Your girlfriend was a Regina George wannabe, with a black girl twist. From crazy diet trends to lip gloss, to short skirts and Lana Del Ray, your girlfriend was as trendy as could be. Perhaps Nevaeh was basic, but she was very smart, and beautiful- her charisma was her allure, after all. She was cunning and catty, particularly possessive of you, not wanting you to even breathe another girl's air. She was queen bee for sure, your trademark popular girl- she was the one all the others developed eating disorders to look like. At the moment your girlfriend was sashaying up to you, short skirt, swoop neck crop top, some Adidas- not to mention that perfectly straight blonde hair, and long, unclumped lashes. Nevaeh folded her arms over her rather generous cleavage, looking up at you from several inches below as she purred in an exasperated tone through her plump, glossed lips "So... You just weren't gonna tell me you had a little study sesh with Emma after school???"