High-Tops to High Heels: When in Rome: Part 1

Andreas Romano generally did his best to forget about his ill-fated semester spent in the United States of America, doing an exchange program in a place called Green Lake. He’d gone into it with high hopes, excited to learn about American culture and eager to meet American girls, who he was certain were eager to be romanced by a suave newcomer from Italy. But it had all gone wrong, mostly thanks to one particular person: Bobby Vickerson.

Even remembering the name could make Andreas boil with anger. From the moment Andreas had arrived at Jefferson High, the basketball-playing boy seemed to have it in for him. First he’d made fun of his name, claiming “Andreas” was a girl’s name -- ridiculous. Andreas had tried to explain that “Andreas” was absolutely a boy’s name, seeing as it meant manly and virile, but that only prompted Bobby Vickerson to start calling him “Andrietta” instead.

Even worse, the school had no football team. Well, they’d had an American football team, of course, but Andreas didn’t have the slightest clue how that game worked. The most popular sport had been basketball for some reason, and Bobby Vickerson was worshipped for his skills the way only footballers were popular in Italy. When the American boy found out Andreas was a “soccer player,” he’d thought it was hilarious, informing him that it was a girl’s sport -- even more ridiculous.

Andreas had thought he could recoup his social standing by impressing the ladies, but he was foiled on that front, too. The fact that he wore leather shoes and colorful scarves, as was fashionable, led the ignorant American students to a bizarre conclusion. By the end of the first week, everybody in Jefferson High was convinced he was gay. Bobby Vickerson might not have started the rumor, but he certainly kept it going with his little jibes and taunts, and by having the gall to insist that Andreas’ hand-made leather bookbag was technically a purse.

All in all, the semester had been a miserable experience, and he couldn’t have been more happy when it came to a close. Returning to his family in Rome, he’d done his best to put Green Lake out of his mind. Of course, he’d spun a few stories for his friends to avoid losing face, claiming he’d dated a sexy blonde cheerleader during his semester abroad, but the lack of photo evidence hadn’t done him any favors.

Andreas had privately vowed to never return to the USA, and before long he was back to his routine of playing football in the park, attending classes with people who knew the importance of good leather shoes, and saving up for a scooter. Green Lake was the farthest thing from his mind that spring evening, as he was studying for an economics test, but then a notification popped up on his Instagram.

One of the few American students who’d actually been friendly to him during his miserable semester had linked him to a girl’s Instagram post: it was a photo of a stunning blonde posing in what appeared to be an airport. Andreas immediately perked up -- he had a weakness for blondes -- and looked closer.

The girl was wearing a flouncy miniskirt, showing off tanned, coltish legs, and her one-shoulder top, more fashionable than the usual American fare, displayed just a hint of cleavage as she bent forward. One manicured hand was clutching the handle of her pink suitcase, while the other was being used to blow the camera a kiss through pouty, gloss-coated lips. She was gorgeous, but despite her flirtatious pose, she also had a slight hint of nervousness in her pretty blue eyes.

Maybe that was explained by the caption: Off to Italy for my first fashion show, wish me luck! #BOY2BABE #WHENINROME #HOT2GLOBETROT.

Andreas had no idea what “boy two babe” was supposed to mean, but judging by the other hashtags, this blonde beauty was on her way to his hometown. He supposed his American friend had shared it with him for that reason, though it wasn’t as if he was going to just run into her in the piazza -- Rome was a big city. Curiosity piqued regardless, Andreas tapped through to the girl’s Instagram account, scrolling through several equally alluring photos and selfies.

There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he was sure he would have remembered a girl that hot if she’d gone to Jefferson High during his semester there. It wasn’t until his eyes went up to read her Instagram bio that his world suddenly flipped upside down: Barbie Vickerson. Model. Trans girl. Striving for realness, XOXOXO.

It was impossible. Completely impossible. Even so, Andreas couldn’t stop himself from scrolling down as far as he could, and there, buried beneath all the sexy selfies and photo shoot stills, was a picture of Bobby Vickerson. It wasn’t quite the Bobby Vickerson who Andreas remembered tormenting him, maybe a bit scrawnier and with a more feminine-looking face, but it was definitely him: handsome, dark-haired, and trying to flex for a gym selfie.

“Che cazzo?” Andreas exclaimed, loudly enough to make his mother poke her head in and scold him for swearing. He barely registered her admonishment, still unable to believe what he was seeing. The American boy who had made his semester abroad a living nightmare, who had bullied or teased him at every turn, had turned himself into a sexy little blonde. It boggled the mind.

Moreover, it made him furious. Bobby Vickerson had impugned Andrea’s masculinity and his manhood at every chance, accusing him of having a woman’s name and playing a woman’s sport, and even of being gay, and now here the American boy was, prancing around in expensive stiletto shoes -- most likely made in Italy -- and short skirts. What sort of psychopathic hypocrite would do that? And what sort of guy would give up his manhood to wear dresses?

Rome was a big city, with plenty of fashion shows any given weekend, but suddenly Andreas was determined to figure out exactly which one “Barbie” would be participating in. If nothing else, he was owed some answers. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind seeing those legs in person, either.

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Kimberly knew she’d been to Italy as a little kid -- her mom had shown her photos -- and she’d always entertained the vague thought of doing a big Eurotrip after graduation. But she had definitely never expected to be flying to Rome with her ex-boyfriend so he could strut his stuff at a spring fashion show.

Of course, there wasn’t much “boy” left to Bobby, at least on the outside. Kimberly had made sure of that. Her quest for retribution against the pompous, egotistical asshole who’d dumped and humiliated her had involved rigged bets, high-powered female hormones (unknowingly administered), social media hacking and anonymous blackmail -- in other words, a lot of hard work.

