Jacob Sartorius You Can Wear My Sweatshirt Novels & Stories

Trying to undo the attention I brought him. He's proving to the public that he's straight. But he's into me, and I'll prove it. “I'm not worried,” I say to Diego while I continue eating. _____________ Hours later. I usually wear black. To intimidate, but tonight—--- I don't want that. Still, I don't want anything too bright. “I wore a faded — sky blue shirt under a black suit. Dark brown formal shoes. Cologne sprinkled over my hair and clothes—-- Invictus only this time.

It's Jaxton's shirt. I start towards the door but before I could get to it, the door opens. Standing on the other side of the door in sweatpants and a baggy polo is Jaxton. I would never get used to seeing him in sweatpants, he looked nothing like the ruthless Mafia lord I confirmed he is when he's wearing sweatpants, polo and had his hair tousled.

But for some reason I thought that Jacob would have honestly given me the answers that I wanted given that he plummeted one of my best friend flat on the ground but no , not happening . I'm so annoyed at myself for believing Jacob and at Jacob for dragging me in here for no reason , Oh no , it wasn't for no reason . I look down at my torn shirt and white bra that was barely concealing the swell of my breasts , then at the shirt that Jacob had thrown at me . There was no way I could leave the locker room like this and walking out while dressed in Jacob's shirt - " perfect " I muse as I held the shirt closer to my head

Ordinary people would not be able to earn the clothes they wore even after working for their entire lives. Harvey’s sweatshirt made him stick out like a sore thumb in a place like this…

“What am I supposed to wear to meet Amy?” Jake grins, clearly noticing my attempt to dodge the past. “Well, you could always take one of my T-shirts and sweatpants. They’re very fashionable,” he teases. “Like I have a choice,” I reply laughing. After finishing breakfast, I head for a quick shower. When I return, I find a neatly folded white T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants laid out on the bed. “These are my best ones,” Jake jokes, leaning against the doorframe. “I want them back, okay?”

I don't need more clothes. But then I notice something familiar at the end of the rack sticking out of the closet. It's a cream color with green on the sleeves—a sweatshirt with a big green print of Sparty's head on the front. That is my sweatshirt. I paid twenty-five dollars for that at a rally by The Rock, which was this enormous boulder on campus where groups fight over the privilege of painting. At least fifty years of paint is splattered on the thing, but walking by it every day on campus was an experience. Every night a new group claimed the space and different colors proclaimed one Greek house or college major superior to the others.

I was inches away from caving in and letting them. They won't mind if I use one of their old T-shirts to sleep in. My little afterthought had me rummaging in the dresser drawers, searching for something more practical to wear. There were plenty of shirts to choose from, so I picked out a gray high school Lacrosse jersey that had a ‘Whitevale Wolves’ logo emblazoned across it. I couldn’t tell whose it belonged to because the scent had faded away, and it had their surname printed on the back in bold white letters. I peeled off the lacy attire and replaced it with the sports jersey, feeling the soft polyester mesh caressing my skin.

"I saw you naked... and you're so hot... I'm just being awkward. I'll shut up." I couldn't help but laugh. Jax was rarely thrown off; I loved that I had that kind of power over him sometimes. I pulled my festive sweatshirt over my head. "You can turn around now. I'm clothed." He turned around slowly as if he didn't believe me. Once he realized I was, indeed, clothed, his eyes hovered on my sweatshirt. It had a portrait of Santa holding a white claw on it. "Santa Claws?" Jax asked, "Where did you get that?"

He placed his arm on top of the couch. "Oh wait! I'll remove my shirt. Grandma's house makes me sweaty," I gulped involuntarily. My eyes glued to him. As soon as he extended his arms in the air. Jacob began to undress himself in front of me. His body glistened in sweat. Like a model. Plus, his body was built in perfection. His hairy chest. Almost chocolate-colored nipples. Bulging eight pack of abs. And ugh. A tattoo on his arm. Along with his hairy armpit. Oh, girl. I'm about to sin again.

3 days to the fight, I have to make progress today, I have to start pulling strings. I pulled on a grey, soft joggers and black sweatshirt. I came here with literally nothing so I'm stuck wearing Tristan's old clothes but hey, its warm and comfortable. And plus, i get to smell him all day long. Putting my hair in a messy bun, I stepped out of the room.