When I woke up in the morning, my head hurt. My butt hurt. And I was lying on the scratchiest pillow I had ever felt in my life.

  “Oh no,” I moaned.

  I ran through my memories of st night, trying to ignore my aching head. Dressed up like a maid, danced a lot, kissed a girl, got beer thrown on me, pyed the world’s dumbest drinking game, drank poison, threw up, came out as…

  Fucked Nick.

  “Oh, noooo…”

  “Mmf,” Nick grunted.

  I rolled over and grabbed him by the short arm. He turned his head towards me blearily.

  “Nobody can know, Nick," I said, “Nobody can know.”

  He squinted at me in confusion, then his eyes widened.

  “Nobody can know!” I said again.

  “Yep,” he said.

  Part of me wanted to go back to sleep, but every second I stayed in bed made it more likely that we would be caught together. I cmbered over Nick’s body, shivering a little in the morning cold. I was still completely naked, except for my stockings, which were ddered all to hell. The bedroom door was open, and I hurried over and closed it. Halfway there I stepped on Nick’s jeans, and heard a weird splintery noise. Oops. Whatever that was, I would buy him a repcement.

  God, we had really made a mess of this room st night. Or, actually, maybe it just looked like that already. I searched around the room for my clothes. I found my panties on one side of the bed, and my bra and breast forms on the other. My dress was lying in the middle of the floor, and I picked at it unenthusiastically. It was somehow grosser than I remembered. It smelled like beer and sweat, and was amazingly still damp. I gnced back at the bed. Nick was massaging his temples, probably feeling as bad as I was. His shirt was on the floor by the bed, and I snatched it up and hurried to the bathroom.

  After a quick clean up, I was as close to dressed as I was gonna be that morning. Thanks to Nick’s ridiculous height, his button-up shirt was long enough that it actually came down lower than my dress had. I had to roll the sleeves up a few times so that they didn't cover my hands, but it was kinda cute, honestly. Wearing the oversized shirt, with my stockinged legs sticking out the bottom, I looked like a girl borrowing a shirt from the guy she hooked up with the night before.

  Which is exactly what I was.

  I felt the same mix of regret and excitement I had felt after the first time I went down on Nick. If there was any doubt that I liked men, it was gone now. Last night had been incredible, even with my less-than-ideal choice of partners. My poor butt ached almost as bad as my head, and I shuddered a little as I remembered just how… vigorous I had been. Next time, when I wasn't drunk and was doing it with a guy I actually liked, I would take things a lot slower. Even still, it was pretty great. Look pretty, fuck a guy. I had gotten exactly what I wanted.

  The other thing I was less sure about.

  I had told Nick I was trans. Not only Nick, I had told someone else, too, a girl I didn't even know before st night, and whose name I couldn't remember this morning. What the hell was I thinking? I had a concrete pn to stop worrying about bels, to leave the trans thing alone and just do whatever made me happy. Why was I going around coming out to people?

  I wasn't even sure that I actually was trans, anyway. Yes, I enjoyed being a girl st night, at a party where I didn't know anyone, and got to dress up in sexy costumes, and had no responsibilities besides having fun. I was pretty sure the reality of being a transgender woman was very different. My stomach roiled at the thought, and maybe also because of the hangover. I would have to tell my friends. My lecturers. I would have to tell my father.

  I eyed myself in the mirror. God, my hair was a mess. I thought I had cleaned off my makeup st night, but clearly that was only by drunk person standards, because there were still smears of bck around my eyes. I hadn't grown much stubble at least, and if you squinted you might still think I was a girl. Maybe it would be better to write it off, to masculinise myself as much as possible and leave the party as a regur guy. Then again, it wasn't like I had pants to wear. And it would be nice to be a trans girl for just a little bit longer.

  I touched up my lipstick (I found the tube on the floor, where I must've dropped it when I got undressed for the shower) and primped my hair as best as I could. I sighed. It was better than nothing. But I was going to have to tell Nick not to–

  “What the fuck?”

  Nick was yelling from outside the bathroom again. Some things never changed.

  He sounded a lot more panicked this time, though.

  “Fuck! Where is it? Nick!”

  “What?” I asked. Nick was frantically pacing around the room, searching for something. He had put his jeans and shoes back on, but hadn't put on his arm yet. Or, notably, a shirt. Typical Nick, always had to funt his body.

