Notorious

Masochist

If you want a simple and easy way to torture me physically and emotionally, I have just the solution for you; take me shopping.

Nothing will make me more unhappy than spending hours traipsing around a mall behind slow-walkers and trying on clothes that wouldn’t fit a Barbie. Don’t get me wrong, I love the effects of shopping –lots of clothes that’ll make me look hot as fuck- but, I hate the process.

I’ve been walking around this materialistic hell hole for almost three hours now and my back is aching, my patience is wearing thin, and my self-esteem has plummeted. And all I have to show for it is two dresses and a pair of heels I probably won’t even like tomorrow.

But, of course, Avery continues to tug me along to every shop known to man with a content smile on her face and I am forced to wonder if she is actually Satan or just a sadist.

“We have to go to Victoria’s Secret next and get some sexy lingerie!”

Both. She’s definitely both.

I grumble some more protests under my breath, but Avery pretends not to hear and grasps my hand to pull me though the throngs of people. I silently praise myself for wearing my Chucks today and not my boots. I would surely be dead by now.

Avery allows me to make a pit-stop at Starbucks and the first sip of coffee immediately puts me in a better mood. I swear I think my veins are running on this liquid drug by the amount I consume daily. No wonder I’m so short, coffee does stunt your growth. No wonder I’m a munchkin.

My face pulls into a grimace at the nickname and at the thought of the man who gave it to me. I grunt in frustration at his stupid pet name and his stupid face invading my Saturday morning without my permission.

“We’re just shopping! This is supposed to be fun, jeez, you’d think I’m torturing you or something.” Avery laughs lightly once she notices the disgruntled expression on my face and I shoot her an unamused look.

If only she knew that’s exactly what this is…

“I wasn’t making that face at shopping.”

“What else could make you scrunch up your face like you just ate month old ravioli?” Although her tone is interested she becomes immediately distracted. An excited gleam shines in her chocolate irises as soon as we walk through the threshold of the lingerie store.

We make our way to the back where the lacy stuff is and I promptly ignore her question. Harry is the last thing I want to talk about when shopping for lingerie. Avery turns to me with an eyebrow raised and I know she’s trying to read me. She’s so good at it that I sometimes think she can read minds and what she says next only affirms that thought.

“Harry?”

“How the fuck do you do that,” I hiss, but Avery just flips her blonde mane proudly, “Yes, unfortunately. Can’t we kick him out of the band yet?”

“On what basis?”

“Bad jokes?” I offer and Avery laughs loudly at my suggestion before shaking her head and picking up a pair of underwear that resembles butt floss.

“You’ve got to admit that he isn’t half bad to look at, though.”

“Please, like you spare a look at anyone who isn’t my brother.” Avery immediately flushes at the mention and turns away from me to look at the bras.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her words contradict the blush hidden beneath her brown skin and I can only laugh as I pick through the lacy materials.