Tate
"Oh my god Tate, you can't wear that." Chloe's eyes bug out of her head as she looks me up and down. I'm wearing jeans and a black racer back tank top. I mean it's not a dress, but it's not what I wear to clean the house either. She's such a diva sometimes. I have no idea how we click like we do, we're so different.
"Where did he say he was taking you again?"
Huffing I strip down to my bra and panties. Frustrated with what to wear.
"He didn't say. Which is more torture than surprising because now I'm stuck with do I dress up or not."
"Hmmm." Chloe ruffles through my bags of clothes, tossing exercise clothes left and right as if they're trash themselves. "Just as I thought, you're going to need my wardrobe." She stands up, holding the bag I had my clothes in. She went through all