  Oh, wait. Maybe that wasn’t entirely fair.

  Nick barged past me into the bathroom, hunting around desperately.

  “Fuck!”

  “Oh my god, calm down!” I said, “Whatever you lost, I’m sure it's not that big of–”

  “It's my fucking arm, Nick!” Nick burst out of the bathroom again. I froze. He was clearly still angry, but he was also scared, in a way I hardly ever saw him. “My fucking arm. If this is you making a fucking joke–”

  “It's not, I swear,” I said, “I wouldn't do that. Never.”

  Nick exhaled, “I know. Fuck. Nick, that's… my parents had to save up so long…”

  “We’ll find it,” I said firmly, “One of these frat douchebags must have stolen it st night. We’ll split up and get it back.”

  “Fuck. Yeah. Right,” said Nick. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, “Sorry I freaked out, it’s just… that’s part of my body, dude.”

  “No, oh my god,” I said, “That's, like. Yeah. Of course.”

  “Yeah,” Nick sighed, “Alright, fuck. Let's go.”

  Nick took off down the corridor. I gingerly gathered up the rest of my things, perched my cat ears on top of my head, and followed after him. I still felt a bit wobbly, so I just carried my heels along with my dress, padding carefully through the post-party mess in my stockinged feet.

  The frat house was a disaster. Trash and hungover college students littered the hallway. Nick rushed past me again, going from room to room at a speed I couldn't hope to match, so I headed downstairs. It wasn't any better down here. As I reached the bottom of the staircase, an empty keg bounced past like a tumbleweed in the old west.

  I turned a corner and nearly slipped on a discarded banana costume. That reminded me of my own costume, and the accessories I discarded after I got beered st night, so I made my way to the downstairs bathroom. I kept an eye out for Nick’s prosthesis on the way, but it was nowhere to be seen. I flung open the bathroom door and stopped dead.

  “Heyyy!” slurred Mateus, “Lil Dom!”

  He was lying in the bathtub, with a bottle of mysterious purple liquid in his hand. He was very clearly still drunk – if it wasn't clear from his voice, the fact that the bathtub was full of water and he was fully clothed (wearimg chainmail, in fact) would've been a giveaway.

  “Mateus!” I said, “I was looking for you all night!”

  “Awww no,” Mateus blinked, one eye after the other like a frog, “What for?”

  “Um,” I blushed, “Never mind. It, um. It ended up working out.”

  “Thass great,” said Mateus.

  “Hey, um, have you seen a white apron?” I said, “Or a prosthetic arm?”

  “Above th’elbow or below?” said Mateus.

  “Below.”

  “Ahhhh, no dice,” he shook his head solemnly, “Apron’s over there, though.”

  He pointed at the towel rail and I gdly gathered my things.

  “Wassup with th’arm?” slurred Mateus.

  “Ugh, it's my roommate’s,” I said, “Some dick stole it while he was asleep.”

  “Yooo, thass fucked!” said Mateus. I giggled. He was usually so calm and composed, but it seemed like he got very worked up when he was drunk. “Fucken ass! If thass one of the brothers imma givem a real…” he filed the bottle aggressively.

  “As you should,” I nodded primly.

  “Fucken hate people juss take whathey want,” growled Mateus, “Don't care how’t affects other people.”

  He took a swig from the bottle again and I nodded, “Totally.”

  “Like my fucken ex,” Mateus muttered, “Fucken did what he wanted… dint care who he hurt… who he fucked over… who’s boyfriend he stole…”

  I hesitated, “Um. Wait, what happened?”

  Mateus sighed and turned to me, “Kermit. We used to date.”

  “Did he… cheat on you?”

  Mateus snorted, “Nah. Open thing. But… found out he had this habit’f… going after guys in retionships… fucker. Always had to feel like he was th’best…”

  “Oh,” I murmured numbly.

  Mateus looked at me, unsteady but steely eyes, “Who’d be with an asshole like that?”

  “I should really go find this arm,” I said.

  Mateus saluted with his bottle, “Good luck Lil Dommayyy!”

  I turned and walked away from the bathroom as quickly as I could. Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Mateus had a point. A very obvious point, in retrospect. Maybe Kermit’s worldview was not all it was cracked up to be. Maybe, actually, going after everything you wanted without caring what anyone else thought was the exact kind of worldview you would expect a spoiled rich kid to grab onto. Crap, crap, crap.

