“You have a date?” Gigi squealed. She jumped up off the couch and cpped her hands excitedly, “Oh my god Em! That’s so exciting!”

  “No!” I protested, “Gigi, it’s not like that!”

  It was too te. My roommate was already springing around the apartment excitedly, “This is so great, Em! I knew you would find a girl out there who would see how amazing you are. Oh shit, it’s Valentine’s Day too! That’s so cute, Em, but it’s gonna be so hard to get a table anywhere. Maybe you could go for a picnic, or–”

  “Gigi!” I grabbed her by the wrist, nearly getting yanked off my feet in the process. God, I really needed to start going to the gym or something. “I’m serious, it’s not like that. It’s just as friends.”

  “Okay, okay,” Gigi settled down, but she was still grinning widely, “Just as friends, sure. One of those casual friend Valendates. Do you need me to clear out of the apartment tonight?”

  “No!” I squeaked, “Gigi, for real, it’s just as friends. It’s not even a girl, okay? It’s Tony.”

  Gigi’s jaw dropped, “Tony? Like, Sexy Tony?”

  “Just as friends!” I reminded her sternly, “He asked me, okay? I mentioned, you know, that I’d never been on a date before…”

  “Aww, Em,” Gigi said softly, “That’s so sweet. I knew I liked Tony.”

  “Yeah,” I blushed, “He’s nice.”

  She grinned again, “And hot. Way to go, Em.”

  “It’s not like that!” I snapped, “Come on, Gigi. You know I don’t like guys.”

  “I know, I know,” she waved airily, “Me neither. But you gotta admit he’s a catch.”

  Gigi had been my roommate for the past two years, ever since I moved out of my grandma’s pce to start college. She was proudly asexual and aromantic, which, as she often reminded me, meant she was perfectly positioned to judge people’s hotness, because she had no implicit bias.

  Gigi had a lot of energy, which could be a bit daunting at times. When we first moved in together, I had pnned to avoid her, but she made it very clear that was not gonna be an option. I eventually got used to her, and now she was the only girl I didn’t get nervous talking to. Besides my grandma, obviously.

  Actually, including my grandma. Grammy could be pretty scary sometimes.

  “So what’s the pn?” Gigi said, “You gonna go see a movie or something?”

  “Um. I don’t know,” I blushed, “He said he would pick me up at six, but I forgot to ask where we’re going.”

  “He’s picking you up?” Gigi grinned, “What a gentleman.”

  “Yeah,” I said absent-mindedly. Crap, now that I thought about it, I really should have asked what the pn was, “Do you think I’m dressed okay?”

  “Definitely not,” Gigi said at once.

  “Gigi!”

  “Sorry!” she said, but she didn’t seem sorry. She pointed at my outfit, piece by piece, “I already told you those sneakers have got to go. They’re falling apart. Those pants straight up do not fit you properly, let alone actually looking good. And you’re literally wearing your uniform shirt from work.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, “I didn’t realize this was a code inspection.”

  Gigi grinned. She was studying architecture, and sometimes she treated everything like she was pnning a new building project. “Sorry, Em. This outfit needs to be condemned.”

  “So what am I meant to wear?” I said, “I can change my shirt, but basically all my clothes look like this. I don’t have anything good!”

  “That’s because you’re still wearing the clothes your grammy bought you in high school,” Gigi said with an arched eyebrow, “You’re a big boy now, Em. You gotta go shopping for yourself.”

  “Well, that doesn’t help me now!” I said. I’d had csses right after my shift, and now there was only half an hour until Tony was supposed to pick me up. I was starting to panic. Gigi was right, I looked like shit, I looked like a loser who had been dressed by his grandma. It wasn’t my fault clothes shopping sucked so much! Was I supposed to enjoy trying on a bunch of clothes that were meant for bigger, stronger men, and just emphasized how much I didn’t measure up?

  “Okay, it’s okay,” Gigi soothed, “Em, look at me.”

  “I’m gonna look like shit,” I whined.

  “It’s okay!” Gigi said, “I was making a big deal out of nothing, Em. It’s just a friend date, right? Tony won’t mind what you wear.”

  “But what if he does!” I protested, “He said I was cute, and… and I’m not cute, Gigi. And I don’t even like him or anything, but this is my first time I’ve ever been asked on a date, even though it’s not a real date, and if he shows up and I look like shit, what if he calls it off? I can’t be rejected from a fake date, Gigi, that’s just… that’s so pathetic…”

  “I’m sure he won’t call it off…” Gigi started.

  “Maybe he will!” I whined, “Have you seen the types of people Tony dates? The girls are so pretty, and the guys are so big, and strong, and masculine, and they’re all so hot, Gigi! I don’t know what he expects me to do! I don’t look like that! I’m not hot! I’m not even cute!”

  “Okay, stop,” Gigi said firmly, “Em, look at me. You are cute. Okay? Objectively. You’re super cute. You just don’t have the right clothes to show it off. Luckily for you, I do.”

