Matching Sister Outfits Quotes

outfit for work that day. She matched the colors of the Washington Wolves perfectly. She was all sleekness and shine with her black dress, white jacket, red shoes, red lips, and a silvery white bob that fell

Well, I like you in either form,” she said, giving me a shy smile. “In fact, sometimes I like your wolf form better. He’s more cuddly.” “Oh, too bad about that.” I shook my head. “I can change right now for you but I’m afraid it might ruin our plans for the evening.” “Plans?” She looked at me doubtfully. “We have plans?” “Uh-huh. How do you feel about salsa dancing?” She bit her lip. “Um… it sounds great but… you dance? Really?” I gave her my best mock offended look. “I’m not as much of a Neanderthal as you want to believe. Yeah, I dance. I’m pretty fucking good at it, if I say so myself.” “Well, I’m not any good at it but I’m willing to give it a try.” Her face fell. “Only I don’t have anything to wear.” “Yes, you do.” I went back out to the porch and picked up the package I’d left outside earlier. “Hope you like it,” I said as she ripped into it eagerly. “My sister picked it out. She owns a boutique in Tallahassee.” “Oh!” she exclaimed as the dress my big sister had picked came into view. It was a short, shimmery thing with a draped top and a low cut back. There were shoes to match too—strappy little heels that would make her long, lovely legs look like they went on forever. I couldn’t wait to see her in them. That is, if she would wear the clothes and shoes my sister had picked—I wasn’t so sure because suddenly Taylor had tears in her eyes. “You don’t like the outfit?” I asked anxiously. “I can send it back. I—” “No, no—I love it.” She sniffed and blotted her eyes with a paper towel from the holder. “It’s just… so sweet. And it’s the first time someone else has picked my clothes in years and got me something I really wanted to wear. Thank you, Victor.” She put the box with the clothes and shoes on the counter and stood on tiptoe to put her arms around my neck. “You’re so sweet to me,” she whispered in my ear. “So sweet and kind and generous.” “You deserve it,” I said gruffly, hugging her back.

Hey, Shell-bell," I say, leaning over her and wiping her face with a napkin. "It's the first day of school. Wish me luck." Shelley holds jerky arms out and gives me a lopsided smile. I love that smile. "You want to give me a hug?" I ask her, knowing she does. The doctors always tell us the more interaction Shelley gets, the better off she'll be. Shelley nods. I fold myself in her arms, careful to keep her hands away from my hair. When I straighten, my mom gasps. It sounds to me like a referee's whistle, halting my life. "Brit, you can't go to school like that." "Like what?" She shakes her head and sighs in frustration. "Look at your shirt." Glancing down, I see a large wet spot on the front of my white Calvin Klein shirt. Oops. Shelley's drool. One look at my sister's drawn face tells me what she can't easily put into words. Shelley is sorry. Shelley didn't mean to mess up my outfit. "It's no biggie," I tell her, although in the back of my mind I know it screws up my "perfect" look. Frowning, my mom wets a paper towel at the sink and dabs at the spot. It makes me feel like a two-year-old. "Go upstairs and change." "Mom, it was just peaches," I say, treading carefully so this doesn't turn into a full-blown yelling match. The last thing I want to do is make my sister feel bad. "Peaches stain. You don't want people thinking you don't care about your appearance." "Fine." I wish this was one of my mom's good days, the days she doesn't bug me about stuff. I give my sister a kiss on the top of her head, making sure she doesn't think her drool bothers me in the least. "I'll see ya after school," I say, attempting to keep the morning cheerful. "To finish our checker tournament.