Coming of Age
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Tiffanyluvss
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Training Bra!
CHELSY
“You really know how to make me cry when you give me those ocean eyes.”– Billie Eilish, “ocean eyes”
Just as I was about to share a dreamy kiss with Brad Pinsley, my alarm clock decided to blare, yanking me out of my sweet slumber.
I’d been dreaming about Brad, the most popular swimmer at school, for a while now. But today, I was so close to finally kissing him.
Damn it.
I groaned, annoyed at the bird-shaped alarm clock on my bedside table. I slapped it off and tried to fall back asleep, hoping to pick up where I left off.
Come on, Chelsy! Just five more minutes! You were so close to kissing him!
But sleep had abandoned me, and I was left frustrated.
Stupid clock.
I gave up on sleep and sat up, rubbing my eyes. The dream was gone, and the reality of school was setting in.
I hated school more than anything else. But at seventeen, I still had two years left until graduation.
I scratched my head, hearing a knock on my door. My mom’s voice floated through the cracks.
“Chels?! Honey, hurry up! Your brother is about to leave!”
I couldn’t wait to go to college, to escape my mom’s early morning wake-up calls and my brother’s lame jokes.
I hated having to rely on my brother for rides. I couldn’t wait to get my license and my own car.
But for now, I was stuck with my older brother, Max Holmes, the star hockey player, and his best friend, Nathan Sharles.
Don’t get me wrong, if Max wasn’t my brother, I’d admit he was good-looking. But he was my brother, and an annoying one at that. So, I had to deal with his player-like looks that no girl could resist, which explained the revolving door of girls at our house.
And speaking of players, Nathan Sharles was the real deal.
Nathan couldn’t keep it in his pants to save his life.
He was our next-door neighbor and a family friend since we were kids. Because of him and the unfortunate placement of my window, I’d seen more than my fair share of explicit scenes.
Nathan was attractive, in a cliché James Dean, ripped jeans, white tee kind of way. But he used his good looks to break girls’ hearts, not to do something positive like motivational speaking or modeling.
Some girls might have swooned over living next door to a “hot” guy (as the girls at Gilmore High would say) who rarely wore a shirt and danced to rock music in front of his mirror.
But me? I was disgusted, irritated, and annoyed.
It wasn’t that I liked him or anything, but it bothered me how quickly he went through girlfriends. I felt bad for the girls who thought they had a future with him.
In movies, the girl always ends up with the guy she hates. It’s cliché. But me? That would never happen. Because that’s just gross, and it would be like having a crush on a cousin.
That’s more Vicky’s thing. She’d had a crush on my brother for years.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’d liked him since she was twelve, and she still hadn’t gotten over it. I couldn’t judge her though, not when I’d been in love with Brad Pinsley for as long as I could remember.
But more on that later.
Realizing I’d spent the whole morning lost in my thoughts, I got out of bed and slipped on my slippers.
I rushed to the bathroom before my mom could call me again. So annoying.
As I showered, I remembered that Vicky and I had decided to tell our crushes how we felt. We’d chosen the most immature method possible.
A love letter!
Cringe, right?
The thought made me both excited and nervous as I hummed my favorite song in the shower.
Despite my warning that my brother wouldn’t appreciate something as immature as a letter, Vicky insisted. She’d been watching too many teen movies.
I left the bathroom in just my towel and went to my room. I put on my underwear and frowned at how tight they were. I needed new underwear ASAP!
I didn’t look any heavier, but my body was telling a different story.
I grabbed a pink bra from my drawer. I’d been wearing training bras even though I was seventeen. Puberty hadn’t been kind to Vicky or me, so we didn’t have the sexy boobs other girls did.
At least it saved money on new bras. I decided to stick with my middle school trainers until puberty decided to bless me with womanly curves.
Whenever that would be.
I pulled on tights over my underwear, put on my bra, and shrugged. My boobs peeked out a bit, but it didn’t matter; they wouldn’t show under my T-shirt.
Think again, Chels.
Suddenly, the door swung open. “Princess, your mom says breakfast is ready and your brother—”
I froze, turning to see Nathan standing in the doorway.
Oh my God.
My jaw dropped and my eyes widened.
His deep blue eyes sparkled as he took in my half-dressed state.
He swallowed, his gaze dropping to my bra. “Oh, sorry…”
