III
Les Martinez scowled at his phone.
George (6:47 pm): Someone called in sick so I have to work a double. Rain check?
Les (6:48 pm): Of course 🙂
Feeling more frustrated than his text response implied, Les switched apps to find social media posts from the anime con. With his mid-term project due, he’d been unable to attend the con himself. A rainbow cake, iced with flowers and ribbons that he’d spent most of the weekend laboring over, rested in the fridge before the next day’s class. It was quite possibly his best work, but the prospect of spending his Sunday evening alone was rapidly killing his good mood.
Scrolling through the seemingly endless stream of photos and videos from the con, Les stopped at one particular photo. It was a girl dressed as the FMC from Chobits. It wasn’t his favorite anime of all time, but it had been one of the first he’d watched when he was young, so it held a special place in his heart. It was rare to see cosplay from it these days, and Les studied the photo. The girl was cute and looked about his age. Based on the reddish-brown of her eyebrows, the hair was a wig, but that was pretty normal for cosplay. Her makeup was basic, too, which meant most of that vibe was just naturally her. The fit wasn’t quite the same as the real thing—she’d probably dug it out of her mom’s closet or something—but it hugged her slim body. The girl either had quality padding under that frock or decent curves for her frame.
The photo wasn’t enough to get Les off, but it definitely got him warmed up. He hadn’t seen George since Wednesday. He took another long look, then opened a private browser tab.
***
Candace hadn’t anticipated how much time community college classes would take up. A month into the semester, she had to cut back her hours at Headlights to make her daily commute and still have enough time to finish her homework. Even spending less time in class or even on campus, college took up more hours in each of her days than high school had. Making matters worse, her new bras were getting tight. After spending her entire morning in pain from her 32C, she stopped by her favorite thrift store, buying the only two she could find with higher letters. It was a detour on her trip between class and the restaurant, so she didn’t have time to try them on.
In the changing room at Headlights, she caught Skylar watching her change in the mirror. “What?”
“Where did you get that?” Skylar asked. “I don’t think it’s the right size.”
Candace turned to her reflection. The fleshtone bra hung off her shoulders, the band around her torso drooping so that the whole thing fell almost to her belly button.
“Ugh. I didn’t have time to try it on. My old ones are all too tight, so I figured I needed a double-D.”
Skylar was silent for several seconds. “Wait… Are you saying that you“—she dropped her voice to a whisper—“grew?”
Candace shrugged, making one of her loose shoulder straps slide down her arm before she caught it. “I guess. Is that weird?”
“Not necessarily. Everyone’s body is different. Let me see…”
Skylar walked behind Candace and twisted the band of her thrift store bra. “Babe… this is a thirty-eight double-D.”
Heat rose in Candace’s cheeks. “I don’t, um, I don’t really know what those numbers mean.”
Silence filled the small room again, but just before it got too awkward, Skylar said, “That’s alright. Sizing is weird. I think a lot of girls don’t understand it. Hang on.”
Skylar went to her bag and rummaged inside until she came back with a handful of small safety pins. She tugged at Candace’s bra until the band was snug around her ribs, then pinned the extra material flat behind her back. “So, the number is this part. It’s the circum… circa…”
“Circumference?”
“Yeah, that. It’s the circumference of your chest under your girls. The ‘underbust.’” She slid the bra’s straps through their plastic adjusters until the bra’s cups sat generally in the right place. “Most people think the letters are the whole size, but it’s relative. If you get fitted, measured for your correct size, they’ll measure your bust and your underbust, and the difference between those two is what letter size you are. A letter for each inch… sort of.”
Candace rotated in the mirror, taking in Skylar’s work. “Sort of?”
“It varies some between different stores and brands. The best way is to get fitted in the store you’re shopping at. Have you ever done that?”
Candace nodded. “Mom took me once, and I just wore the same size all through high school.”
“So you didn’t start growing again until recently?”
“I guess… like six months ago?”
“Lucky you, especially working here…”
Candace’s cheeks blazed.
“Anyway,” Skylar continued. “This should work for now, but you should really get fitted again.”
“Thanks, Sky.”
Skylar bumped Candace with her hip. “Any time.”
***
Candace repeated Skylar’s modifications to her other new bra and made do with them for almost three weeks until a band ripped around one of its safety pins. There was nothing for it but to finally get measured and buy brand-new clothes for the first time since she’d moved out of her parents’ house.
The employee was older, close to Jen’s age. She gave off a bit of a mom vibe, but her voice was more comforting and supportive than Candace’s actual mother had ever been. Her eyebrows rose when Candace stripped off her shirt, standing in the dressing room in just her last pinned-up bra, and Candace felt her face go warm.
“I know it’s the wrong size…”
“That’s alright,” the woman said. “You’d be surprised how often that happens. Usually, the whole thing is too small, but you’ve got it adjusted pretty well.”
She gave a few experimental tugs on Candace’s band and straps, making her breasts jiggle. “Pins can work as a quick fix, but they’re not a great long-term solution.”
Candace saw her pink cheeks in the mirror that covered one wall of the cubicle. “My other one already ripped…”
“Well, let’s get you measured so you can find something in the correct size.”
