Satisfaction Guaranteed

by Samantha M. Derr

  He was already shaking his head before she could finish the sentence. "No! You're not reading this wrong..." There was that nervous look again, which would be way more adorable if he weren't totally going to shoot her down now.

  "It's just..." He swallowed, looked away, and then straightened up to his full height (a couple inches shorter than her, which meant he was even further below her because the booth was raised). Looking her straight in the eye, he told her, "Annabelle, I really like you. I mean, I'd really like to go out with you. Get to know you better. But..."

  Oh god, here it came. He didn't like her like that. He wasn't interested in women. He was married! He was actually a spy and couldn't be with anyone for fear of hurting them. He—

  "I'm, uh, transgender. I mean, I was born biologically a woman, but I identify as a man now."

  She stared at him for a moment. Oh. Not a spy. Right? That's what that meant, right? He still liked her? He liked women? He wasn't married? Please?

  "Shit, I'm sorry," he continued, looking sort of scared now. "I should have said something earlier. It's cool if you're not interested now that you know. I understand, seriously."

  He started to back away from her booth—crap, she couldn't exactly follow after him!—with his eyes on the ground. Before she could even open her mouth, he was walking away.

  "Whoa! Hey, wait!" she called out. Great, people were staring at the info booth girl that was yelling after a guest... Oh well, this was important. "Come back, you haven't even heard what I was going to say!"

  He looked startled, but he came back, even if he looked a hell of a lot less confident than he had before.

  "I didn't say it's a problem," she told him when he was finally close enough that she didn't have to yell. "'Cause. It's not. Okay? I don't care. I mean, unless you want me to care. I mean, I care but not in a bad way?"

  She could feel her face heating up even more and seriously what was with this guy and making her blush when her face was already hot just from the temperature. Still, at least he didn't look ready to jump ship now.

  "I mean, look, can we still go on a date?" she said, the word 'date' out of her mouth before she could stop it. Crap, that sounded really serious, didn't it? Not like just hanging out or going somewhere together. A date. "It doesn't have to be the beach if you're not comfortable wearing a swimsuit in public, or whatever. We could go somewhere else. Like In 'n' Out. Or, uh, the mall? I don't actually do this very often..."

  Lyle was grinning, confidence at least mostly back, and maybe also some amusement at her expense.

  "In 'n' Out sounds good," he murmured, pushing some hair behind his ear that was too short to actually stay there. She giggled in a completely embarrassing way and then sucked a lip into her mouth.

  "Here," she said then, pulling a pen and a pamphlet out of the pouch on her hip. She wrote down her number quickly, next to her name and a heart. What? Hearts are cute, okay? "Just, um, text me with your number and we'll figure out details."

  He grinned at her, his nose all scrunched up. "I should probably get out of here. I'll let you, like, actually do your job."

  And with that, he was practically bouncing away, leaving her to melt into a puddle of mush in the info booth. She was going on a date!

  *~*~*

  Annabelle was lying on her bed staring at her computer and bemoaning the fact that the scholarship essay she was writing had to be a thousand words (she was at three hundred and was pretty sure she had nothing else to say, ugh) when he texted. Her window was open so she could hear her neighbors talking loudly in Korean a few feet over and someone honking their horn on the street. She could hear her parents watching a cooking show in the kitchen while the smell of whatever they were making on the stove wafted happily into her room (just to torture her, she was sure, since she knew dinner wouldn't be for at least "two more hours, Belle, stop asking!").

  But now she had a text on her phone, chirping at her cheerfully and giving her a reprieve from essay writing at last.

  —Hey, it's Lyle.

  Annabelle absolutely did not break out into giggles, because a text like that absolutely did not warrant it. She also definitely did not slam her laptop shut a little more harshly than was perhaps necessary and then roll around on her bed for a second while she continued to not giggle. (Okay, there might have been a little bit of giggling).

  —Hey, Lyle— she typed back, eloquent as always. She hit send and then bit her lip and stared at her phone as if that would make her text sound better. That was such a conversation killer! How could she send such a stupid text? She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling while she agonized over whether it would be better to send another text or to just wait and see if he would say something else. After a good amount of time, like a whole thirty seconds or so, she decided that she definitely needed to send something else. Taking a deep breath, she rolled back over and stared at her phone a little bit more before beginning to type another message.

  —It's nice to hear from you. She immediately backspaced back to an empty screen. The text box stared at her threateningly, tauntingly, while she tried to come up with something clever and interesting to say. Of course every word in the English language decided to fly out of her mind at that exact moment leaving her glaring at her phone in frustration.

  She could practically hear Lyle's amused laughter in her ear when her phone chirped at her again, announcing that he had beat her to the punch. Damn it.

  —You come here often?

  Annabelle rolled her eyes, then bit back an amused smile. At least Lyle wasn't any smoother than her. Well, at least not much more smooth. Well, that was sort of smooth if it was intentionally bad. Crap, was he smooth? Was he laughing at how not smooth she was? She bit her lip, pushed those stupid thoughts aside, and pressed her thumbs to the screen of her phone again.

