

I started to say something to deflect, to joke, to undo the moment, but he stepped forward and gently plucked the price tag from the dress's sleeve. "I'll get it," he said.

"What?" I blinked. "No, I."

"I want to," he said simply. "Because you let yourself try."

As we strolled through the mall, the new blue dress swinging gently in the boutique bag Brad still carried for me, Reva looked over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"So," she said, loud enough for Jack and Brad to hear, "I think it's settled. You'll wear that on your next date with Brad."

I nearly tripped over my own feet. "Reva!"

Brad chuckled beside me, clearly not offended. "I wouldn't complain."

I gave them both a look, half flustered, half secretly flattered. "It was just a dress."

"It was not just a dress," Reva corrected.

By the time we reached the bowling alley, I'd finally managed to cool down. The lighting was low, the music just loud enough to drown out nervous thoughts, and the smell of buttered popcorn and scuffed rental shoes grounded everything in nostalgia.

We changed into bowling shoes, I adjusted the laces over my slim-fitting trousers, hyper-aware of how the room had buffered around me. I wasn't getting the usual stares. Maybe because I didn't look like someone pretending. Maybe because I just looked like me.

Reva bowled first, knocking down nine pins and spinning around in triumph. "Watch and learn."

Jack followed, equally smug.

Then it was my turn. I stepped up to the lane, the ball heavy in my hands, and heard Brad murmur behind me: "Bet you've got a good curve."

I didn't respond partly because I was laughing, partly because I was too busy trying not to blush.

The ball rolled down the lane, smooth and steady.

Strike.

Everyone cheered, and Reva mock-swooned. "See? Elegant and deadly."