The D Games

Chapter 7

"Staying in tonight?" Amber asked.  

She was walking around our cramped room in a pair of boy shorts and a tiny tank top. The boy shorts were so tight that I was sure they were going to leave a red ring around her thighs. Why on earth she thinks I want to see that is a mystery to me. I don't walk around the room half naked, so she shouldn't either. 

"No, I'm not, and you should put some clothes on." She needed to cover herself, it wasn't fair to my poor eyes. "We're roommates, not girlfriends, cover that shit up." 

"Oh Carlie, I don't have anything that you don't." No, but she did have a lot more of it. "Stop being so shy." 

"Right," I said in a flat tone, "My bad."  

"Are you going to get ready?" She asked, eyeing my outfit.  

"I am ready." 

I was wearing a pair of gray sweat pants and a worn out black shirt. My hair was pulled up into a messy bun and I wore my glasses, with absolutely no make-up. Mr. D had ordered me to dress nice, this was my way of telling him to shove it up his ass.  

If it wasn't for his stupid devil cologne I wouldn't be in this mess. I would have told him no, I would have told him about my busy plans of washing my hair and clipping my nails. But no, that didn't happen, so now I had to make him regret making me go.  

"Oh, well you look great." She smiled.  

"Aww, thanks. I worked really hard to look this good." What a liar. I looked like shit, but that's what I was going for.  

I watched Amber get ready from my bed, scrutinizing her every move. First she caked on like four layers of foundation, trying to hide her many pimple scabs. Then she darkened her already black eyebrows; she looked like she sharpied them on. Lastley, she applied bright blue eye shadow. If you're seeing a clown in your head, congratulations, you're dead on.  

She hopped off her bed and tore through her closet, throwing clothes all over the room while she tried to find something to wear. I don't know why she was worrying about it, none of them fit her, and she wouldn't look good.  

A knock at the door had Amber running for cover in the bathroom. Shit, if that's all it took to get her to run away I would have knocked on something hours ago.  

I climbed off my bed and slipped on my flip flops. I knew it was Mr. D, he was always right on time and it had just turned five.  

"I said dress nice," he said in an aggravated tone, the second I opened the door.  

"Yeah, laundry day, bummer." I replied. I tried to put a sweet smile on my face, but I was aggravated so I was pretty sure I looked constipated, or in pain. I was definitely in pain.  

He looked absolutely editable in a pair of dark wash jeans and a white button-up polo shirt. His hair was gelled to perfection and his cologne was in full effect. Seriously, I'm pretty sure he bathed in it.  

"Change," he said, blocking me from exiting the room. He had a hand on each side of the doorway.  

"Can't, sorry." 

"Whatever Carlie, you look amazing in whatever you wear, I just didn't want you to feel out of place. Suit yourself." He moved away from the door and I walked out of my room.  

I ignored his comment about my looks and locked the door behind me.  

At our school, you were allowed off campus, but we had to be back by ten on weeknights and midnight on weekends. There was a small city about twenty minutes away. It didn't have any major clubs, only a small pub, there were a few shopping centers, and around five restaurants; the pizzeria being one of them.