Sweetheart

3

Lizzie
August 2020

"Girl. Hot over comfortable. That's the law," Cameron's voice reaches my ears through the changing room's curtain.

I sigh heavily. "But I can't breathe!" I exclaim, frustrated.

"Breathing is overrated. Now zip it up and come outside. We gotta see you," she insists, and she happens to be an awfully persuasive person.

I mutter a curse to myself, suck in my stomach, and zip that shit up. I exhale — as much as I can, anyway — and finally open the curtain. "Well?" I ask, leaning against the frame of the changing room.

Both Cameron and Davina look me up and down. Davina stares a while longer at my exposed cleavage. My parents would kill me if they saw this dress. It's so tight and revealing. Perfect.

Davina whistles. "Hot damn. Can I have a bite?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Do you like it? Don't you think it's a little too much?" I question, unsure, playing with the hem barely reaching half my thighs. I look at myself in the mirror.

Cameron walks up to me and glares at my reflection. "You're perfect, dumbass. If I had boobs like yours I'd always have them out," she says, wiggling her brows at my chest.

"You still show your tits off, Cam," Davina points out, shaking her head. "Liz, you look fucking awesome. If you don't buy it, I'll make you. You'll find me even more convincing than Barbie here," she says, winking at me from where she's sitting on a chair just outside the changing room.

I look at her, chewing on my lip. "What are you gonna wear?" I ask. I know Cameron will wear an electric blue dress she saw a few shops ago. Seeing her wearing it was torture to my confidence.

Davina leans back, bracing her arm around the back of her chair. "Jeans. And a t-shirt. I don't like tops or that kind of shit. Not for me," she says, shrugging like she couldn't care less about what she wants to wear.

"I've known Davina for years, but I've never seen her with a skirt," Cameron informs me, taking a pair of black heels from a shelf, matching the dress. "Try these on."

"How am I gonna dance—"

"Hot over pain. That's—"

"The law. Yes, I know. Jesus," I complain, slipping the heels on and taking a few steps around. I turn to Davina, grinning. "Wanna try them?"

"I'd rather die," she answers, almost gagging at the sight of the torture machines on my feet.

Cameron laughs. "Heels and skirts are not for Davina, are they, D?" she says.

Davina looks at her and flashes her a smile. "No, Barbie. They're not." The blonde looks away, still snickering. "I'm just not that kind of person, you know?"

"Yeah, it makes sense," I say, stepping inside the changing room. "Alright, I'll buy them. Do you girls have make-up at home?" I ask them as I get undressed.

A high-pitched laugh comes from Cameron. "Uh, duh! We're not neanderthalian women, you know?"

"It's neanderthal," Davina corrects her friend, and I chuckle when Cameron waves her off with a vague Whatever.

I change back into my clothes and then follow the girls to the cashier to pay. Thankfully, the dress and heels aren't too expensive. It's not that I don't have the money to pay — I've probably got too much — it's just that I don't like wasting it, unlike my parents, who buy whatever they please without thought.

After paying for our items, we all climb into Cam's car and drive to her house. Cameron definitely doesn't have any struggle with money. Her three-story villa is proof enough of her wealth.