Sawyer might not think so, but she’s gorgeous. And with her new silky waves, she’s not just going to turn heads tonight.

She’s going to break necks.

Her outfit, on the other hand? Needs a little work. Usually I’m all for retro and vintage pieces, but the purple skirt she has on is higher than her waist and longer than her legs. The sweater is cute though and it’s just low enough that it gives a hint of her generous rack.

I chew my lip, pondering how I should answer. I wouldn’t be a good friend if I wasn’t honest with her, but I also don’t want her to hate me and feel insecure.

“Do you want the honest truth? Or a little white lie?”

She raises one freshly tweezed eyebrow. “Is that a trick question? I’ll take the truth for five-hundred, Alex.”

I place the curling iron down and pick up a tube of raspberry lip gloss. It’s perfect for her complexion.

“The truth is you’re beautiful.” I begin applying some to her lips. “You don’t need makeup or any of this stuff.” I blot the excess with a tissue. “But that skirt does nothing for your figure. It would be better utilized as kindling for my aunt’s fireplace.”

“Oh.” Her eyes dart around the room. “I didn’t bring any other clothes, I thought—”

Holding up a finger, I open my dresser drawer and take out a pair of leggings. “No worries. Try these.”

She looks at me like I’m crazy. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. I appreciate the offer, but you’re like a size two. I’m a fourteen on a good day. There’s no way these will fit.”

Suppressing a groan, I throw them at her. “Leggings are designed to fit almost everyone. Try them on before you complain.”

She pouts. “Fine, but if they don’t fit, we’re stopping by my house on the way to Christian’s so I can grab another skirt.”

I turn around to give her some privacy. “Deal.”

“Have you figured out what you’re going to wear yet?” she calls out from behind me.

“Nope.”

I’m not going there to impress anyone; I’m strictly offering moral support to Sawyer.

I start combing through a stack of concert t-shirts. “Probably the usual. Jeans and a t-shirt.”

Why would I dip my dick in some dry, mediocre meatloaf when I already have a nice piece of filet mignon waiting for me whenever I want it?

I close my eyes as the cruel words I overheard Jace tell Oakley shoots through my skull like an arrow piercing its target.

I’ve struggled with normal hang-ups about my body and looks from time to time, just like most teenage girls. But for the most part, I’m pretty secure with myself.

However, Jace’s statement? It hurt.

It still does.

And while the rational part of my brain knows I shouldn’t put much stock in it…

The other part? Wants to make him choke on his words.

I throw the Rob Zombie shirt I was going to wear on the bed. “I’m not motherfucking meatloaf.”

“The singer or food?” Sawyer questions.

I spin around to face her. As predicted, the leggings fit. Paired with the teal sweater, and her long flowy hair, she looks awesome.

“The food. Although I prefer the singer. But never mind all that. You look hot.”

Her nose crinkles. “Are you sure? If I bend over, everyone is going to get an ass full of cellulite.”

“Sawyer.” I grab her by the shoulders. “Your ass is fine. The only ugly part about you is your self-esteem. Swear on my life, you’re classically beautiful. Like the love child of Adele and Sophia Loren. Anyone who thinks differently is either blind, jealous, or stupid and can go fuck themselves.”

“Holy crap.” For the first time tonight, she smiles. “Thanks. If managing indie rock bands doesn’t work out, you should seriously consider motivational speaking.” Her smile falters. “Now what were you saying before about meatloaf?”

I gave her the Cliff’s Notes version of my history with Jace when she picked me up from work, so she’s pretty much caught up on all the current drama. However, I never told her what I overheard the other night when Oakley gave me a ride home after my shift.

“Jace compared me to meatloaf.” When she looks confused I add, “The other night at my job, I overheard him tell Oakley that Britney was filet mignon…and I was mediocre meatloaf.”

She’s visibly outraged. “That pompous asswipe needs a lobotomy with an ice pick.”

I pick up the t-shirt off my bed and scrutinize it. “I know I should let it roll off my back…but…”

“You want to make him eat that black heart of his tonight,” she supplies with a wicked grin.

My grin matches hers. “So fucking bad.”

She checks her watch. “It’s just after nine, we still have plenty of time to get you all glammed up.”

“Are you sure? I’m not…” I swallow, trying to think of the right words to say without coming off wrong. “I’m not one of those vain girls who dress a certain way to get attention, and I don’t want you to think I am.”

Sawyer adjusts her glasses. “Dylan, you have a body I would legit kill to have. If you don’t put on something that gives Jace an instant boner and makes Britney want to claw your eyes out for looking ten times hotter than her, I’m never speaking to you again.”

Well, shit. “Okay, then. I guess we’re doing this.” I walk over to my bare-bones closet and grimace. “Only problem is, I don’t own anything that would give Britney a run for her money.”

I sold some of my more expensive clothes on eBay during my dad’s first week of jail. It wasn’t an issue for me since most were hand-me-downs disguised as gifts from the stepmonster, but they certainly would have come in handy tonight.

My friend stands next to me and whistles. “You’re right. The leggings you loaned me are about the dressiest thing you have.” There’s a mischievous gleam in her eye when she looks at me. “But your aunt might have something. She looks like she knows a thing or two about fashion.”

“She does. In high school, she was basically a Britney without the capital B.”

“Talk about irony. On the bright side, you two could practically pass for twin—”

A knock on the door cuts her off.

“Come in,” we both yell at the same time.

A moment later my aunt Crystal waltzes in holding up a necklace. “Hey, girls. Can one of you help me out? Wayne and I are catching a late-night movie in a bit, so I figured I’d get ready while he’s finishing up some phone calls in his office.”

“Sure.” I move behind her so I can fasten her necklace.

She looks at Sawyer. “Oh, wow, look at you. You’re like a completely different girl from when you walked in. I love your hair.”

Sawyer beams. “Thanks.” She looks at me. “Are you going to ask her, or should I?”

She can be awfully pushy when she wants something.

My aunt looks nervous. “Ask me what?”

“I was wondering if I could borrow an outfit for tonight.”

She looks surprised. “Of course. I mean, I’m not sure I have anything that fits your style but—”