  I stared at her, “What? Gigi, I can’t wear…”

  “I’m not gonna put you in a dress or anything,” Gigi reassured me, “But we’re basically the same size, Em. Let me at least find you some shoes that don’t have holes in the toes.”

  My face burned, but Gigi was right. If anything, she was a little taller than me, and it wasn’t like she dressed super feminine or anything. I reluctantly agreed and sat on her bed while she dug through her wardrobe. I fidgeted uncomfortably until at st she turned around.

  “Here,” she said, with a satisfied smile, “This should work.”

  I took the outfit she id out and eyed it warily. The truth it, it didn’t look that bad. Dark blue jeans, a bck long-sleeved top, and a pair of brown ankle boots. It was totally unobjectionable, and Tony probably wouldn’t even notice anything was off. But I couldn’t just agree to wear women’s clothing. I was a man. Men didn’t do that.

  “Gigi, I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said.

  “It is,” said Gigi.

  “But–”

  “It’s a good idea, Em,” she insisted, “Look, just try them on, okay? I promise I won’t make fun of you or anything. If you feel uncomfortable you can take them off and we’ll figure something else out. No harm, no foul.”

  She made a good point, but I was sure I should resist a little more, “Why do the boots have a heel?”

  “Boo, nice try,” Gigi said, “It’s like a one inch heel. There are cowboy boots with bigger heels than that. And that’s cow-boy, as in boy, as in these are basically men’s shoes. Go change already, you dork.”

  I sighed and traipsed to my room. Gigi was right, the clothes really weren’t so bad. The jeans looked kind of tight, so I couldn’t wear boxers under them, but that was fine. I had always preferred tight briefs, anyway, so things weren’t dangling awkwardly. Not that I had a whole lot to dangle…

  I changed into the jeans and inspected myself in the mirror. They actually fit really well, clinging to my legs, somehow making them look toned and slim and maybe even a little longer than usual. I didn’t mind that. Taller was always better. I turned my hips, and my stomach dropped. Oh, crap. These things really showed off my butt. The stretchy denim clung tight, lifting my cheeks, making my ass look rounder and perkier than I ever expected it to look. I blushed and looked away. I was just imagining it, surely. Besides, Tony wouldn’t be looking at my butt. He had plenty of other butts to look at. I took a deep breath. This was fine.

  The top was next, and that was fine too. The fabric was lighter and softer than I was used to, and actually felt really nice against my skin. Unfortunately, it didn’t come down very far, so there was no chance of it covering my butt. But that was okay, I reminded myself. Nobody would be looking at my butt. I had to stop being so obsessed with my own butt.

  The colr of the shirt was a little strange. It was kind of like a regur t-shirt colr, but it was a bit lower, and a bit wider, showing off my colrbones and a hint of my smooth, delicate chest. I frowned. On somebody else, like Tony, this top would be showing off well-define pecs and rugged chest hair. But on me, it looked almost… feminine.

  I blushed and pushed the thought away. Okay, look. Maybe a couple of times I had thought about wearing women’s clothing before. Maybe I had even read a couple of stories about it online. But that was just pretend, and just when I was feeling… well, when I was feeling a certain kind of way. This wasn’t like that, not at all. I was not dressing up like a girl. I was just borrowing my girl friend’s clothes. For a date. With a man.

  As friends!

  I forced myself not to think about it, and pulled on the boots. I zipped them up and took a couple of tentative steps in front of the mirror. I really didn’t look so bad, actually. And the heels made me a little taller, which I couldn’t help but smile at. I looked good. Maybe not the epitome of masculinity, but I looked cute, like Tony said.

  “Are you done?” Gigi called out from behind the door.

  “Y–” I started, and by that point Gigi had already burst in and was excitedly buzzing around me.

  “Oh my god, Em, you look so good!” she squealed, “I told you this was a good idea! You look cute as all fuck, Em. If I was the type of person who dated people, I would totally date you.”

  I blushed and took another look in the mirror. I really did look pretty good. I grinned at Gigi cheekily, “Well, too bad. I’m taken tonight.”

  Gigi ughed and nudged my shoulder, “Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t try and steal you from your man.”

  “Gigi!” I flinched, “He’s not… he’s not my man, Gigi.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. My face was burning hot right now. Suddenly this didn’t feel like such a good idea. What was I doing? This was all so stupid. So crazy. The thought of actually going on a date with Tony Pérez, the thought of him being my man, the thought of someone stealing me from him, like I was his possession, something precious that he owned…

  “Not yet,” Gigi teased, “But maybe if tonight goes well…”

  “No!” I snapped. I shook myself out of my stupid, sick little trance. “This is not a date, Gigi! I’m not gay! I’m not into Tony! You said you were gonna help me and not make fun of me, and now you’re being really mean, and…”

  I could feel myself starting to hyperventiting and desperately tried to slow down. Gigi waved her hands frantically.

  “Sorry!” she said, and this time she really meant it, “I’m sorry Em, I was just joking. You look so good, that’s all, and I got excited, but I know it’s not a date! I was just being silly. Silly Gigi! D’oh!”

