Bestfriend or Best Lover

ELEVEN

Belle's POV

Lizzie ask me to met her at her place. Seems like we hit it off the first time we met. We are really comfortable with each other now.

"I wanted sophisticated with a hint of sexiness, but this dress just screams desperate," moaned Lizzie, glaring at her reflection in the full-length mirror as though the sight itself was a direct insult to her.

Situated in the far corner of her bedroom, she had been mindlessly plucking outfit after outfit from her wardrobe for what felt like hours. She finally managed to squeeze herself into a tiny black dress, though it appeared her generous bust was having none of it. It fit her perfectly around the waist but with her 36 C pushed up to the extreme, I simply couldn't look away.

"It's certainly eye-catching," I smirked, flicking through a few hangers, though why, I had no idea.

Everything I'd suggested so far was either too sweet or met with an outraged declaration of "What the hell, Belle. I'm dating a sexy hotelier, not a Catholic priest."

Needless to say, I was better off saying nothing.

"I really don't wanna throw it away. This dress cost me a fortune back in the day," she sighed, peeling the lace material off of her body.

With a bronzed complexion that gave off a healthy glow and beautiful curves that came together in an hourglass shape, Lizzie really did possess the body of a Greek goddess and had just the right amount of sass to accompany it. Never shying away from the well-known saying, 'If you've got it, flaunt it', she knew exactly what to wear and when to wear it.
"Give it to charity then? That way it's not going to waste." I offered, mindlessly picking at my chipped nail varnish.

I could almost hear my Mother's voice in the back of my mind, chastising me for my lack of interest towards my appearance. Not only was my hair in a bun but I had very limited time between finishing work and having to help Lizzie with her preparations, so it was a simple case of skinny jeans and an buttondown shirt.

"You can have it if you like? It'll fit you better anyway. " she suggested, enthusiastically referencing my lack of chest. "Plus, this way it won't go to a complete stranger. It'll be like, i'm still keeping it, seeing it's with you."

"Goodness, it's a dress, Lizz. Not an heirloom." I mocked, pulling on the slim fitted number.

It was cool to the touch and if such a thing were to exist when describing a texture; sexy.

"You say that but this dress is like a baby to me. It's proved beneficial on more than one occasion and never fails in getting me laid. "she defended, as if somehow that would help in her argument.

"Are you deliberately trying to put me off? Because admitting it's sexually stained isn't helping." I stated, serious as ever in my utmost protests. "If I put this on, I'll be surrounded by goodness knows what questionable juices!" I continued, becoming more and more outraged by the idea.

Lizzie proceeded to piss herself at my mild mortification, which prompted a friendly, "screw you!". Afterwards, I thanked her for her generosity.

"Maybe if I decide on shoes first and work my way backwards?" she suggested, more for herself than anything else.

Just then, the buzzer to her flat sounded and knowing it was likely Caleb, I jumped up from my place on her bed and set about making my way towards the front door.

"Hello?"

"May I please come in, sis?" spoke Caleb, adopting a rather gentlemanly tone.

"You may," I replied, buzzing him in. "Liz, your boyfriend's here."I shout.