I D Flex But I Like This Shirt Novels & Stories

His jaw clenched. "What is this?" he demanded. "A shirt," I said sweetly, unfurling the bright pink fabric for him to see in all its ridiculous glory. "Your new favorite shirt, actually. You’ll be wearing it to the next pack gathering." He looked utterly horrified. I bit back a laugh. "Oh, come on, Helios," I teased. "I think it’ll suit you perfectly."

She spoke with little to no emotion- making it hard to tell if she was being genuine or not. Jack offers her a very unamused look in return before speaking. "I'm sure." He replied whilst sitting himself down on my bed. I began to look through my closet for something cute to wear, that would also provide me with comfort. My eyes scan over all my possible selections before landing on a purple long-sleeved v-neck. The shirt is cotton, so it's soft and it also has different ruffles for style. This is definitely one of my favorite shirts.

I wasn't expecting any company, and I certainly didn't look the part of someone who had plans tonight. I stood up from my work desk, looking down at my "Let's Avo-Cuddle" t-shirt that had 2 hugging, smiley-faced avocados on the front. It didn't get any better from the waist down, as I was sporting some black sweatpants and obnoxiously fluffy bunny slippers. I also was a wreck from the neck up, with a face that was puffy from my random breakdowns and my hair tied into a knot on the top of my head.

I looked down to see what she had picked for me, It was a silk shirt, not the formal kind you would wear to a meeting, it was fitting, and my muscle line could be seen through the shirt. Did she like seeing me in this kind of outfit? I supposed I never asked her what she liked, and what she liked to wear... So that was why she said the underwear was not her style.

I stated. Instead of putting on my own shirt, Ajax gave me his loose navy green shirt and then put it on me without giving me a heads up. It is when I stood up, put on my undies shamelessly whilst my body began shivering, an indication that I began to feel the same situation I felt last night. Honestly speaking, I love his shirt. These types of shirts are what I'm looking for back then and couldn't find any. Now that I wore one, it seems like my style changed and I no longer want to go back to my real fashion in terms of girl things.

I look for a nice shirt, but they are all in the dirty laundry. “It’s just pizza and a movie.” I hold up a long sleeve Motorhead t-shirt. “Do you think this one will be okay?” “Well, if it’s between that and the one with a rat eating a hot dog, then yeah, the band t-shirt is better.” Justice sounds disappointed. “Remember what your mother says about wearing heels?”

Just before Leo knew it, she threw up on his 150k naira white Gucci shirt that had his name inscribed on it. "Oh my goodness!" He exclaimed. He was nauseated and galled down already. Angela apologized, staggered into the car, and dozed off. Leo stood outside there, helpless; he tried cleaning the mess with his hanky but it became worsened. He yelled at the two lovers who were staring at him to mind their business, and stop staring. He quickly walked into his car and removed his shirt; revealing his fair-hairy chest, abs, and packs. Angela adjusted her neck in a more relaxed manner, turning her face in Leo's direction; she managed to open her eyes a little, only to behold his bare body. She t

here it was. Out of print. Hard to find. Scarred and imperfect and real. Brought to her door by a man who had listened not just to her words, but to the way she said them. A man who looked at her like she was worth paying attention to. “You didn’t have to do this,” she said quietly, finally managing to lift her gaze, motioning toward the couch as if grounding herself in the ordinary could keep her from tipping over. “But I’m really glad you did.” Bryer smiled, slow and unguarded. Not the kind of smile people used to charm or impress. The kind that said I’m here without demanding anything in return.

I look down. Then back at her. She looks like she wants the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Good. “You’re unbelievable.” I say. Her eyes snap up. “I didn’t do it on purpose!” “I just got this shirt.” “Are you serious right now?” I step back. Pull the fabric away from my skin. Disgusted. Annoyed. And something else I don’t bother naming. I grab the hem. Pull it over my head. The motion is quick.

Everything smelled faintly like him, cedar, citrus, and something warm underneath that I still couldn't name without my face heating again. I slid my fingers over the edge of a t-shirt and pulled it free. It was dark blue. Soft. I held it up against my frame and stared. It was ridiculous. The shirt hung down like a dress, the sleeves dropping past where my elbows bent in. The hem brushed past my thighs, almost to my shins. I looked like a child playing dress up with her father's clothing. A laugh tried to bubble up, both nervous and quiet, but I swallowed it down and shoved the shirt back in the drawer like it personally insulted me. I tried to make sure that it was still somewhat folded.