Leggings and a zip-up jacket (with a surprise)

I held up my mom's choice. She had good taste.

A pair of plain black leggings would go great with my hair, and the soft grey jacket she had picked out was one of my recent favorites. I actually hadn't worn it out yet, so I don't know how my mom knew about it. She might have just picked it out on sight as a good option -- like I said, she has good taste.

I peeled off my shorts and top and took a good look at myself in the mirror. I had a changed a lot recently, and I was kind of still getting used to looking into the mirror and seeing a woman instead of a girl. Soccer had left me with muscular legs, a toned ass and the hint of abs, while my late bloom had left me with a nice pair of tits and flared hips. Probably the most surprising changes of all were my hair and braces though. I had just gotten my braces off last month, and finally figured out a conditioner situation that didn't leave my hair feeling like dead leaves. I hummed to myself as I got dressed, anticipating how meeting Max was going to go.

_"He's definitely going to like these" I thought, pulling up a thong followed by my leggings. They really clung to every curve and divot of my legs, coating my thighs like a liquid and pulling my ass up into a pair of nice rounded cheeks. "He'll like them for sure, but Max has never really been an ass guy as much as a tits guy." I tossed away the bra my mom had picked out, reaching for a sports bra. "it's still wearing a bra mom, chill. And it hides my nipples just fine." I played out the potential argument with my mom in my head as I pulled it over my chest, making sure my cleavage game was on point. "Well, mostly hides them"_ I amended, seeing their outline in the mirror.

My cleavage game absolutely WAS on point -- something that brought me a little thrill every time I saw those two mounds sitting there, all... existent. How many times had I been to watch while Max ogled some girl in high school, bouncing away with their stupid bouncy stupid huge bouncy boobs? "Too many fucking times..." I thought to myself, bouncing on my toes and watching my own tits jiggling. "Now it's my turn. He'll finally be seeing ME."

It wasn't as though I'd been dealing with these feelings my whole life though -- far from it. When Max and I first met in Kindergarten, we were instant friends. Can't really tell you why, sometimes life is just like that. But we spent all of our time together. And as we grew up, it... well, it stayed that way. Simple and honest. Fun. We would play games together, run around school, hang around the neighborhood... a two-person pack. As we passed through middle school and reached high school, it felt like I hadn't really changed much, but something definitely happened to Max. He started trailing off mid-sentence as other girls walked by, and started blushing and stammering as they talked to him. I didn't get it. What I did get, was that I was jealous of his attention. I want him blushing and stammering at ME. Not because I wanted it to mean anything, it's just... he was MY friend, and what right did they have sucking up all of his attention?

I'll admit, I got a little bit bitter. None of the other boys were exactly queuing up to talk to flat Leslie, and I just had this one guy, and he was my friend and I liked his company. I wanted them to butt out of my friendship. It wasn't until Max's senior year that things changed. Maybe it was because he was leaving soon, maybe it was chemicals, maybe it was something beautiful budding through intimacy in the due course of time, but one day I looked at Max. Like, really LOOKED at him. He'd been my friend my whole life, but it was like I'd been blind up to this point. Instead of my goofball buddy, I saw... a man. A Man. An attractive one. A sensitive one. A fun one. A kind one. Still Max, but... "Man Max". I blushed. I stammered. I... wanted him. I couldn't want anyone else. It was like getting struck by lighting and the world snaps from black and white to color. it was so obvious all the things I hadn't seen before: the way his biceps rippled as moved his arm, the way the corners of his mouth crinkled together when he grinned, the way his hair moved with the wind -- it was like I was seeing it all for the first time. Every day I woke up with the resolve that today would be the day I tell him. Today would be the day I told Max that I love him.

Then he left.

It felt so sudden, but at the same time so long coming. Inevitable, really. Max was a year ahead of me in school, and senior year had come and gone. He was going to college out of state, and I wouldn't see him until the school year ended.

I hadn't told him.

So THAT'S why this was so important. I needed this. I needed him to see me as a woman, just like I see him as a man. He needs to look at me and see a sexual creature in place of the dopey friend he grew up with. So I grabbed the final piece: the jacket my mom had picked out. It was cropped and little chunky, which was perfect for this look. I zipped it up about halfway, and let fabric slide off of one of my shoulders. I ran my hands through my hair, tousling it just the tiniest bit. Fuck, my mom was good at this.

I looked in the mirror, and looking back at me was a girl who had obviously just woken up. Someone who didn't give a crap, who was just enjoying a Saturday in. Except I had those tight leggings eating up my lower body, perfectly applied makeup, and a half-zipped jacked opened up to show all the cleavage I was capable of mustering. "effortlessly sexy." I thought. "Like I'm always like this, and Max is just lucky to catch me this way."

I took one last look at myself in the mirror, grinned, and hurried down to lounge on the couch nonchalantly until Max arrived.

He'd be here any minute, and I was going to blow his fucking MIND.