If. If Grace was a lesbian then... well, that had to mean Johnathan was a girl, right?

Well, yes. She reasoned that made sense, though, after a moment's reflection... not the way she initially thought. The fact Grace was attracted to her probably didn’t actually prove anything. If she was fairly androgynous to start with (like people told her) then wasn’t she just sort of the real life equivalent of those anime characters that were secretly guys? Steve and Andy always insisted it wasn’t gay for a guy to be attracted to them, so it clearly wasn’t straight for a woman to be attracted to someone in the same category either. So Grace could have been a lesbian and attracted to a sufficiently pretty guy, right?

But, she reasoned, a lesbian put all her effort into being attractive to other lesbians, so someone who was attracted to a lesbian was probably a woman... right? And she was absolutely hopeless for Grace. So, that all added up. Probably.

Also, though, she was still topless and Carlos was still in the room, seeming vaguely amused. Though she had no idea where he’d gotten the popcorn from.

“Finished with your revelation, dear?” he asked.

“I... I think so,” she replied. “I... I think I’m a lesbian. So, um, also a girl.”

“Fem or butch? Aesthetic-wise, at least. I am here to give you a new wardrobe,” Carlos asked.

“Uhhh... I might need some help understanding all of that... and, can I put my shirt back on?”

“Of course, dear. I don’t care one way or the other. Now... the basics are: do you want to dress more girly-girl or more... shall we say ‘tomboyish’? My first hand experience with trans women is limited, but I have generally heard you lot have widely ranging goals. As well as the need for quite a lot of fashion advice as a demographic.”

“Well... I’m a lesbian, so masculine?” she said.

“Oh... dear... you really know almost nothing about queer culture, do you?” Carlos replied.

All she could manage as a reply was a somewhat forced smile that led to a sigh from Carlos. 

“I’ll call Arlene...” he said.

It turned out that Arlene was one of Carlos’ many protegées, specifical a short and stocky blonde lesbian who wore suspenders and a bowtie. The woman drew Johnathan into a whirlwind of information about lesbian fashion styles, many of which drew grimaces from Carlos. It seemed that the fashion of lesbians (and, to a lesser extent, bisexuals) went against many things he considered core tenets of good style. 

The idea that one could dress girly and still be a lesbian took a few minutes to sink in for Johnathan, but she eventually accepted it. However, she had no interest in embracing that option. Women in suits simply looked so good. How could she not want to be one?

As a result, Arlene led her out the back of Carlos’ home, her car waiting in an alleyway. Apparently Carlos’ had not brought appropriate fashion options, having been prepared for a heterosexual young man. It was a fairly short drive to Arlene’s own studio, where Johnathan found herself led off to a series of clothing racks that mixed sleek and at least business casual menswear with somewhat more gothic and punk options. Yet it was all tailored just a little differently, so that the fit would no longer force Johnathan to feel all angles and shoulders.

Flitting through the various options at the ready, there was also a selection of bras. It took her a moment to remind herself that she did actually need one of those, so there was nothing wrong with looking at them. 

Which was good, because they were so nice looking. All those little patterns and the interesting fabrics had drawn her eye for years, and then made her feel like there was something wrong with her for how she looked at them. Examining a few more closely with her new sense of liberation, something struck her.

“This one is... thick,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, it’s padded. That adds about a cup. We’ve got some that add two. Most of my clients have the money to get work done, but not everyone likes the idea of surgery.”

“Adding two... would they be available in my size?” Johnathan asked.

“Um, we’d need to measure you... you want to lean masc but wear a padded bra?” Arlene replied, seeming slightly surprised.

“Well, yes? I don’t have much in the way of chest yet. I hope that’ll change, but in the meantime I could use a little help to make it clear I’m a woman in a suit instead of a pretty-boy in a suit?” Johnathan explained.

“I suppose that’s fair. Alright. Needed to update your measurements anyway. Let’s get to work.”

In the end, Johnathan grabbed two bags worth of clothing as well as a new outfit to wear. Black, gold, and white became the new defining colours of her fashion sense as she sprinkled ties, chokers, dress shirts, black and gothic padded bras, graphic tees, and other delightful things. If she’d known transitioning would make getting new clothes so much more fun she’d have done it years ago.

Arlene had even given her hair a quick buzz after she’d mentioned how cool Grace’s undercut was. It revealed some of the black roots underneath the icy-blue dyed hair, but the contrast was pretty stylish in her humble opinion.

