Performative: Part II

“What do you think?”

“Looks pretty good.”

“Just pretty good?”

“Can’t lust over you too much in this — too big for you.”

So, for the past month, you and Liz have been kind of a thing. It’s still mostly fucking whenever and wherever you like — choking, licking, breeding — but there are now dates and dinners and holding hands in the equation between you two.

“You’re being a knobhead.” Liz chides. “Imagine me asking you to wear leggings because they will show the outline of your cock.”

“I love being ogled. Plus, you’re still the only one who can have me,” you reply with your phone in hand, playing some YouTube video from Balatro University.

“You’re a slut.”

“ Your slut, and your knobhead.”

And Liz just can’t help but smile. “I won’t buy this then, but you’ll have to wear leggings tomorrow.”

“Sure, I might even wear a skirt. I’ll probably look good in it,” you respond, standing up and spinning your hips slightly to sway your hypothetical dress.

“Oh, Yujin would love it,” Liz says with a laugh — infectious — and it just makes you laugh along with her. The dimples look so good on her already gorgeous face.

“Anyway … what should we eat for lunch?” Liz asks.

You give it a thought. There’s only fish and chips right now, hugely influenced by the fact that you had Long John Silver’s the last time you were at this mall. It doesn’t seem fitting with Liz, however. She has too much of the royalty look to eat there, despite the t-shirt and denim shorts. Liz just looks too resplendent to eat at a fast-food chain right now. Maybe, maybe, maybe Bonchon?

“Bonchon?” you ask.

(Alright, it’s still a pretty daring choice considering her stature, but it’s definitely better than Long John Silver’s.)

Liz squints her eyes into slits, contemplating your suggestion before giving you the answer. “Sure.”

“Okay.”

—

Bonchon tastes splendid as always — crusty outside, soft inside, so umami. Every bite feels like heaven. You’re not comparing it to KFC, however — different playing fields.

“Have you done the assignment yet?” Liz asks you as she’s pulling apart the boneless chicken on her plate. “The uh … GenEd essay thingy.”

Your hand holding the fork freezes mid-air before you answer her, “Still ruminating on it. Been asking ChatGPT and wasn’t really pleased with its ideas,” and you eat the chicken.

“I’ve been thinking of having you as a beta reader, but I guess I’ll wait until you’re done with yours,” Liz says, taking a bite of the meat.

“Fair,” you respond with a chuckle. “I might write about Bonchon and the economy.”

And she just laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. You can see her mouth chewing a bit, but you don’t mind, really. “You can write about me.”

You, still simpering, reply, “Bonchon and the economy and you.”

“Splendid,” Liz says, laughing with the chicken inside her mouth. Her hand covers it pretty well, however. “I’m sure you can write that.”

You give her a smile before going back to eating, letting thoughts pass through your head. They’re mostly about Liz — how gorgeous she is, how smart she is, how mature she is. You can’t help but feel how lucky you are to be on a date with such a well-rounded woman. The thoughts wander to how she is in your class, always playing Arena of Valor quietly with Yujin and Leeseo.

Wait, speaking of Yujin — the skirt.

So you ask Liz jokingly, “Should I wear the skirt to impress Yujin tomorrow in class?”

Liz chuckles lightly before answering you. “Well, if that’s what you want. Yujin loves femboys.”

You have to do a double take. Your eyes widen. “I thought—”

“She’s just another nerd?” Liz says with a chuckle, finally swallowing her chicken down her throat. “We have our preferences! And in Yujin’s case,” and she shrugs, “it’s femboys.”

Well, goddamn.

“Remember that guy in the bar? Yujin told me he looked gorgeous in thigh-highs and a miniskirt while she was, uh,” and Liz leans in closer to your ears before whispering, “pegging him.”

You chuckle. “You’re not going to do this to me, right?” The idea isn’t very flattering to you, to say the least.

Liz pulls back, smiling smugly at you, with a look that there’s something definitely hidden within her. “I mean … I likely won’t, high chance that I won’t,” she replies.

“High chance?” The chuckle stops. You repeat her words, quizzed.

“Yeah, unless you wanna dress up as a femboy and like, well, you know,” Liz says with a shrug before eating another piece of chicken. “You’re already listening to Carly Rae Jepsen. That’s like halfway in already,” and she chuckles.

You have to do a double take again, laughing. “Uh, the artists I listen to do not represent my gender identity.”

Liz, still chuckling, replies, “It’s fine if you don’t want that. I was just kidding. No one’s forcing you to … well …”

What’s with the well?

Your laugh fades. Your eyes widen. “Liz, why are you well-ing like that?”

And she looks around her, trying to gauge the surroundings to judge whether you should be told the truth right now. “I … uh … I’ll tell you once we’re out of here.”

Oh.

The rest of the meal is filled with uncertainty and nervousness. You can’t help but think of the predicament you might face. The chickens are still pretty crispy, however.

—

The park is filled with the chirps of the birds and the chatter of the people strolling around. Trees are occasional, not too crowded that it turns the place into a metropolitan jungle. The place smells of fresh leaves and grass. You’re wandering around the park with Liz, holding her hand firmly, but not without the anxiety of the words she uttered before.

I … uh … I’ll tell you once we’re out of here.

“So, like, you were going to tell me about … that,” you say cautiously, still wary of her next words.