The Flip Side
Original Story - The Flip Side
This promises to be the first in a series of non-chronological shorts in which all the main characters are based on myself, my roommate and my friends. It'll probably be funnier if you know us, but I think it's hysterical. That said, have at you.
“Well, that was bizarre,” Delia observed, pushing stop and slouching back into her end of the couch. Mavis raised her head from her arm.
“But it was funny! I mean, dude!” she protested, giggling. Delia chuckled.
“True dat,” she agreed. “But still. Freaking weird. I mean, she turned into a guy.” Mavis sat up straight, nodding eagerly.
“I know! Isn’t it great?!” she replied. Delia flopped her head onto the back of the sofa.
“You’re twisted. But, yes. Funny. Completely implausible. But funny,” she acknowledged. Raising up, Delia twisted over the back of the couch. She groped around on the floor; came up with a bag of pretzels. “Want some?”
Mavis took a handful, cramming a couple in her mouth. “Well sure, it’s not likely, but it’d be fun!” Delia swallowed the pretzel in her mouth before answering.
“Wanna try it?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. Mavis choked on her soda.
“Try it? Why?” she said, wiping her mouth.
“Why not?” Delia shrugged. Mavis grinned broadly, giggling a bit.
“Alright,” she agreed. “Let’s do it.” Delia blinked, surprised.
“Why not?” she said again. Mavis bounced in her seat and grabbed the remote.
“Cool! I’ll rewind the movie, you get the candles,” she announced. Laughing, Delia pushed to her feet, moving to the dresser.
“We don’t have any candles. All we have is the nightlight,” she said, brandishing the tiny lamp at her roommate. Mavis shrugged.
“Close enough,” she called, punching play and watching the beginning of the movie roll by again. “The chick in the movie had some kind of herbs or magic-y stuff.” Delia moved the lamp to the floor in front of the couch.
“Well, we have garlic salt, those bath salts my mom gave me and . . .” she peeked into a zippered bag, “and that henna stuff.” Mavis tipped her head consideringly.
“Better than nothing,” she decided. “Put it all in a bowl.”
“A’ight,” Delia drawled, eyeing Mavis with amusement. Mavis plopped pillows on the floor to sit on. Delia sprinkled the garlic salt over the mess in the bowl.
“Dear Holy Saint Agnes, this stuff reeks,” she commented, carrying it over to set it by the lamp. Mavis looked up at Delia as she sat.
“Holy Saint Agnes?” she repeated. Delia shrugged. Mavis chuckled, shaking her head.
“Riiiiight,” she drawled. “Turn off the lights.” Delia snorted, stood up, turned off the light and sat back down.
“Anything else?” she asked, smirking. Mavis returned the look.
“Well, I could use my sweatshirt. It’s kinda chilly in here . . .” she offered. Delia rolled her eyes.
“Freeze,” she suggested pleasantly. Mavis laughed in delight.
“Okay, okay, shut up and let me do this,” she demanded. Delia obediently settled back with her legs crossed. Mavis lifted the bowl, holding it over her head and solemnly repeating the chant from the movie. Delia bit her lip to keep from laughing. Dropping the bowl back to her lap, Mavis scowled at her.
“Dude, shut up. I can see your chin quivering,” she grumbled, fighting a smile of her own. Delia burst out laughing, tipping over on her side.
“We are soooooo lame,” she snickered, burying her face in one of the pillows. Mavis slapped at her, knocking the bowl over and splattering the contents over Delia’s lap. Delia squealed in outrage, snatched up the bowl and upended it on Mavis. Mavis shrieked.
“Bitch!” she cackled, flicking her little drops of the glop at Delia. Delia smeared a trail of gack down Mavis’s face.
“Hello pot. I’m kettle. You’re black,” she retorted.
“Creative,” Mavis drawled, standing up to grab a rag. “And you’re right. This stuff stinks to high heaven.”
***
Two hours, two showers and a floor scrubbing later, Delia climbed into the top bunk as Mavis buried herself under a pile of stuffed animals in the lower bunk.
“What if it works?” she yawned. Delia bounced the bed as she turned over and settles down.
“Then I guess we’ll have dicks? I dunno. Seriously, if it happens, I’ll kiss Bubba, how’s that?” she replied, yawning herself. Mavis chuckled sleepily.
“Deal,” she murmured, tucking her stuffed turtle under her head. “And don’t think I won’t hold you to it.” Delia snickered.
“I don’t think I’m worried about it,” she replied, flipping off the light and dropping into a heavy sleep.
***
Mavis rolled over, stretching hard. She opened her eyes. Ohhh, sun - bad bad evil big yellow thingy. Stretching again, Mavis scratched at her chest. Her eyes popped wide. No way. Mavis raised her head to look down the length of her body; pulled out the collar of her shirt to look again.
“Delia?” she called, voice cracking. She cleared her throat. “Delia?” The bunk beds swayed.
“What?” Delia grunted from overhead. Mavis bit her lip and let her collar go.
“Have you seen my breasts?” she asked. Delia made a confused noise. A moment later her face appeared over the edge of the bed.
“What?” she demanded. Mavis looked up, startled. Delia’s voice had dropped to a rolling bass drawl.
“Whoa, manly face,” she muttered. Delia peered at her in confusion.
“Mavis, it’s the butt crack of dawn,” she groaned. Mavis yanked her shirt up, exposing her chest for Delia’ inspection.
“I’ve lost my boobs,” she said. Delia’s mouth dropped open. She scrambled back up into her bed. After a moment, her face reappeared over the edge.
“Well, I don’t have them,” she announced. “I don’t have mine either. And I’m really not sure who I got the dick from. Oh shit, I have to kiss Bubba now, don’t I?” Mavis bolted upright.
“That’s RIGHT! You DO!” she exclaimed, gleeful. “Though, not right now. And not wearing the little red nightie. That might not go over well.” Delia smothered a laughing groan and rolled over. Her feet appeared over the bed as she slid to the floor. Her nightie stopped at her waist.
“Hey!” Mavis said, looking up at her. “Are you taller?” Delia looked down at herself.
“Looks like. A lot,” she replied, tugging at the bottom of her nightgown. Mavis popped out of the bed. Her head reached Delia’s breastbone.
“How come I’m not taller? No fair!” she protested. Delia wrapped an arm around Mavis’s shoulders.
“Well, I guess short girl before the spell equals short boy after it. You’re still cute as a button though,” she chuckled. Mavis smacked at her.
“I was hoping I could be tall,” she whined. Delia laughed aloud.
“Just hope some of your clothes still fit, tiny person. We’ve got to make a WalMart run for underwear at least. Cause this is not at all a happy feeling,” she pointed out, moving toward her dresser. Mavis grinned brilliantly an moved towards hers.
“Let’s hear it for sleeping commando!” Mavis crowed, rummaging through her drawers.
“Let’s hear it for too much information! HAH! My scrub pants fit! I can go out in public,” Delia stated triumphantly. Mavis snorted.
“And we’re all so glad. But, hey! Overalls. Alright,” she said. Tugging the overalls over a T-shirt, Mavis glanced at Delia. Delia shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Her pants stopped at midcalf and her shirt stretched tight over her shoulders.
“Oh yeah, Huck. We definitely need to get you new pants. Those look like capris,” Mavis snickered. Delia sighed, cramming her feet in her slippers.
“At least I’m covered. For now, that’s enough,” she replied. Mavis grinned as Delia slung her purse across her chest.
“You look gay,” she called out as she scooped up her own purse and followed Delia out the door.
“Thank God. I really don’t want to deal with girls,” Delia called, striding down the hall. Mavis trotted after her.
“I don’t think you’re getting into the spirit of this,” she complained. Delia shot her a look over her shoulder.
“Let me get real clothes and then we’ll talk,” she replied. Suddenly she stopped dead in the hallway.
“Where do gay guys shop?” she asked, perplexed. Mavis stopped too.
“I don’t really know. But, let’s start with the WalMart and go from there,” she suggested. Delia nodded.
“Okay,” she agreed. Mavis looped her arm through Delia’s.
“C’mon baby. It’ll be okay,” she soothed. Delia snorted.
“I still have to kiss Bubba. I don’t see okay here,” she sighed, smiling. Mavis cackled.
“I’m gonna love this,” she announced.
***
Delia pushed the door of the room open, elbowing her way inside. She dropped several WalMart bags on the couch.
“I’m telling you, I thought it would be easier to find clothes for a tall guy than it was for a tall girl,” she complained. Mavis chortled as she flung more bags on the pile. She plopped on the end of the sofa and started pulling clothes out and removing tags before tossing the clothes on their owner’s bed.
“Well, it probably is, D. But you know, not for FREAKISHLY tall guys. I mean, you’re like six and a half feet tall,” she pointed out. “And you still have to pick a name. I’m Jean. Who’re you?”
Delia stripped off her too small T-shirt and dug through the growing pile on her bed, coming up with a sleeveless T in rich orange.
“How about Finn? Since you seem so fond of calling me Huck,” she suggested. Mavis shook her head.
“Nah. It’s not you. How about Tony?” she replied. Delia made a moue of distaste.
