Chapter Eight

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Boy, you knock on the devil's door and he will head slam you through the wall.
-Sherrilyn Kenyon

"I-I haven't dressed like myself since I was sixteen." I squeak to Jessie, who is shift through my wardrobe.

It's nearly twelve, I woke up at 4:30 for literally no reason at all and by the time everyone else have woken up by ten I was almost done unpacking.

We leave for the carnival as soon as everyone's ready.

I promised myself and my best friend I would make my way towards being myself, accepting my own body.

And I will follow through.

But after two years it's hard to change back.

"Thank god you only moved up three cup sizes," She says absentmindedly, knowing I annoyed her with my complaining about constantly having to buy new bras and underwear until my body decided to stay one size. "Otherwise you'd need new shirts, and it helps you used to get a size up anyway."

I nod, biting my lip as I ache to wear the large sweatpants tucked on the top shelf and now pajama only shirts.

"What did you feel like wearing," She asks, following my gaze. "Besides those."

"I don't know, what's good for a carnival?" I ask, realizing its just the perfect warm fall like temperature outside I could pretty much wear anything. "Shorts and t-shirt?"

She giggles madly, instantly giving through all my old graphic Tees and bad shirts.

Now I may not have been hobo like in the past but I definitely wasn't a girly girl.

Going to the shelves I quickly pull out a pair of light washed jeans shorts and a red belt to go along, knowing the high waisted ones need that otherwise they'll fall down.

Small waist and a large ass are the worst combination when it comes to finding pants.

Jessamine pulls out a grey shirt I instantly go into a fit of laughter as I recognize what the deep red letters say without reading it.

I used to love this one, it made old ladies glare at me and moms with annoying kids stay away.

Having picked it up and read, 'Don't fuck with me, I fuck with the Devil and he doesn't like to share.' I instantly fell in love.

"With Xavier it's not a lie," She says, practically throwing it at me. "Go change." As a second thought she snoops until she pulls out a red lace set and throws it to me. "We may or may not be going somewhere you'll want to match."

I raise my eyebrow, interested, but don't ask so I don't ruin the surprise.

Flopping them down on my bed I quickly ditch my comfy pajamas and pull on the clothes as fast as possible. Jessie motions me over to her, grabbing the back of my shirt she bunches it up before tying it with a hair tie and twisting it up and into a small bun.

"That look like it was made to be there," I gawk at it in the mirror.

"Thanks." She says, standing next to me. She has a golden tank top on that makes her blonde hair pop and brown eyes look deep and white leggings that set it off. She's wearing wedges, which I always have and always will refuse to do.

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