I woke up to the sound of a wardrobe door slamming shut; I lurched to a sitting position, and then groaned as a sharp pain pierced my head. That was one thing I hated about drinking – it always gave me a terrible hangover the next day.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a few moments, to dispel the pain, then opened them again: Joe was bent over his wardrobe, the bottom drawers open, and he was frantically searching inside them for something.

“What the fuck, man, can’t you be quiet? It’s not even…” I glanced at my bedside clock, and continued, “It’s not even eight AM, it’s a Saturday, why are you being so loud?”

“I’m late, that’s why,” he explained. “Overslept a bit, I’m supposed to meet with my bros in five minutes and I haven’t even had breakfast.” He stuffed an under-shirt, a pair of boxers, and a pair of socks in a duffel bag which was sitting on the floor, and slammed the drawer shut.

“You’re always late,” I protested. “And you always make too much noise when you’re getting ready for something. Maybe I would’ve liked to sleep in, you know?”

Joe glanced at me for a moment, but didn’t say anything. This was another part of him I hated: he never, never apologised, even when he was clearly in the wrong. I frowned.

“And maybe if you didn’t drink so much last night you’d have woken up in time,” I continued. Yeah, I was being a little snippy, but my head was throbbing, and I was honestly quite annoyed at his behaviour.

In response, Joe just laughed. “What are you, my mother?” he replied. “Why do you care about how much I drink?” I opened my mouth to answer him, but he waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t bother, I’m in a hurry, I can’t be here talking to you right now.”

He bent over, picked up his duffel bag, and rushed out the door, slamming it behind him without as much as a ‘goodbye’ or a ‘see ya.’

I stared at the closed door for a few moments, then sighed deeply.

Why did I have to be assigned such an ass as a roommate? Joe could be a cool dude sometimes, true, but on many occasions he was just an abrasive jerk who kept driving me crazy.

I pulled open my night stand's drawer, took out a bottle of painkillers, and popped two pills into my mouth; then I flopped back down in bed, closed my eyes, and tossed and turned as I tried and failed to fall asleep again for an entire hour.

How did Joe even do it? I’d had only a few beers the previous evening, and yet I was terribly hung over: every muscle in my body ached, and my head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, despite the ibuprofen I’d taken only a while earlier. Joe had had quite a few more than I did, and yet he’d seemed entirely fine. God, if it weren’t for the fact that alcohol was the only way I’d found to keep my anxiety and emotions at bay, I would gladly have stopped drinking altogether – the side effects were barely worth it.

I turned over onto my back, opened my eyes, and stared at the ceiling.

I could barely remember what we’d done the previous night. We’d gone over to Theta Omega Tau’s frat house for the party, drank a bit, chatted among ourselves and then…

Oh. Right.

Anna. And Elanor.

All of a sudden, I felt angry again. At Anna. At Elanor. At the world in general.

Even though he’d been drunk, the me from the previous evening had been on the right track. It wasn’t fair. Someone could just say they were a woman, and that was it?

No, sir, I didn’t like it. I would see to it that they were put in the right place.

I dragged myself out of bed, sat down at my desk in front of my laptop, and fired up Google. I had some reading to do.

-----

One hour later, my stomach was rumbling – I hadn’t put anything in it besides beer since lunch on the previous day – and I was frowning at the screen.

I was actually puzzled: from all the searching I’d done, from everything I’d read, it seemed that self-ID was… good, actually? I’d gone on a deep dive through a mixture of liberal and conservative websites (that was one thing that I’d been taught in my first few lessons at college: always look through a variety of sources) and they agreed that, for trans people, the ability to just declare their gender was a net positive.

For trans people.

While the liberal sources I’d read made no mention of it, the conservative ones made it very clear that self-ID would also allow people who weren’t trans to just declare they were a different gender than their real one, and this would allow them to get ahead in life in a variety of ways. Gaining access to women’s toilets and changing rooms, for one; but also, if a man were to say he’s a woman, he would suddenly be included in “all-women” categories for stuff like employment, awards, and such.

Any man could do it, just to get ahead in life. And meanwhile, he would get a rush, a thrill of excitement, whenever someone told him how brave and strong he was for coming out as trans.

It wasn’t fair.

The idea I’d had the previous night, the idea I’d half-remembered that morning, floated upwards through my brain, spread out, and settled in.

Suppose I said I was trans? That I was a woman?

I could just… pretend. Just go along with it for a while, until finally I would reveal that psych! It was all a trick! I had you all fooled, and you all fell for it!

That would prove it. Definitely. Without a shadow of a doubt. After all, I was a cisgender man; true, I wasn’t very manly to begin with, but still: if someone like me could just convince everyone they knew I was actually a girl – a trans woman – it would be a clear demonstration that everyone could do it and, indeed, many other men had done it.

The thought of having everyone refer to me as a girl, of going around dressed in skirts and dresses, of being called Lily sent a thrill down my spine, while at the same time giving me a weird sensation in the pit of my stomach.