  Okay. I could think about that ter. Right now I was looking for Nick’s arm. I heard noise coming from the dancefloor, and hurried over.

  The room looked so much smaller in the daytime, without the fshing lights and writhing bodies. It was, of course, a total wreck. One of the speakers had a hole right through it. That was fine, though, because nobody was dancing. Instead a bunch of still-drunk college students were sitting in a circle, arguing over each other.

  “Enough!” shouted a guy I recognised as the gamesmaster from the night before, “I’m only gonna say this one more time. If you nd on a dder, you gotta say the alphabet backwards, or drink. If you nd on a snake, you gotta py a round of charades, or do a shot. And if you nd on Go To Jail, you gotta conduct a seance… with this severed hand.”

  He raised a pale, psticky hand into the air, and the audience oohed.

  “Hey!” I yelled, “That's not yours!”

  “Silence!” said the gamesmaster, “Only he who holds the hand may speak. I've just decided that's also a rule.”

  “Give me that, you asshole!” I snapped, “Do you know how fucking expensive prosthetic limbs are? Give it back!”

  The gamesmaster raised an eyebrow, “Pretty sure it's not yours, kitty cat. You already have two hands. Don't be greedy. Now, the rules of the seance–”

  Okay. I’d had more than enough of this. I marched up to the gamesmaster and jabbed a finger in his face.

  “You listen here, gameboy,” I hissed, filling my voice with all the spoiled, entitled rage I could muster, trying to match the vicious way mother spoke to valets, “My father is an extremely important businessman, with an army of the best wyers the country has to offer. If you don't give me that hand back this fucking instant, I will sue the shit out of you, and your family, and this whole fucking frat, until you don't have a shiny penny to py heads-or-tails with. Do you hear me?”

  The gamesmaster blinked, “Whoa, I was just–”

  “I said, do you fucking hear me, you pathetic gamer troglodyte?” I sneered.

  The gamesmaster gulped, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good,” I said. I held out my hand, and he passed me Nick’s prosthesis. I stuck up my nose and strode away.

  Hopefully Mateus didn't see that.

  I heard Nick thundering down the stairs from three rooms over, and I caught him in the hallway to return his prosthesis. The relieved smile on his face was almost enough to make him look cute. Almost.

  “Oh, fuck,” he said, “Thank you. Where was it?”

  I hesitated. It would probably be polite to save Nick the embarrassment of knowing part of his body had been commandeered for some stupid party game. Then again, he wasn't a baby who needed me to protect him.

  “That dumb guy who was running the drinking game had it,” I said, “He was trying to use it for another game.”

  Well, there went the cute smile. Nick’s face curdled into a thundercloud of rage again. But he took a deep breath and let it out.

  “What an asshole,” he said, “People think they can just take shit.”

  “Yeah,” I said, guiltily thumbing at the shirt I had stolen while he was sleeping.

  Nick smirked, “Uh-huh. But you'll give that back.”

  “I'll have it dry-cleaned.”

  “Fuckin’ weirdo,” Nick ughed, “C’mon, let's get back to the dorm.”

  We started down the hallway.

  “So, st night…” Nick started.

  “One time thing,” I said firmly.

  His shoulders rexed, “Hell yes. Okay. Good."

  “Oh, you thought I was gonna fall in love with you?” I teased, “You wish.”

  “You seemed pretty keen st night,” Nick smirked. I shoved him and he ughed.

  We exited through the front door, and I winced at the bright sunlight. On the wn, pledges were moping about, picking up garbage and tidying up the property. A frat brother barked orders at them from the porch.

  “Keep it moving, pledges!” he yelled, “We need this pce clean as a whistle! A new whistle, without a bunch of gym teacher spit in it!”

  “Yes, noble brother!” chanted the pledges.

  “Oh, shit,” Nick tucked his prosthesis under his short arm and pointed, “Isn't that the guy who spiked your drink st night?”

  He was pointing at a pledge over by the boundary fence, wearily pushing a manual wn mower through the grass. I frowned. Didn't these guys have a gardener? I put that thought aside and looked closer. He had ditched the banana suit for a t-shirt with the ΓΔW logo, but that was Michael alright.

