Lamenting the time you were losing on account of Terri Walsh's intrusion, you continued to wander about the store. You hated how easily situations could crop up pushing your role in Randall's life from "best friend" to "student". Musing on the matter, you knew that Randall didn't like it any better than you did, but you were still the one constantly being pushed aside. Would it ever be okay for the two of you to be friends? At first you thought, Perhaps after I graduate... Letting go of the idea, you realized even if you weren't in high school, things wouldn't change much. Instead of "student", you would be "former student". Randall was like twelve years older than you now. Even without school, you were always going to be a bit too young. Maybe when we are a couple of geezers... You chuckled at the thought.
Looking down at the clock on your phone, you realized that you hadn't seen Randall in over an hour. You couldn't believe how long things seemed to be taking. Quickly you typed out a text.
You: Hey dude, what's taking so long? Any end in sight?
.....
Minutes passed and no response. Quickly you started combing the store, trying to see if you could spot them. Finally, you recognized Randall and Terri walking towards the door. You wanted to shout and wave, but didn't for obvious reasons. Was Randall leaving you here? Your shoulders sank as you watched them leave, amazingly still being able to see the hypnotic swing and bounce of Randall's bubble butt from this distance. What the hell am I supposed to do now? you wondered. A seventeen year old in furniture store on a Saturday night wasn't a good combination. The store had slowly been emptying as time passed and with Randall's sudden departure, it looked like you might be the only "customer" in the store, aside from employees who had been awkwardly gawking at you all afternoon.
Waiting only long enough to ensure that you wouldn't be spotted by Terri, you exited. The sun was setting and with the exception of a few cars, the parking lot was empty. The pink fiat was still where you had left it, though Randall was not.
"Great," you muttered, bitterly. Suddenly, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Randall. Relief washed over you.
Randall: Terri's dragging me to dinner with some friends of hers. Couldn't talk my way out of it. Sorry, Tim. : ( I'll be back as soon as I can. Promise.
Realizing that things had gone from bad to worse, you tossed your hands in the air. You stomach grumbled at bit as you silently kicked yourself, having left it back at the apartment.
Angrily, you sat down on the curb. After steaming for awhile, you started to try to pass the time. You poked around your phone, playing a couple of games. Quickly, you became bored, Angry Birds not providing much in the way of catharsis.
You contemplated calling Allison, now being as good a time to talk as any. Though you were tempted to relieve the boredom by calling, you honestly didn't know what to say, especially after (basically) cheating on her again with Randall.
"Hey, Allison! It's Tim, your shitty boyfriend. Just thought I'd let you know I fucked Randall again," you mockingly said to no one. You put away your phone. You really needed to step it up with your relationship, you guiltily reasoned to yourself. Allison deserves better from me... You couldn't imagine how terrible it would be if Allison discovered what you and Randall had been doing. You hoped you wouldn't ever have to find out. You promised yourself that you would start being a better boyfriend soon. The majesty of Randall's body was simply too impossible to resist. If it came down to choosing between Randall's friendship and your relationship with Allison, you sincerely didn't know which you would choose, though if push came to shove, your suspicion was that you would go "bros before hoes". You mused a bit that Randall, despite being the "bro" in that equation, actually had more in common with the "ho" portion these days, especially given your recent activities together.
You began to ponder the dilemma of your friendship. As much as you wanted to forget about it sometimes, the more you engaged yourself sexually with the Randall, the harder it was becoming to ignore that he was a woman. You desperately wanted Randall;s personality and the history of you being friends to somehow transcend the way he looked. Frankly, you thought it would be easier if he were someone, anyone else. Miss Card had always been your fantasy woman from the moment you first lay eyes on her. Courtesy of the accident, you felt that Randall had payed the ultimate price to bring your fantasy to life. You knew that wasn't the case, but lamenting the change in your friendship often made it seem that way.