“Well fine then,” Mavis pouted. “You think of something. Gimme a letter to start with.” Delia pondered that for a moment.
“J? M?” she offered, exchanging her scrub pants for jeans.
“What’s the name of that guy in ‘Longshot’? Alex?” Mavis asked.
“I can’t see me as an Alex. Seriously no,” Delia said. Fastening her pants, she settled on the other end of the couch.
“How about Jason?” she suggested. Mavis snickered.
“Only if I can call you Jace. And if I can be Justin,” she giggled. Delia’s mouth dropped and she laughed.
“Okay. No Jason. You’re Jean. You stay that way,” she ordered. Mavis made a face.
“Yes ma’am,” she drawled. Slouching back, Mavis looked to the ceiling for inspiration.
“Okay, so let’s narrow it to B, C or D,” she said. Delia stretched her legs down the couch over Mavis’s lap.
“Del?” she offered hopefully. Mavis smacked her leg.
“Too close to Delia. Total copout,” she snapped. Delia groaned immensely.
“I don’t know!” she whined.
“I refuse to name you Nick. Caleb?” Mavis tried. Raising her head, Delia smiled a little.
“I can live with Caleb,” she agreed. “I’m Caleb.” Delia suddenly snorted with laughter.
“What?” Mavis demanded.
“My mother hates that name,” Delia confessed.
“Then we just won’t tell her, now will we?” Mavis retorted, pushing Delia’s legs off her lap and standing.
***
“No, baby, no, I swear, it’s me. Honest. This is NOT Patrick jerking you around!” Delia snorted in the background.
"He thinks you sound like Patrick? Dude! Patrick’s jerking Nick around?!? Does Romie know about this?” Delia called. Mavis attempted not to laugh in response as she continued trying to talk to her boyfriend.
“Do I have to make you talk to Delia?” Mavis demanded frowning at the phone in her hand. Delia snorted.
“Oh yeah. That’ll help, won’t it? I sound like Lance fucking Bass. He’s gonna believe I’m me,” she chuckled. Mavis screeched in frustration at the phone and thrust it at Delia.
“Talk to him anyway!” she ordered. Delia took the phone in bemusement as Mavis stomped restlessly around the room.
“Hey Nick,” she said, putting the phone to her ear.
“Who is this?” Nick asked, sounding totally exasperated.
“Well, for the moment, I think I’m Caleb, but you know me as Delia, Goddess of the Universe,” Delia said, grinning at the handset. There was a sharp thump on the other end.
“Nick? What did you just do?” Delia asked, raising her eyebrows at Mavis.
“Whacked my head against the wall. What’s it sound like?” Nick snapped.
“Dude. Don’t be an asshole. You’ll break that face that Mavis, for some reason known only to her and God, finds marginally attractive. And then I’d have to put up with the Delia-you-broke-my-boyfriend rant, yet again. I don’t need that. So if you break your face, I’m gonna come through this phone and break the rest of you. Don’t think I can’t,” she declared, voice deepening ominously. There was a long silence.
“Delia?” Nick whispered.
“Good boy,” Delia chirped, a difficult feat for a bass, but Delia pulled it off. “Now, talk to your . . . whatever, and apologize. Or something.” Mavis glared.
“Whatever? Or something?” she asked, taking the phone back. Delia grinned.
“Well, you sure ain’t a girlfriend. Jean,” she pointed out. Mavis stuck out her tongue.
“Baby?” she said quietly into the phone. “Yes, you can come visit. No, it’s not permanent. I don’t think. Will you calm the fuck down?! I’m the one with a dick and I’m not freaking out! Yes, I know that. Yours is very nice. But I didn’t have one yesterday, now did I?” Delia started cackling in the background. Mavis paused.
“Whoa. Manly rumble,” she said, looking up at Delia.
“Will you stop that? I’m aware of my newfound manliness thank you,” Delia muttered.
“Newfound?” Mavis asked wickedly. Delia shot her the finger. Mavis turned her attention back to her boyfriend. Someone knocked on the door. Delia moved to open it.
“Yeah?” she said, looking down at the girl in the doorway.
“Oh. Umm. I think I have the wrong room,” she stammered. Delia raised an eyebrow.
“What room were you looking for, honey?” she asked. The girl blinked.
“Umm, I’m looking for Delia. She’s supposed to help me with Chemistry. I’m Anne,” she explained. Delia slapped herself in the forehead.
“Oh, that’s right! You were supposed to come by . . . well, today. I’m D . . . uh, Caleb. Delia’s . . .” she trailed off, at a loss.
“COUSIN!” Mavis shouted from inside the room. “I’m Jean!”
“Cousin,” Delia finished. “I’m visiting for a little while. Delia had to go home for a couple of days. Can I help you?” Anne looked momentarily confused.
“Well, I guess. Do you know Chemistry?” she asked, stepping into the room and looking around. Delia shrugged.
“I’m a physics major,” she replied. Anne grinned up at her.
“So’s Delia,” she said, licking her lips. Delia smirked.
“Nah, really?” she asked, fighting snickers. Anne smiled brilliantly, laying a hand on Delia’s arm.
“So, Caleb, when do you want to get together? Tonight?” she suggested smoothly. Delia shook her head.
“How about tomorrow? Say after lunch?” she offered. Anne stepped closer, nodding.
“Perfect.” Anne drew her hand a little higher up Delia’s arms. Delia jumped, eyes rounding with comprehension. She shot a desperate glance at Mavis. Mavis bit her lip, quivering with silent laughter.
“Umm, okay,” Delia said, edging back from Anne. Anne followed, maintaining contact.
“Great. You want me to write down my cell number?” she offered, blinking slowly. Delia leapt back.
“GAY!” she shouted suddenly, sounding vaguely like a Baptist preacher. Anne jumped, startled. Delia nodded frantically.
“Yeah. I’m gay. Really, really gay. Completely. So into guys. Gay. Me. Yes,” she babbled, sidling further from Anne. Hot crimson rose up Delia’s face, matching the color in Anne’s.
“Oh. Okay. So tomorrow after lunch then,” she said, heading for the door. Delia crossed her arms over her stomach.
“Tomorrow after lunch. Yeah. Okay,” she agreed. Anne stepped into the hall and closed the door. Mavis busted out laughing.
“Oh my God. You! You!” she gasped, pointing at Delia. Delia frowned at her.
“What?” she demanded. Choking on hysterical laughter, Mavis waved her hands.
“ ‘Really really gay. Completely. Gay. Me. Yes.’ Oh. Oh that was priceless,” Mavis chuckled. Delia’s lips twitched involuntarily.
“Shut up,” she said, dropping into the desk chair. Mavis sucked in a huge breath.
“Oh God. I wish I’d had a camera,” she sighed happily. Delia chuckled.
“Well, I’m a guy. Gay guy isn’t any weirder,” she announced. That sent Mavis into fresh gales of laughter.
“What?!” Delia cried, exasperated. Mavis just shook her head and laughed some more. The giggles died, but Mavis continued to grin at Delia.
“What!?!” Delia demanded again.
“Girls dig the Delia-love no matter what gender. Must be something about the packaging.” Delia shook her head.
“Can’t be the packaging…That’s changed,” she pointed out. Mavis bust out in fresh giggles.
“It’s the ooey-gooey center!” she screamed. Delia’s face scrunched up.
“Ewwwww. Girl fight!” Delia announced, flailing at Mavis.
“No fair! No fair! No smackage on the unarmed!” Mavis protested, still on the phone with Nick. “Baby, uh, I’ll call you back. Yeah, fine. See you tomorrow. Just call when-OUCH! Stop that. Call when you get here.” Mavis turned her cell off and launched herself at Delia.
“HA HA! Bow before me tiny person,” Delia boomed as she deftly detached her leech-like roommate.
“NEVER!” Mavis howled, struggling as Delia pried at her hands.
Outside the door, Anne lowered her hand without knocking as the shouting got louder. She didn’t want to apologize that badly.
***
Delia sprawled across the couch, one leg draped over the back.
“So, when’s Nick getting here?” she asked, setting her book on her chest to look over at Mavis, ensconced in her bunk.
“Bout ten minutes. I’m gonna go to the restroom. Let him in,” Mavis replied, rolling to her feet. Delia nodded, setting her book aside and rising to stretch towards the ceiling.
“Okay. I’m gonna change the quote on the marker board,” she said. Mavis made an affirmative noise as she swung out the door. Delia grabbed up a marker and stepped into the hall, letting the door close behind her. Humming to herself, she erased the board and stood pondering.
“You know what?” Mavis called, trotting back down the hall. Delia looked over at her as she scampered past and kept going.
“That was the WRONG POTTY,” Mavis announced. Delia busted out laughing.
“That’s GREAT!” she cried, scribbling it on the marker board. “Quote of the day!” Mavis flapped a dismissive hand as she hustled for a potty she was allowed to use. Delia turned her attention to the rest of the board. Behind her, the elevator doors opened. She looked up as someone appeared at her side. Oh, Nick.
“Are Mavis and Delia not in there?” Nick asked, eyeing her. Delia grinned at him.
