I open my mouth to answer, then frown. “Why would that matter?”
Bella stares at me like I’m an idiot. “So you can get a better sense of the vibe? Once you know their fit, you can plan yours around it. As long as you match their vibe, you won’t be under- or overdressed.”
I blink. “That’s genius, I’ll ask them.” I scroll up through their texts. “Oh, they also said ‘nice jeans and a button-down is fine.’”
Bella rolls her eyes. “Well, there’s your answer!”
“But what kind of button-down? What are ‘nice jeans’? I thought jeans were always casual?”
“Bruh.”
“That’s what they said!” I shout, shaking my phone. “What does that mean!?”
“Dude, chill,” Bella says, pushing me aside to reach the closet. “Scooch over. Let me see what we’re working with.”
Several minutes into Bella combing through my closet and criticizing my apparent lack of “normal” clothes, there’s a soft knock on the door. “What are y’all doing?” Charli asks.
“Go away, Charli, we’re busy,” Bella snaps.
“Whoa, that’s rude,” I say. “Bella’s helping me pick out an outfit for Thanksgiving at my friend’s house tomorrow.”
“Ooh, can I help?” Charli asks eagerly.
“No, you’ll just get in the way,” Bella says, voice muffled as she steps deeper into the closet.
I shake my head. “Of course you can help.” I point to a pile of socks dumped on my bed. “How about you pick out my socks and shoes after Bella picks out the shirt and pants?”
“Okay!” Charli beams.
Bella emerges with three pairs of dark jeans and two old dress shirts I swear I’ve never seen before. “Try these on,” she says flatly, shoving them toward me.
I examine the pants, checking the tags. “Ooh, I’m pretty sure I’ve had some of these since middle school. I don’t know why I still have them.”
“You should at least try them on,” Bella replies. “Otherwise, you’re cooked.”
With a sigh, I head into the bathroom. The first pair doesn’t even fit around my hips, and the legs of the second pair rise to my mid-calf. The last pair—a crisp, dark navy denim—is the perfect length. They’re markedly tighter around the waist than what I’m used to, but as I study my reflection in the mirror, I’m surprised at how nice they make my legs look. They even give the illusion that I have a nice butt. Huh.
“How’s it going in there?” Bella calls through the door.
“Good, actually,” I answer. “The blue ones fit!”
“Let me see.”
I swing open the door to show them off, but Bella averts her eyes and exclaims, “Eww, put a shirt on!”
“Seriously?”
She throws a crumpled white tank top at my face.
I roll my eyes and toss the tank top on. “There, I’m covered. Happy?”
“Thank you.” She uncovers her eyes and looks me up and down. “Turn around.”
“Really? Looking at my butt is fine, but seeing me without a shirt is gross?”
“Do you want my help or not?”
My eyes flick to the ceiling, and with an annoyed sigh, I turn around for her.
