Love at First Slice (IN SERIOUS EDITING)

Clubbing

ch. 2 Clubbing

Charlotte's P.O.V.

It was 4-something o'clock, and I sat at the edge of Casey's bed, watching her sift through her closet in attempt to find clothing that would suit her needs.

"So were are you guys off to?" I ask. She pushes clothes aside, shuffling through the colorful attire in her closet. She huffs, plopping herself next to me.

"Some club or something." She shrugs. "What the hell am I supposed to wear to a club?" She groans, tossing her hands into the air.

I shrug. "I'm no fashion expert," I defend, gesturing to my ratty oversized T-shirt and pajama shorts. "She," I jut my thumb towards the door. "Is your best shot."

"No!" Casey protests. "She'll go all ape-crazy!"

"Then I guess you'll go in your pj's," I say with a wave of my hand and shrug of my shoulders.

She looks at her bare feet, folding her hands. "Fine," She finally says grudgingly. "Alex!"

"If you're gonna ask for my help," Alex's perky voice calls through the dark blue painted door. "You'd better do it correctly."

Casey and I sigh. "Oh great and knowledgable fashion wizard Alexandra," We both recite monotonically. "Please bestow your wonderfully fabulous fashion choices upon us style deprived beings."

"That's my cue," Alex announces, barging through the door. She marches over to Casey, dimples ever present on her face, and drags her by the elbow to her closet. After shuffling through the clothes, she groans.

That's never a good sign when she's in what Casey calls "fashion fury mode". Personally, I prefer "Beauty Bitch" but hey, who am I to judge?

"There's too much tension in this room," She announces sassily, rubbing her temples. "You," She turns and points her french manicured finger at me. "Out." I raise my hands in the air defensively.

"No need to throw a fashion fit," I defend.

She glares at me. "If you don't get out, I'll fashion fit my fashion fist up your assho-"

"O-kay!" Casey interjects. She looks at me. "Char," Gesturing with her thumb, she points to the door. "Leave."

I huff and exit. Alex's outburst didn't faze me, it happens every other day. I sit on the armrest of our couch and simply fall backwards, cushioned by the cushion. I lay there, legs in the air, blogging away. The door clicks open and both of my roommates strut out. Casey is the only one dressed, Alex remains in her old cheer practice shorts from high school and a t shirt.

"Well?" Casey asks. I take in her outfit. It's different from her usual boho-ish clothes. You get a very grunge vibe from her light wash jean shorts and a Nirvana shirt. A plaid flannel is wrapped around her waist, hair straight, combat boots tied. I nod approvingly.

"I couldn't break her," Alex admits. Casey smirks triumphantly. There's a glint of metal in her nose, rings stacked upon her fingers. Her usual bracelets are ever present on her wrist.

"You're forcing me to go to a club, I'll wear what I want," Casey announces. "Now go get dressed!"

Alex mutters something to herself as she marches out of the living room.

"You look very intimidating," I say pointedly, gesturing to her attire. She smirks.

"Good," She says with certainty. "If anybody tries anything, I will cut a bitch."

"Because Dyllikins is the only one for Casey bear!" I say as if I'm speaking to an infant. Allow me to explain: Dyllikins, A.K.A. Dylan, has been Casey's best friend since eighth grade, ever since Casey punched the kid teasing Dylan for being the "new kid". Yes, the tables were turned, but Casey's no damsel in distress. She'll kick ass if she needs to. And yes, Casey got suspended. I'd say it was worth it, because that heroic act blossomed into a wonderful friendship. As you could imagine, Casey developed a huge crush on Dylan, Dylan is completely oblivious, and a bunch of other cliché trash. Okay, not trash. I am purely obsessed with their epic one-sided love story.

It's my inner fangirl. Don't judge me.

The familiar sound of Alex's heels clicking fills the room as she struts in. She does her famous twirl, her hands in the air. The universal sign for "How do I look?"

Her makeup is simple, but elegant and on point. The wings of her eyeliner are pointed with precision, and her alarmingly red lips make her teeth look even whiter than they are.

Don't get me started on the dress. It's black, simple. It fits perfectly over her abdomen, the wide, boat neckline shows her defined collarbones. The dress stops mid thigh and flares into a skirt right above her bellybutton. There's a cut in the lower portion of her back, showing off her tanned skin. Flawless.

"You could kill somebody with the tips of your eyeliner," I point out.

"And with your collarbones!" Casey cries. "Jesus, how do you do it?"

Alex smiles with pride, then takes a look at her phone. "Whoops! Time to go!" She cries, grabbing hold of Casey's arm. "Hasta luego amiga!" She calls, yanking Casey out the door.

"Help me!" were Casey's last words before the door was slammed shut.