Barely Tolerable Shirt Novels & Stories

--- LORENZO'S POV He stood in the middle of my room in a towel and picked up my shirt from the chair and put it on like it was a decision that had already been made somewhere above both of our heads and the execution was just a formality. "Take it off," I ordered. "My clothes are dirty." He protested. “Plus I like it,” he pulled at the shirt and I almost lost it. "I'll get you something else." I was already in the wardrobe. I produced a grey shirt, plain, perfectly functional, and held it out. He looked at it like I had handed him something from a bin. "That one looks stiff." He scrunched his face in dislike. “I need to be comfortable when I sleep.”

Everything seemed to revolve around them all of a sudden “What in the world are you wearing?” “It's a onesie!” Sharon said excitedly as she spun around. The oversize piece of clothing hung loose on her figure, making her appear like an overly grown child “You put this on to piss me off, didn't you?” “No seriously, it's just really comfortable” Sharon said clasping her hands around herself “I hate it” “Sharon smiled coquettishly” “I love the fact that you hate it” She turned around, and walked a few steps away from him

he said, laughing and joking before leaving. I heard the door close, so I came out of the shower room. I sat on the sink, embarrassed by my own foolishness. I kicked the air in frustration. I looked at what was inside the paper bag he left. There was a T-shirt and shorts with the brand Shien in purple, my favorite color. Next were red underwear and a red bra with the brand Victoria's Secret. I took off the towel and tried on the underwear and they fit me perfectly. The bra fit me just right too. He's really good at choosing.

Amelia barks at the caretakers. Two girls run past me. They look in my closet. They come back holding the big white shirt from last night. "What is this man's cloth?" Amelia shakes the shirt in my face. "I found it at the Mooncrest Artisan Guild," I say. I try to sound brave. If they find out about the stranger, the Lycan Bloodmoon Pack will hurt my mother, Elena Corvinus. I do not care about my bad father, but my mother is sweet. Amelia looks at the gold letter L on the neck of the shirt. It looks very rich. Her face turns red like fire. She jumps up and hits my cheek with her hand.

Tit for tat was a fair game , so I wasn't committing an offence anyway,she also stared at mine last night so. "There you go,sir" she said distancing herself away from me. My arms hurt,I needed a shower real bad but also a shirt , what would people think if they saw me coming shirtless from my secretary's room? "Millers,I need a shirt," I said not even sparing her a glance. " Um...I think I have one but it's too small," she said rummaging through her bag, when she finally removed a black shirt with the inscription,'I've got ass'

I whimper once he pulls away because I still want him close. "You are wearing a shirt?"I frown looking at the hideous thing on my mate's body . He looks down at the shirt silently then he throws his head back and laughs loudly . His chest vibrates and I blush at the carefree Maddox infront of me . " This ? " He asks motioning his hands to the wrinkled shirt in his body with his laugher slowing down . "Yeah ,"I answer smiling back "Yeah every female wolf in this building was staring at me and I had to instruct my gamma to give me a random shirt ,"he shrugs with his eyes still twinkling. " Well I didn't think it would be that horrible."

"She actually dares to cause trouble in the Dark Shadow pack's territory. She managed to offend Tiffany too. Now that's going to be interesting to watch." I glanced down at the white T-shirt I was wearing. It was hand-stitched by the royal tailor of the Moon Goddess Temple and crafted from moonlight silk fabric. The cost of this T-shirt alone was worth more than all the gowns present combined. Unfortunately, these blind fools couldn't recognize true quality, as they only knew brand names. Ignoring the chatter, I fixed my gaze coldly on Tiffany. "Pick it up," I said calmly. Tiffany covered her mouth with an exaggerated gesture, laughing as if she'd just heard the world's funniest joke.

I moaned, and when I finally opened my eyes, he was watching me with that same unbearable tenderness—the kind that made it both hard to breathe and difficult to remain stable. “Seriously, stop looking at me like that or I’m going to tear this beautiful shirt off of you.” “And who the fuck said I wouldn’t like that?” “Nobody,” I replied, pressing my hand into his chest and fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, “I just like the shirt very much, I’d hate to see it torn.”

I don’t even know why the hell I care how I look next to her, so I pin it to our rivalry, to the fact that I can’t, for the life of me, look less than her. The problem is I really have nothing to match. Working pants and shirts that lack any kind of elegance and are designed for comfort and to stand the trials of the weather and time. It’s not like I have any minutes to spare on going shopping anyway, or that I care about it. Somehow I manage to select a crisp white shirt, the only one I have, and after a last look at myself in the mirror, I am out, trying not to think about the snarl on my lips, which is ever present on my face. Nothing to do about the face I was born with, I suppose, so no

“It’s not a date.” “Sure,” he said, grinning. “And I’m secretly a fairy princess.” I glared at him. “I don’t need your sarcasm.” “No, but you need a shirt. And some sanity.” He stood and walked over to the pile, rummaging like it was a game. Then he held one up—deep navy, soft but tailored. “This. It says, ‘I’m brooding but approachable.’ Very on-brand.” I took it from him, staring at the fabric like it held answers. “Thanks.”