Rosie had chosen the outfit that Freya wore. Freya had expressed that she wasn't comfortable wearing a slutty dress, she didn't want any attention on her. Rosie had chosen something that she'd be comfortable with.
"How do I look?" Freya asked nervously, stepping out of the bathroom; her fingers were tangled in the bottom of her shirt. Rosie's eyes widened in surprise. Freya was wearing a pair of denim shorts that fitted her legs nicely, she'd slipped a pair of patterned tights underneath them; not feeling entirely confident about flashing her legs in the club. She had a plain white vest on over her torso, with a lace overthrow over the top. She looked beautiful. She'd applied soft make up on her face, with lip gloss and smoky eyes. Her cheek bones looked more defined. She'd curled her blonde locks and had laid them naturally over her shoulders.
Rosie, for once, was gobsmacked. Speechless. Amazed.
"Do I look that bad?" Freya timidly chewed her lip.
"What? Oh, hell no! Jesus Christ, you look beautiful. Wait, not beautiful, what's a better word for beautiful?" Rosie paused to think. Freya was about to reply when Rosie held her finger up, gesturing for her to shush. Rosie fished her phone out of her pocket and bit her tongue, concentrating as she typed. It was about two minutes before she continued, "You look-" She paused again. "Puhl-kri-tood-n-uh s."
"What?"
"Pulchritudinous."
"Well what does that mean?" Freya asked.
"The dictionary definition says; adjective, physically beautiful; comely."
"Okay," Freya bit her lip smiling. "Is that what you're going in?"
Rosie looked down at what she was wearing. She was wearing skinny, black ripped jeans with some knee-high leather boots with big laces. She had a black vest covering her chest with the logo of a band named Five Fingered Death Punch over her breasts. The logo consisted of a knuckle duster with the letters 5-F-D-P in each finger hole. She'd pulled a leather jacket over the top. Silver, spiked studs had been punctured into the arms, small holes were in the jacket all around it, and when she turned around there was a painted picture of a retro car on the back. Her hair was down with only a touch of makeup touching her face. Her cheeks had light shadows under the bones, defining the shape of her face even more. Even without effort, Rosie had the sex appeal of Angelina Jolie and the badass mixture of Michelle Rodriguez.
"Ready to go?" Freya asked.
"One second." Rosie moved closer to Freya and lifted her hand to cup her face. Freya felt Rosie's sweet breath fan over her face and felt her eyes flutter closed. Freya felt a strange impulse, an impulse that she wanted to be kissed. She wanted Rosie to grab her by the waist and kiss her as if it was her last moment with her. She felt Rosie's thumb run under her eye before she pulled away.
Freya's eyes shot open, looking at her friend, "What was it?"
"An eyelash." Rosie said before walking out.
Freya felt her cheeks burn as she followed.
"Gash and Cunt are meeting us around the corner," Rosie said, flashing her charming smile at Freya.
"Yay," Freya tried not to seem too sarcastic.
"What? Don't like my friends? They're more loyal than your friends. My friends don't get drunk and try to finger me."
"Hey! That was a one-time thing, he's lovely when he's sober." Freya pouted.
"I'll make it my priority to not see him ever again- sober or not." Rosie went on her phone and began typing. As if on cue, Cunt and Gash turned up in their car, music blasting from the windows. They both climbed into the car, and the night began.
YOU ARE READING
Pipsqueak (BEING EDITED)
Romance|ORIGINALLY TITLED THE BAD GIRL CALLS ME PIPSQUEAK| Rosie was a tall girl; her hair was dark brown and fell short by her ears in a scruffy pixie cut. She had a black beanie hat on her head and dark red lipstick on her lips. She was wearing black, r...