“You could say that,” she replied, drawing herself up to her now prodigious height. “I think Mavis is in the bathroom and Delia’s around somewhere.” Nick nodded, shifting so he could watch the hall to the girls’ restroom. Delia suppressed the urge to snicker.
“So, I’m Nick. Mavis’s boyfriend. And you are?” Nick smiled pleasantly, offering a hand. Delia shook it, a broad grin spreading over her face.
“I’m Caleb,” she said. She glanced over Nick’s shoulder to see Mavis hustling it back down the hall. She slipped up behind Nick, winding her arms around him from behind. Nick leaned back into her.
“Hey, angel,” he sighed, letting Mavis pull him closer.
“Hey baby,” she replied in the deepest voice she could muster. Nick squeaked in shock, jumping away from Mavis. Delia shook with quiet laughter. Backing away from Mavis, Nick bumped into Delia. Jumped again. Delia caught his elbow.
“Easy there, tiger,” she suggested. Nick’s head whipped back and forth between Mavis and Delia.
“You! And. What? GUYS! And oh. Oh Lord, it’s really true. SHIT!” he yelled, voice rising. Delia clapped a hand over his mouth muffling the shouts. Mavis opened the door to the room so Delia could shove him over the threshold.
“You really don’t wanna lick my hand, I promise, Nick,” Delia warned, kicking to door shut. She released him.
“Now you can freak out,” she announced, plopping back on the couch and picking up her book. Eyes wide and darting, Nick backed away from them, inching his way to Delia’s desk chair. He sat down. Mavis moved towards him.
“Baby,” she started. Both of Nick’s hands shot up, as if warding off evil.
“NO! No. Just wait. I need a minute,” he said. Mavis sat down in the other desk chair, leaving plenty of space between herself and Nick. Tipping his head back against the wall, Nick struggled to gasp in a full breath. Delia clambered onto the top bunk to look down at him.
“You know, it helps if you breathe now,” she offered, nodding sagely. Nick glared at her.
“Oh, THANK you,” he gasped. Delia smiled charmingly.
“Always happy to be of service,” she replied, settling back with her book again. Nick took several deep breaths.
“Okay. I can deal with this. It’s not permanent. It’s not me that changed. I can have a . . . boyfriend . . . for a couple of days,” he said, clinging to hard-won composure. Delia made a tiny hysterical noise from the bunk.
“Shut up you,” Mavis snapped, pointing at Delia. Delia hunched further over her book, mouth twitching.
“Not saying nothing,” she muttered. Nick ignored them, still talking mostly to himself.
“I mean it’s not like your asking me to blow you or anything,” he observed. Delia squeaked again. A thoughtful expression passed over Mavis’s face.
“Nick?” she asked.
“No,” Nick cut her off. Mavis looked at him.
“But.”
“No.”
“What if?”
“Not even.”
“I could.”
“NO.”
“But we.”
“NO NO NO!”
“Fine. You’re no fun,” Mavis pouted. Delia rolled over and buried her face in her pillow, giggling helplessly.
“Deeeelyaaaaaa! You’re not helping,” Mavis whined. Delia climbed down from the bed. She dropped a light kiss on Nick’s hair, patted Mavis’s head and strode toward the door, book in hand.
“I’m just gonna go read in the lounge or something. Talk amongst yourselves,” she called. Nick sat unhappily eyeing his girlfriend’s new look. Mavis waved as Delia pulled the door shut.
“Now what?” Nick asked. Mavis moved to the couch, patting the cushion beside her.
“Now you come over here and we talk amongst ourselves.”
***
Leaving Mavis and Nick in the room, Delia pulled the door closed behind her and headed for the lounge. She’d sit in there and read for a while. Let the boys work it out. Delia slowed as she reached the door and cautiously stuck her head in. Oh good. It was empty. Heading for the longest couch in the room, Delia plopped onto it haphazardly, drawing her feet under herself. As her weight shifted, she squeaked and froze. Carefully, Delia levered herself to her feet. Glaring down her body, she gingerly tugged on the crotch of her pants.
“Damn dick,” she muttered. Pressure relieved, Delia sat back down and tucked her feet up again. She settled back and opened her book. This was much better. Humming to herself, and enjoying the rumble of it in her chest, Delia lost herself in the pages.
Sometime later, raised voices caught her attention. Delia looked up as a slim, blond man burst through the door, backpack slung over his shoulder. She knew him. She KNEW she knew him. DEAN! That was his name. Dean.
“Oh shut up, you asshole! I’ll get to it!” he shouted out the door. Spinning, he spotted Delia.
“Oh. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you,” Dean apologized, tossing his bag on the table. Delia smiled.
“No problem, honey,” she said, dropping her eyes back to her book. Dean gave her an odd look as he dug a book out of his bag.
“Cool,” he replied. “You don’t mind if I work in here, right? My roommate’s being a jerk.” Delia looked up again, eyebrows raised in amusement.
“It’s a free study room. Don’t let me stop you, babe,” she drawled. Nodding, Dean dropped his bag on the floor and seated himself at the table.
“I’m Dean,” he said. Delia nodded.
“Caleb,” Delia offered, still smiling. Dean nodded a little.
“Well. I’m just gonna. Work now,” he announced, gesturing at the papers.
“Go to it.” Retrieving her book, Delia shifted and returned to the story. A few minutes later, Dean cursed quietly. Delia’s head snapped up.
“Sorry,” Dean muttered, shoving a hand through his hair. Amused, Delia dog-eared her page and rose to drop into the chair next to Dean.
“Whatcha workin’ on?” she asked, crossing her arms on the table and leaning over to look. Dean tipped back in his chair to let her see.
“English 14. I have to write an application for the class,” he grumbled. Delia grinned at him.
“Be there. Done that. What’s the problem?” she asked. Dean snorted.
“We’re supposed to say what we have to offer the class and I can’t think of anything,” he complained shoving the papers away from himself. Delia scanned the first draft.
“You’re right. This is really bad,” she agreed. Dean threw her a mutinous look. Ignoring him, Delia flipped through the next couple of pages.
“Well, you’ve certainly got a handle on what you need from the class. And what you’ve got here isn’t much to offer, that’s true too. And unfortunately, ‘cute as hell’ won’t serve you all that well in an English class. Who do you have?”
Delia looked up to find Dean staring at her.
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“Cute as hell?” Dean repeated. Stamping firmly on mortification, Delia shrugged.
“So? You are. But I don’t think that’ll help here,” she said, oh-so-casually. “So, who’s your prof?” Slowly scooting back to the table, Dean scooped one of the papers back in front of himself.
“Todd Penner,” he replied. Delia pushed the rest of the papers toward Dean, shifting to kneel in the chair as she did.
“Oh, then I can so help you, honey. I had him last year,” she announced. Dean stretched across the table to grab a pen.
“You a sophomore then?” Dean asked, grabbing another pen for Delia. Delia shook her head.
“Senior. I needed it for the education department,” she told him, taking the pen and eyeing the paper critically.
“We seriously need to discuss your use of the word ‘stuff’,” she muttered. Dean winced.
“Yeah, so I’ve heard in class,” Dean grumbled. “You think I’m cute?” Delia hmmmed quietly, scribbling notes in the margin.
“No. I think you’re hella sexy. That a problem?” she asked, circling another error. Dean shook his head.
“No. I mean, what if I wasn’t gay?” he asked, looking at Delia thoughtfully.
“I never assumed you were,” Delia murmured.
“You just hit on me thinking I was straight?” Dean demanded. Delia glanced up.
“No. I just told you I thought you were sexy thinking you were straight. If I was gonna hit on you, I’d do a much better job,” she replied. Dean raised an eyebrow.
“Oh really?” he drawled. Delia smirked at him and continued reading.
“Really,” she replied. “Dean, honey, commas are like pepper. To be used sparingly.” Dean took the pen from her hand.
“Show me,” he suggested. Rolling her eyes, Delia picked up the other pen and circled three commas in the same sentence.
“See, this one is completely superfluous. It doesn’t even fit with natural speaking patterns much less grammar rules,” she started. Dean tugged on the waistband of her jeans, turning her to face him.
“No,” he tried again. He pulled Delia closer, chair and all. “Show me.” Delia laughed.
“I’m not that easy,” she chuckled, drawing back slightly. Dean leaned into close the distance.
“I am,” he announced, pressing his lips firmly over Delia’s. Delia snorted against his mouth, putting one hand on his chest and pushing him back.
“Well, I’m not,” she said again. Dean studied her appraisingly.
“Okay. Then how about I ask if I can kiss you,” he suggested. Delia gestured for him to continue. “What would you say?”
“I don’t know,” Delia replied. “You haven’t asked yet.” Dean grinned at her.
“Okay, Caleb. You’re a good-lookin’ guy. And I’d like to kiss you. Can I?” he asked. Delia laughed again.
“Oh, you’re terrible at that. ‘Yo, dude, lay one on me’,” she chuckled. Snaking one hand up to finger Delia’s hair, Dean raised an eyebrow.
“I was better than that,” he complained. Delia shook her head.
“You really weren’t,” she snickered. Dean rolled his eyes.
“So was that a yes?” he asked. Catching the fingers dancing over her ear with one hand, Delia pondered.
