I pulled into the parking lot of the Old Mill District in Bend, taking in the Deschutes River as I shifted to Park, killing the engine and listening to it tick as it cooled. I had spent a lot less time thinking than I planned during the drive, my mind almost going numb as the miles flew by, and suddenly I was here and still didn't have a solid plan. Well, I mean, how hard can it be? You walk in, you find clothes, you use a fitting room if necessary, you pull out a credit card and pay, you walk out. I nodded to myself, the logic unassailable. This plan was guaranteed to succeed.
A creature of habit, I slid the privacy shields back up over the front windows of the van, even though I didn't plan on overnighting here. Then I stepped to the middle of the van, double-checking my hoodie, sliding my feet into the oversize flip-flops, and opening the side door and stepping down into the parking lot, the autumn sun overhead, the air crisp against my bare legs. I grabbed my old body's wallet from the safe I had bolted to the floorboards, double-checking that the credit card I used for random purchases was still in there, and then slid the door shut, locking it.
Taking a deep breath, I strode across the parking lot toward REI. Okay, I'm sorry, that was a lie. I shuffled. Awkwardly as fuck. I mean, come on, these feet are so much smaller than my last ones. You ever try to walk in someone's shoes when they're bigger than yours? You can't. At least, not with any amount of elegance or grace. The automatic door slid open as I walked in, a chime sounding and a pleasant female voice calling a greeting that I instinctively ignored, because fuck people.
I continued inwards, quickly scanning the store, trying to find where the women's clothing was located. Luckily, it appeared to be off on one side, away from the cashiers, and wasn't very crowded. First, I was looking for pants, and found a good selection of Outdoor Research women's pants, but was at a total loss for picking the size. They all looked to be around the same lengths, but what was the right size? Well, that's what my plan was for, right? I grabbed a half dozen sizes, everything from 4 to 14, and made my way to the fitting room.
Eventually, I shimmied my way into a size 8, the pants snug across my - look, I'm being honest here, don't blame me - tight and juicy ass and tight over the hips. I glanced at myself in the mirror, lifting the hoodie slightly to get a good glimpse at the waist, and found no issues. These would work, I thought with a nod. I slid them back off, tugging the gym shorts back on and retying the drawstring to hold them in place. I walked back out, replacing all of the other sizes on the rack and grabbing two more pairs of the size 8, in different colors.
Next, I wandered over to the shirts and redid the same experiment, focusing on long-sleeve crew-neck t-shirts, looking to avoid the Focus Here disaster. I smirked, walking back to the changing room with a variety of sizes. First, I tried on an XL, but that definitely was out - it was more like a dress on me. Large was fine, comfortable. Medium, too revealing. I mean, it fit, if I'm being honest. It felt good on the chest and arms, but wow, that cleavage. And look, I might get stuck staring at myself in the van window, but that didn't mean anyone else got to, okay? That would be way too weird.
Deciding the Large was the right fit, I grabbed a half-dozen shirts of different colors and patterns, throwing them into a basket as I continued on, grabbing a handful of socks, and then finding my shoe size. Eight again, huh? With a shrug, I tossed the Salomon trail shoes into my bag and then paused, taking a deep breath. I need underwear. I need ... women's underwear. I am going to buy - and put on - women's underwear. I shook my head to try to shake the thoughts away as I stared at the rack. There weren't a lot of options, but I picked the least feminine one I could find, a full-coverage bikini brief style, and grabbed a handful of those.
Sighing, I carried my overloaded basket to the cashier, realizing that my quick shopping trip had turned into a much more expensive visit than planned. Well, it's not like the money matters - I have lots of that. But I just hadn't expected to need so many things. Who buys every single article of clothing they need all at once, right? Weird. I plonked the basket down, raising my gaze to find a cute 20-something redhead smiling at me. "Hey there!," she said in a perky tone, the name Gwendolyn written on a tag pinned to her shirt's left breast. "Haven't seen you before!"
