I D Flex But I Like This Shirt Novels & Stories

I felt it was too expensive to throw away, so I just started wearing it as regular underwear. Even though it reminds me of how disgusted he looked at me that day, and the laugh, and the water. The flashback made my eyes sting with tears, but I fought it back. When I put on the oversized T-shirt, it felt like heaven—soft, breathable, and just the right amount of loose. It skimmed the tops of my thighs, barely covering anything. The words "If lost" stretched right across my chest like they were highlighting my boobs. It felt weird in a way.

We have been walking for about ten minutes and it feels like it has just been seconds. "Why are we talking about that asshole? We should be talking about us..." he winks. "You know... You plus Me... We." I just laugh at that. "You are not my type, Flex." He holds his chest and gasps, gawking at me. "Did you just!" "Leather jacket + ripped jeans + Mohawk + too cute = Trouble." I've seen guys like Flex in college. They are heartbreak ambassadors and they sleep around and complain about their girlfriends being nothing but "crazy psychos"! Thank God I never dated one. I learnt from other girls' experiences.

it hugged my body tightly, showing my abs, biceps and all. I pulled into the new blue jeans and left the shirt flying out,i have no intention of tucking it in. I wore my denim jacket over my shirt,then pulled my feet into my white sneakers. I turned and looked at my reflection in the oval mirror plastered on the wall.. "Is this really me?" I asked in astonishment... Wow..i smiled. White is a color that always looks good on me. It makes me stand out. The outfit suit me perfectly and here i am looking like a Korea movie star.

"I was just saying that your timing is impeccable. I had literally just came down the stairs. I was trying to hurry so you wouldn't end up waiting on me." "I guess it was, huh?" He turns to me. "You bad at laundry?" "No. Why?" "I don't know if you noticed, but your shirt is bleached out." Everything he says is to pick a fight. I swear to God. To God I- "It was made this way! It's comfortable, and I like it. At least I wore a shirt. They probably won't even let you in." "Course they would. I go out like this all the time. Why wouldn't they?"

Loki and Thore were gazing at me ridiculously. “What’s wrong? Isn’t it cool?” I frowned. I wear a light yellow T-shirt and denim pants. It’s wash day so we can appear at school without wearing the uniform. “Seriously? Since when did you like yellow? You want gray, black, white, navy blue and such. But yellow?” Loki could not help but burst into a loud laughter.

God, she was pretty. And she was wearing the shirt, which made me smile behind my hand. That shirt was what had drawn me to her in the first place. A crossover from two of my favorite shows, it depicted Lucille, the bat from The Walking Dead, and the Winchester’s Chevy Impala from Supernatural, with text that read, “Dad’s still on a hunting trip.” A fan of both shows, I’d understood the message and laughed the first time I’d seen it, wishing I had a shirt like that. It’d actually taken me a couple of seconds to realize the material of that shirt stretched across a very lovely set of feminine breasts. When my brain finally registered what I was seeing, my eyebrows perked up and my gaze wander

She wonder why he had the shirt at all. She approached him and looked him from head to toe nodding as if approving of what he is wearing. "It really looks good on you," She said appreciatively. Somehow her praise made him hate the shirt less. If dressing in yellow will make her forgive him and accept him in her life, he won't mind wearing it everyday. "What do you think of mine?" She asked. Her singlet was tight one her outlining her slender waist and flat belly. It even brought out the shape of her breasts and he could see the faint outline of her nipples if he looked closely since she wasn't wearing a bra.

Raleigh pov “The blue shirt or the pink.” I held my two options out side by side for my cousin to inspect them. After all, she was the one who worked for a huge fashion brand. As a secretary though, but whatever. A fashion brand was a fashion brand. “The blue shirt says you’re begging for this promotion and the pink says you wish you could get it.” Imogen looked up from her coffee to reply. “So neither?” “Neither. Wear that cute zebra print blouse and the wide legged black pants.”

he announced, tossing it over to me. I unfolded the shirt, smiling when I saw the faded print of 'The Clash' on the front. It was soft and well-worn and smelled like him... that faint scent of toasted marshmallows. I slipped it on, letting the sheet drop to my feet. It was the perfect fit, falling just to my mid-thigh. Ryder’s eyes lingered on me for a moment. What was that expression? Was it admiration? Lust? “You coming?” I asked, grinning as his eyes raked over me.

His soccer jerseys, guitar pick, and cash for the ballet lessons he was going to pay for. Madame said it was on the house, but I'm now convinced he prepaid for several lessons. It's my pathetic savings, all two hundred dollars of it. It's all I have, but I will give it to him. I may have ripped out his heart, but I don't have it in me to not return his things. As much as I like his soccer jerseys and the way they fit on me. They sure are comfortable to wear. I still need to return them. I tiptoe to Aiden. Leslie Thompson crosses my path. I didn't see the stupid bitch; go figure she's a vulture.