“Why not? That’s a yes,” she confirmed. Smiling again, Dean scooted forward until his knees bumped Delia’s.
“Yo, dude, lay one on me,” he drawled and kissed Delia while she laughed.
***
The door closed and Mavis looked at her slightly panic-stricken boyfriend.
“So, what now?” she asked. Nick’s eyes got bigger and Mavis made a decision.
“I’m coming over there, ok? Don’t freak.” Mavis requested as she rose from her side of the room. Nick’s eyes rounded even more.
“Freak? You don’t want me to freak?!” he demanded, outraged. Mavis kneeled cautiously in front of him.
“What are you doing?” he asked. Nick drew back warily. Mavis put her hands on his knees.
“Talk to me, baby. What do I have to do for you to be ok? How can I touch you?” Mavis tilted her head.
“Touch me? Touch me how?” Nick asked, licking his lips and swallowing hesitantly.
“What do you mean how?” Mavis’s voice steady; calm. Nick shifted slightly.
“Like hold hands touch? Hug touch? What? Explain.”
“I want to touch you like I always touch you,” Mavis strove for reasonability.
“There are several ways in which-” Nick started.
“Baby, don’t make this harder than it has to be!” Mavis cut him off. She waited a beat. “Be practical.”
“Uhm, ok. I…can….do that,” Nick agreed.
“I’m a guy right now. This isn’t a real life ambition, I just wanted to see what it was like,” she explained. Nick nodded.
“And this isn’t going to last that long, so it’s not like we’re going to have to move to Vermont or anything,” she giggled. Nick blanched.
“Vermont? Nonono, no Vermont!” he stammered emphatically.
“Exactly. So, either we don’t see each other for the entirety of my ‘I have a dick’ phase,” she made air quotes, “ooorrr we can use this as a chance to see if we’re more than just ‘hey she’s cute’,” more air quotes. Nick looked horrified.
“Wait. You mean you’re using this to see if I really do love you?! Jesus, Mavis.” Nick burst from his chair, bowling Mavis over. Nick froze, appalled at himself.
“Baby!? Baby, you ok.” He reached his hand out to help her up. Mavis looked up at him.
“So in times of crisis you can forget that I’ve grown a new body part and suddenly I’m your girlfriend again? Is that what this is?” Mavis snarled, vaguely cynical. Nick alternated between staring at Mavis and his hand as she eyed him with muted hostility. He crouched down so he could look Mavis in the eyes.
“I love you. I do. If you don’t think this that this new development will change the dynamic that you and I have…you’re wrong. I’m sorry, but you are,” he explained softly. His hand came up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Mavis’ ear. It was her turn to sigh.
“I love you too baby. I just wish that you felt the same way about this that I do. I mean, I don’t see why THIS,” she waved her hands over her body, “should have anything to do with US!” Mavis shifted back to her knees. Nick sighed.
“Ok.”
“Ok? What’s ok? ‘Ok I still love you’? ‘Ok I’m going to leave until you change back?’ What’s ok, Nick?!” Mavis demanded.
“Ok, I love you. Always. And I’ll do whatever you want,” Nick agreed. Mavis brightened.
“With limits!” he added quickly.
“Limits? I can do limits. What limits?” Mavis nodded, good humor returning. Nick sighed again.
“There will be NO SEX. Period. If you catch me in a moment of weakness and anything happens then…I’m trusting you not to take advantage of me. Other than that, go slow. Give me time to adjust. To…yeah. Don’t rush me,” he requested, offering Mavis a slight smile.
“Slow?!? I’ve only got three days!” Mavis protested.
“I mean, don’t try feeling me up in the next five minutes, ok?” Nick tried again.
“Next five minutes. Do I have to time this?” she wondered aloud, eyes sparkling playfully.
“You know what I mean,” Nick pointed out. “Other than that, we’ll play it by ear.”
“So, can I have a kiss? Or does that count as feeling you up?” Mavis grinned up at him.
“That doesn’t count as feeling me up,” Nick said, kissing her cheek.
“No, no, no, no, no. Not that kind of kiss,” Mavis protested.
“I know. I’m warming up,” he replied, ruefully. Mavis grinned at him again.
“You know I could help you with that. Can I help you with that…Or should I wait longer?” Nick sighed again. He was doing that a lot on this trip.
“Ok. Why don’t we just go sit on the couch, watch TV and wait for Delia to come back. Caleb! I meant Caleb,” he suggested, tipping his head at the sofa. Mavis nodded and took Nick’s hand.
“Help me up then,” she commanded mock-imperiously.
Nick lead his new boyfriend over to the couch and sat down as Mavis watched.
“You can sit down if you want,” he offered.
“Where?” Mavis asked, eyeing the unoccupied cushions.
“On the couch,” Nick said blandly. Mavis leaned over to smack him on the head. Nick ducked away from her hand.
“Hey! You’re hands are bigger! Just sit down,” he said.
“Ok,” Mavis said, voice carefully bland. She sat on the other end of the couch. Silence descended.
“Fine. Come here,” Nick sighed.
Mavis moved from her corner to Nick’s lap and snuggled in as he reached for the remote.
***
Delia shoved her key in the lock, letting Dean precede her into the room.
“Whoa! Sorry about that guys,” Dean said, startled. Delia stepped through the door as Dean backed up, bumping her chest.
“Who are you ?” Nick’s voice demanded, angrily.
“Nick, Jean, this is Dean,” Delia announced, nudging him back into the room. Tilting her head, Delia studied Nick and Mavis. Her mouth quirked.
“Were you two making out?” she asked, grinning. Mavis nodded happily as Nick blushed. Delia cackled, as she looped her arm around Dean’s waist.
“Go you two,” Delia acknowledged. Dean tilted his head back to look up at Delia.
“Go them?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Delia leaned down to kiss him quickly.
“We’re . . . new,” Mavis explained, looking over at Nick. Nick shrugged and nodded.
“Cool,” Dean acknowledged. Mavis turned a cunning glance on Delia.
“So, what have you been up to?” she drawled. Taking a cue from Nick, Delia blushed.
“Ummm,” she started. Dean leaned against Delia and smiled brightly. Mavis squealed.
“Were you two making out?” she demanded, bouncing to her feet.
“Hey,” Delia muttered, moving to take Mavis’s spot on the couch. “That’s my line.” Mavis made a dismissive buzz.
“So, did you kiss Bubba yet?” she asked, opening the door and leaning out.
“Nope,” Delia said, shoving Nick over and pulling Dean down between them.
“Kiss Bubba? Guy who lives down the hall, Bubba? Why?” Nick asked, appalled. Dean leveled a finger at Nick as he looked perplexedly at Delia.
“I’m with him on this one,” he agreed.
“She lost a bet,” Mavis announced, leaning further into the hallway. “BUBBA! Come here!” A moment later, Bubba appeared in the doorway.
“Yeah? Can I help you? Do I know you for that matter?” he asked, as Delia stood up, sighing wearily. Mavis giggled delightedly as she danced around Delia.
“Not exactly,” she said. Delia pushed Mavis away from her and Bubba.
“Do me a favor? Boing over there for a minute,” she suggested, turning to Bubba. “I’m really sorry about this.” Bubba dragged his gaze back from Mavis all but twitching in glee.
“Sorry about what?” he asked. Delia pressed her lips quickly against his by way of answer. Bubba jerked back, startled. Letting him go, Delia sat back down next to Dean. Mavis leapt forward to push Bubba back out the door.
“Thank you and goodnight,” she called, closing the door in his face.
“What the? Who ARE you people? Nice not meeting you by the way!” Bubba hollered through the door. Mavis jerked the door back open.
“Jean. Dean. Caleb. Nick,” she announced pointing at each of them in turn. Bubba looked startled.
“Bubba,” Mavis finished, pointing at him still in the doorway.
“Bye,” she said, closing the door again. As soon as it clicked home, Delia wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and looked at Dean.
“Kiss. Now. Please,” she asked. Laughing, Dean obliged.
“You know,” he observed, pulling back, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many gay men in one room before.” Nick snorted indignantly as Mavis resettled herself in his lap.
“I’m not gay,” he protested. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Bi. Whatever. So many men lacking in heterosexuality,” he corrected himself. Nick opened his mouth again. Mavis whapped him in the back of the head.
“Seeing as how we’re all guys,” she said pointedly. Nick closed his mouth. Delia laughed and twisted to dig the remote out from under her butt.
“TV?” she offered, pointing it at the screen. The other three shrugged, shifting to make themselves more comfortable on a couch not built for four full-grown men. Finally, Mavis turned sideways in Nick’s lap and crammed her feet under Dean’s thigh.
“Hope you don’t mind,” she grunted, wiggling until she could sit comfortably.
“Not at all,” Dean replied as Delia thumped her feet in his lap. Dean crossed his arms over her calves. The phone rang. Nick groaned from beneath Mavis. Leaning her head back to look over at the phone just out of arm’s reach Delia pursed her lips.
“So,” she drawled as the phone rang again. “Who’s getting that?” They stared at each other for a moment. After the fourth ring the answering machine kicked on. Mavis beamed.
“That’ll do. So, what’re we watching?”
