Just Girly Things Novels & Stories

“Just a minute.” I shook my head as I joined the guys in the small kitchen. “I can’t fucking believe it. Why am I not allowed to get in?” Homer shook his head in amusement. “Do you have something to say?” “Girls value their privacy a lot. They have things they didn’t want boys to see.” “Like what?” “Tampons, underwear, shavers, maybe pictures with their exes, love letters, and so on,” Owen replied. “Sex toys.” Homer shrugged.

“I’m not exactly the girly type. I prefer boyish styles. And really, colors aren’t for any one gender—they’re just about personal choice and taste.” “Wow, I like how you think. But what do you really mean about you not being girly?” he cocked an eyebrow. I watched him for a moment and sighed. “I don’t like dresses or what’s typically considered ‘girly.’ It’s not that I’m a tomboy—I’m not. I just prefer being myself and being comfortable. And for me, comfort means wearing what feels right for me, regardless of what’s expected. It’s about finding my own style and sticking with it.” I paused, realizing I might have said more than I was supposed to.

I think you should be thanking me for having a good memory during class. Gia gives me a side-hug. “Come on, Ada, I’m sure you did great. You can practically speak French and you’ve got our Ancient History on lock.” A group of girls in skirts shorter than regulation dictated and a face full of makeup walked by us, making Cora groan in disgust. “I don’t know why these girls get all dolled up when the only male in our vicinity is old Mr. Gringe, who is a hundred years old.” As I start to sing “I Feel Pretty” from The West Side Story, Gia grabs my arm.

I guеѕѕ I wаѕ a tоmbоу at hеаrt, preferring соmfоrt оvеr style. I stood despairing аt mу rеflесtіоn іn thе mіrrоr, ѕtudуіng my frаmе. Nothing remotely girly suited mе. I hаd witnessed thаt in the lаѕt fеw іtеmѕ I hаd just tried оn. I соuldn’t bе feminine іf I trіеd.

Just before Ronnie barked at me from downstairs, I added a stack of thin bangles to my wrist and hooked a pair of chandelier earrings that matched to my ears. "Come on, Gizzy. We're supposed to be there at eight." I stomped heavily on the stairs. "Pull your panties out of your ass. I'm ready." "I don't have any panties on-Trish likes it better that way." She winked at me, and I swallowed back the vomit. I loved them both but didn't want to think about either of them naked. It would be like envisioning my mom in the buff. Just no. "Damn, you look fantastic. How much are you running these days? I'd swear you've lost weight."

Overall, my room was a girly sanctuary filled with all shades of pink. Kind of ironic, considering how quickly I had grown out of my baby-pink innocence and turned into a hot-pink diva. I have been obsessed with this color ever since I was a child. It all started with my obsession with Barbie. My Papa brought me every single collection there was at the time. Apparently, being the epitome of femininity wasn't enough for Madam Marisha, as she still thought I couldn't play Giselle - and I was basically the mayor of Girly Town!

Armaan's POV, I was recording my song in the studio, closing my eyes totally lost in my music. I sang my verse and waited listening to the music waiting for the cue to start the next verse. As I looked outside, my eyes stopped at the fan girl. My smile turned into terror. 'Why is she smiling like that?! Her eyes are wide and glued on me. She's grinning, showing all teeth. Do girls even smile like that?! Wait..... Is she even breathing? Why is she soo creepy?'

The door of the bathroom flew open, what I first saw was a white skin, fragile white legs on a pair of slippers. I looked up and found a towel wrapped about the body from the waist to the two knees. I was sure this mustn't be a lady because a lady would definitely not wrap a towel from her waist but instead from her chest. Then my eyes moved slowly upwards, I saw... packs...six packs...well set and arranged. I saw a muscular body, then I lifted my eyes up...I saw... a pretty man. His dark oily hair fell slightly on his forehead giving him the cute appearance of a young high school boy. His sideburns and flirting eyelashes with light but tiny pink lips can make any lady crawl into his bed wit

They pelted me with their bras. For my insistence on gender equality, I got to watch breasts bounce all over the place. Do Upper Crust babes want to be ogled like sex objects? Of course not - that's vulgar, demeaning and opposed to every fiber of their beliefs in female empowerment. So, every wiggle, jiggle, and 'subconscious' tweaking of their nipples was absolutely unintentional.

Always female and never not annoying. "God, he's so handsome," one mumbles. "Sexy," the other one corrects her. "Bet Poppy's fucking him." I frown. God, I fucking wish she were fucking me. To my dismay, the two of them ride with me down to the ground level, and when the doors open, I push through them to get out first, but then I turn around and slam my arm against the elevator doors to keep them from closing. I look at them both very carefully.