Cracked Fangirl

— Well? What do you think? — Jenna tilted her head slightly and tried to smile as she adjusted the thin chain wrapped around her thigh, its chill tickling her skin.

I swallowed hard, trying to look away from her cleavage, feeling that slow, inevitable tension building between my legs. But how—how the hell could I let myself feel that now, knowing that beneath the hot girl facade was the same nerd as me—Jeffrey fucking MacClever.

— Uh... well... — I started, not noticing how my hand reached for the collar of my t-shirt, as if pulling it would somehow shield me from everything happening right now.

Jenna—or rather, the person I had known just a week ago as Jeffrey MacClever, the awkward, stammering, poorly dressed geek from campus, but a decent guy deep down—was now standing across from me, leaning against the counter like this wasn't a comic book shop but... I don't even know, the set of Star Wars or something even filthier?

— At least say something, or I’ll start thinking I look like an idiot — she sighed, playing with the pendant on her hip. And that damn chain jingled.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Because what was spinning in my head wasn’t a phrase—it was a whole panorama of memories. How we had stood right here, in this exact spot, and Jeffrey, hands trembling with excitement, held that weird figure—some rare edition from Dark Times SW, with strange writing on the base. He read something off the card out loud, like a joke, and—boom. The lights flickered. And then...

— I just... I still can’t believe it’s you — I exhaled, meeting her gaze again. Big eyes, framed with makeup. Eyebrows neatly shaped now. That look—focused. Feminine. Real.

She snorted. But in a way that was... very female. Her jaw shifted slightly to the side, her eyes now assessing.

— Like I believe it... — then she stepped back a bit and added — shouldn’t have worn this costume — and then immediately cut herself off, like she scared herself by saying it out loud. Like she hadn’t dreamed her whole life of seeing that costume—this dusty, long-forgotten thing from the shop—on a hot girl. Like now she was afraid to admit it was her body, her tits, her waist, her hips, her skin, the skin this dumb costume was clinging to with every damn inch.

— This costume... — she went on, running her hand down her side where the bronze-look plastic turned into fabric — it’s been here since the shop opened, remember?

— Yeah — I nodded, trying not to stare, but it was nearly impossible. I, Alex, the guy who could talk about Lord of the Rings with Jeffrey for hours, now stood here fighting the stupidest urge—to either stare at the curve of her waist or look her in the face and think about... fuck. — I remember how you... well, back when you were still you... — my tongue twisted, and I stepped aside, trying to hide behind a display of figures. — You said only a totally cracked fangirl would ever try that on.

— Yeah — she smirked, not looking at me, just staring at the floor — and here I am. Cracked fangirl.

She looked like she wanted to smile, but then something shadowed her face. Something in her expression said—she felt sick about it too.

— Ugh. It’s uncomfortable — she muttered, almost annoyed, and squirmed, adjusting a strap. — Everything itches. This bra is a nightmare… and it’s sticky, like someone smeared honey inside, so my tits keep sticking to the plastic every time I move — she grimaced, looked away, and added in a quieter voice — and the panties stick too... it’s all sweaty down there, like a sauna.

I think I forgot how to breathe for a second. My throat went dry, and my brain lit up in full-blown panic, like someone just hit the alarm switch inside my skull. I mean, how... how the hell could she say something like that out loud, so calmly, so... casually?! Just a week ago we were arguing about whether Luke could’ve beaten Vader if he hadn’t been his father. And now—this. Her. Tits. Sticking. Panties. Sweat.

I turned away sharply, pretending to fix something on the shelf. My hand was shaking. The label on a Darth Maul figure blurred in front of my eyes, and somehow I made just the wrong move—several figures tumbled down with a soft clattering thud onto the linoleum.

— Ah! — Jenna yelped and crouched down beside me instantly, the chain on her thigh jingling sharply. — Careful, you idiot, scared the hell outta me like you dropped a damn bomb.

I swallowed, my blood pounding in my ears. She was so close, I could almost smell her skin—not perfume, but something warm, slightly salty, mixed with plastic and something else, something new I didn’t have a name for. That sudden movement had shifted the bronze bra a little, revealing... I yanked my eyes away. Come on, Alex, pull yourself together.

— Jesus, relax already — she giggled, picking up one of the figures — I’m not actually slave Leia, though... — she smirked, turning the figure around in her hands like she was inspecting it, then added without looking — in some weird way, I guess that is what I feel like now. Trapped in a body. In a costume. In tits. — She winked at me, then burst into laughter again, though there was something strained in it.

I tried to laugh too, but it came out more like a squeaky whimper. I had no idea how to react. She was talking about her body like it was just... a thing? Like she’d always lived this way. Like being a girl was just another class switch in an RPG. Oh, you’ve got a skirt and boobs now. Big deal. Right.

— I should probably just go change back — she said suddenly, staring somewhere between the shelves. — This was a dumb idea. Total crap. Why did I even… — She didn’t finish. She sighed quietly and handed me another figure, her fingers barely brushing mine. Warm. Soft. Nothing like Jeffrey’s.

I took the figure, and yeah, my eyes dropped where they shouldn’t have — first to her stomach, slightly shiny from the strain, that ornamental sash... then up to the edge of the bra, to the curve of her breast, which... trembled a little every time she breathed. And right then, in that very moment when I failed to hide the way I was looking, she noticed too.

The pause lasted only a second, but it held more than any of our geeky convos ever had. Jenna suddenly froze, her eyes widened a bit, her breath caught. Her face changed—not playful, not fake. Real. Like something finally clicked. Like she realized I didn’t just see a friend in her. That I was looking. That I... wanted.

And she pulled back. Fast.

— I... — she mumbled, laughing awkwardly. — Okay! I’m gonna go change! Enough cosplay humiliation for one day! — her voice went high and quick, she almost jumped as she turned, clutching the sides of the costume and heading to the back room.

And I was left kneeling there, surrounded by Darth Maul, Rey, and Yoda, with a dry mouth and the feeling that I had just seen something I wasn’t supposed to. Not like I didn’t know it was Jeff. Not like I forgot. But in that moment—I wasn’t just embarrassed.

I felt... lost. Because goddammit, I saw how she looked at me.

And that wasn’t Jeff’s look.

That was the look of a girl who had just realized she’d been wanted.