edited.
Chapter 3
"I don't know what to wear on Friday," I bit my lip, holding my cellphone to my right ear, "I feel like I should get really dressed up, but I also don't want to look like I tried too hard."
"Just wear a pair of shorts and a band shirt, problem solved. I mean, that's the feminine version of what the boys wear, so they should appreciate it," Marissa said, her voice coming from my phone.
"What do you mean, feminine version?" I asked, confused.
"I meant that they wear black skinny jeans and a band shirt, and you'll wear black jean shorts along with a band shirt. It's basically the feminine version of what they wear."
"Oh," I mumbled, searching through my dresser drawers, throwing numerous t-shirts onto my bed.
"Just wear what I told you and you'll be fine."
"Should I wear my 5sos shirt or a different band's shirt? Would it be too cheesy if I wore my 5sos one?" I asked, still nibbling on my bottom lip.
"Okay, first of all, calm down, second of all, it doesn't really matter. They're not just gonna call you out for wearing one of their shirts, if anything, they'll find it cute." Marissa said, and I nodded.
"You're right. By the way, I'm sorry for wasting your time, I'll let you go, thanks." I said, hitting 'end call' before my best friend could say goodbye.
I knew that normal people would be able to choose an outfit for this occasion in two seconds, but I'm meeting four boys I have loved for a very long time, so it was nearly impossible to choose an outfit quickly.
But, now that I had spent over an hour deciding what would be appropriate to wear, I decided on an outfit.
It was exactly what Marissa had told me to wear, my black high-waisted jean shorts along with one of the few band t-shirts I owned. The band I had chosen to wear was Green Day, I thought it was reasonable considering that the boys loved them.
I put the outfit on top of my dresser, smiling. I was maybe going to meet 5sos tomorrow, and that was thrilling. After a year of listening to their music and watching their Twitcams, it might finally happen, I might finally meet them.
I walked over to my bed, pushing numerous clean t-shirts off of it onto the floor, not really caring that they would probably get wrinkled.