True, many people would be surprised at first: after all, I didn’t seem exactly the ideal candidate to be a trans woman. But one more thing I’d read during my deep dive that morning was that one thing which was commonly said about trans people was ‘there were no signs’ – that even the people who were closest to a trans person didn’t realise he or she (they? Yeah, they, I needed to be careful and start to use generic gender-neutral pronouns) were trans, until the person actually came out.

So I could do that.

At first the idea sounded remote. Far-fetched. Insane. But the more I thought about it, the more excited I became. Yeah! That’ll show them! I’ll show everyone!

This was great. It was clearly the best idea I’d had in quite a while; the best idea ever, maybe.

Let’s see now. Where could I even begin?

Well, clearly, I had to start with Anna.

Anna was the lynchpin. The key to everything. She and I had butted heads over politics and social issues several times, the previous day’s discussion about self-ID had just been the latest in a long series of arguments. If I could convince Anna, I could convince everyone.

Suddenly, I decided I had to act then and there. I had to just… find Anna, and put my plan into action. There was just one problem: find Anna… where, exactly?

After all, I had no idea where she lived; and I couldn’t just wander around aimlessly at random on campus, mine was a moderate-sized college but there was still no way I would run into someone I knew just out of the blue.

So I would have to wait until Monday? Probably? That thought made me sad; for some reason, the idea of having to wait two full days before I heard someone call me by the name I’d chosen, Lily, bummed me out quite a bit.

But it couldn’t be helped, could it now?

Another thought shot through my brain. Unless…

The college I was studying at, Bradford McKinley, was known for the wide variety of cultural events it hosted on campus: student life was very lively, and each and every weekend all students could pick and choose which ones to attend. (I usually chose none: after a full week of being forced to socialise in class and other occasions, I was utterly exhausted and, most of the time, just shut myself in my room to be alone with myself, Joe having gone some place or other with his buddies.)

Surely that weekend there would be an event someone like Anna would attend? So I could just go and look for her there.

I opened another browser tab, fired up the college’s website, and checked the events. I ran my eyes over the list, and… Yeah, there it was: that very afternoon there would be a ‘queer poetry bash’ in the quad. I had no idea what a poetry bash even was, but if it was queer, it was surely something Anna would like.

So I would find her there. Probably. Maybe.

Honestly I had no idea, but it was worth a shot, wasn’t it?

Yes, definitely.

So I would go to the queer poetry bash, find Anna there, and tell her I was actually trans and a woman. And… Well, then I would have to go from there. But I was sure I could improvise.

This was great. A magnificent idea.

I was clearly a genius.

Before I could get too satisfied with myself, my stomach growled again, and I decided it was just about time to fill it: it was early for lunch, but I could always go for a late breakfast.

I absent-mindedly lifted my arm and sniffed my armpit.

Shower first, and a change of clothes; then breakfast. Even though I was a guy, I still cared quite a bit about my personal hygiene, unlike someone else I knew.

-----

“…And this concludes our queer poetry bash, y’all,” the speaker announced, talking into the microphone. “Thanks for coming, and have a good evening.”

Well, that had been… fun? Fun-ish? Question mark?

To be completely honest, most of the poems (were they even poems if they were apparently being ad-libbed by whoever wanted to walk up on stage?) went right over my head, and I wasn’t really paying attention anyway: at first I’d been trying to spot Anna in the crowd – which hadn’t been hard, since she was quite tall she stuck out from the crowd – and then I’d been thinking about how to approach her once the show was over.

In the end, I decided the best thing to do was to just go up and talk to her, and be completely honest and upfront.

Well, for certain definitions of ‘honest’ and ‘upfront,’ anyway.

Taking a deep breath, I sped up my walk, and weaved my way through the crowd, until I was close to her. But not too close, I didn’t want to startle her.

“Anna. Hey,” I said.

She turned around, a puzzled expression on her face, but when she saw me her gaze turned stern.

“Oh, it’s you,” she replied. “What are you doing here?”

I flashed her my best grin. “Hey, can’t this be a coincidence? Maybe I’m the kind of person who enjoys a queer poetry jam.”

“Bash.”

I blinked. Right. “Jam, bash. Same difference.”

Anna didn’t say anything, but from the look in her eyes, she definitely didn’t believe me.

“Where’s Elanor, anyway?” I asked. “Isn’t she with you?”

“They’re not here,” Anna said pointedly. “This type of thing isn’t really their jam, so I came alone.”

“Bash,” I said.

It was Anna’s turn to blink. “Excuse me?”

“You said it’s not her… Their, sorry. Their jam, but it’s not a jam, it’s a bash, right? Right?”

I’m sure I looked like a moray eel at that moment, one who’d told a particularly bad joke, but still, Anna smiled – very briefly, I almost missed it – before she resumed staring sternly at me.