Hopping back into Arlene’s car for the drive back to Carlos’, she hoped she had a good look going, wearing the blocky designer sunglasses she’d brought with her, a black blazer, crisp jeans, and a t-shirt that had been her favourite in the whole rack; it had a skateboarding skeleton on it with the tagline ‘worst case, you die’. The chaotic attitude of it felt reassuring for the slightly reckless plans she had for the day.

Oh, and she was also wearing one of her new padded bras, giving herself the appearance of an actual chestiness. That seemed pretty essential if she wanted to look her best and ask Grace out. Getting a final approval from Carlos, he apparently agreed she looked better than he’d expected before she then phoned for her limo to the aiport.

As the drivers and security in LA were hired via a contractor rather than with the family none of them knew anything was odd when she hopped in. It was a different driver than the one that had driven her to Carlos’, in fact. 

The private jet’s air crew was another matter altogether, however. True, they were technically part of a contractor pool as well, but a far smaller pool (that was part of Preston Aerospace) and, plus, his father was a frequent flier.  As such, the pilots stared silently for several seconds when Johnathan strolled into the lounge.

“Uh, Master Preston?” the one managed to say.

“Miss Preston now, I guess,” she replied. “Don’t tell anyone, though. I want to do that myself.”

“S-sure,” the co-pilot said, with the looks exchanged indicating they didn’t seem to be in any hurry to defy that order.

“Now, can we fly straight to Flagstaff? I’ve got someone to go visit.”

“Of course si--ma’am,” the pilot said. “It will take a little bit to get all the clearances we need and do the pre-flight checks, but we’ll send a flight attendant over to get you.”

“Nice,” Johnathan replied, flopping into one of the lounge’s rather plush seats and fishing out her phone. 

It took only a few moments of fishing around to find her mother’s cell number, and then a little while after that for Tecla to pick up.

“Johnny! What a surprise. Is everything ok?” she asked.

“Good. Great, even. I got a bit of a makeover, and I’m feeling all flush with confidence,” Johnathan explained. Actually explaining why seemed like an in-person sort of thing, but that would happen in a few hours. “So full of confidence that I was wondering... could I get Grace’s address? I know dad must have it, and it shouldn’t be in any of his classified files or anything.”

“Her add--oh! Oh mi pequeño Johnathan... yes. I will go ask one of the security boys,” Tecla replied. “I will call you back.”

The masculine conjugation caused her to grimace slightly, but it wasn’t a video call so she was all good. “Talk to you soon then, mom.”

Of course, despite her best efforts to sound cool on the phone, she was now giddy with anticipation. There was an hour and a half flight between her and getting to Flagstaff, not to mention waiting for flight clearance and then getting a cab from the airport to... whatever part of town Grace lived in, but all of that was nothing compared to the months of swooning for Grace.

No. More than that. The years of feeling confused about her sexuality, having wanted to date girls while not wanting to be their boyfriend. Now it all made sense, though.

The fact that the few hours ahead of her was tiny compared to how long the build up before it was didn’t cover over the fact that it was a few hours, though. Antsy and full of the need to move around, she ended up heading over to the complimentary snackbar. There were plenty of little finger foods to nibble on. Caffeine was not what she needed, so she grabbed an apple juice and some croissants to snarf on while she waited.

After a few minutes her mother phoned her back. Apparently Grace lived in an apartment building in the Sunnyside neighbourhood. There wasn’t time to discuss much else, however, as Johnathan’s flight was ready. So she said goodbye to her mother and hurried out to the plane with her bags of new clothing. 

Once on the plane, a good chunk of the flight was taken up by getting up to cruising altitude. The flight attendant then brought her a light dinner, small enough to let someone still eat a bit later in the evening, but a nice bit to tide one over for all the travelling ahead.

After the meal, she mostly just watched the South-Western landscapes slide past while trying to think of what to say to Grace.

It didn’t exactly go great, but she figured she could mostly fumble her way to success. Clearly Grace was already invested in helping her become a girl and had talked about liking her, so... could she just open with a kiss? 

No. That was a little too much, but maybe she could open by saying she was a girl now and then asking if they could kiss.

Even on the taxi-ride up from the airport she didn’t really come up with a better plan. She also got a little distracted by the name of the street they were driving down. Wasn’t that the name of those fish that everyone thought were extinct but then weren’t?

Stepping out of the taxi and trying to focus again, she paid with a credit card (she didn’t really pay attention to which one). Then she headed up towards the apartment number she’d been given. Only to find a delivery guy dropping off a fairly large pizza delivery to--well, it wasn’t Grace at the door, but the woman did look a bit like Grace. 

