You can’t wear that?” Charity shrieks as she walks out of the bathroom, pointing at my conservative, soft yellow cardigan. I glance down at my outfit. “Why not?” “Because we’re going to a fight, not out for a cup of tea for crying out loud.” She shakes her head. “Can you stop being all doctor-like for just one night?” I roll my eyes. “Charity, I’m in psychology, not medicine.” “Whatever, it’s the same thing.” I’m about to tell her it’s not at all the same thing, but before I can speak she starts ripping my sweater off me. “Hey!” “Listen, the jeans are great, they show off what an amazing ass you have, but this must come off.” She chucks it across the room then walks to the closet and throws me a white tank top that looks three sizes too small. “Put this on.” I huff in frustration but do as she says. “And put these on, too.” She tosses me a pair of brown leather, knee-high boots. “I was going to wear my flip flops.” She shakes her head.