“What are you doing here?” she asked again; then, when I began to speak, she held up a finger. “And don’t try to say you enjoy this kind of show again, this clearly isn’t your thing.” She paused. “Have you been following me?”

I gulped. “I… Well, I haven’t been following you. Rather, I read about the queer poetry jam–”

“Bash.”

“–and I thought I might find you here, so here I am.”

Anna frowned. “And why did you come here to find me? Do you want to continue the argument we had in class? Well, too bad, I don’t have time for that, I have better things to do.”

“No, actually,” I said, shaking my head. “I… First of all, I wanted to apologise. For what happened yesterday evening.” She gave me a puzzled look, and I continued, “You know, after you introduced Elanor. I asked what was probably an impolite question, we got to arguing, and Joe…”

Anna’s expression softened a bit. “You don’t have to apologise for that.”

I looked up at her in surprise. “I don’t?”

“No, you don’t,” she said. “You weren’t the one who called me a dyke; Joe did that. And your question was far from polite, true, but who hasn’t put their foot in their mouth at one time or the other? I know I did.” Again, she paused for a moment, before continuing: “So, apology accepted, on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You have to repeat the apology to Elanor when you see them next.”

I nodded. “I can do that, yeah.”

“Good,” Anna nodded back. “Next?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you said ‘first of all, I have to apologise,’ which clearly implies there’s something else,” she replied. “So, what else do you want to say?”

“I…” I began, and looked around: the crowd had thinned and dispersed, but there were still several people who could overhear us if they wanted to. “About that, can we speak in private?”

Anna looked around, too. “Is it really necessary?”

“Yes, it is,” I answered.

She held my gaze for a few moments, then sighed. “Alright. Come with me.”

She turned around and strode away, and I followed after a moment’s hesitation, struggling to catch up a bit – she was walking very quickly, and her legs covered more ground than mine did with each step because of her height. In a short while we’d reached some benches, which were unoccupied and set off to the side of the quad. No one would be able to hear us talking there, but I realised we were still visible. We were still in public.

Anna clearly didn’t trust me enough to be alone with me.

She plopped down on a bench, and gestured for me to sit down, too. “So?” she asked.

Alright, moment of truth.

“Okay. So. Well, you see… yesterday you asked me if I’d given some thought about what we’d talked about in class,” I began. Anna nodded in acknowledgement, and I took it as permission to continue speaking. “Truth is… I have been thinking about it. Very much so. All of yesterday, and today too, something about what you said just… clicked. And I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I did some reading. Lots of reading. Lots of research. And…” I paused, and gulped again.

When I didn’t continue, Anna looked at me, frowning slightly. “And? What do you mean? What are you trying to say?”

“What I’m trying to say is…”

I paused again. God, was I really going to go through with this?

Suddenly I was beset by doubts. Was this really right? To just pretend to be a girl? To get back at someone? And who was that someone? Yeah, right, ‘the libs,’ but what did that even mean?

The silence stretched, until Anna huffed impatiently. “Come on, out with it. What is it?”

I looked up at her, and frowned a bit. Something about her attitude really ticked me off, and spurred me to continue my plan; otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have.

“I think I’m a girl,” I said.

There. I was committed.

There was another moment of silence, as Anna looked at me; first her eyes widened in surprise, then she regarded me carefully. Then, after what felt like hours, but was probably ten seconds at most, she spoke.

“Okay!” she said brightly. “What are your pronouns?”

I blinked in surprise. That’s it? “That’s it? You believe me? Just like that?” Was it really going to be that easy?

“I believe you, just like that,” Anna nodded. “I’m not in the business of doubting someone’s stated gender: if you say you’re a girl, then you’re a girl. And God, this makes so much sense!”

I tilted my head to the side, puzzled. “It does?”

“Yeah, it really does,” she answered. “From how you behaved… Well, let me tell you, I’ve met many a spiky egg in my time.”

“I’m sorry, what’s a ‘spiky egg’ again? I think you’ve lost me.”

“It’s…” she began, then looked at me, and waved her hand dismissively. “Never mind, there’ll be time for explanations later. So, what are your pronouns?” she asked again.

I’d done enough research to know how to answer that question. “Uh… she and her, please.”

“Cool, cool,” she said, nodding again. “And do you have a name yet? It’s okay if you–”

“Lily.”

I hadn’t meant to just blurt the name out; but for some reason, when she asked the question, my brain got ahead of itself once again, and it just happened.

Her eyes widened, but then she smiled. “You have been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you? Don’t worry, girl, everything will be fine.” She paused. “And with that, I think it’s only fair we start over.” She extended her hand towards me. “Hi, I’m Anna!”

I hesitantly took her hand and shook it. “Hi, I’m Lily,” I said.

Anna gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and smiled warmly at me. “It’s really nice to finally meet you, Lily.”

And despite the fact that I was going to be deceiving her for the foreseeable future, when Anna said my name I couldn’t help but smile.