***
This promises to be the first in a series of non-chronological shorts in which all the main characters are based on myself, my roommate and my friends. It'll probably be funnier if you know us, but I think it's hysterical. That said, have at you.
“Well, that was bizarre,” Delia observed, pushing stop and slouching back into her end of the couch. Mavis raised her head from her arm.
“But it was funny! I mean, dude!” she protested, giggling. Delia chuckled.
“True dat,” she agreed. “But still. Freaking weird. I mean, she turned into a guy.” Mavis sat up straight, nodding eagerly.
“I know! Isn’t it great?!” she replied. Delia flopped her head onto the back of the sofa.
“You’re twisted. But, yes. Funny. Completely implausible. But funny,” she acknowledged. Raising up, Delia twisted over the back of the couch. She groped around on the floor; came up with a bag of pretzels. “Want some?”
Mavis took a handful, cramming a couple in her mouth. “Well sure, it’s not likely, but it’d be fun!” Delia swallowed the pretzel in her mouth before answering.
“Wanna try it?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. Mavis choked on her soda.
“Try it? Why?” she said, wiping her mouth.
“Why not?” Delia shrugged. Mavis grinned broadly, giggling a bit.
“Alright,” she agreed. “Let’s do it.” Delia blinked, surprised.
“Why not?” she said again. Mavis bounced in her seat and grabbed the remote.
“Cool! I’ll rewind the movie, you get the candles,” she announced. Laughing, Delia pushed to her feet, moving to the dresser.
“We don’t have any candles. All we have is the nightlight,” she said, brandishing the tiny lamp at her roommate. Mavis shrugged.
“Close enough,” she called, punching play and watching the beginning of the movie roll by again. “The chick in the movie had some kind of herbs or magic-y stuff.” Delia moved the lamp to the floor in front of the couch.
“Well, we have garlic salt, those bath salts my mom gave me and . . .” she peeked into a zippered bag, “and that henna stuff.” Mavis tipped her head consideringly.
“Better than nothing,” she decided. “Put it all in a bowl.”
“A’ight,” Delia drawled, eyeing Mavis with amusement. Mavis plopped pillows on the floor to sit on. Delia sprinkled the garlic salt over the mess in the bowl.
“Dear Holy Saint Agnes, this stuff reeks,” she commented, carrying it over to set it by the lamp. Mavis looked up at Delia as she sat.
“Holy Saint Agnes?” she repeated. Delia shrugged. Mavis chuckled, shaking her head.
“Riiiiight,” she drawled. “Turn off the lights.” Delia snorted, stood up, turned off the light and sat back down.
“Anything else?” she asked, smirking. Mavis returned the look.
“Well, I could use my sweatshirt. It’s kinda chilly in here . . .” she offered. Delia rolled her eyes.
“Freeze,” she suggested pleasantly. Mavis laughed in delight.
“Okay, okay, shut up and let me do this,” she demanded. Delia obediently settled back with her legs crossed. Mavis lifted the bowl, holding it over her head and solemnly repeating the chant from the movie. Delia bit her lip to keep from laughing. Dropping the bowl back to her lap, Mavis scowled at her.
“Dude, shut up. I can see your chin quivering,” she grumbled, fighting a smile of her own. Delia burst out laughing, tipping over on her side.
“We are soooooo lame,” she snickered, burying her face in one of the pillows. Mavis slapped at her, knocking the bowl over and splattering the contents over Delia’s lap. Delia squealed in outrage, snatched up the bowl and upended it on Mavis. Mavis shrieked.
“Bitch!” she cackled, flicking her little drops of the glop at Delia. Delia smeared a trail of gack down Mavis’s face.
“Hello pot. I’m kettle. You’re black,” she retorted.
“Creative,” Mavis drawled, standing up to grab a rag. “And you’re right. This stuff stinks to high heaven.”
***
Two hours, two showers and a floor scrubbing later, Delia climbed into the top bunk as Mavis buried herself under a pile of stuffed animals in the lower bunk.
“What if it works?” she yawned. Delia bounced the bed as she turned over and settles down.
“Then I guess we’ll have dicks? I dunno. Seriously, if it happens, I’ll kiss Bubba, how’s that?” she replied, yawning herself. Mavis chuckled sleepily.
“Deal,” she murmured, tucking her stuffed turtle under her head. “And don’t think I won’t hold you to it.” Delia snickered.
“I don’t think I’m worried about it,” she replied, flipping off the light and dropping into a heavy sleep.
***
Mavis rolled over, stretching hard. She opened her eyes. Ohhh, sun - bad bad evil big yellow thingy. Stretching again, Mavis scratched at her chest. Her eyes popped wide. No way. Mavis raised her head to look down the length of her body; pulled out the collar of her shirt to look again.
“Delia?” she called, voice cracking. She cleared her throat. “Delia?” The bunk beds swayed.
“What?” Delia grunted from overhead. Mavis bit her lip and let her collar go.
“Have you seen my breasts?” she asked. Delia made a confused noise. A moment later her face appeared over the edge of the bed.
“What?” she demanded. Mavis looked up, startled. Delia’s voice had dropped to a rolling bass drawl.
“Whoa, manly face,” she muttered. Delia peered at her in confusion.
“Mavis, it’s the butt crack of dawn,” she groaned. Mavis yanked her shirt up, exposing her chest for Delia’ inspection.
“I’ve lost my boobs,” she said. Delia’s mouth dropped open. She scrambled back up into her bed. After a moment, her face reappeared over the edge.
“Well, I don’t have them,” she announced. “I don’t have mine either. And I’m really not sure who I got the dick from. Oh shit, I have to kiss Bubba now, don’t I?” Mavis bolted upright.
“That’s RIGHT! You DO!” she exclaimed, gleeful. “Though, not right now. And not wearing the little red nightie. That might not go over well.” Delia smothered a laughing groan and rolled over. Her feet appeared over the bed as she slid to the floor. Her nightie stopped at her waist.
“Hey!” Mavis said, looking up at her. “Are you taller?” Delia looked down at herself.
“Looks like. A lot,” she replied, tugging at the bottom of her nightgown. Mavis popped out of the bed. Her head reached Delia’s breastbone.
“How come I’m not taller? No fair!” she protested. Delia wrapped an arm around Mavis’s shoulders.
“Well, I guess short girl before the spell equals short boy after it. You’re still cute as a button though,” she chuckled. Mavis smacked at her.
“I was hoping I could be tall,” she whined. Delia laughed aloud.
“Just hope some of your clothes still fit, tiny person. We’ve got to make a WalMart run for underwear at least. Cause this is not at all a happy feeling,” she pointed out, moving toward her dresser. Mavis grinned brilliantly an moved towards hers.
“Let’s hear it for sleeping commando!” Mavis crowed, rummaging through her drawers.
“Let’s hear it for too much information! HAH! My scrub pants fit! I can go out in public,” Delia stated triumphantly. Mavis snorted.
“And we’re all so glad. But, hey! Overalls. Alright,” she said. Tugging the overalls over a T-shirt, Mavis glanced at Delia. Delia shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Her pants stopped at midcalf and her shirt stretched tight over her shoulders.
“Oh yeah, Huck. We definitely need to get you new pants. Those look like capris,” Mavis snickered. Delia sighed, cramming her feet in her slippers.
“At least I’m covered. For now, that’s enough,” she replied. Mavis grinned as Delia slung her purse across her chest.
“You look gay,” she called out as she scooped up her own purse and followed Delia out the door.
“Thank God. I really don’t want to deal with girls,” Delia called, striding down the hall. Mavis trotted after her.
“I don’t think you’re getting into the spirit of this,” she complained. Delia shot her a look over her shoulder.
“Let me get real clothes and then we’ll talk,” she replied. Suddenly she stopped dead in the hallway.
“Where do gay guys shop?” she asked, perplexed. Mavis stopped too.
“I don’t really know. But, let’s start with the WalMart and go from there,” she suggested. Delia nodded.
“Okay,” she agreed. Mavis looped her arm through Delia’s.
“C’mon baby. It’ll be okay,” she soothed. Delia snorted.
“I still have to kiss Bubba. I don’t see okay here,” she sighed, smiling. Mavis cackled.
“I’m gonna love this,” she announced.
***
Delia pushed the door of the room open, elbowing her way inside. She dropped several WalMart bags on the couch.
“I’m telling you, I thought it would be easier to find clothes for a tall guy than it was for a tall girl,” she complained. Mavis chortled as she flung more bags on the pile. She plopped on the end of the sofa and started pulling clothes out and removing tags before tossing the clothes on their owner’s bed.
“Well, it probably is, D. But you know, not for FREAKISHLY tall guys. I mean, you’re like six and a half feet tall,” she pointed out. “And you still have to pick a name. I’m Jean. Who’re you?”
Delia stripped off her too small T-shirt and dug through the growing pile on her bed, coming up with a sleeveless T in rich orange.
“How about Finn? Since you seem so fond of calling me Huck,” she suggested. Mavis shook her head.
“Nah. It’s not you. How about Tony?” she replied. Delia made a moue of distaste.
