‘That could work,’ Penny says. ‘She’ll need one of your hoodies,’ she says to Jesse.

‘We’re going for adorable girl in an oversized guy’s top,’ Harper says. ‘It’s very “look at me, I’m tiny and helpless and I need a man to protect me”. Gross, I know. The implications of it are deeply sexist and very gender essentialist, and, oh, I could write an essay on it for my class, but let’s also see if we can get a cute photo first.’

I dutifully put on leggings, and Jesse returns with a blue hoodie, and I really don’t want to wear it, but I can’t put into words why not. Jesse seems equally uncomfortable, which makes me even more so. It’s too intimate. It’s too much. I put it on, nervous that it’s actually not going to look oversize on me at all. Jesse is taller than me, but I have boobs, and broad shoulders and a stomach and wide hips. I am not a cute or tiny person: there are a lot of bumps and lumps here.

The hoodie smells like Jesse, and I try to tell myself I don’t like the smell but, unfortunately, I do.

I sit down in the hoodie and kind of slump forward, hoping that makes me look smaller and cuter.

‘You look depressed,’ Penny says, frowning.

‘You look like you’re home sick from school,’ Harper says at the same time.

I sit up straight, very upright, and fold my hands in my lap.

‘How about now?’

They both shake their heads.

‘Can we lose the leggings?’ Harper says.

‘And put on what instead?’ I say.

‘Nothing. Just a peek of naked leg. Like you’ve just had sex and put on the hoodie—’ Harper says.

‘That could work! And rumple her hair,’ Penny says.

‘No,’ I say. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘What about,’ Jesse says. ‘What about if you sit over here by the window, with the lamp light? Just wearing a normal top. And no props.’

Harper looks unconvinced.

I take off the hoodie, and sit in leggings and a plain white T-shirt.

‘Can I?’ Jesse says, holding out a tissue.

‘I can wipe my own nose.’ I lean away from him.

‘No, I was going to wipe off a bit of the eyeliner.’

‘No! That’s my gothic masterpiece!’ Harper says.

‘Just a little. Just so she looks a bit more…’

‘A bit more what?’

‘A bit more like herself.’

‘Fine.’

Jesse gets close to me with the tissue and I look up at him. My heart is suddenly racing, and I feel a little breathless.

‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ I say. I am trying to stall him from getting any closer. I need my heart to slow down first. I need to regroup.

‘I’ve put make-up on and off my little sisters lots of times,’ he says.

‘Okay,’ I say.