Freya
On Thursday night, I’m trying out dresses. The date of the Fall ball has moved a couple of times. It was supposed to be on Friday, then it was pushed to Saturday, back to Friday, and now the damn party is on Saturday again.
Tiffany studies my black dress from toe to bottom with a critical eye. “Not to be mean, but you might need a dress with more ‘wow’ factor to it. What do you think about trying out a dress that pushes up your breasts?”
My face flames up. “I don’t really have much going on down there,” I look down at my chest and try not to feel disappointed. I’m so flat that Professor Bell’s pectoral muscles were larger than my boobs.
Damn, was he disappointed about that fact? The s*x we had wasn’t that wild—is it because I lack curves?
“We can always fool the boys into thin
