Collide Into You: A Romantic Gender Swap Love Story (16 page)

I listen to his words carefully. Makes sense. Doesn’t help us out, but he’s correct. I know that I’m me, but in his body. That means that because I still own my own mind, I have the desire to do the things that I like to do: run, date men, watch baseball on mute, and read technical manuals. But that also means Dillan will want to do what he likes to do, but in
my
body: date women, act like a jerk, prance around naked for the world to see, cook, and brew beer.

“All right,” I say in response. “I understand what you mean. Now that we’ve figured out that our minds are intact, I’m still not entirely convinced we aren’t insane. How did this happen? People just don’t wake up in other people’s bodies.”

“It’s certainly never happened to me before. But we must acknowledge that it must happen, otherwise how do you account for this?” He waves a hand between us.

“We have to run into each other,” I say. “I’ll collide into you and you’ll collide into me.”

“What?”

“Like the movie. They run into each other to see if they can switch bodies.”

“Wait, there’s a movie about this?” Dillan asks.

“Well,” I say. “It wasn’t a documentary. It was a movie.”

“Did it work? I mean, is that how they switched bodies?”

I shake my head
no
. “But I’m willing to try it.”

Dillan nods. “Okay, me, too.”

Dillan

I
MOVE
TO
THE
OTHER
side of the living room, ready to charge at my own body, but Keira has another idea. Seriously, it is so odd to see myself outside of looking into a mirror. My mannerisms are being enacted right in front of me, and it’s a bit disconcerting.
 

“No, we’ll run at each other from the bedrooms. If we move the couch and the coffee table, it will be a straight line,” Keira says. “And it doubles the distance.”

“Will that make a difference?” I ask.

“Don’t know, but whoever made this happen will see that we’re very serious about changing back.”

“Maybe we should try to figure out who made this happen before we start injuring each other. I can hurt you. And I don’t mean me, in your body. I mean my body can hurt your body. I’ve got at least fifty pounds on you, Keira.”

“Good,” Keira murmurs absently, moving the furniture. “You’ll feel the pain right now. Not me.”

“You’ll care when it’s your face with two black eyes and a broken nose.”

Keira stops pushing the coffee table and looks up. “Maybe you have a point.”

“I thought you’d see it my way,” I say boastfully. Finally, she concedes a point to me. But the victory is short-lived. I’m still stuck in Keira’s cute body. I don’t want to be stuck doing girl things, and Alec Huffman better not try to kiss me before we can change back. “Has Alec Huffman kissed you yet?” I blurt out.

“What?” I hear my voice all but yell at me. Keira stands up straighter than an arrow and places her hands on her hips. It isn’t a good look on my body. “How is that any of your business, and what does it have to do with
right now
?”

“I was just thinking about what happens if we don’t change back. Like, if we have to live each other’s lives until we figure it out.”

“That is not going to happen,” Keira says with so much determination that I believe her. She sits down on the couch she just moved. I sit on the coffee table. Her body is small enough that I’m not worried about breaking it. “So let’s figure out who did this to us,” Keira says.

Keira

“W
HO
KNOWS
THAT
WE
ARE
bickering?” I ask. “Or, who hates us enough to ruin our lives?”

Dillan cringes. “I’ve got a boss who wouldn’t mind seeing me in less than favorable circumstances. But I don’t see Johnson Brookshire doing something like this. I suspect that whoever did this knows the both of us and wants to teach us a lesson.”

I nod, thinking. “In the movies, the two main characters have to learn a lesson. Then they change back. Okay. I’ll go first.”

“Huh?”

Dillan doesn’t catch on very fast, I think.
 

“I, Keira Holtslander, no longer think Dillan Pope is a dirtbag, a man whore, or a jerk. He’s a very nice guy.” I stand and nudge him on the elbow. “Your turn.” I observe my own body. I should probably gain a few pounds. Looking at myself from this angle, I think I might be a little too slim.

“Oh, right,” Dillan says. “Really? A man whore? That’s harsh, Keira. I’m telling you right now, this isn’t going to work.” He clears his—my—throat. “I, Dillan Pope, still think Keira is annoying, bossy, and Sergeant Prim and Proper, but she isn’t as bad as most other people on the planet.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re supposed to say it like you like me.”