  —First time actually, but I might be convinced to come back.

  She hit send before she could overthink it and then immediately regretted it. She was obviously trying too hard. It was stupid. What was he even going to say to that? Ugh, why was she so bad at flirting? Why had she decided that this was a good idea? She should really just crawl into the space under her bed and then just stay there among the dusty boxes she kept hidden behind the bed skirt. Yep. That was definitely what she should do. Whoever thought it was a good idea for her to talk to real live people was obviously delusional about her abilities to be a rational adult.

  —Oh really? How might I convince you?

  "Oh my god, I love you," she whispered at her phone, definitely not creepy at all. But that was the perfect response. He liked her text! Probably. Anyway, he had been able to come up with a response to it and that was what was really important. So maybe she had a fear that she was somehow going to manage to kill the conversation and then he was never going to text her again. Thank god he was at least a little bit less awkward than her.

  Her neighbors decided that was the moment to start yelling about something—she suspected it was at the television, because she had maybe spent more time than was socially acceptable staring out her window and into their living room, and that was not uncommon. She stared at her phone and decided right then that she should probably not tell anyone about that. Also, that staring at her phone was way too common a theme in her life.

  While she was contemplating all the things that were wrong with her life, it occurred to her that she should probably respond to Lyle's text before he thought she had forgotten about him. Because she totally hadn't. Her neighbors were just really distracting, okay?

  —Telling me when you're available on Friday prolly wouldn't hurt.

  Damn she was smooth. Annabelle smiled to herself, because that was definitely a good response. Definitely. Because now she was nailing down plans for Friday. That was good... right? Crap, what if it ended the conversation too soon though? What if she was moving too fast? Did they need to text more before she started talking about their... their... date? (There, she said it. Date. Yeah...) What was
the protocol for text flirting?

  But then he was replying back with a time and okay, so it wasn't as flirty and fun as their previous texts, but she also felt like she was back on solid ground a little bit because this was straightforward. There was no second-guessing his meaning or wondering if her responses were wrong. Well, at least not as much wondering if her responses were wrong.

  Before she could make an attempt at turning it back into a casual conversation, her parents called her in for dinner.

  "I thought you said two hours, at least," she whined, plugging her phone into the charger on the counter after sending Lyle a quick text that she had to go.

  Her dad rolled his eyes at her from where he was standing over the stove and then told her to get out the plates and enjoy the food he had "slaved over just for you, after working hard all day to provide for you." Now it was Annabelle's turn to roll her eyes while her mom chuckled at the kitchen table.

  *~*~*

  —So why do you go by Annabelle and not something shorter? Lyle texted her late that night. She was lying in bed, trying to talk herself into getting some sleep so she wouldn't be cranky at work the next day when her phone lit up the room. She stared at it, contemplating if it would be rude to wait to reply until the morning so she could actually get some sleep for once... And then decided, what the hell, it wasn't like she was going to fall asleep anyway.

  Before she could reply, however, Lyle had sent back two more messages in quick succession.

  —Doesn't that get kind of hard to say?

  —Not that it's bad. I like it. I'm just curious.

  She waited a moment to see if he would say something else, and then started to type something out. Before she could finish, however, he had sent another one.

  —You don't have to tell me. Sorry.

  She was laughing at how awkward he sounded, making her suddenly feel better about how awkward she was pretty sure she always sounded.

  —Hahaha it's okay— she texted back, biting her lip, wondering how best to respond. She didn't want to just say because that's my name, because that implied that his name was less valid, since she was pretty sure that wasn't his birth name. But that was mostly the truth. She settled for:

  —I just like it. It's like, I just like the way it all sounds together. My dad calls me Belle, but he's the only one who's allowed to since he's been doin it forever.

  She hit send and then stared at her phone because, huh, that was actually probably truer than it's just my name. Cool.

  —What about you? Where'd Lyle come from? Annabelle stopped before sending. Was it okay to ask? Was it too soon to be asking questions like that? No, he had just asked her about her name, so he had left himself open for her to ask. She nodded to herself. Yeah, she could totally ask that. She hit send.

  There was a long pause that might not have actually been that long if Annabelle had been doing anything besides staring at her phone and second-guessing herself, and then finally his reply came back.

  —My parents named me Lila and I didn't hate that name so I just picked the closest male equivalent.

  She closed her eyes as it finally really hit her that Lyle hadn't always been a guy. Or at least, people hadn't always referred to him as a guy anyway. She thought about how much that probably sucked and then grabbed for her phone again.

  —Were you parents cool with that?

  Once again, she decided that the best course of action was probably to hit send before she could think too hard about it, even if she did start hyperventilating when she did. That was way too invasive. Why the hell had she asked that?

  Before she could start all out panicking, Lyle sent back a reply.

  —Yeah. It was a little hard just with the pronoun change, but I'd been calling myself Lyle for years and I think they knew.

  —Oh, thank god, she replied, figuring that about summed up her response. She was really afraid that she had just turned the conversation into the darkest corner she could have. Also, she was really glad to hear that the transition didn't suck for him.