The number Candace got was 30F. She hadn’t even known the letters went higher than DD. The news was a little shocking, but Candace was grateful for the employee’s help and for Skylar explaining how it all worked. She always felt that knowing was better than not knowing, except maybe when it came to whatever her sister did on the other side of her bedroom wall back at home.
The lady said Candace’s size was uncommon, but the store had a few styles in stock. Unfortunately, none of the bras available in her size were on the sale racks. She’d known new clothes were expensive—she’d become a thrift store junkie as soon as her mom stopped buying her clothes. And while she’d expected a new bra to cost at least ten times more than used ones, these were much more than that. She picked the cheapest of her four options, wincing at the total. It was more than she made in an entire shift at Headlights unless it was a weekend.
Maybe I should look for a roommate.
***
Skylar lived in a loft above her aunt’s garage for nominal rent, but there was only one bed, so Candace resorted to the LVCC Discord. Most of the listings were too far from campus, the restaurant, or both. The ones that weren’t in BFE cost as much or more than her current place, even with split rent. Finally, she found a girl named Les who had a whole house three blocks from campus.
The house was a single-story bungalow, a little old, but clean. It was painted baby blue with bright yellow accents, and a Pride flag flew from the small front porch. Candace’s heart thudded in her chest as she pushed the doorbell button. She’d never met a stranger from the internet before, but waiting tables and interacting with convention-goers had made her more comfortable pretending to be an extrovert like Skylar.
A guy answered the door. Around Candace’s height, with black hair and darker skin, she guessed he might be Latino. Maybe this was Leslie’s boyfriend or something.
“Hi, um, I’m looking for Les?”
“That’s me,” he grinned.
Candace’s mind spun while she stumbled through the rest of the introduction, and he showed her around the house. Les was a guy? Could she have a guy roommate? Maybe that was normal. She’d never had a roommate of any gender, after all. But then, there was the flag outside. And a bunch of photos around the kitchen of Les and a tall blonde guy with an undercut. Realizing he was gay made Candace feel better. Then she felt bad for that feeling. Why was having a gay guy roommate better than having a straight guy roommate? For that matter, why would a straight guy automatically be bad?
Les was looking at her. He’d asked her a question that apparently needed more than a nonverbal murmur in response. Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, sorry, hmm?”
“I said, What are you studying?”
“Just general stuff for now. It’s my first semester. I don’t really know what I want to major in.”
“Yeah, I think that’s pretty common at a community college.”
“What about you?”
“I’m in the culinary program.”
“Oh, nice. I’m a server, actually.”
Candace’s breath caught—she’d tried to avoid talking about her job since making the switch.
“Really? Where at, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Well, I used to work at Joe’s. The sports bar down on Maple?”
“I have some friends who used to go there a lot. It’s gotten kind of lame since they took MoFo sauce off the menu.”
“Yeah, my friend and I kept getting our hours cut. We work at, um, Headlights, now.”
Les’s eyes flicked down to Candace’s chest so fast she thought she imagined it. “Bet. I’ve only been there once, but their food is better than I expected.”
***
Holy shit. Had Les really just almost told his potential new roommate she looked qualified to work at a breastaurant? He’d never used the word “bet” like that in his life. Also, he was, like, eighty percent sure this was the girl from that con cosplay photo.
“Um, this might be a weird question,” Candace said.
“Hit me.”
Les cringed.
“How’d you end up with this whole house all to yourself? You don’t seem that much older than me.”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“I’ll be nineteen in a few months.”
“Anyway, yeah, this used to be my aunt’s house. My parents are letting me live here as long as I cover utilities and taxes and stuff.”
“Ah, that explains…” Her cheeks reddened again.
“Why the rent’s so cheap?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, even though it’s cheap, it’s still gone up lately. It was either find a roommate or take on more hours, and I really want to focus on class.”
“That makes sense.”
“Plus, I’m not really using the room.”
Wait, had he even shown her the room? He opened the third door leading off his kitchen slash living room. His aunt’s spare bedroom was mostly untouched. Orange shag carpet with purple hibiscus wallpaper.
“Sorry, it’s kind of a lot. We could paint it if you want.”
Candace walked into the room and did a slow turn, taking in the vibe. His eyes traced her gentle curves before he could stop them. “No, I like it,” she said. ”It’s, um… retro.”
Les huffed a laugh. “So, you’re in?”
Candace nodded. “My lease is up in three weeks. I just have to find some friends to help me move.”
Les stopped himself just before saying “bet” again. What the fuck was wrong with him?
“Cool. I could probably help if I’m not working.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“Nah, we industry peeps have to look out for each other.”
Corpus Christi…
Her smile seemed hesitant. “Well, thanks, I guess.”
“I bet I can even get some barbacks to come help, if I make them dinner and we get some good beer.”
“I can’t buy beer…”
“Oh, duh. You can just pay me back, I guess.”
Her smile spread into a grin, as if he’d made a joke. “Alright, cool.”
Les held out his hand, feeling like an idiot. “It was nice meeting you, Candace.”
“You too, Les.” An unreadable expression ran across her face as she shook his hand.
He walked her to the door. “I’ll see you in a few weeks. Make sure to DM me the details on the move.”
“I will, thanks again!”
Les leaned back against the door after Candace was gone. He needed to get his shit together, or this was going to be really awkward.