Thinking back to the beginning, back in kindergarten, you had been assigned seats alphabetically by last name, Conors and Davis corresponding arbitrarily, but fortuitously in the long run. It seemed silly that sitting at the same desk when you were five had catalyzed your friendship with Randall, especially given that you were on the cusp of finishing high school now. Terri Walsh's words had stung, reminding you that in the eyes of the world, your best friend was supposed to be dead. Times like this, alone in a parking lot, away from home, with Randall cavorting with a bunch of other women, it certainly felt... You stopped. Other women... Shit, you thought, recognizing that your mind had categorized Randall as a woman. You shook your head, feeling upset for letting yourself slip. Randall is Randall. That was a step you were no where near ready to take. A part of you feeling that thinking of Randall as a woman, despite the obvious physical, let alone sexual evidence, was like letting a piece of your best friend die.
As time continued to slip away, minutes turned to hours. You began to consider the possibility that Randall might not actually come back. Your last few texts had gone unanswered. The only possibility you seemed to have available was one you loathed to consider: calling your mother. Her involvement would almost assure the end of your weekend with Randall, but as it was quickly progressing from Saturday evening to Saturday night and you were still alone in a parking it, it felt essentially over already. Sunday seemed to hold nothing but the promise of work, with packing up Randall's apartment having been ignored the last two days. The movers were arriving tomorrow afternoon, and at this rate, your mother might make an appearance anyway. As you decided to bite the bullet, your finger poised over the call button, you received a text from Randall.
Randall: Almost there, dude. Terri's dropping me off. Make yourself scarce!
No sooner had you finished reading the message, then you saw the glimmer of headlights heading down the otherwise desolate road. You ran to the corner of the building, keeping careful watch as the car pulled up next to the fiat. Randall appeared to stumble out of the car somewhat; a moment later it sped off. Jogging over to the car, you felt overwhelmingly relieved, the anger you felt at your desertion largely fading away.
"Welcome back," you said as you neared.
"TIM! Tim! I am... SO sorry! Randall exclaimed. His speech was slurred as he stumbled slightly toward you. He wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you close in a hug. You could feel the soft weight of his breasts press into you. It had been quite awhile since you last hugged Randall, it not being a common occurrence before and never happening since his transformation. The sweet scent of Miss Card filled your nose, as did the pungent smell of the booze on his breath. Releasing you, you slapped a pair of keys into your hand. "SoRry, buddy... You bETTer DriVe."
"Holy shit, man. How much did you have?" you asked, unlocking the car.
As you slide in behind the wheel, Randall replied, "Only what I needed to stay sane, Tim." A beat passed. "ObvIOUsly, A LOT."
"You lush," you laughed, starting the car.
Driving back to town, Randall drunkenly recounted his encounter with Terri Walsh. Initially, she was helpful in choosing furniture, but quickly pressed him into her dinner plans. Finding relief in round after round of margaritas, Randall unleashed a several, long, unbroken sentences rife with profanity and deprecating comments about the catty nature of Terri and her Booster Club cronies. Not a moment after, Randall was sound asleep and snoring loudly in the passenger seat. Your dozing friend reminded you of Sleeping Beauty. You were glad to be going back finally.
An hour later, you pulled smoothly into Randall's apartment complex parking lot. You still didn't like that it was pink, but you had to admit that driving the fiat was a lot of fun. Unfortunately, not strong enough to simply carry Randall inside, you supported your friend up the stairs and on into his bedroom. Finally, you flopped him onto the bed. Figuring you could leave him to his own devices, you start to leave.
"Tim!" he called, sounding semi-conscious. "Can you get these off me?" Randall kicked off the sandals he had been wearing and popped the solitary button on his jeans. He lifted his legs, waiting for you to comply. Gripping the hem, you peeled the skin tight jeans off of Miss Card's long and shapely legs. You bit your lip. Underneath, you were greeted by the sight of a pink g-string adorning Randall's pelvis. Sitting up suddenly, Randall pulled his shirt over his head and fumbled with his bra. Indicating the need for help, you popped the clasp on the back. As it fell aside, Randall's massive mammaries swung free. As unbelievably sexy as this sight was, it had been a long, day and you were eager to rest.
Giving Randall his space, you trudged back to living room, crashing out on the couch.
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