Lipstick on Weekends

Lipstick on Weekends

Part 4: Textbooks and Tight Jeans

Monday came like a slap to the face.

Gone was the salwar, the dupatta, the purse with a sanitary pad tucked in a hidden pouch. Naveen stood in his usual school uniform - half-sleeve white shirt and navy trousers. Hair oiled and combed back. His voice silent most of the day.

But nothing felt the same anymore.

Because every vibration in his pocket reminded him he was also Nandhini now.

His phone kept buzzing under the desk. Aarthi.

[8:07 p.m.] Aarthi 💄: “veetla bore-a? 😂”
[8:07 p.m.] Aarthi 💄: “NEET homework padichiya?”
[8:08 p.m.] Aarthi 💄: “Miss u, da Nandhini. 🙈”

He didn’t reply immediately.

He was still reeling from yesterday’s kiss.

Still feeling the lipstick cling.

Still hearing her voice say: “I like you… as a friend. Or more, if you want.”

The Week Drags On

Every evening, Amma made him sit with the NEET books. Even though he didn’t want to go. Even though it wasn’t his ambition.

But now it was his identity.

Nandhini. The girl attending weekend NEET coaching.

He had to keep up. Aarthi would quiz him over chat. “Page 42 Bio key terms. Now.”

Occasionally, they had short online review classes on Zoom. Naveen had to log in using Nandhini’s ID. Wearing a dupatta over his T-shirt, camera on.

Aarthi always waved in chat: “Hey babe 💋”

He rolled his eyes and typed back: “Shhh! People will see!”

Her reply: “Let them.”

Even at school, he noticed things. His handwriting had become rounder. His walking style lighter. He crossed his legs more often. He sat with his back straighter. Oh god, he thought, am I forgetting how to be a boy?

His sister giggled one evening as he practiced walking in the corridor. “Nee ippo full-a ponnu madhri than nadikira. Careful, school-la yaaravadhu paathaa...”

He grunted and threw a pillow at her.

But she was right. And it scared him a little.

Late Night Chats:

Aarthi never stopped.

[10:43 p.m.] Aarthi 💄: “I like talking to you.”
[10:44 p.m.] Aarthi 💄: “You listen. Like a real girlfriend.”

Sometimes they talked till midnight.

She told him about her strict parents, her ex-boyfriends, her dreams of becoming a doctor in Mumbai. About how lonely she felt around “the other girls.”

“You’re different, Nandhini,” she said one night. “I wish I had a sister like you.”

He stared at his phone in the dark, feeling something twist inside.

Was this what being accepted felt like?

Midweek Video Call

Wednesday night. She demanded a call.

“Video on, lipstick ready. I’m doing your makeup now.”

He groaned but obeyed. Wore a dupatta over his T-shirt, some powder, dabbed light pink gloss.

“Now pout,” she said.

“Pout-aa? Seriously?”

“Yes, da. Do it!”

He did. She screencapped it and laughed. “My bestie is too cute.”

Saturday Morning: Solo Transformation

By now, he could do it with his eyes half-shut.

The lilac salwar, silver bindi. Bra clipped tight. Churidar stuck to his legs like second skin. The prosthetic breasts tugged against his back.

He adjusted the fake patch below, stepped into the panty, and bit back a curse.

“So tight...” he muttered. “Epdi ponnuunga idha daily potu irupaanga?”

The wig came last. He stared at the mirror.

She blinked back.

Nandhini.

The Bus Ride:

He sat in the ladies' section, next to an older woman with jasmine in her hair.

The churidar clung to his thighs. The panty chafed. Sweat pooled under the bra strap. The bouncing of the bus made his fake breasts jiggle more than he liked.

Still, he smiled politely when the woman asked, “padika poriyama, ma?”

“Yes aunty.”

“You look like a good girl. Top panna pora nee.”

He blushed. “Thank you.”

Aarthi’s Entry:

She was leaning by the gate like a movie heroine.

Sleeveless olive top, tight jeans, belly chain glinting under her crop. She had a nose ring today, and eyeliner like wings.

“You’re late, miss pretty.”

“Traffic,” he mumbled.

She walked around him, inspecting. “Your hips are showing more. I like that.”

He flushed. “You say the worst things.”

“But mean them in the best way.”

Class and Girl Gossip:

Reema and Akshaya had fully accepted him now.

They shared notes. Passed chocolate. Asked about lipstick brands.

Aarthi rested her arm on his shoulder all through class.

“She’s mine,” she joked to the others. “My emotional support girl.”

During break, Aarthi reapplied her lipstick - then leaned in.

“Your turn.”

Before he could protest, she smeared her tube onto his lips, careful and slow.

“There. Matchy-matchy.”

He stared at the compact mirror. He looked... right. Terrifyingly right.

Girl Talk:

“Your bra tight today?” Aarthi whispered.

“Very,” he muttered. “Strap poking.”

“Move your dupatta like this,” she said, adjusting it across his chest. “Hide the lines.”

His cheeks turned pink.

During lunch, she fed him half her paneer sandwich and wiped the sweat off his brow with her scarf.

“You carry yourself like a village girl” she said. “Even your hand gestures.”

He tried to hide them.

She caught his wrist and kissed it lightly. “Don’t hide. Be you.”

Sunday: To Her Home ;

Class ended early.

“I’m kidnapping you,” Aarthi declared.

He didn’t resist more like being forced to not resist.

Her house was cool and pink-lit. She handed him a soft cotton night-dress. Floral, just above the knees.

“No churidar today. Try this.”

He did with no choice.

They sat cross-legged on the bed, giggling. She showed him her Insta. Her old boyfriends. Her bikini pictures from a secret Goa trip.

“You’re not judging me?” she asked.

He shook his head.

She held his hand. “That’s why I love you.”

She opened her closet. Pulled out crop tops, skirts, a strapless top.

“Try?” she asked.

He tried. Just once. Over the nightie. They laughed and clicked selfies.

“You’d look killer in jeans,” she said.

“No,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said. “And I’ll prove it.”

Goodbye Again:

She drove him back, music soft.

Outside his home, she touched his chin.

“No kiss today. Just this.”

She pressed a butterfly clip into his hand. “Next week, wear this.”

He stared at it.

“Promise,” she said.

“Promise,” he whispered.

She drove off.

He stood on the street, wind teasing the edge of his dupatta.

Part of him didn’t want to remove it.

Nandhini wasn’t just on weekends anymore.

She was slipping into every day.

His lips tasted like cherry due to flavoured lipstick, a reminder of his upcoming weekends.