  She laughed with relief when he replied almost automatically:

  —Tell me about it. I was freaking out when I decided to tell them that I definitely wasn't a girl and then my dad was just like excited he had a son. I mean, he no joke started crying and patting my back.

  Annabelle grinned at her phone screen, unable to stop herself.

  —That sounds awesome, she replied. —When I told my parents I wasn't straight, they just started telling me their college stories, and yeah there are just some things you don't need to know about your parents.

  Lyle messaged back a winky face and a lololol and then she had to tell him that she should really go to bed.

  —Good I hate seeing you look so tired at work.

  And there he went again, making her blush outrageously. She threw her blanket over her head and then allowed herself a nice spaz out under the covers, kicking at the mattress and giggling uncontrollably. He was so cute and perfect and ugh! She made a noise that could only be described as a squeal, trying to muffle it in her pillow so she didn't wake up her parents, and then swore that she would never admit to anyone that she had done that. When she had calmed down a little bit, she scooted back out from under her blanket and texted him a simple good night!

  *~*~*

  Lyle either didn't come to the park on Thursday or else Annabelle just didn't see him. When she texted him during her break, he didn't say where he was, just that he was dying to see her on Friday. Which, okay, it might have made her day, even getting her through the crying kid who had screamed at her every time she tried to help him.

  Friday came with more incredibly hot weather, but luckily Annabelle wasn't working, so she finally got to don her own pair of sandals. Add to that shorts and a tank top and she was feeling pretty good. Well, except for the nervous sweating. She was sitting inside her air-conditioned car, so she couldn't even blame it on the heat outside. She tapped a rhythm into the wheel and tried to talk herself into getting out of the car and walking across the parking lot to the In 'n' Out. She was a couple minutes early though and she hadn't seen him come in yet. She definitely did not want to be sitting in there alone while she waited. She also didn't want to make him do that, but she was afraid that if she went in there now and had to wait for too long, she would just walk back out and drive away.

  Deep breaths. She could totally do this. She closed her eyes for a moment, sucked in air through her nose and then breathed out through her mouth. She should turn off the engine before she wasted too much gas. Gas prices this summer definitely weren't being friendly to her minimum wage paychecks.

  When she opened her eyes again and looked back at the entrance, she noticed sun bleached hair and tanned skin and realized that Lyle was here. He was locking up a green mountain bike near the front door and for the first time since she had seen him around, he was actually wearing tennis shoes. After another moment of staring at him, Annabelle pulled the key out of the ignition and got out of the car, deciding that she would lay off the creeping.

  "Lyle, hey!" she yelled out, slamming her door behind her. Then she stopped because, oh god, did she just yell at him across a busy parking lot? Judging by the random people who turned to look her way, yes. Yes, she did. At least it got Lyle's attention, which was actually the point, so... Okay, she was going to stop overanalyzing now. Even if it was weird of her to now have to cross the parking lot while he was staring at her, and okay he was grinning which made it sort of nice. Like he was actually happy to see her, and wow, this was great actually. Oh, and she was blushing again. Okay. This was apparently a thing with Lyle, but at least now she could blame the heat.

  "Hey," she said when she had finally reached the spot where Lyle was standing, hands in his pockets, next to his bike. Lyle looked up at her, biting his lip in a way that she was pretty sure meant he was nervous, which thank god. She seriously did not want to be the only one who was nervous about this.

  "Hey, Annabelle," he replied. Oh
no, please don't let this get awkward. And then he was grinning that stupid grin that she was already falling in love with—whoa, Annabelle, slow your roll there. She stopped that train of thought right in its tracks because no. She was way too young and this was way to soon. So yeah. None of that.

  "So, how've you been?" he asked, opening the door with more flourish than a fast food restaurant probably warranted. A family walked out with grateful nods toward Lyle, who merely nodded his head in a way that somehow seemed overly confident while still being humble. Or maybe Annabelle just read into everything a little bit more than necessary.

  "It's been so long," he continued, waving her into the In 'n' Out. "How's the family? How's work?"

  Annabelle rolled her eyes, but couldn't quite bite back a smile. "Well, I didn't see you all day yesterday, so it was definitely more boring than usual."

  There was definitely some pink in Lyle's cheeks when she said that, but she wasn't going to say anything if he didn't.

  "Yeah, well, my day was pretty boring sitting home all day too," he told her, leaning his face forward and looking up at her in this adorable way that had her wrinkling her nose back at him.

  "Why weren't you at the park yesterday?" she asked him, genuinely curious. She smiled at him crookedly. "You're usually there like every day."

  He shrugged. "Couldn't be there the day before a date. It's bad luck, didn't you know?"

  Annabelle stared at him maybe a little longer than she should have before she replied. "No, it's not! You just made that up."

  And now he was grinning again and seriously, could he not do that? She didn't think she could handle that stupid, happy look on his face that much because there was something weird happening in her stomach and her heart and honestly, that could not be healthy. She was pretty sure her internal organs weren't supposed to do weird things.