#11: Take all the clothes, try them on, and walk around with a giant stack of

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Oh yeah! Come on! You get the limo out front! Hottest styles, every shoe, every color!” I sang, horribly off key. I pose in front of the mirror. “Yeah, when you’re famous it can be kinda fun! It’s really you but no one ever discovers! In some ways you’re just like all your friends! But on stage you’re a star!

“Annette, what are you doing?” Trevor asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You ask that question a lot.”

“That’s probably because you’re you.”

“I know,” I said, smirking as I started putting my hair up. “What do you think? Should I pull my hair up or keep it down?”

Trevor studied me. “Since I’m sure you’re not even halfway through with your ridiculous stunts, I’d have to go with up.”

I nodded. “Should I braid it?”

“I’M A GUY! GOSH! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I CARE ABOUT HOW YOU WEAR YOUR HAIR!”

I rolled my eyes, muttering, “Someone’s expecting a red present very soon.”

Trevor glared. One of his eyes did this creepy twitchy thing. “Guys don’t get periods. At least, last time I checked they didn’t.”

“Then explain your PMS.”

“I’M NOT PMS-ING!” he yelled a bit too quickly. “Gosh, just leave me alone.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me or something.”

“I DON’T LIKE YOU!”

“You’re oddly defensive.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

I shrugged. “Blue or red?” I asked, holding up the bras.

“Like I know. Or care, for that matter.”

I pouted. “You’re being mean!”

He rolled his eyes. “What are you? Five?”

“You seem to forget what number six was for.”

“That wasn’t really your best.”

I scoffed, glaring. “Come and find me when you get that raccoon out of your butt!”

“What are you talking about?”

I stomped away angrily.

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