By Your Side. (Sequel to Art Girl and Wolf Boy)

By Your Side. (27)

In case you don't notice, there's a serious time lapse--to prom time for Archer and Phoebe, in fact.

*

Phoebe's POV:

I was not going to freak out over this.

Nope. I refused to become one of those whiny, obsessive girlfriends. Was I even his girlfriend? We had established that yes, he did consider me a little sister. Far from it, in fact. And yes, despite the aberrant circumstances surrounding our relationship, we are, in fact, mates. 

But did that make me his girlfriend? Shouldn't he have asked by now? Was I being too rash, or was he just shy? Should I make the first move toward girlfriend and boyfriend hood?

I paused in my obssessing (because I was, in fact, obsessing, despite what I told myself) and she nearly bit my head off. In fact, she had to sit on the floor, in the poofy dress that she was trying on, and get into a lotus position.Then she began breathing steadily.

Finally, she stod up, brushed the dress off, and asked, in a patient, you-are-a-little-kid-that-needs-to-be-told-not-to-eat-the-glue voice, "Phoebe, who kissed who first in this relationship?"

"Me," I replied automatically.

"Who told who that they loved them?"

"Me."

"Who is freaking out because her mate hasn't asked her to prom yet?"

"Me, but--"

"No buts! Dude needs to man up. Give him a little time, Phoebe, and if he doesn't come around, I'll shove him in the right direction."

I had the feeling that she was speaking in a literal sense. I sighed. "Thanks, Vivi. You look great."

She looked more than great, actually. Viv's blended heritage had me nearly green with envy. She had the hips and the great hair.

She was currently wearing a dark maroon colored dress. It shone against her dark skin, hugging her hips the flaring out just slightly at the waist. Sewn in beads dotted across the sash.

"I think this is the one, Phoebe." She smiled at her reflection, then walked over to me, tugging my hand. "Come on, your turn."

"What? Vivian, he hasn't even asked me yet..." I protested weakly as she grabbed me by the hand and tugged me into the dressing room.

My dad had wordlessly given me his credit card as soon as Viv told him what we'd be up to today. I tried to give it back to him, but he'd held up his hands. "Nothing above the knee, okay kid?" 

Viv had dragged me out before I could thank him.

Now, fifteen minutes after Viv forced me into a dress, I folded my arms stubbornly. "No."

"Come on, Phoebe, you look gorgeous!" Viv wheedled. 

I tilted my chin up, still glowering as she turned my shoulders. I looked...

The dress was bright yellow, with black polka dots. An obnoxious puke-green sash stuck up from between my hips, and the bottom was bowl like, making it difficult to walk, let alone smack the person who forced me into this.

I glared at my best friend, who was in hysterics. "Not funny, Viv!" I whipped out my phone and dialed the one person who I knew could help.

Ten minutes later, she was laughing with my best friend. I pouted. "Dylan, be serious."

"That's like asking the Pope to do graphitti with me," she chuckled. She steered me into the dresing room and shoved a random dress at me. "Here, try this one on."