I sigh and shake my head. "If you don't hand me my phone back, I'll kick you in the balls."
His smile turns sinister and he inches closer towards me until our faces are at least one inch apart, close enough for me to catch a whiff of his cologne. My...
"Is cleavage on the first day a little too scandalous?" the phone asks me. There she goes again.
"Absolutely not," I answer over the call. This was her seventh time asking me this question, but I don't t really care. I love being the friend that gets everyone else in trouble.
"Isha, it's our last first day of Prep school. Who cares if a nipple or two pops out?," I say, as I apply a generous amount of La Mer moisturizer onto my already moisturized skin. I'm sorry, but I wasn't gonna walk into school looking like Freddy Kruger.
"Um my parents do," Isha retorts back. "Indian parents do not cope well with revealing outfits." I raise my eyebrow at the fact that she didn't answer with "herself".
"You see, if I had boobs they'd be all over the place," I say as I pinch my cheeks to activate the blood circulation.
Isha giggles at my remark.
"Please, you'd probably just play with it all day if you had the chance." Well, she isn't wrong, but I probably wouldn't. Laziness is my aesthetic, so I would most likely have my breasts removed in the first five minutes of "carrying" them around.
"But I'm gay, remember?" I yodel over the phone. I fly to the other side of the room and snatch my new pair of plaid Burberry pants that I bought with my hard-earned money. By hard-earned I mean endless begging from my father to raise my weekly allowance up to $500.
I grunt primitively as I struggle to put my pants on, but once I do, I stare at my defined ass in front of the mirror. The mirror is lit up around the edges, illuminating me in a marvelous glow.
"Yeah, yeah. So, when are you arriving to school?" Isha asks.
Isha had this ongoing fear of being the first one to arrive to events, so she makes sure to arrive 20 minutes late every time. If that wasn't an option, then she'd wait in her car until somebody else appeared. For me however, I didn't really get to have a say, because I was always late no matter what. It's as if the act of being "fashionably late" was embedded in my family blood.
"Idk," I yell back at her. "Maybe like 7:30." I place on a plain white cotton T-shirt, that wraps comfortably around my torso. By "plain" I mean Chanel.
"By 7:30, you mean 8:00?"
I roll my eyes at Isha's sass. "No, I promise I'll be on time. I mean, it's the first day."
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" Btw, I'm wearing a Jeremy Scott outfit," Isha announces with pride.
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