“But that would be a lie, Keira,” Dillan says without hesitation. The fact that it’s my own voice saying that to me cuts me to the bone. “Look, I need a break. I’m feeling this sensation like maybe I need to go to the bathroom.”

This jolts me. Oh, crap. “Leave the door open when you go.”

“What?” Dillan says. “You’re insane.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, this entire situation is insane. Besides, you might need help.”

“I am a grown man. I do not need assistance in going
potty
.”

I shut my mouth. Fine. “When you come out, we need to discuss some rules.”

Dillan

K
EIRA
,
IN
MY
VOICE
,
YAPS
at me about rules and not doing
this
and not doing
that
. Like I need assistance. I lift the seat, pull down the running shorts and the thong, and stand there, ready for release. My hand reaches down to do its normal thing and comes away empty. Oh, right. No
external
equipment.

Nothing to aim with.

Nothing to hold on to.

With a groan, I reset the seat and sit down on the toilet. I actually don’t know if this is going to work. I release the muscles slowly. I’m not exactly worried about some massive waterfall gushing from my lady-parts, but will it
flow
down? To the side? Down my thigh? I mean, I have zero control here.

After a few seconds, I have successfully mastered allowing Keira’s body to eliminate urine into a toilet. Seriously, I want a trophy right now. Maybe two trophies, if I can get the thong back up without giving myself a wedgie.

Then I realize I need to wipe.

Crap.

I sit back down, grab what I hope is the right amount of toilet paper—fifty squares?—and reach into the danger zone. Does one dab? Rub? Scrape? Do I move my hand front to back, or back to front? How far
up
into the folds do I go? Since when did a simple process turn into a theoretical question? I wonder if there is an emergency hotline for this type of thing.

Keira is so not going to like any of this, so I’ll keep all of this to myself. I hardly see how it will come up anyway.

I go with
dabbing
. It seems the quickest and the
least
intrusive method. I maneuver the thong without killing the heinie and pull up the running shorts. There. Easy as pie. Being a girl is totally easy.

Keira

I
SHIFT
UNCOMFORTABLY
. I
CAN
’
T
seem to stand or sit down. There’s just too much going on in these jeans and I have no idea of how to situate Dillan’s frank and beans. I mean, I don’t think there’s enough space in there for them to fit. While Dillan’s in the bathroom allowing my body to pee, I’m out here waiting. Waiting for him to scream bloody murder. Waiting for him to faint.

He’s been in there for eleven minutes. What the hell can he possibly be doing?

Then it hits me. He’s a guy. He’s probably touching everything.
My
everything. He’s a guy in a girl’s body. A dream come true. Okay, maybe not. But my heart speeds up at the thought of him touching me in certain places.
Be honest, Keira. You don’t like the idea of him touching you anywhere. The only touching you’ve ever wanted him to do is when you were in your own body.

I shake my head. Giving up control isn’t easy. I want to be in there with him. Watching. Ensuring that my personal privacy isn’t abused or misused. While Dillan isn’t that bad of a guy, I didn’t want to afford him the opportunity to explore.

Dear Lord, how is this going to work? Who would want to do this to us? And why?

The bathroom door opens and I—Dillan—step out. I look at him expectantly.
 

He grins sheepishly. “I didn’t realize women pass gas when they pee. It isn’t loud. It’s more of a
poof
.”

“Don’t be crass,” I say. I’m trying to stay cool, but I can feel the heat on my face. I can’t believe we are having this conversation. But certain things must be said. “There are rules. No touching my parts except for legitimate reasons. No looking at my parts. No kissing anyone. There is absolutely no sex being done upon my body.”

“
No sex being done upon your body
? That’s about the least romantic way I’ve ever heard it said,” Dillan says.

“Swear to it.”

“Fine, fine,” Dillan says. “Miss Prude can have it her way. Can I venture to guess that I don’t need you to swear the same? Looking at my body probably disgusts you, so I’m not worried about what you might do. If this lasts more than a day, I suspect my body will get a case of blue balls. I’ll let you figure out how to relieve the discomfort.” He looks at me. “Why are you shifting nervously?”