Much less in the way of muscles, she was maybe an inch taller than Johnathan (so, still a little shorter than Grace), leaving her looking a bit lanky. Still, she had the same red hair and fairly tanned skin (though, again, she was paler than Grace). 

As Johnathan was processing that the pizza order finished up, the delivery guy moving past her and the woman at the door noticed her. The pair locked eyes and the mystery woman seemed as confused by what to make of her presence as she was confused by the woman.

“Um... is Grace home?” she offered.

The mystery woman’s eye twitched slightly before she turned to shout over her shoulder. “Oh Graaace, your girlfriend’s here. Warn me next time.”

Faster than Johnathan would have expected, Grace burst into view. Apparently it was also faster than the other woman had expected, Grace bumping into her and causing her to stumble slightly. Though she managed to save the pizza order.

“Struth!! Johnny!?” Grace yelped.

“The food, G--Grace. The food,” the other woman hissed now that she’d regained her balance.

“Oh, sorry cuz,” Grace replied.

The apology was received with a growl before the other woman slunk back into the apartment.

“Ah. She’s your cousin... I didn’t realise you’d have a roommate and that kind of threw off my whole plan,” Johnathan mumbled, before working up the courage to walk over to the door and lock eyes with Grace. “Um, but, well... I realised I’m a girl today and--”

Anything further was interrupted by a swearing sound in the apartment. Both Grace and Johnathan hurried in to find out what had happened, only to find Grace’s cousin hoping on one foot, hissing away what Johnathan was going to guess were Greek profanities. Just based on the general mood of them and her complete lack of familiarity with any of the consonants being tossed about.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

“Fff-fine. Fine,” the cousin hissed under her breath. “But what in the world do you mean you figured out you’re trans today? Grace has had me getting you estrogen and doing your blood work for, like, two months now!?”

“That was to balance the steroids?” Johnathan said.

“Yeah, and to gently nudge her towards comfort with her feminine side,” Grace added.

“Balance the--those are Kobaroic steroids... they’re feminising on their own.”

“Oh,” Grace and Johnathan said in unison.

“You mentioned she’d shown chest development and that you called her ‘good girl’... you bought her a blåhaj and... and...”

“Well, yes? I was trying everything I could without breaking that prime-directive thingy I heard about?” Grace said.

That seemed to cause something to snap in Grace’s cousin and she began laughing in a slightly hysteric manner. 

“Uh... Lilith? Is... is everythin’ ok?” Grace asked.

Lilith took a moment to catch her breath, though her face remained in a somewhat too large grin. “I--just. You. You absolute dork. You ended up forcefemming her in trying to avoid breaking that idiotic ‘prime directive’... it’s hilarious.”

“I am slightly confused about, well, most of what’s going on,” Johnathan said, “but, um... is it still an ok time to ask you out, Grace?”

“Oh! Yeah! Very,” Grace said with a grin. “You’re kind and sweet and have those supermodel genes on two sides of your family. Plus, all the anticipation. I’m not about to say no.”

Johnathan was so awash with joy from the answer that she only half registered that Grace had popped open the styrofoam case for the chicken wings and grabbed one. When it did click, though, she found herself staring.

With the chicken wing between her teeth, Grace then froze as well, guilt in her eyes. The pair stayed frozen for a few moments, until the click of Lilith locking the apartment door broke the spell.

“It’s time to come clean about everything... especially because, as nice as it is to hear her egg cracked, Ms. Preston needs to stay boymoding until the end of the month,” Lilith said as she leaned against the door.

“Come. Clean?” Johnathan said.

“Uh... I’m not actually vegetarian,” Grace offered.

“That much I was starting to guess,” she replied.

“Do you want me to explain it?” Lilith asked. “Or do you think, uh... have you come up with a new name yet, Preston?”

Johnathan blinked. “Oh... Right. I forgot I’d need one. It very much is a guy’s name, isn’t it?”

“It’s a bit of a butch power move to still go by Johnathan,” Grace offered, before putting down her chicken wing. “Anyway. Yeah. Explanations... firstly, I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone any of this, alright?”

“Promise,” Johnathan replied, ready to back Grace in whatever she needed, but also terrified of what she was about to find out.

“Well, to start with... my real name isn’t Grace Xanthopolous. It’s Golnar Azar. I’m not Greek, I’m Arab, specifically Qalhati... and I said I was vegetarian because I wasn’t sure if the meat at the country club would be halal or not and couldn’t figure out how to ask without just... y’know. Askin’.”

“Huh,” Johnathan replied.

That was going to take a bit to process... and there was definitely more information coming.