7. I Hate You

Taylor was so tired by the time they got home, he didn't roll out of bed until after nine the next morning. He looked at himself in the mirror and shook his head in disbelief at the sight of his hair still in a braid on the back of his head, the earrings still clipped on his now aching lobes, and the hideous lipstick, eyeshadow, and blush still caked on his face.

He quickly unclipped the earrings, placed them on his dresser, and rubbed his painfully sore earlobes.

I didn't even take those off? I guess I really was tired.

Turning to exit the bedroom, Taylor took two steps before tripping over the white, western style, ankle boots with the pink stitching.

"Damn boots," he muttered while kicking one of them against the wall.

That's when he realized he still had frilly ankle socks on his feet.

He didn't like that he still had those socks on from last night, but at the moment he wasn't awake enough to care about taking the time to remove them.

He merely shrugged and continued to the bathroom where he stood at the sink and used a washcloth to scrub the heidous, clownish makeup off his face before heading into the kitchen.

Craig was having coffee, already dressed in khaki shorts, slip-on loafers with no socks, and a peach polo shirt.

"Guess you wanted your turn in pink," Taylor sarcastically said to him. "Why don't you dress yourself up. You wear all the pink and I'll just go to my game. Sound like a plan?"

"It doesn't, but don't worry, even if I did I'm sure you'd still be the pretty little one Carissa fusses over," Craig teased as he sipped his coffee. "Just wait, you're gonna be as cute as ever in what I got up early and bought you."

"I'm not wearing any freaking dresses!" screamed Taylor. "Just sleep with the crazy bitch already and get me out of this. No wonder she's in therapy. Just her thinking I'm a girl and having me be friends with her daughter tells you all you need to know about her. She's freaking unstable and you're even more nuts chasing after her and doing all this, forcing me to do things boys shouldn't have to."

"It's actually called being needy, moron." Craig grabbed his arm. "Now let's get you dressed, because I intend to satisfy all her needs and mine, hopefully today!"

Craig dragged Taylor to the bedroom and Taylor began to fight, pleading with his brother to not make him wear the clothes Craig had for him. He knew the drill, but still struggled with having to do it.

"Let's go," said Craig, holding out a pair of peach panties. "Are your balls still sore? If I was you, I'd make sure to wear your cup in the game later."

Taylor could barely speak. He was so angry he could almost feel steam coming out his ears as he stepped into his new peach panties and similarly colored peach leggings.

Craig helped Taylor pull them up, snapping the elastic waistband slightly as he snugged them past Taylor's hips and then dropped a top over his head. Craig took a pair of white flats from their box and just as Taylor was beginning to complain, Craig buckled the little straps across each of Taylor's feet.

Taylor rolled his eyes, seeing Craig open a package of peach bows and ribbon. Before Taylor could complain, Craig had spun him around and was beginning to tie a bow at the end of the French braid. He then sprayed some sticky hairspray at the back of Taylor's head.

"Wait! That," Craig mused when he turned his brother back around.

"What?"

Craig pointed at Taylor's crotch.

"It's not much but if you were to get excited wearing these clothes, it might show and would be embarrassing for you, well both of us, IF anyone notices it."

"Fuck you, it's not that small."

"Okay, if you say so. Anyway, just in case, you better tuck it like I showed you yesterday."

Taylor didn't move, only continued to stare at his brother with anger in his eyes.

"Now!" Craig snapped. "Hury up."

Taylor reluctantly reached inside his new pants and just as he finished the tuck job, all while complaining about how sore his balls still was, a car could be heard pulling up outside

"Perfect timing," Craig mused.

He opened a lip gloss tube, rubbing the clear shiny gloss on his brother's lips while Taylor tried fighting it. "Don't worry it clear. Now hold still. We don't have all day. We gotta go if you want to make sure we make it to your game. Grab a clean uniform. The rest of your gear is in the car."

"I really hate you," said Taylor, shaking his head and looking down at himself. "And I hate doing this for you!"

"I know you do, but you look so cute doing it." Craig reached over and ran his hand down Taylor's braid to annoy him.

Taylor stormed out of the room to retrieve a uniform from his bedroom.

"Chop, chop. We gotta go, they're waiting on us!"

Moments later, Taylor returned, handing the folded uniform to his brother.

"Now let's go. Oh, and grab your purse, it's on the table."

"Wait, what?!?"

"Watch the back talk, young lady."

Craig walked over, opening the front door.

Taylor dropped his head in defeat, pouting as he walked across the room and grabbed the small peach colored handbag with a dainty gold-colored chain shoulder strap, from the coffee table in front of the couch.

He was in a stretch cotton short-sleeve top that featured ruffles around the collar and sleeves. A bold striped print with peach and white thick horizontal stripes covered the front and back of the garment. A glittery semi-faded butterfly graced the middle of the shirt which stretched past his waist as the long top hung daintily covering most of his hips and rear.

From under it, his legs were completely covered in matching peach stretch leggings and at the bottom of the leggings, two ruffled layers of stretch mesh fabric matching his top and adding to the rumba design of the outfit.

On his feet were white canvas flats, which had a white bow across the toe line, and across his left shoulder sat the dainty chain strap of his outfit-matching purse.

Taylor held the purse steady as he walked out the door.

"Oh, I just love your outfit, sweetie." Carissa gushed, approaching the front door.

She greeted each of them with a hug.

"And what an adorable touch on the braid, Craig!"

"Thanks! It was nothing," said Craig, trying to act like he knew what he was doing.

"I try, and Taylor loves the little touches, so I do the best I can."

"I should get you a bow like this, too, Kaylee," Carissa mentioned, touching Taylor's bow.

"Yeah, I like her hair." Kaylee responded.

Carissa's head swung around and she gave Kaylee a look that said, who are you and what happened to my tomboyish daughter I have to fight daily when we're getting dressed.

"It's from Target," Craig offered. "I have another one. One second and I'll get it for you."

"It's okay, Craig," said Carissa, "If it's too much."

"It's nothing," said Craig. "They came in sets I guess, in case you want to use them on pigtails. I'll be right back."

Taylor was dying to get in the car before any neighbor noticed him as Craig ran back inside. He stood there staring at the ground.

Carissa took out Kaylee's pigtails and pulled her brush from her purse. Standing in the front yard, she began twisting and changing Kaylee's hair until Craig returned, handing Carissa the bow and ribbon.

As she wound it in at the end of Kaylee's single braid, Taylor quickly realized they were now in identical French braids and peach tied bows with ribbons streaming down their backs.

Clarissa opened her purse, again taking out a purple pump spray and before he could even blink, Taylor felt the stickiness across his forehead as she sprayed both him and Kaylee.

He almost leaped into the car the moment she unlocked the door, half hiding behind Kaylee, hoping none of the neighbors had noticed them.

Craig didn't get into the car like Taylor expected him to. Instead he headed back toward his own car.

"I'll follow you guys," he announced. "We won't have time to come back before your game, Taylor."

They drove off in Carissa's sporty little BMW, and Craig pulled out right behind them.