But the results so far definitely spoke for themselves. As they walked through the airport terminal, the clopping of Bobby’s sky-high heels drew just about every male eye in the place, and when they saw the owner of the shoes they kept right on looking. “Barbie” was a total vision of femininity: glossy blonde hair tumbling down slender shoulders, gorgeous face accentuated by full makeup, tanned, waxed-smooth legs flashing from under the hem of a daring miniskirt with every step.

Thanks to an intensive boot camp with his fashion model sister Serena, and his mom’s constant reminders, he also “walked the walk” in a way that was liable to cause whiplash. Kimberly wasn’t sure he was even aware how much of an effect his sexy, gyrating strut had on passers by, but she couldn’t deny she loved the sight of her once-macho ex sashaying along with his hips rolling, purse held daintily in the crook of one arm while his other hand pulled his new pink suitcase along behind him.

Even though he was hating every second he spent as a female, he definitely looked the part of an up-and-coming supermodel -- and Kimberly was going to do everything she could to keep it that way. For the moment, that meant being Bobby’s friend, confidante, and social media coordinator, which was the reason Bobby’s parents had bought her a plane ticket.

“You girls are in for such a treat,” her ex’s mom said, leading the way towards the departure gate at a brisk stride. “Rome is an absolutely gorgeous city. And I don’t just mean the men, either.” She looked back to give them a conspiratorial wink, which Bobby returned with a weak smile Kimberly knew was hiding serious discomfort.

“Let’s hear more about the men, though?” Kimberly said, and not entirely just to watch her ex squirm. Her single-minded determination to girlify her ex had taken basically all her time and energy over the past months. She hadn’t hooked up with anyone in ages, and a hot Italian guy sounded kind of perfect.

“They really know how to treat a woman,” Bobby’s mom said, with a slightly dreamy smile. “Before I met Barbie’s father, I had an amazing summer in Italy. They appreciate beauty in a way other cultures just don’t.” She paused. “Oh, and they love blondes. I adore the new color, Kimberly, but you really picked the wrong time to join us brunettes.”

Kimberly shrugged, tossing her newly-dyed hair -- she’d decided to ditch her former California-girl blonde a week earlier in favor of a dark chestnut brown. “I was in the mood for a change,” she said. “Besides, blonde is kind of Barbie’s thing now.”

“Definitely,” her ex’s mom said. “Branding is so essential at this early stage. And of course, you look so good as a blonde, sweetie. Those Italian men are going to just eat you up.”

Bobby blushed, clearly mortified by the idea. He gulped. “Um, thanks, Mom,” he said awkwardly, in the soft, high-pitched, slightly breathy voice that was now his default thanks to weeks of constant practice.

“Well, here we are,” his mom said, casually staking claim to the seats closest to their departure gate and depositing her suitcase. “I’m going to run buy a neck-pillow. Does anyone need a snack?”

As soon as she bustled away, Bobby dropped into the nearest seat, skillfully avoiding flashing his panties, and glared.

“Remind me again how doing a fashion show in Italy is going to screw over Serena?” he demanded, crossing one waxed-smooth leg over the other and folding his arms, looking for all the world like a pouting beauty queen.

There were a few different factors keeping Bobby in skirts, but his biggest motivation to stay “Barbie” at the moment was one Kimberly knew very well: revenge. Her ex had spent basically his entire life in the shadow of his narcissistic older sister Serena, a successful fashion model, and hated it.

When Serena had found out her little brother had “come out,” she’d seen through the ruse, but mistakenly thought he was doing it by choice to steal her spotlight. Naturally, she’d done everything in her power to make life hell for him -- and the only way for Bobby to get payback was as “Barbie.”

“The show’s sponsored by Blush,” Kimberly explained, sitting down beside him. “You know, the makeup company that does that one lipstick you like so much.”

Bobby grimaced. “It’s really long-lasting,” he admitted. “I don’t have to check it in the mirror every five freaking minutes.”

“Definitely tell them that,” Kimberly said. “There’ll be executives there. Mostly because Blush is looking for a new girl for their next ad campaign. That’s one of the reasons you got an invite to the show.”

“But Serena’s not even going to be there,” Bobby said, frowning. “It’s not like I’m going to get to trip her on the runway or something.”

“Tripping her on the runway isn’t going to demolish her career, anyways,” Kimberly said. “You want to do this right, don’t you? Bury her so bad she won’t show up on Google? Your words.”

“Yeah, I know, don’t steal my lines,” Bobby said, flicking his blonde hair out of his face. “But how does me getting a job with Brush…”

“Blush.”

“How does that hurt Serena?” Bobby finished.

“Because Serena is currently the face of SoGlam,” Kimberly said triumphantly. “It’s perfect.”

Her ex stared at her, his pretty blue eyes completely void of understanding. “Uh-huh.”

Kimberly rolled her eyes. “It’s only the nastiest rivalry in the cosmetics world,” she said. “Think Lakers versus…the Irish team.”

“You mean the Celtics?” Bobby’s face lit up momentarily at the prospect of a basketball metaphor. “That’s kind of a dated example, Kimmy. Maybe Lakers versus Clippers. Wait, who’s the underdog?”

“Blush is the new hotness,” Kimberly said. “They’re trying to knock SoGlam off the top, basically. They want to be younger, cooler, sexier, all that.”

Bobby stared out the window at the airport runway with a thoughtful expression. “So I’m like a free agent taking my talents to Blush so they can beat SoGlam in the finals, and then I can rub Serena’s face in it.”

Kimberly figured it was about as close as she was going to get. “Exactly,” she said. “It’s exactly like that.”

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