“Well fine then,” Mavis pouted. “You think of something. Gimme a letter to start with.” Delia pondered that for a moment.
“J? M?” she offered, exchanging her scrub pants for jeans.
“What’s the name of that guy in ‘Longshot’? Alex?” Mavis asked.
“I can’t see me as an Alex. Seriously no,” Delia said. Fastening her pants, she settled on the other end of the couch.
“How about Jason?” she suggested. Mavis snickered.
“Only if I can call you Jace. And if I can be Justin,” she giggled. Delia’s mouth dropped and she laughed.
“Okay. No Jason. You’re Jean. You stay that way,” she ordered. Mavis made a face.
“Yes ma’am,” she drawled. Slouching back, Mavis looked to the ceiling for inspiration.
“Okay, so let’s narrow it to B, C or D,” she said. Delia stretched her legs down the couch over Mavis’s lap.
“Del?” she offered hopefully. Mavis smacked her leg.
“Too close to Delia. Total copout,” she snapped. Delia groaned immensely.
“I don’t know!” she whined.
“I refuse to name you Nick. Caleb?” Mavis tried. Raising her head, Delia smiled a little.
“I can live with Caleb,” she agreed. “I’m Caleb.” Delia suddenly snorted with laughter.
“What?” Mavis demanded.
“My mother hates that name,” Delia confessed.
“Then we just won’t tell her, now will we?” Mavis retorted, pushing Delia’s legs off her lap and standing.
***
“No, baby, no, I swear, it’s me. Honest. This is NOT Patrick jerking you around!” Delia snorted in the background.
"He thinks you sound like Patrick? Dude! Patrick’s jerking Nick around?!? Does Romie know about this?” Delia called. Mavis attempted not to laugh in response as she continued trying to talk to her boyfriend.
“Do I have to make you talk to Delia?” Mavis demanded frowning at the phone in her hand. Delia snorted.
“Oh yeah. That’ll help, won’t it? I sound like Lance fucking Bass. He’s gonna believe I’m me,” she chuckled. Mavis screeched in frustration at the phone and thrust it at Delia.
“Talk to him anyway!” she ordered. Delia took the phone in bemusement as Mavis stomped restlessly around the room.
“Hey Nick,” she said, putting the phone to her ear.
“Who is this?” Nick asked, sounding totally exasperated.
“Well, for the moment, I think I’m Caleb, but you know me as Delia, Goddess of the Universe,” Delia said, grinning at the handset. There was a sharp thump on the other end.
“Nick? What did you just do?” Delia asked, raising her eyebrows at Mavis.
“Whacked my head against the wall. What’s it sound like?” Nick snapped.
“Dude. Don’t be an asshole. You’ll break that face that Mavis, for some reason known only to her and God, finds marginally attractive. And then I’d have to put up with the Delia-you-broke-my-boyfriend rant, yet again. I don’t need that. So if you break your face, I’m gonna come through this phone and break the rest of you. Don’t think I can’t,” she declared, voice deepening ominously. There was a long silence.
“Delia?” Nick whispered.
“Good boy,” Delia chirped, a difficult feat for a bass, but Delia pulled it off. “Now, talk to your . . . whatever, and apologize. Or something.” Mavis glared.
“Whatever? Or something?” she asked, taking the phone back. Delia grinned.
“Well, you sure ain’t a girlfriend. Jean,” she pointed out. Mavis stuck out her tongue.
“Baby?” she said quietly into the phone. “Yes, you can come visit. No, it’s not permanent. I don’t think. Will you calm the fuck down?! I’m the one with a dick and I’m not freaking out! Yes, I know that. Yours is very nice. But I didn’t have one yesterday, now did I?” Delia started cackling in the background. Mavis paused.
“Whoa. Manly rumble,” she said, looking up at Delia.
“Will you stop that? I’m aware of my newfound manliness thank you,” Delia muttered.
“Newfound?” Mavis asked wickedly. Delia shot her the finger. Mavis turned her attention back to her boyfriend. Someone knocked on the door. Delia moved to open it.
“Yeah?” she said, looking down at the girl in the doorway.
“Oh. Umm. I think I have the wrong room,” she stammered. Delia raised an eyebrow.
“What room were you looking for, honey?” she asked. The girl blinked.
“Umm, I’m looking for Delia. She’s supposed to help me with Chemistry. I’m Anne,” she explained. Delia slapped herself in the forehead.
“Oh, that’s right! You were supposed to come by . . . well, today. I’m D . . . uh, Caleb. Delia’s . . .” she trailed off, at a loss.
“COUSIN!” Mavis shouted from inside the room. “I’m Jean!”
“Cousin,” Delia finished. “I’m visiting for a little while. Delia had to go home for a couple of days. Can I help you?” Anne looked momentarily confused.
“Well, I guess. Do you know Chemistry?” she asked, stepping into the room and looking around. Delia shrugged.
“I’m a physics major,” she replied. Anne grinned up at her.
“So’s Delia,” she said, licking her lips. Delia smirked.
“Nah, really?” she asked, fighting snickers. Anne smiled brilliantly, laying a hand on Delia’s arm.
“So, Caleb, when do you want to get together? Tonight?” she suggested smoothly. Delia shook her head.
“How about tomorrow? Say after lunch?” she offered. Anne stepped closer, nodding.
“Perfect.” Anne drew her hand a little higher up Delia’s arms. Delia jumped, eyes rounding with comprehension. She shot a desperate glance at Mavis. Mavis bit her lip, quivering with silent laughter.
“Umm, okay,” Delia said, edging back from Anne. Anne followed, maintaining contact.
“Great. You want me to write down my cell number?” she offered, blinking slowly. Delia leapt back.
“GAY!” she shouted suddenly, sounding vaguely like a Baptist preacher. Anne jumped, startled. Delia nodded frantically.
“Yeah. I’m gay. Really, really gay. Completely. So into guys. Gay. Me. Yes,” she babbled, sidling further from Anne. Hot crimson rose up Delia’s face, matching the color in Anne’s.
“Oh. Okay. So tomorrow after lunch then,” she said, heading for the door. Delia crossed her arms over her stomach.
“Tomorrow after lunch. Yeah. Okay,” she agreed. Anne stepped into the hall and closed the door. Mavis busted out laughing.
“Oh my God. You! You!” she gasped, pointing at Delia. Delia frowned at her.
“What?” she demanded. Choking on hysterical laughter, Mavis waved her hands.
“ ‘Really really gay. Completely. Gay. Me. Yes.’ Oh. Oh that was priceless,” Mavis chuckled. Delia’s lips twitched involuntarily.
“Shut up,” she said, dropping into the desk chair. Mavis sucked in a huge breath.
“Oh God. I wish I’d had a camera,” she sighed happily. Delia chuckled.
“Well, I’m a guy. Gay guy isn’t any weirder,” she announced. That sent Mavis into fresh gales of laughter.
“What?!” Delia cried, exasperated. Mavis just shook her head and laughed some more. The giggles died, but Mavis continued to grin at Delia.
“What!?!” Delia demanded again.
“Girls dig the Delia-love no matter what gender. Must be something about the packaging.” Delia shook her head.
“Can’t be the packaging…That’s changed,” she pointed out. Mavis bust out in fresh giggles.
“It’s the ooey-gooey center!” she screamed. Delia’s face scrunched up.
“Ewwwww. Girl fight!” Delia announced, flailing at Mavis.
“No fair! No fair! No smackage on the unarmed!” Mavis protested, still on the phone with Nick. “Baby, uh, I’ll call you back. Yeah, fine. See you tomorrow. Just call when-OUCH! Stop that. Call when you get here.” Mavis turned her cell off and launched herself at Delia.
“HA HA! Bow before me tiny person,” Delia boomed as she deftly detached her leech-like roommate.
“NEVER!” Mavis howled, struggling as Delia pried at her hands.
Outside the door, Anne lowered her hand without knocking as the shouting got louder. She didn’t want to apologize that badly.
***
Delia sprawled across the couch, one leg draped over the back.
“So, when’s Nick getting here?” she asked, setting her book on her chest to look over at Mavis, ensconced in her bunk.
“Bout ten minutes. I’m gonna go to the restroom. Let him in,” Mavis replied, rolling to her feet. Delia nodded, setting her book aside and rising to stretch towards the ceiling.
“Okay. I’m gonna change the quote on the marker board,” she said. Mavis made an affirmative noise as she swung out the door. Delia grabbed up a marker and stepped into the hall, letting the door close behind her. Humming to herself, she erased the board and stood pondering.
“You know what?” Mavis called, trotting back down the hall. Delia looked over at her as she scampered past and kept going.
“That was the WRONG POTTY,” Mavis announced. Delia busted out laughing.
“That’s GREAT!” she cried, scribbling it on the marker board. “Quote of the day!” Mavis flapped a dismissive hand as she hustled for a potty she was allowed to use. Delia turned her attention to the rest of the board. Behind her, the elevator doors opened. She looked up as someone appeared at her side. Oh, Nick.
“Are Mavis and Delia not in there?” Nick asked, eyeing her. Delia grinned at him.
