Whatever, Josh | ✔

Chapter Fourteen

a/n: the top pic is me in the dress that, later on, emma is referring to for advika. srry for freaking u out btw―ik i look ugly. This was my insecurity talking: I'm not ugly. 

AS SOON AS Computer Science class ends, a let out a breath of relief, glad to be out of that class and into the weekend―well, almost―since it's only Friday, but I'm finally free of college. For two days and after you finish your homework, I remind myself as I exit the class.

 I groan. "What's wrong?" 

"Ah!" I yelp as I make eye contact with the person―Emma. "Oh my God, Emma! You almost made me have a heart attack."

"Sorry," Emma giggles. "This feels like Déjà vu."

I nod my head, recalling our first encounter. "Anyways, why'd you come here? I thought I was going to give you a heart attack after your class," I tease, which Emma completely ignores.

"Yes, well," she plays with her fingers suspiciously, "it came to my attention that Ava Miller's sorority is hosting a party this weekend."

I scrunch my eyebrows. "And how does this relate to us?"

"Well," she continues in her mysterious voice, "I might've gotten us an invitation."

"What?" I shriek, and Emma nods her head with glee. 

"Right?" she squeals, and I stop, suddenly.

"I have a feeling we're both having two different reactions to this."

"Unless you're not as pumped as I am, then..." her voice trails off as she studies my expression, and she groans. "You're kidding, right?" I shake my head. "Advi, this has, probably, got to be the news of the lifetime! Your best friend got you, and herself, of course, tickets to a-once-in-a-lifetime party at the Ava Miller's sorority!"

I roll my eyes. "You say it like she's a celebrity, or something."

"'Cause she is!" Emma insists whilst looking at me. "Okay, well, her cousin's father's daughter is friend's with Ariana Grande, but still... it's a-once-in-a-lifetime party, and the tickets are tough to get, so, at least give me credit for that!" She pouts her lips, batting her eyelashes. "Please."

"Okay!" I confide. "But only because you look like a beggar asking that."

"Yay! Wait what―" I sneak in a smile as she follows after me. 

                        ***

THE ONLY REASON why I even agreed to the party is because, let's be honest, I have nothing better to do than watch Netflix on a Saturday night while eating ice cream out of the carton, but because of Emma―and only because of her―I'm stuck looking for a dress that, apparently, fits the dress code. "Ugh!" I groan. "I still don't understand why I need to wear a dress, or even wear something that's 'fits' their guidelines."

"Their a sorority," Emma reminds me, "so, of course, they need to have a dress code!"

"Whatever," I say, trying to fit this thick navy dress on my curvy body. This is exactly why I hate trying on dresses: because nothing ever fits on me, and I hate looking at my over sized body in the mirror.

"Okay, well, are you done putting the dress on?" Emma says, impatiently, tapping her foot on the ground and I sigh, slumping on the ground. "What's wrong?" I can hear Emma's footsteps getting louder until she's towering over the dressing room door. "Okay, I'm, uh, I'm going to come inside whether you like it or not." I don't believe her at first, but as soon as the door opens, I scream her name. "Advi," she starts.

"Emma, what the hell? You could've, at least, given me a heads-up!" I get up from the floor, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"I did, and don't worry," she says, taking in my appearance, "I won't take pictures of you, like those hoes do." I stand there in an awkward mess of just my bra and underwear. "Anyways, what's taking you so long?" she asks while inspecting the dress I'm struggling to wear.

"That." I point to the dress that she's inspecting, and she scrunches her eyebrows.

"This?" I nod my head. Is that hard to see? "I can always get in another size, you could've just told me," she says, taking the dress off from the rack. 

I watch her take it off before saying: "Wait―so you're not going to say anything else?"

She stops taking off the dress from the rack, and shakes her head. "No. Why would I?"

"I don't know," I say, shifting my weight onto my left leg, "I-I mean when I come shopping with my parents, they usually..." My voice trails off, incapable of finishing the sentence.

"Body shame you?" Emma suggests, quietly, and I nod my head. 

"Yeah."

"Yeah, most parents do that―including mine―without even thinking twice of the effects it can have on their children, but don't worry, I'm not a parent and even if I am, I promise to you, and God, that I'll never to do that my child." 

"They can also think that it 'motivates' too," I say, and she remains solemn, "but I'm with you on that oath."

She giggles. "Glad to know I'm not the only one who feels that way." Suddenly her eyes light up and she looks at me with joy. "Hey! I think I know the perfect size―and dress―that'll fit on you, but, do you want to, maybe, get some smoothies after I get the dress?"

"Açaí bowl?" I suggest and her smile brightens.

"Even better."