45 Days to Save the Bad Boy

Twenty-One

“So?  Opinions?  Is it good enough?  Because my mom doesn’t have any other dresses my size.”

“It’s perfect,” he told me.  “Not to sound like a pervert, but it hugs all your curves.  It’s form-fitting, but not tight.  I like how the skirt is kind of higher in the front than in the back.  High-low, I think it’s called?  It looks nice.  You look beautiful.”  Breton smiled at me and I smiled back, twirling in my dress once before sitting next to him.

“How do you know so much about dresses?” I asked after a moment, lying back to look at my ceiling.

“Eh.  I’ve done this for Hayley a couple of times before.  The girl refuses to ask Jelly Bean for help when she goes out, and somehow I always get stuck being the fashion advisor.”

“Oh my gosh!”  I sat up, nearly crashing my head into Breton, who was sitting up next to me.  “I forgot about your squad!”

“My what?” Breton laughed.

“Your squad.  You know, the triplets, Chris, Frank, JB, Hayley, those guys?  They are your squad.  Your homies.  Your peeps.”

“My friends?” he suggested.

“Exactly!  I’ve been taking up all your time in the morning, so you haven’t gotten to hang with them!  I’m so sorry!” I cried.

“The way you speak is so strange,” Breton muttered.  “Look Georgie, I still have time to ‘hang’ with them, as you say.”  He made little quotes in the air as he said hang.  “Just not before school.  I usually text them if I’m gonna pick you up.  They’re all cool with it.  I have gone days at a time without seeing them before.  I don’t spend every second with them.  Besides, that’s what technology is for; staying in touch with friends, right?”

My mouth dropped as I looked at him sheepishly.  “Sorry.  I didn’t think of that.  I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t destroying your social life.”

“Oh, Georgie,” sighed Breton.  “I worry about you sometimes.”

“Geez, Breton,” I replied, “tell me how you really feel why don’t’cha?”  

Breton replied with a wink.

“So…” I said awkwardly, “I don’t suppose you know how to do makeup?”

With a lot of arguing and the occasional reasonable conversation, Breton and I came to the conclusion that I was going to go au naturel.  Apparently that doesn’t always mean going nude, in this case it’s just not wearing makeup.  Let’s just say when Breton explained that, it calmed most of my arguments.  Then I let my hair down, allowing it to fall just past my shoulders.  Usually I had it up in a bun, so it was very wavy today.  

Currently, Breton was trying to convince me to wear lip gloss.

“But why?” I wailed.  “You said no makeup!”

“It’s not makeup, it’s lip gloss!” Breton countered.

“But why?  Why, Breton, why?”

“Georgie, just get over here!” he called, trying to chase me down and put the gloss on my lips.

“Never!” I cried, jumping over the back of the couch and circling around to the kitchen.  Unfortunately, he trapped me in the kitchen, as he reached one side of the middle island thing and I was on the other.

“Give me one good reason why I should wear that stuff!” I challenged.

“Because it looks nice and you need to look nice!” he answered.