  I took a deep breath, calming myself. Gigi was right. It was just a joke. I was being stupid. I took another look in the mirror and winced. My face was all red and blotchy now. I didn’t look cute at all.

  “What’s wrong?” Gigi asked. I gestured at my stupid blotchy face and she bit her lip. “Okay. I have another idea. But you have to promise not to freak out.”

  I eyed myself critically, “Ski mask?”

  “Make-up.”

  It took another five minutes of arguing, and Gigi reminding me that make-up wasn’t permanent, and finally agreeing that if I hated it she would wash the dishes for the next two months, but eventually I let her sit me down at her mirror and put a tiny amount of foundation and concealer on me.

  “You barely need it,” she said as she worked, “I’m just putting the tiniest, tiniest bit on.”

  The tiniest, tiniest bit seemed to involved brushing make-up over my entire face, from my hairline to about halfway down my neck. I watched her work in the mirror and tried not freak out. My grandma would be furious if she saw what I was doing. But I didn’t need to worry about what grammy thought tonight. Just about what Tony thought.

  Hopefully he didn’t think I was a freak.

  “I’m really not sure about this,” I said.

  “Just wait…” Gigi murmured, working away at my face with the same precision she used to assemble model buildings, “I just gotta blend this out…”

  At st she sat back with a smile, “See?”

  I checked my face in the mirror and my eyes widened. The difference was almost imperceptible, and yet somehow undeniable. It barely looked like Gigi had done anything, except for the fact that my skin now looked smoother, and warmer, and blemish free. I had expected the makeup to feel greasy and uncomfortable, but even that wasn’t an issue. I stared at Gigi in surprise.

  She grinned, “Oh, what’s that face? Gigi was right again?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, “Thanks, I guess…”

  “It’s lucky we’re such a good color match,” Gigi mused, “Anyway… since I’m on such a winning streak…”

  She held up a couple of ominous make-up cylinders. I frowned, “What are those supposed to be?”

  “Mascara–”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “And lip gloss.”

  “No!”

  “Come on, Em!” she whined, “You gotta let me add the finishing touches! The ornamentation is the best bit!”

  “I’m not a townhouse, Gigi,” I warned her, “And I’m not wearing mascara. There’s gotta be a limit.”

  “Okay, fine,” she said, “He wouldn’t even be able to tell, though. And it would really make your eyes pop. But fine. Now pucker up.”

  “I’m not wearing lipstick either!”

  “It’s just gloss!” she protested, “It’s not even tinted or anything, it’ll just make your lips look a little, you know! Glossy!”

  “Why would I want that?” I said.

  “You liked the foundation, right?” she said. I shifted uncomfortably, not willing to admit I did, “Well, this is basically the same thing, but for your lips. It’s not changing anything, it’s just a little, like, zhuzh.”

  “Zhuzh?”

  “Zhuzh,” she said firmly.

  I sighed, “Fine. Zhuzh me up.”

  Gigi was right about the lip gloss. You really couldn’t tell, unless you were looking. And nobody would be looking, I assured myself again. There was no reason for Tony to go anywhere near my lips. This was just about making sure I was living up to his expectations.

  Gigi zhuzhed up my hair a bit, too, turning it from the usual nk mop into something swoopy and fluffy and, okay, cute. By this point I was getting tired, and I barely compined when she added a thin gold neckce and a couple of rings to my fingers.

  “Ornamentation,” she insisted, “Rings are the crown moulding of the fingers.”

  I was about to dispute that, when my phone dinged. A text from Tony popped up, in huge letters on my lockscreen. After a couple of te replies to my grammy, I had learned my lesson and changed my notification settings to ensure that my text alerts were unmissable.

  [HEY EMMETT! I’M OUTSIDE. READY FOR OUR DATE?]

  “Crap,” I whispered.

  “You look great, Em,” Gigi squeezed my shoulder reassuringly, “Have a fun night.”

  “Okay,” I took a deep breath and slipped my phone into my pocket.

  Or tried to, anyway.

  “What the hell?” I said, “What’s up with these pockets?”

  “Oh, right,” Gigi winced, “Um. I could loan you a purse?”

  “Gigi!”

  “Okay, okay!” she scrambled and grabbed a tote bag from the hook on her door, “Here! You can toss your phone and wallet in this. And your lip gloss, in case you need touch-ups. And I’m gonna throw in the mascara–”

  “Ugh! Fine!” I snatched the bag and stormed for the door. At the st second I turned back to Gigi.

  She was bouncing anxiously on her toes, watching me with a nervous smile.

  “Um,” I took another deep breath, “Gigi, thank you for helping me get dressed up for my date. That was really nice of you. Sorry I was such a baby about it.”

  “Aw, Em!” she beamed and gave me another hug, “My pleasure. I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable to show Tony the real you, okay? Because you are great, Em.”

  I wasn’t so sure about all that, but I nodded and made my way outside.