American Girl

It's Saturday. Tracy, Monica, Emily, and I were at the mall, wandering through stores and giggling at the newest fashion trends. I tried to keep up with their excitement, though the bustling mall always makes me feel out of place. They were effortlessly girlish, while I was still learning to play this part convincingly.

We had arranged to meet James, Sid and Mark at the mall to go to dinner together, but we decided to arrive earlier to be able to go to the stores, the clothing and makeup stores. The boys wouldn't want to go to those stores.

We passed by the usual stores: Forever 21, Claire's, and H&M. Then Monica gasped, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Look! There's a new American Girl store!" she exclaimed, grabbing Tracy's hand and dragging her toward it.

I trailed behind them, my heart thumping in my chest. Dolls and girl games have never been my strong suit. Even when I tried playing along with Tracy back home, I never quite got the hang of it. But here, with everyone watching, I had to maintain my act.

The store was a wonderland of bright displays, elaborate dollhouses, and little girls clutching their look-alike dolls. I felt a pang of discomfort, but I forced a smile, hoping no one notices my hesitation.

That's when I spotted her: Miss Alice, one of our teachers from school, but she was not dressed in her usual modest clothes. Instead, she was in casual clothes, playing on the floor with two adorable twin toddlers who were clutching tiny dolls. My heart skipped a beat. Seeing a teacher outside of school is surreal, but what was more shocking was that she was, she's... so human. So young.

Miss Alice looked up and recognized us immediately, a smile breaking across her face. "Oh, girls! Fancy seeing you here!" she said, her voice warm and friendly. "Come join us!"

Tracy, Emily, and Monica lighted up, eager to dive into the world of dolls, but I felt my stomach knot. Playing with dolls has never been natural for me. I've always been more comfortable with cars and video games—things that belong to John, not Heather. But here I was, expected to participate in this feminine ritual.

I sat down hesitantly, trying to mimic Tracy and Monica as they cod over the dolls. Miss Alice handed me one of her daughter's dolls with a kind smile. "Here you go, Heather," she said gently.

I held the doll awkwardly, my hands stiff. The twins giggled, and I tried to laugh along, but the feeling of the doll in my hands makes me feel out of place, like I was pretending to be someone I was not. I glanced at Tracy, who was animatedly showing one of the twins how to braid a doll's hair, and I tried to mimic her movements.

James texted me saying that they have already arrived and were entering the mall. I told him where we were. He told me that they were waiting for us outside. Sure, it would be the end of the world for three boys in a doll shop.

We met the boys outside the American Girl Store, and I couldn't help but feel the rush of nerves coursing through me. James stood there, his eyes lighting up the moment he saw me. His smile widened, and he took a step closer, making the crowded city surroundings feel small and quiet.

"Heather," he said, his voice warm and genuine. "You look awesome. And your eyes... they're really beautiful."

The compliment caught me off guard. My face heated, and I couldn't stop the blush from spreading across my cheeks. I glanced down quickly, trying to hide my fluster, but even that betrayed me. My shoes had angled toward his, almost unconsciously, as if pulled by a force I couldn't resist.

James seemed to notice my awkwardness, and before I could say anything, he reached out and gently lifted my chin with his fingertips. His touch was so soft, so intimate, and yet it felt... right. Then, without a moment's hesitation, he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. My heart skipped several beats.

Before I could even process what I was doing, I found myself leaning up and giving him a small kiss back. The action surprised me more than anything else I'd done as Heather. It felt instinctive, natural—terrifying.

The three couples, hands now linked as if it were the most natural thing in the world, laughed and joked their way down the street, headed toward the French restaurant. We must have looked like any other group of friends: three tall, confident guys with their petite, slender girlfriends, simply enjoying the evening. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was balancing on a tightrope, trying desperately to keep my real self from falling away.