“You could say that,” she replied, drawing herself up to her now prodigious height. “I think Mavis is in the bathroom and Delia’s around somewhere.” Nick nodded, shifting so he could watch the hall to the girls’ restroom. Delia suppressed the urge to snicker.
“So, I’m Nick. Mavis’s boyfriend. And you are?” Nick smiled pleasantly, offering a hand. Delia shook it, a broad grin spreading over her face.
“I’m Caleb,” she said. She glanced over Nick’s shoulder to see Mavis hustling it back down the hall. She slipped up behind Nick, winding her arms around him from behind. Nick leaned back into her.
“Hey, angel,” he sighed, letting Mavis pull him closer.
“Hey baby,” she replied in the deepest voice she could muster. Nick squeaked in shock, jumping away from Mavis. Delia shook with quiet laughter. Backing away from Mavis, Nick bumped into Delia. Jumped again. Delia caught his elbow.
“Easy there, tiger,” she suggested. Nick’s head whipped back and forth between Mavis and Delia.
“You! And. What? GUYS! And oh. Oh Lord, it’s really true. SHIT!” he yelled, voice rising. Delia clapped a hand over his mouth muffling the shouts. Mavis opened the door to the room so Delia could shove him over the threshold.
“You really don’t wanna lick my hand, I promise, Nick,” Delia warned, kicking to door shut. She released him.
“Now you can freak out,” she announced, plopping back on the couch and picking up her book. Eyes wide and darting, Nick backed away from them, inching his way to Delia’s desk chair. He sat down. Mavis moved towards him.
“Baby,” she started. Both of Nick’s hands shot up, as if warding off evil.
“NO! No. Just wait. I need a minute,” he said. Mavis sat down in the other desk chair, leaving plenty of space between herself and Nick. Tipping his head back against the wall, Nick struggled to gasp in a full breath. Delia clambered onto the top bunk to look down at him.
“You know, it helps if you breathe now,” she offered, nodding sagely. Nick glared at her.
“Oh, THANK you,” he gasped. Delia smiled charmingly.
“Always happy to be of service,” she replied, settling back with her book again. Nick took several deep breaths.
“Okay. I can deal with this. It’s not permanent. It’s not me that changed. I can have a . . . boyfriend . . . for a couple of days,” he said, clinging to hard-won composure. Delia made a tiny hysterical noise from the bunk.
“Shut up you,” Mavis snapped, pointing at Delia. Delia hunched further over her book, mouth twitching.
“Not saying nothing,” she muttered. Nick ignored them, still talking mostly to himself.
“I mean it’s not like your asking me to blow you or anything,” he observed. Delia squeaked again. A thoughtful expression passed over Mavis’s face.
“Nick?” she asked.
“No,” Nick cut her off. Mavis looked at him.
“But.”
“No.”
“What if?”
“Not even.”
“I could.”
“NO.”
“But we.”
“NO NO NO!”
“Fine. You’re no fun,” Mavis pouted. Delia rolled over and buried her face in her pillow, giggling helplessly.
“Deeeelyaaaaaa! You’re not helping,” Mavis whined. Delia climbed down from the bed. She dropped a light kiss on Nick’s hair, patted Mavis’s head and strode toward the door, book in hand.
“I’m just gonna go read in the lounge or something. Talk amongst yourselves,” she called. Nick sat unhappily eyeing his girlfriend’s new look. Mavis waved as Delia pulled the door shut.
“Now what?” Nick asked. Mavis moved to the couch, patting the cushion beside her.
“Now you come over here and we talk amongst ourselves.”
***
Leaving Mavis and Nick in the room, Delia pulled the door closed behind her and headed for the lounge. She’d sit in there and read for a while. Let the boys work it out. Delia slowed as she reached the door and cautiously stuck her head in. Oh good. It was empty. Heading for the longest couch in the room, Delia plopped onto it haphazardly, drawing her feet under herself. As her weight shifted, she squeaked and froze. Carefully, Delia levered herself to her feet. Glaring down her body, she gingerly tugged on the crotch of her pants.
“Damn dick,” she muttered. Pressure relieved, Delia sat back down and tucked her feet up again. She settled back and opened her book. This was much better. Humming to herself, and enjoying the rumble of it in her chest, Delia lost herself in the pages.
Sometime later, raised voices caught her attention. Delia looked up as a slim, blond man burst through the door, backpack slung over his shoulder. She knew him. She KNEW she knew him. DEAN! That was his name. Dean.
“Oh shut up, you asshole! I’ll get to it!” he shouted out the door. Spinning, he spotted Delia.
“Oh. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you,” Dean apologized, tossing his bag on the table. Delia smiled.
“No problem, honey,” she said, dropping her eyes back to her book. Dean gave her an odd look as he dug a book out of his bag.
“Cool,” he replied. “You don’t mind if I work in here, right? My roommate’s being a jerk.” Delia looked up again, eyebrows raised in amusement.
“It’s a free study room. Don’t let me stop you, babe,” she drawled. Nodding, Dean dropped his bag on the floor and seated himself at the table.
“I’m Dean,” he said. Delia nodded.
“Caleb,” Delia offered, still smiling. Dean nodded a little.
“Well. I’m just gonna. Work now,” he announced, gesturing at the papers.
“Go to it.” Retrieving her book, Delia shifted and returned to the story. A few minutes later, Dean cursed quietly. Delia’s head snapped up.
“Sorry,” Dean muttered, shoving a hand through his hair. Amused, Delia dog-eared her page and rose to drop into the chair next to Dean.
“Whatcha workin’ on?” she asked, crossing her arms on the table and leaning over to look. Dean tipped back in his chair to let her see.
“English 14. I have to write an application for the class,” he grumbled. Delia grinned at him.
“Be there. Done that. What’s the problem?” she asked. Dean snorted.
“We’re supposed to say what we have to offer the class and I can’t think of anything,” he complained shoving the papers away from himself. Delia scanned the first draft.
“You’re right. This is really bad,” she agreed. Dean threw her a mutinous look. Ignoring him, Delia flipped through the next couple of pages.
“Well, you’ve certainly got a handle on what you need from the class. And what you’ve got here isn’t much to offer, that’s true too. And unfortunately, ‘cute as hell’ won’t serve you all that well in an English class. Who do you have?”
Delia looked up to find Dean staring at her.
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“Cute as hell?” Dean repeated. Stamping firmly on mortification, Delia shrugged.
“So? You are. But I don’t think that’ll help here,” she said, oh-so-casually. “So, who’s your prof?” Slowly scooting back to the table, Dean scooped one of the papers back in front of himself.
“Todd Penner,” he replied. Delia pushed the rest of the papers toward Dean, shifting to kneel in the chair as she did.
“Oh, then I can so help you, honey. I had him last year,” she announced. Dean stretched across the table to grab a pen.
“You a sophomore then?” Dean asked, grabbing another pen for Delia. Delia shook her head.
“Senior. I needed it for the education department,” she told him, taking the pen and eyeing the paper critically.
“We seriously need to discuss your use of the word ‘stuff’,” she muttered. Dean winced.
“Yeah, so I’ve heard in class,” Dean grumbled. “You think I’m cute?” Delia hmmmed quietly, scribbling notes in the margin.
“No. I think you’re hella sexy. That a problem?” she asked, circling another error. Dean shook his head.
“No. I mean, what if I wasn’t gay?” he asked, looking at Delia thoughtfully.
“I never assumed you were,” Delia murmured.
“You just hit on me thinking I was straight?” Dean demanded. Delia glanced up.
“No. I just told you I thought you were sexy thinking you were straight. If I was gonna hit on you, I’d do a much better job,” she replied. Dean raised an eyebrow.
“Oh really?” he drawled. Delia smirked at him and continued reading.
“Really,” she replied. “Dean, honey, commas are like pepper. To be used sparingly.” Dean took the pen from her hand.
“Show me,” he suggested. Rolling her eyes, Delia picked up the other pen and circled three commas in the same sentence.
“See, this one is completely superfluous. It doesn’t even fit with natural speaking patterns much less grammar rules,” she started. Dean tugged on the waistband of her jeans, turning her to face him.
“No,” he tried again. He pulled Delia closer, chair and all. “Show me.” Delia laughed.
“I’m not that easy,” she chuckled, drawing back slightly. Dean leaned into close the distance.
“I am,” he announced, pressing his lips firmly over Delia’s. Delia snorted against his mouth, putting one hand on his chest and pushing him back.
“Well, I’m not,” she said again. Dean studied her appraisingly.
“Okay. Then how about I ask if I can kiss you,” he suggested. Delia gestured for him to continue. “What would you say?”
“I don’t know,” Delia replied. “You haven’t asked yet.” Dean grinned at her.
“Okay, Caleb. You’re a good-lookin’ guy. And I’d like to kiss you. Can I?” he asked. Delia laughed again.
“Oh, you’re terrible at that. ‘Yo, dude, lay one on me’,” she chuckled. Snaking one hand up to finger Delia’s hair, Dean raised an eyebrow.
“I was better than that,” he complained. Delia shook her head.
“You really weren’t,” she snickered. Dean rolled his eyes.
“So was that a yes?” he asked. Catching the fingers dancing over her ear with one hand, Delia pondered.
