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Yes-And

The subway was an absolute treat at five-foot-eleven.  Abigail wasn’t used to being taller than anyone over the age of twelve.  In the train car that morning, she counted just four people taller than her – all of them men.  She stood, feet spread wide, enjoying the novelty of taking up space.

Besides the new perspective, there was also the attention.  Mackenzie had talked about this.  How good it could feel when people looked at you.  No one was openly staring at her, and that was probably for the best.  But everyone was aware of her.  She could see them watching her in their peripheral vision, sense heads turning to follow each time she moved.  Scanning her from the top of her head down to her feet, certain someone as tall as her must be wearing heels.

She stepped off the train, feeling like a million bucks, and adopted a runway-model walk as she headed to class.  She’d picked out a black A-line dress, and it made her feel like she was in a fashion show.  The garment wrapped around her neck, but left her shoulders bare, and the skirt was at least a hand’s length above her knee.  On the spectrum of Mackenzie’s closet, the dress was easily 70 percent of the way up the slutty-scale.

Her morning class was 19th Century French Poetry.  An esoteric enough subject, and consequently, the class was sparsely attended.  There were only ten other students on the whole roster.  This was a class where she was fairly outspoken, too – this was going to be the real test to see if anyone noticed her growth.

She sat neatly at her desk, a confident smile on her face.  Abigail found she could actually feel people watching her.  It felt nice – a little tingle, at the base of her scalp.  She squeezed her legs together beneath the desk, aware that long legs with a short skirt could create problems, but problems could be good.  The desk was a bit small for her.  That was a pleasant problem, too.

“Excuse me miss.  Are you here visiting someone today?  Or possibly in the wrong class?”

Professor Martin was a soft-spoken woman in her early forties.  She was standing over Abigail’s desk, smiling politely.

“Oh, no!  I’m Abigail Archer.”  She put on an apologetic expression, and summoned every bit of her charisma.  “I’ve been in this class all semester.  Remember?  We had that discussion about Baudelaire, and I said he was a low-rent shock jock born too early to be on reality TV?”

The professor narrowed her eyes.  “You do look familiar.  But I would definitely have remembered someone like you in my class.”

There were murmurs of agreement from around the room.

“...Don’t think I’ve seen her…”

“Yeah no, I’d’ve noticed….”

Abigail spun in her desk, heart thudding in her chest.  “I know, it’s weird right?  I’m just as surprised as any of you.  See, I had a… growth spurt….”

The murmurs of disapproval grew louder.

Professor Martin took a deep breath.  Abigail could see her mentally consulting her administrative handbook.  It probably didn’t cover situations like this.  “I want to believe you.  But I also need to mention, impersonating a student is a serious academic violation.  It’s treated as a form of plagiarism.  Do you understand?”

“I’m… not impersonating…!”

In the back of the room, someone stood up.

“It’s true,” they said, raising their voice.  “It’s really Abigail.  Just.  Bigger.”

Everyone turned to look at the speaker.  It was the kid from her biology class – Dylan.  His hands were folded in front of him, his shoulders slumped.  He looked deeply embarrassed to suddenly be the center of attention.

“She’s been in this class all along,” he continued.  “Just, she used to be four-foot-seven.”

The girl sitting beside Abigail made a face.  “Okay, it kinda looks like her.  But this girl is like six feet tall.  There’s no way it’s the same person.  No offense lady, but you kind of stand out in a crowd.  We’d remember you.”

There were sounds of general agreement.

Dylan looked flustered.  He swallowed, and spoke over the tumult.  “We had this exact discussion in my biology class yesterday.  No one believed her there, either.  Turns out she’s getting an experimental treatment, part of some research program with one of the big pharma companies in town.  The teacher had to call the dean’s office, and then her doctor.  It took like the whole class.”

The room went quiet.

“Can you tell me a little about this treatment?” the professor asked.  “It seems a little hard to believe.”

“I um, can’t,” Dylan stuttered.  “It’s… protected medical information.  Research privacy standards, HIPAA protections….”

“It’s okay,” Abigail said smoothly.  “Thanks Dylan, but I’ll share.  A little, at least.  I don’t know if anyone noticed, but I was kind of short?  Like.  Really short.”

There were nods.

“There’s a major company – I don’t know if I’m allowed to share the name, I’d have to consult my NDA  – that reached out to my health care provider for a research partnership.  Looking for willing patients, experiencing Chronic Exceptional Low Height Syndrome.  It’s only been a week.  These results are seriously unbelievable.”  Abigail stood up from her desk, standing to her full height with her arms over her head.  Inviting everyone to look at her.

Inside, a part of her felt a giddy surge of excitement as the whole room stared.  She found she was smiling.

“The treatment was miserable,” she went on.  “It’s so many injections, in so many unpleasant places.  Zero out of ten, would not recommend.”

The room laughed.

Dylan spoke up.  “And yesterday, she said we should keep being prepared for surprises like this.  Because she’s likely to keep growing.”

Abigail shot him a look.  But when she went on, her tone didn’t change.  “Actually, update on that.  I talked to my doctor and the research coordinator yesterday.  We agreed to end the treatment.  I think I’m tall enough.  Don’t you?”

There were casual sounds of approval.  Dylan’s expression was hard to judge.  She thought he looked disappointed.

