s**t.
I mean, seriously, I've just sent my boyfriend's best friend a photo of me in a tiny dress. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing, it matters that I've sent it.
OK. Breathe, Katherine.
My phone pings and I drop it like it's on fire, covering my eyes as I groan out loud.
I'm not reading it.
I tear the dress off, shoving it into the back of my closet so I hopefully forget about it forever onwards.
I pull my slobs back on, pulling my hoodie up to cover my face, which is burning.
I can't avoid it.
I have to read it.
J: Holy f**k. That's a decent...dress.
Oh my god.
K: It wasn't meant for you. Just delete it, please.
J: Of course. Was it meant for Connor? Only I don't think he is well enough to handle seeing that.
K: It was meant for Eden. I don't send things like that to boy
