Purpose ❆ Benny Rodriguez

19 | eve

　The dress surprisingly complimented my body well. Luckily the tan of my chest was even, and my darker arms were covered with the thin fabric.

　The change of my body was more noticeable than ever. My collarbones were more prominent than they had ever been, and in the dress I felt slightly elegant. I just wished that my breasts were smaller – the cleavage, however slightly, made me feel trashy.

　"Why are you looking at your boobs like that?" Ivy laughed. "They're not going to pop out of the dress. That would suck."

　I realized that I was frowning down at them. "They're too big. They keep getting bigger, Ivy – I'll be a freak, soon enough."

　The girl rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up. I wish I had that problem. I have little lumps for boobs."

　"I'd trade mine with yours any day," I pointed out – and it was the truth. Ivy could wear anything without having to worry about her breasts sagging or popping into the open.

　Ivy's brows rose, and she was silent in thought for a moment. "Hm," she nodded. "Grass is greener, I guess. Makes me feel a little better about myself. Not all big-tittied girls are stuck up about it."

　I laughed loudly. "Learn something new every day. Anyway, are you going to do something with my mop?" I pointed at my wild, dark curls.

　"Yes, I am. Why? Got any suggestions?"

　"Yes." Moving past Ivy, I entered my bedroom and continued on until I reached the nightstand beside my bed. The top drawer was nearly full.

　A smile painted my red lips. There was the shredded remains of the baseball I had busted apart. The orange bandana Smalls had bought for me, because it was the only color I didn't own in a bandana. The coffee cup decorated with baseballs Kenny had given me, which I had used every time someone made coffee in my house. And, finally, the red ribbon the Timmons brothers had given me.

　I'd never really planned to wear the ribbon, but after Christmas, when I'd noticed it again, I realized that it matched the red dress – silky and the exact same shade of red. I pulled it out of the drawer, and turned to brandish it at Ivy.

　"Could you do something with this?"

　Ivy stared at it, pressing a finger to her cheek. "I wish it was longer . . . but yeah. I can. Give it to me."

　

B E N N Y
point of view.

　

Holy fucking fuck.

　The moment she entered my house, side-by-side with Ivy, my heart kicked into overdrive and darted to the soles of my feet. It physically hurt to look at her, she was so beautiful.

　The breath was knocked from my lungs. My mouth shaped her name – Kayla – but no sound came. She smiled at me in a sheepish manner; and Ivy looked triumphant and model-like, but I could not even begin to see her.

　"Oh, my God!" Elizabeth whisper-yelled. "You two look like actual models."

　The non-hazy part of my mind wanted to say that Elizabeth looked like a model, too, in her long black dress, curled hair swept to hang over one shoulder. But my thoughts were focused on Makayla; I felt pride at the sight of the oval-shaped hunk of crystal that rested delicately between her sharp collarbones.