Phoebe's Fair Valentine
“You can’t wear that.” Nicole gives me a disgust-laced once-over as she walks into my room. “You look like Phoebe-shaped pile of—”
“I do not!” I interrupt before she can finish. My denial doesn’t stop me from looking down at my borrowed outfit with serious doubts. I am so fashion-ignorant. Give me a fun t-shirt and pair of jeans any day. Throw in some heavily scuffed Chuck Taylors and I’m a happy girl.
My standard uniform is not, however, the kind of outfit suitable for an important date. Nothing in my wardrobe is suitable for an important date. And tonight is an important date.
After scouring my own clothes for hours, I’d finally sucked it up and knocked on Stella’s door.
Apparently a big mistake.
“I was going to say pile of prep, drama queen,” Nicole says, r
