The View From the Sidelines

Gary couldn't believe he'd actually made it to cheer practice. More importantly, he couldn't believe he was going through with it.

The whole day had crawled past him like some weird dream he couldn't wake from; walking the school hallways barely dressed, being called Lisa by everyone he spoke to, being hit on by every guy he encountered. And now here he was, standing on the edge of the football field in a microscopic cheer uniform that felt more like a sexy parody, a costume from some trashy website for college girls with low self-esteem. The pleated skirt flirted with every breeze like it wanted to rat him out. The tight top clung to him in ways he did not approve of. And the stockings masquerading as sports socks did everything they could to draw men's eyes up Gary's thighs.

Every guy he passed in the hallway had nearly walked into a locker.

But that was the point, wasn’t it?

If the universe wanted to slap a cosmic joke on him, make him irresistibly hot to anyone with a Y chromosome, then maybe he could use that curse to fix everything. Raise money. Fix reality. Fix Wyatt. Fix himself.

And cheer practice was... well, practice.

Practice for being looked at.

Practice for being seen.

Practice for performing.

He took a breath. "This is stupid," he muttered. "Humiliating. Objectifying. Horrible."

Also: "Probably effective."

The cheer captain clapped her hands sharply. "Ladies! Eyes up! We've got a new girl today." Her grin flashed wicked. "His name is Lisa. Let's welcome him to the team!"

Gary swallowed hard as a chorus of cheerful waves and "hi!"s rose around him.

"Uh... hi," he said.

The captain put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. First day. Just watch us run the routine."

Gary nodded. Watching he could do. After all, who didn't like watching hot girls dance? He wasn't made of stone.

The cheerleaders moved into formation, and he stood at the sidelines trying not to tug at his skirt every six seconds. God, why was it so small? Why was his so small when the other girls were wearing normal, less sexy uniforms. It had to be illegal. Or cursed. Or both.

Then he realized what he'd thought.

Other girls.

It was getting to him. Whatever it was that was changing the world around him was starting to impact him, too. Already he couldn't say his own name. He could barely think it. But as time went on, he found himself thinking of himself as one of the women at the school, not a man as he'd been his whole life.

It was terrifying.

But he forgot all about the uniform, his gender problems, or even his self-image the moment he realized how many people were scattered across the bleachers.

Not a crowd.

A following.

Most of the football team. Half the guys from his classes. A handful of male teachers pretending they were "supervising." All of them watching him with the same subtle hunger, like he was a new show premiering tonight and they had already marked it on their calendars.

And, of course, Wyatt.

She was sitting alone in the middle row, legs crossed, chin tilted slightly down like she was trying not to smirk. The second she caught his eye she lifted her hand and idly played with her cleavage. Then she uncrossed her legs... slowly... then crossed them again, like she was doing her own cursed impression of Basic Instinct.

Heat flooded Gary's face.

He had permission to stare at her now, didn't he? She had told him at lunch. Look, she'd said. Enjoy. And when he looked, how could he not enjoy it? Still, even though he knew that it was what she wanted, it felt wrong somehow. Like he was some sort of peeping Tom, spying something that wasn't for his eyes. And yet, at the same time, he thoroughly knew that what he was seeing was for his eyes alone.

For years, as Wyatt's friend, only Gary had been able to see her for what she was. She wasn't a loser, like their bullies would have wanted people to think, nor was she hopeless, like the women who consistently rejected her had told her. No, Wyatt had always been a good friend, a loyal companion, a young man with a bright future waiting to unfold. Not once had Gary believed the words those idiots had heaped on Wyatt, and that was because Gary knew who Wyatt was, who she truly was.

Now that reality had changed, that seemed to Gary to be one constant. Only he could see Wyatt for who she really was.

Only who she was had really changed.

Gone was the small, shy, mousy young man who had cowered at the thought of too much attention, too much spotlight. The new Wyatt was made for the spotlight. She seemed to crave it. And the only place she was going to get it was in Gary's own eyes. Was it cruel to deny her the one thing she wanted?

He imagined himself sitting in a dark bar, alone at a table, a half-empty beer in front of him. The music suddenly swelled, lights began to dance. Suddenly, on the stage just in front of Gary, Wyatt stepped out. She was wearing nothing but a g-string, pasties, and clear platform shoes. Holding onto the brass bar on the stage, she began to dance, if you could call it that. It was more like pouring liquid seduction directly into Gary's eyes.

His beer forgotten, Gary drowned in desire as he watched his childhood friend wrap herself around the pole, all the while knowing that her eyes were locked on one person.

Him.

Alone in the bar, as they were, Gary wondered what was stopping him from climbing on the stage with her, holding her, touching her, taking her. By the look in her eyes, she would welcome it. It would be so easy. She was so close. He began to climb to his feet...

"Lisa!"

Gary blinked.

Sweat trickled down his spine.

He wasn't at the sidelines anymore.

He was in formation.

Bent at the waist, ass facing the crowd, head turned to face them as if giving them a look daring them to enjoy the view.

"Oh my God," a voice said from the stands.

The captain beamed at him. "Great practice, girls! Especially you, Lisa. First practice and already hitting advanced poses? Amazing!"

Gary stood straight, quickly smoothing his skirt, but the damage was already done.

Every eye in the bleachers—every single one—was glued to one specific place.

His ass.

Gary swallowed.

Hard.

His idea to make money was insane.

Humiliating.

Mortifying.

Ridiculous.

But looking at the hungry, stunned audience?

Yeah.

It was absolutely going to work.