Was this a drastic pendulum swing? Sure. But if I can pull this off, the cute outfits I dream of wearing daily will feel easy.
I pull at the hem of these shorts nervously, admiring the flattering cut of them while also melting down about showingoff myentirelegs in them. Seriously. They cover about two inches of my upper thigh. It’s next-level scary.
Pretty sure my mom called them “hot pants” when I showed them to her after my last shopping haul. I just call them short shorts. They’re black, they look like leather, and I’ve never in my entire life worn anything like them.
I’ve paired them with this teeny little hot pink crop top that shows some serious skin, and it makes me wish I had more curves to fill out this outfit. Pretty sure this could look seriously great on the right body, maybe not mine, but I had to try something. I topped it all off with the single pair of heels I own, some four inchers I bought on a whim but have never had an excuse to wear before. And afullface of makeup (is it supposed to feel this thick?) for probably the first time in my life. Okay, definitely the first time in my life.
I look…different. Ifeeldifferent.Sexy. For the first time in my life, I realize.
If I put on a push up bra and stick my butt out, you might almost confuse me for a girl Aaron would date.
The thought gives me almost enough courage to go out there and face him after one final pat down. Nothing else jumps out at me to fix, so it must be time.
Deep breaths, Gemma. You can do this.
I walk down the stairs in slow motion, because this moment is clearly being brought to you by Hallmark.
His deep blue eyes look up from his phone as I come into his view, and he’s visibly breathless from the sight of me, with my true beauty finally revealed.
His mouth works, moving silently, wordlessly, as he stammers. Finally, a lifetime later, when I make it to the foot of the stairs and stop directly in front of him, he speaks.
“You…you look so beautiful, Gem. I’ve been so blind. It’s always been you.”
He leans in to kiss me—I snap out of the reverie.
It’ll be just like you’ve been imagining, Gemma. Go down there and rock his world. You guys are meant for each other, and he’ll finally realize it.
Except when I come down the stairs of my childhood home, he doesn’t look up until I’m at the bottom. Thankfully, because I definitely almost ate it at least twice on the way down. These heels feel like they were meant to be worn in front of a mirror, not walking down the stairs.
And when Aaron stands from the couch to collect me so we can go to this industry party he got invited to, he stops still, just like I imagined he would all those times.
Then his hand comes to his eyes and he covers them dramatically.
I expected him to try to soak in as much of me as possible, but I guess he needs a second to compose himself. It is alotmore of me than he’s used to seeing, after all. Maybe my newly femme body is just too much for him to handle without breaking down into tears.
I alternate the way I’m distributing my weight on my legs, switching up my pose, popping one leg straight out in front of me to lengthen my physique, as the article online said to do, and put my left hand on my hip as I wait for him to hurry up and collect himself and sweep me off my feet.
After a small eternity—at least my daydream got that part right—he removes his hand from his eyes, peeling one finger back at a time until he can see me again. He lets out an actual squeak when he takes me in fully, realizing I’m not from his dreams, this is his real life.
And then the screaming starts.
“WHAT are you wearing?” I predicted the incredulity right, but I think I hoped for more admiration in his tone? That’s okay. I can work with this.
“Do you like it?” I've never heard my voice so sultry before.
“NO!” Aaron actually bellows, gesturing at me wildly, like he wants to push me out of his vision. Instead, he settles for covering his face again (this time with both hands) and turning around so he can’t see me.
I’m starting to rethink this outfit. If the way my stomach is hurting is any indication, I’m about to have diarrhea, and these short shorts are going to donothingto hide that fact from the man I would do anything to be truly seen by. Butthisisn’t how any of this is supposed to go.
“What do you mean?” I’m just glad he can’t see my lip trembling from rejection of the first move I’ve ever made, because thisstings.
Without turning around, Aaron swings one arm behind him wildly, gesturing up and down roughly at my body. “Thatis not clothing, Gemma.”
“This is what half the girls there will be wearing, Aaron. Itabsolutelycounts as clothing.”
He turns around, his hands now both sunk deep into his light brown hair, pulling at it from the roots, and I wish I were creating this reaction in him out of white-hot need, but this just feels like the worst kind of nightmare coming to life.
Those gorgeous blue eyes stay firmly locked on mine as he begins to berate me. Like he’ll get something contagious if his eyes dip below my chin. “No, Gemma. No. Absolutely not. You are not leaving the house like this. You look like a?—”