She plucked the first item, one of my new shirts, out of the basket and began ringing up the items, typing away on the register as she did. "Do you have a membership?" Yes, I obviously did, I spent a fucking fortune at REI over the years, but didn't trust myself to speak, so I shook my head. She shrugged, continuing to ring up the items, "I can sign you up if you want, you'd save a bunch of money if you're buying so much stuff." I shook my head again, not wanting to deal with the hassle of trying to sort that out.
The redhead raised a pair of full-coverage underwear, a sly smile on her face, green eyes twinkling with mischief as she glanced at me. "You know, you'd look so much cuter if you ditched the frumpy panties" She placed it into the bag, picking up the next pair and repeating the process. "We do have some skimpier underwear in the store, although not quite as fun as the Victoria's Secret across the parking lot. Still, no reason to buy these granny panties." She winked at me and my jaw dropped. What was I even supposed to say to this?
"I'm Gwendolyn," she said, relentlessly continuing to talk as I struggled for words, tapping the nameplate affixed to her breast, drawing my attention to a generous (although not as big as my own, I thought brattily) pair of breasts. "What's your name? Are you new in town?" I couldn't help but notice how attractive she was, and she was refusing to take my incredibly awkward nature as a dismissal, plowing forward despite my lack of responses. Maybe it's okay if I talk to her?
"I'm Ti-" OH FUCK, ABORT, YOU ARE NOT TIM! My mind screeched to a halt, jaw hanging open, at a loss for words. I flapped my mouth open and closed a few more times, before noises came out, my mind only catching up once the words were spoken.
Gwendolyn, appearing to sense my struggle to speak, took a guess: "Tiff? That's a beautiful name."
"Tiffany. Nice to meet you," I managed. Tiffany? What the fuck? Is that my name now? Shit, I guess so. No takebacks, huh?
She propped her elbows on the counter, resting her chin on her hands, and smiled patiently, waiting. Wait, did she ask me something else? How the fuck would I know? It's not like I was paying attention to what she said, she's so distractingly cute and then I almost said the wrong fucking name. Oh, right, am I new in town? "Yeah, uh, I was just passing through. I do the whole digital nomad thing, traveling around, and needed to pick up some new clothing. I'm mountain biking my way through Oregon." Wow, that was a lot of words. Honestly, probably the most words I've said at once to a person in a few months, not counting whatever the hell that Fiona thing was. And Frank, but Frank doesn't count, because he's a picture on a screen and he's an asshole that pays me money in return for code.
"Well, if you're sticking around for a little bit, I'd love to grab coffee with you some time, if you're interested? But you won't hurt my feelings if you're not." My jaw dropped open, the mental train completely derailed. Did she just ask me out? No fucking way, I clearly misheard or am wildly misreading or misunderstanding the situation. I nodded, unable to think of any other rational reply, and she giggled and smiled at me. SMILED AT ME.
Gwendolyn tapped away at the keys before blanching slightly and looking over at me. "That will be eight hundred and thirty four dollars, seventeen cents. Ouch, but these are all solid brands, they'll last for years." Without blinking at the price, I pulled my wallet out, fishing the black plastic rectangle from a pocket, and handing it over. I wasn't worried about the cost, that barely counted, but her words rang in my head. They'll last for years. Would I? Last for years, that is. Like this? I mean ... I guess so? Fuck, who knows. What a thought that was.
She finished the transaction, scribbling her phone number on the receipt, and placed it in the bag, stepping around the counter to hand me the bags of clothing. She was tall, or at least taller than me. I still wasn't sure how tall I was, but she was at least five inches taller, and I had to look up at her smiling face. "My number is on the receipt. Again, no pressure - you won't hurt my feelings. But I'd love to get to know you better." I nodded, mind in a daze, as I stumbled out of the store and back across the parking lot to the van, climbing inside and locking the door behind me.
Was she flirting with me? Did she just ask me out? There was no fucking way that just happened.