Thick as Thieves

Prologue

She contemplated and stood before the full-length mirror in her dorm—the very last time before graduation—the strapless black dress that flowed to her knees as she twirled around, giving her a wave of paranoia over the dress itself leaving her breasts to reveal—possibly a nip slip—by one wrong move. By which would rather be an opposition to her friend, Liz, who was known to be dressing so revealing that if they were to walk into a room—all eyes would be thrown at them. Liz, who wasn't a stranger to wardrobe malfunction herself, having her nipples shown on display for the entire room to be on lookout for days and days—under the glimmer of neon lights in the club but it was still a chilling, traumatizing experience for her to go back to. Her thoughts were confirmed when Liz stepped into the room, swinging the door open, the beam in Liz's eyes apparent as soon as her eyes landed on Phoebe's dress. They were supposedly to attend a party, Liz's suggestion, for her friend thought it'd be a nice idea to close up their college experience by one last hurrah.

"Girl, you look hot. I didn't even know you had that kind of dress. How come have you not worn it before?"

Phoebe wasn't a prude, but she just had this body conscious image that wired her into thinking that something might've came out wrong if she did choose to wear anything that showed off any curves—though she wasn't not skinny. Like right now, Liz's tube purple top and short skirt with ruffles at the bottom, really accentuated her skinny figure if not for the defined collarbones. But Liz—tiny and petite Liz—with Liz's bob cut hair that bounced off by her ears each time she curled it or when she had them in braids, Phoebe knew it'd turn heads. Liz never worked out, and ate whatever she pleased without counting calories—the type of girl whose body remained as it was under those circumstances, something Phoebe envied, for she strived to run every morning just to keep in shape. If she'd skipped a run one day, she knew she'd bloat, to which Liz never had to worry about. She also knew that every time they walked hand in hand together, and Liz would point it out how they were also looking at her, she'd roll her eyes and tell her friend not to humor her—for it was merely an insult rather than a complimentary one.

Phoebe sighed and turned away from the mirror, adjusting the dress even if it fit her like a glove. "Is it, though? You don't think it's too much? I mean, it's a college party, after all." Even as she said it, she knew it sounded an odd question—the both of them had been a partner in crime when it came to parties. Liz was more active, especially when she actually had freelancing gigs specialized in events, but aside from Phoebe's pile of papers mounted every night, she made sure to bide her time by blowing off steam with her friend who knew more about that than her.

"I bet Darren would find it hot."

Darren was Phoebe's long time boyfriend whom she snatched midway into college. He'd been an engineering major, opposed to her, who'd taken into literature instead. But they'd met at a film festival by which they were in favor of; the movie about a struggling kid with a skin problem that she was teased by her peers at school and even the teacher, to which opened up to another discussion, and that discussion drew Phoebe and Darren together. There was no such thing as love at first sight than debating over a film for cinephiles.

Phoebe flipped open her phone, sighing into the device over skimming at the text that Darren last sent, the one informing her that he'd be arriving a little late to the party. "Do you think that—" Then Phoebe almost tripped over something underneath the roll of blankets on the floor as she was walking into. Kneeling to the ground, she tossed the blanket on the bed and found the hidden gem that smelled like death minding its own business on the floor—the leftover pizza from God knows when. "Liz! Didn't I tell you to throw away this pizza like long ago? It was your turn and everything." She complained.

Opposite to her, Liz was a slack to these things. Liz shrugged off and threw a brief glance at the pizza box as she was flipping through an old issue of Cosmopolitan while lying on her stomach in her bed. "Oops. Guess I forgot." She told off.