“Why not? That’s a yes,” she confirmed. Smiling again, Dean scooted forward until his knees bumped Delia’s.
“Yo, dude, lay one on me,” he drawled and kissed Delia while she laughed.
***
The door closed and Mavis looked at her slightly panic-stricken boyfriend.
“So, what now?” she asked. Nick’s eyes got bigger and Mavis made a decision.
“I’m coming over there, ok? Don’t freak.” Mavis requested as she rose from her side of the room. Nick’s eyes rounded even more.
“Freak? You don’t want me to freak?!” he demanded, outraged. Mavis kneeled cautiously in front of him.
“What are you doing?” he asked. Nick drew back warily. Mavis put her hands on his knees.
“Talk to me, baby. What do I have to do for you to be ok? How can I touch you?” Mavis tilted her head.
“Touch me? Touch me how?” Nick asked, licking his lips and swallowing hesitantly.
“What do you mean how?” Mavis’s voice steady; calm. Nick shifted slightly.
“Like hold hands touch? Hug touch? What? Explain.”
“I want to touch you like I always touch you,” Mavis strove for reasonability.
“There are several ways in which-” Nick started.
“Baby, don’t make this harder than it has to be!” Mavis cut him off. She waited a beat. “Be practical.”
“Uhm, ok. I…can….do that,” Nick agreed.
“I’m a guy right now. This isn’t a real life ambition, I just wanted to see what it was like,” she explained. Nick nodded.
“And this isn’t going to last that long, so it’s not like we’re going to have to move to Vermont or anything,” she giggled. Nick blanched.
“Vermont? Nonono, no Vermont!” he stammered emphatically.
“Exactly. So, either we don’t see each other for the entirety of my ‘I have a dick’ phase,” she made air quotes, “ooorrr we can use this as a chance to see if we’re more than just ‘hey she’s cute’,” more air quotes. Nick looked horrified.
“Wait. You mean you’re using this to see if I really do love you?! Jesus, Mavis.” Nick burst from his chair, bowling Mavis over. Nick froze, appalled at himself.
“Baby!? Baby, you ok.” He reached his hand out to help her up. Mavis looked up at him.
“So in times of crisis you can forget that I’ve grown a new body part and suddenly I’m your girlfriend again? Is that what this is?” Mavis snarled, vaguely cynical. Nick alternated between staring at Mavis and his hand as she eyed him with muted hostility. He crouched down so he could look Mavis in the eyes.
“I love you. I do. If you don’t think this that this new development will change the dynamic that you and I have…you’re wrong. I’m sorry, but you are,” he explained softly. His hand came up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Mavis’ ear. It was her turn to sigh.
“I love you too baby. I just wish that you felt the same way about this that I do. I mean, I don’t see why THIS,” she waved her hands over her body, “should have anything to do with US!” Mavis shifted back to her knees. Nick sighed.
“Ok.”
“Ok? What’s ok? ‘Ok I still love you’? ‘Ok I’m going to leave until you change back?’ What’s ok, Nick?!” Mavis demanded.
“Ok, I love you. Always. And I’ll do whatever you want,” Nick agreed. Mavis brightened.
“With limits!” he added quickly.
“Limits? I can do limits. What limits?” Mavis nodded, good humor returning. Nick sighed again.
“There will be NO SEX. Period. If you catch me in a moment of weakness and anything happens then…I’m trusting you not to take advantage of me. Other than that, go slow. Give me time to adjust. To…yeah. Don’t rush me,” he requested, offering Mavis a slight smile.
“Slow?!? I’ve only got three days!” Mavis protested.
“I mean, don’t try feeling me up in the next five minutes, ok?” Nick tried again.
“Next five minutes. Do I have to time this?” she wondered aloud, eyes sparkling playfully.
“You know what I mean,” Nick pointed out. “Other than that, we’ll play it by ear.”
“So, can I have a kiss? Or does that count as feeling you up?” Mavis grinned up at him.
“That doesn’t count as feeling me up,” Nick said, kissing her cheek.
“No, no, no, no, no. Not that kind of kiss,” Mavis protested.
“I know. I’m warming up,” he replied, ruefully. Mavis grinned at him again.
“You know I could help you with that. Can I help you with that…Or should I wait longer?” Nick sighed again. He was doing that a lot on this trip.
“Ok. Why don’t we just go sit on the couch, watch TV and wait for Delia to come back. Caleb! I meant Caleb,” he suggested, tipping his head at the sofa. Mavis nodded and took Nick’s hand.
“Help me up then,” she commanded mock-imperiously.
Nick lead his new boyfriend over to the couch and sat down as Mavis watched.
“You can sit down if you want,” he offered.
“Where?” Mavis asked, eyeing the unoccupied cushions.
“On the couch,” Nick said blandly. Mavis leaned over to smack him on the head. Nick ducked away from her hand.
“Hey! You’re hands are bigger! Just sit down,” he said.
“Ok,” Mavis said, voice carefully bland. She sat on the other end of the couch. Silence descended.
“Fine. Come here,” Nick sighed.
Mavis moved from her corner to Nick’s lap and snuggled in as he reached for the remote.
***
Delia shoved her key in the lock, letting Dean precede her into the room.
“Whoa! Sorry about that guys,” Dean said, startled. Delia stepped through the door as Dean backed up, bumping her chest.
“Who are you ?” Nick’s voice demanded, angrily.
“Nick, Jean, this is Dean,” Delia announced, nudging him back into the room. Tilting her head, Delia studied Nick and Mavis. Her mouth quirked.
“Were you two making out?” she asked, grinning. Mavis nodded happily as Nick blushed. Delia cackled, as she looped her arm around Dean’s waist.
“Go you two,” Delia acknowledged. Dean tilted his head back to look up at Delia.
“Go them?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Delia leaned down to kiss him quickly.
“We’re . . . new,” Mavis explained, looking over at Nick. Nick shrugged and nodded.
“Cool,” Dean acknowledged. Mavis turned a cunning glance on Delia.
“So, what have you been up to?” she drawled. Taking a cue from Nick, Delia blushed.
“Ummm,” she started. Dean leaned against Delia and smiled brightly. Mavis squealed.
“Were you two making out?” she demanded, bouncing to her feet.
“Hey,” Delia muttered, moving to take Mavis’s spot on the couch. “That’s my line.” Mavis made a dismissive buzz.
“So, did you kiss Bubba yet?” she asked, opening the door and leaning out.
“Nope,” Delia said, shoving Nick over and pulling Dean down between them.
“Kiss Bubba? Guy who lives down the hall, Bubba? Why?” Nick asked, appalled. Dean leveled a finger at Nick as he looked perplexedly at Delia.
“I’m with him on this one,” he agreed.
“She lost a bet,” Mavis announced, leaning further into the hallway. “BUBBA! Come here!” A moment later, Bubba appeared in the doorway.
“Yeah? Can I help you? Do I know you for that matter?” he asked, as Delia stood up, sighing wearily. Mavis giggled delightedly as she danced around Delia.
“Not exactly,” she said. Delia pushed Mavis away from her and Bubba.
“Do me a favor? Boing over there for a minute,” she suggested, turning to Bubba. “I’m really sorry about this.” Bubba dragged his gaze back from Mavis all but twitching in glee.
“Sorry about what?” he asked. Delia pressed her lips quickly against his by way of answer. Bubba jerked back, startled. Letting him go, Delia sat back down next to Dean. Mavis leapt forward to push Bubba back out the door.
“Thank you and goodnight,” she called, closing the door in his face.
“What the? Who ARE you people? Nice not meeting you by the way!” Bubba hollered through the door. Mavis jerked the door back open.
“Jean. Dean. Caleb. Nick,” she announced pointing at each of them in turn. Bubba looked startled.
“Bubba,” Mavis finished, pointing at him still in the doorway.
“Bye,” she said, closing the door again. As soon as it clicked home, Delia wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and looked at Dean.
“Kiss. Now. Please,” she asked. Laughing, Dean obliged.
“You know,” he observed, pulling back, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many gay men in one room before.” Nick snorted indignantly as Mavis resettled herself in his lap.
“I’m not gay,” he protested. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Bi. Whatever. So many men lacking in heterosexuality,” he corrected himself. Nick opened his mouth again. Mavis whapped him in the back of the head.
“Seeing as how we’re all guys,” she said pointedly. Nick closed his mouth. Delia laughed and twisted to dig the remote out from under her butt.
“TV?” she offered, pointing it at the screen. The other three shrugged, shifting to make themselves more comfortable on a couch not built for four full-grown men. Finally, Mavis turned sideways in Nick’s lap and crammed her feet under Dean’s thigh.
“Hope you don’t mind,” she grunted, wiggling until she could sit comfortably.
“Not at all,” Dean replied as Delia thumped her feet in his lap. Dean crossed his arms over her calves. The phone rang. Nick groaned from beneath Mavis. Leaning her head back to look over at the phone just out of arm’s reach Delia pursed her lips.
“So,” she drawled as the phone rang again. “Who’s getting that?” They stared at each other for a moment. After the fourth ring the answering machine kicked on. Mavis beamed.
“That’ll do. So, what’re we watching?”
***