“No reason,” I say.

“You have to pee, don’t you?”

I cross my legs again. “Nope. I’m fine. Thank you.”

Dillan moves around me and begins to push me into the bathroom. “It’s best if you figure it out now. Just be careful of the zipper.”

He closes the bathroom door on me and I’m alone with Dillan’s body. I don’t want to be alone. Dillan’s image greets me in the mirror and it, fleetingly, alarms me.
Get a grip, Keira.
I unbutton the pants, and slide the zipper down. Dillan’s privates bulge the area. I pull down the pants and the boxer briefs and his penis springs free.

I hear Dillan outside the door. “You’re going to have to grab it, Keira. Pretend it’s a pistol.” He practically laughs at me. Why does he get to enjoy this and I don’t?

“I will do no such thing,” I say through the door. My teeth are clenched as I say it.
 

I agree, internally, that I have to grab it, but I do not intend to pretend it is a pistol. Dillan’s private parts hang there. Soft. Somewhat wrinkled. For some reason, I think of a wrinkled dog, the Shar-Pei, and I laugh. But then hearing me laugh in Dillan’s voice ruins it. I gently take Dillan’s organ in two fingers and go. And I feel relief. Immense relief. I’ve had to go since I woke up this morning, but I didn’t want to admit it.

I clean up, wipe the seat—I’m apparently not that good of an aim—and open the door. Dillan greets me with a shit-eating grin that looks stupid on my face. He asks, “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

I grin back. “You have a small dick.”

Dillan

“N
OW
WHO
’
S
LYING
?” I
SAY
as she insults my manhood. “But I’ll let that one slide. I probably deserved it. I feel like we’re making strides here. Hungry?” I move toward the kitchen and take out breakfast items.

Keira glares at me as if I’ve sprouted two heads. She must not like that I’ve changed the subject. Or maybe she wanted a longer argument.

While we are no closer to figuring this out, I have an idea. Sometimes, when I cook, ideas come to me easier.

“I think it was Ellen,” I say as I scramble eggs. Keira’s behind me, brewing up a pot of coffee.

“You mean Ellen, from the bakery? You think she did this?” Keira looks at me skeptically after taking down two coffee cups. I don’t blame her for not really believing me. Sweet Ellen wouldn’t hurt a fly, but I’ve seen something more in the old lady.
 

“I know you’ve just met her, but don’t you get the feeling that she knows a bit too much about you?”

“I always thought it was just a keen business eye. Though I do know what you mean. The first time I met her, I got a sense of foreshadowing, like she was preparing me for something ahead of time.”

“Exactly,” I say, excited. Yes. This feels good. Collaborating. Fixing. Not screaming at each other. “After breakfast, we’ll march down there and order her to change us back. We should be ourselves before lunch.”

Keira smiles. “I wonder if it was in the coffee.”

“When I visited her last night, she just so happened to have two pre-made iced coffees for us. One for me, one for you. She was very specific that one was for you. I wonder what might have happened if Stacey was with me, and if she drank one.”

“Probably nothing. If the drinks were specific to us, then I doubt you and Stacey would have swapped. Granted, I wish you
were
with Stacey last night. We would have avoided this whole thing to begin with. At this very moment, I would have been looking for an apartment. You and Stacey could have been…eating dessert without my bothering you.”

I bristle slightly, but Keira isn’t looking at me. That’s the problem. She does bother me. I wonder if Keira wishes she had spent more time with Alec. I don’t want to think about him, but I just can’t seem to help it. I’m a man—currently in a woman’s body—and competition doesn’t sit well with me. Survival of the fittest and all that.

Keira places plates on the counter and I scoop eggs onto each. She loads a piece of toast onto each plate and pours herself a cup of coffee. Black with sugar. I don’t have any cream.

“You seem,” I start, but then hesitate, wondering if I should say anything. “You seem chipper this morning. I think this might be the most social you’ve been with me, Keira.”

She takes a big bite. “I’m just glad we figured it out. Once we see Ellen, we can fix this and go our separate ways. I don’t know if you noticed it this morning, but I packed up last night. All I have to do is get my own body back and walk out that front door.”