Ninety minutes of Romanticism later, class was dismissed.  Abigail collected her things, and headed for the door, where Dylan stood waiting.

“Hi,” he said, not meeting her eye.

“Hi.  Let’s take a walk.”

She led him down the hall.  He followed a half pace behind, hardly daring to look at her.  Abigail was convinced that if she yelled boo, he would probably run away.

She took him to a reasonably private area along the side of the building, and turned to face him.

“Okay.  First.  Thanks.  A lot.  That was quick thinking.”

He smiled.  “I had time to think about it.”

“Oh?”  Abigail raised an eyebrow.  “You knew I was going to be bigger today?”

He shrugged nervously.

Abigail let the awkward silence play out.

“I guess I kind of hoped you’d be,” he said finally.

“Uh-huh.  And why would you care, Dylan?  What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing!”

She stared down at him, reading his expression.  He was obviously scared of her.  This was her first time being taller than a guy, and especially standing this close to one.  It was kind of fun being intimidating.

She leaned in, emphasizing her height advantage.  “So you hoped for me to get taller, huh?  And you thought about it a lot.  Are you telling me you fantasized about it?”

“Um….”

“Oh I get it.  You have a thing for tall women.”

He didn’t respond, but his mortified expression was answer enough.

“That’s the reason you noticed I was growing in the first place, wasn’t it?  No one else did.  But you’re keyed into the heights of people around you, because it’s a total turn-on.  I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Hey, I helped you,” he whined.  “And you’re standing really close right now.”

“Oh.”  Abigail stepped back, suddenly aware she’d been deep in his personal space.  She shook her head, and sighed.  “Sorry.  I was teasing you.  It just kind of happened.”

“It’s… it’s okay.”

“I want to know why you were taking an interest, is all.  If it really is the height… that’s fine.  I didn’t mean to kink shame you.”

He nodded.  Opened his mouth, closed it again.  Hesitated.

When he spoke, all his words escaped in a rapid gush.  “But I would have noticed anything weird happening to you.  I kind of had a crush on you, like since the first day of class.  The height thing was cool, and I’m totally into it, but also it was like an excuse to talk to you?  I didn’t want to make a thing out of it, the crush I mean, I know it’s not reciprocated.  But my therapist said I should take an active role in my life sometimes.  So I’m glad you got taller – it looks really good on you – and like, you don’t have to tell me how it happened.  Just.  I think you’re cool.  That’s all.  Sorry.”

She stared at him.  In retrospect, everything he said was a no-brainer.  Of course he had a crush.  It explained everything.  Still.  Why did she find it so surprising?

“If you’re into tall women,” she said, slowly.  “Then why would you have noticed me?  I was, you know.  Tiny.”

Dylan looked angry.  “I can like two things!  Fuck.  We contain multitudes, Walt Whitman.”

"Hmph."  She scratched her chin, considering.  "And you're not about to say you think I'm, like, 'so exotic.'  Right?  Because I'm not here for that."

He groaned.  “No, I’m not.  Look.  I can stand here and make a list of reasons I’m into you.  Or I’ll put it in a spreadsheet if you want – but I don’t really feel like being humiliated anymore today.  Can I just go?  Please?”

In about half a second, her brain did an incredibly complex series of calculations.  How she’d never noticed this guy before, despite that he was in at least two of her classes.  How she knew the way it felt to be ignored, to have someone completely oblivious to your affections.  How much fun it was to tease him.  How she owed him a favor, technically, and also he wasn’t that bad-looking up close.  The sound of Chloe and Kayla, making love in the next room.  The long parade of suitors, in and out of Mackenzie’s bedroom.  And Mackenzie – she was there suddenly, tiny on her shoulder, telling her to just fucking go for it, and if there was supposed to be someone on the other shoulder, they were a no-call-no-show.

“Hey.”

Abigail reached down, and took his hand.  She lifted it to her lips, and lightly kissed his first knuckle.

His eyes went wide.  His mouth made a silent ‘o’ as he stared up at her.

“Do you live around here, Dylan?”

He swallowed.  “I’m in the dorms.”

Oh right, Freshman.  “You’re over eighteen, right?”

“Yeah.  Um.  A-are you?”

Abigail smirked, and bent down until her lips almost pressed against his ear.  “Sweetie, I’m twenty-three.  Have you ever been with an older woman, Dylan?”

“No.”

“What about one who was taller than you?”

“Once.  But.”  His hand reached out, rested on her hip, then slid around to the small of her back.  His breath came in small, shaky gasps as he held her.  “She wasn’t as tall as you.”

And why did that admission make her feel so good?

She took his earlobe between her teeth, and tugged on it gently.  “It’s not going to be a regular thing.  Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”  Both his hands were on her now, his breath hot against her throat.  Squeezing her ass, tracing the curve of her waist.

She slowly pulled away, maintaining eye contact as she stood back to her full height.  She felt more elated and powerful than she could ever remember in her life.  God, she was too way fucking turned on by all of this.  She took a deep breath, and made herself slow down.

Abigail glanced at her watch.  Just after ten-thirty.  Eve’s shop was a bit of a hike from here, but if she walked fast, she could make this work.

“Alright Dylan.  Lead the way.”