Excuse the mistakes
Dedicated to ForgottenMinds, who made the badass banner on the side!
“Don’t wear that dress.”
“Why?” I asked, looking from the mirror to Olive, who was lounging on my bed with Lillian, who was glued to the Tumblr app on her phone. “I thought it looked cute.” It was a dress I’d gotten from Anthropologie, and it was a gray, long-sleeved dress made out of the same material as a waffle shirt.
“It does look cute,” Olive confirmed, but she shrugged and said, “I just don’t think it’s a very good idea.”
“Why?” I asked again.
“Easy access,” Lillian replied without looking away from her phone, “You don’t need some drunken asshole reaching up your skirt with his douchey hands.”
“Yeah, I’m not wearing the dress,” I stated immediately, and my cheeks burned at the thought of a stranger sticking his hand up the back or front, or really anywhere, of my skirt.
As I pulled off my dress, I heard the doorbell ring, and a second later, loud and excited voices floated up from downstairs. Tonight was the night Duke and I were throwing the party, well, really Duke was doing it. Everyone was in good spirits because we’d won the football game by a landslide.
At first, I’d been excited for a party, but then I realized, after I’d already agreed to let Duke throw one, that I wasn’t going to know many, if any, people who were coming. Now, I was just nervous and uncomfortable. To make matters worse, olive and Lillian weren’t staying for the party. They were going on a date, no matter how much I begged them to stay. At least they were staying to help me change out of the plain jeans and t-shirt I’d worn to the game into something less boring.
“Let me find you something,” Olive said after a moment, and she rolled off my bed and pushed past me to my closet. As I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, I watched as she flipped through the clothes, mumbling comments that would make Joan Rivers’ jaw drop. After a few minutes, she pulled something out and turned around. “Wear this.”
“Ooh,” Lillian called from behind me, “That’s really hot. Wear that, Harper. It’ll make your boobies look bitchin’.”
“Bitchin’?” I replied, taking the hanger Olive was holding out to me, “Do people still say that?”
“Bitchin’, bangin’, groovy,” Lillian said, waving a hand dismissively, “those are great, seriously underrated adjectives that I intend to bring back into style.”
“Good luck with that, Babe.” Olive laughed as she sat back down on my bed and snatched Lillian’s phone from her hands.
As Lillian grumbled and made a grab for her phone, I slipped into my bathroom and shut the door. I made sure to lock the door between the bathroom and Duke’s room before I stripped out of the clothes I was wearing. I wasn’t worried about Duke walking in on me, seeing as he was downstairs already, welcoming the first of the partiers into our home. I was more worried about people wandering into his room, and from that, walking in on me naked in the bathroom.
Before taking off my clothes, I held up the hanger Olive had handed me. She’d picked out a bright red romper with a button up bodice and spaghetti straps. My mom had bought it for me a while ago, and I’d never worn it because I hadn’t ever had an occasion. Tonight seemed as good a night as ever.
YOU ARE READING
Not His GirlTeen Fiction
There are two things Harper Lynch wasn’t expecting when she made out with an attractive stranger at her aunt’s wedding. One: He would show up on her doorstep two weeks later as the son of an old family friend. Two: That he would be staying in her h...