Nothing is going right for Brooke, in fact, just about everything is going wrong.
So, she decides to live life like her perfect sister, Barbie. The obvious solution to her problems.
But is that really why things are getting better? Or is her new fri...
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After meeting Darius I was on cloud nine for the rest of the week. The anxiety has only hit me this morning that I have to see him again.
I haven't dated in well over a year. Was it always this stressful?
So, to combat my stress, André has us doing face masks while we watch 'New Girl' in our living room. I love watching TV with him because of his jokes and funny interruptions. They just make it better. We make horror movies comedies and I've never stanned anything harder than that.
"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" André chants along with apartment 4D (and guests) as we watch Jess and Nick refuse to make out during their drinking game 'True American'. "This is one of my fave episodes. The greatest love story in television history. Ross and Rachel can actually get fucked."
"I feel bad for Sam!" I reason.
"No!" Dré hollers and turns to me, a searing glare in his eyes. "Sam is standing in the way of true love! He must be stopped!"
I burst into a fit of laughter. "You're insane."
The episode ends and we retreat to the bathroom to scrub off the masks. Of course, André decides to splash me with water and soak my silk robe. "André, if you get my hair wet I will not hesitate to kill you!" I shout while shielding my head.
"Like you'd ever do that," he remarks with an evil grin. "You can't afford the rent on your own!"
I laugh. "You've got me there. Okay." I grab his hand and drag him towards my room. "Help me with my outfit."
He pulls his hand away from mine. "No."
I turn and face him, confused. "What? I thought you liked helping me get ready, you always used to nag me about letting you dress me."
He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. "Yes, I loved styling Brooke. I only like to dress people when they're dressing for themselves. It's got to be your style and fit your body so you look the best you can and the way you want to."
"So, you're telling me that I'm flatting with the assistant to the creative director of 'British Vogue' and he won't even help me with my wardrobe." I walk up to him and only stop a short distance from him. I know it's killing him. He lives for fashion, I can tell when he brings his work home. He loves what he does and his degree from the London College of Fashion backs up my claim.
He holds his chin high, trying to ignore me. "That's exactly what I'm telling you."
"Fine," I taunt with a knowing smirk. I turn on my heel and head to my room, flicking my hair against his chest in the process. Whoosh.
If there's one thing that pisses André off more than a bad outfit, it's a good outfit that's badly accessorised. So, if there's any chance I want him to help, I have to piss him off first.
What would Barbie wear to the theatre these days? I'm feeling business chic. White suit skirt with blush pink satin blouse. Perfect for summer, perfect for Barbie. I know I'm really tiring this thing out with the pink, but it's meant to be a subconscious thing. I don't know the details, ask Felix.