  “That's him,” I said.

  “Motherfucker,” Nick snarled, “Hold this.”

  He passed me his arm and stormed across the wn.

  “Whoa, what?” I said, frantically jugging my costume and shoes to make sure I didn't drop his arm.

  “Hey! Asshole!” Nick shouted, “What the fuck did you put in her drink st night?”

  Michael looked up. His eyes widened as he took in all six-foot-six of Nick, and then as he saw me hurrying up behind him.

  “Whoa, hey!” he said, “I didn't do anything!”

  “Bullshit,” said Nick.

  “Seriously!” said Michael, “Just vodka, I swear! Maybe a lot of vodka, but I figured she could handle it!”

  He looked at me beseechingly. He seemed genuine. To be honest, I had been drinking a lot st night, and I didn't really feel any ill effects after I threw up.

  “I think he's telling the truth, Nick,” I said.

  Michael’s eyes narrowed, and I suddenly felt extremely exposed. In the cold light of day, Michael seemed to notice something about me, in my face or my voice, that he hadn’t picked up on st night. His expression soured and he turned back to Nick with a sneer.

  “Like I'd wanna do anything with that little freak anyway,” he said.

  Nick grabbed Michael by the colr and smmed him up against the fence.

  “Nick!” I yelled. I dropped my costume and ran up to him.

  “You need to stay the FUCK away from her,” Nick snarled.

  “Oh my god, Nick, it's fine!” I said. I was still holding the prosthetic part of his right arm, but I grabbed the real part with my other hand, trying to pull Nick away.

  “Oh, I’m real fucking scared,” Michael ughed, “What are you gonna do? Hit me with your stump?”

  I let go of Nick and kicked Michael in the dick as hard as I could. He let out a high-pitched shriek and his knees buckled. Nick let go of his colr and Michael colpsed to the ground, writhing in pain.

  “Let that be a lesson to you, pledges!” yelled the frat brother on the porch, “Gamma-Delta-Whatever does not condone exclusionary behaviour on the basis of disability or gender identity!”

  “Yes, brother!” chanted the rest of the pledges.

  Nick gave me a look.

  “You know, I'm not a child,” he said, “I don't need you to stand up for me.”

  “Me neither,” I crossed my arms, “I kicked him because he called me a freak. Obviously.”

  We gred at each other for a moment, then Nick shrugged, “Good kick.”

  “Thanks,” I grinned.

  I gave him back his prosthesis then stooped down to pick up my costume. Nick moved behind me, and I realised after a second that he was making sure nobody could see up my dress. Well, up his shirt. I straightened up and turned to Michael, still curled up on the floor.

  “Thanks for all the drinks st night,” I said. I pulled the stolen car ears off my head and hung them on the fence next to him, “If you see the girl you took these from, please give them back.”

  “Hrnngh,” grunted Michael.

  “My dad has a bunch of really good wyers, by the way,” I warned him.

  “Hngh,” Michael said.

  “Let's go home,” said Nick.

  We left the frat house behind us, following the streets back to campus. The sun was already high in the sky, and when we stopped at an intersection I took a moment to take us both in.

  I was still just wearing Nick’s too-big shirt over my lingerie, holding a pair of heels and a bedraggled french maid outfit in my hands. My poor stockings were definitely not going to survive the trip home. Nick leaned against a street sign, still shirtless, carrying his own arm. He pinned it under his armpit for a second, reached into his pocket and put on his sungsses. One of the lenses was cracked, but the effect still worked, and he looked as lean, mean, and ruggedly handsome as ever.

  Fuck. Okay. Sexy Terminator. I could see it now.

  “Hey,” Nick said, looking down at me over the top of his shades, “Last night, do you remember you told me…”

  I squirmed under his gaze. I really didn't want to have this conversation. Not with Nick. Not with a pounding headache. Not after what Michael just called me.

  “I'm probably not transgender,” I said, “I'm just… just figuring stuff out right now.”

  “Huh,” Nick said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he shrugged, “It's your life, Nikki.”

  “Oh, fuck off,” I walked briskly across the road. Nick jogged after me, and even without looking I could tell he was smirking. “You are not calling me that.”

  “Great joke costume, by the way!” he called after me, “Did it get a lot of ughs?”

  “Fuck off, Nick!”