Mint Stained Shirt Novels & Stories

he murmured as Bash slides the glass door that led to where he was seated. "Hey cutie, "he greeted with a charming smile, he was wearing a long-sleeve buttonless shirt that exposed his well-chiseled abs and a pair of white shorts. The way he positioned that is, with his legs crossed and one of his hands holding a glass of mojito, he looked like he was on set ready for a shot.

He stared at Min’s back. Min had shed his suit jacket in the car. He was wearing a white dress shirt that strained slightly against his broad shoulders. The fabric was high quality, almost translucent in the stark lighting, hinting at the definition of the muscles beneath. It tapered into a V at his waist, tucked neatly into black trousers. But it was his hair that made Jun’s breath hitch.

I felt for her, she'd been working hard to make this place look elegant yet have a bit of a dramatic flare to it—the perfect combination of both her and Zayed. He held the heart away from his chest, glitter coating his white silk shirt in shimmering reds and pinks. He tried brushing it off with a few quick flicks of his hand but only ended up spreading it around and making the glitter stain worse, practically making him look like he'd been shot by some kind of glitter gun. Melanie snorted loudly, putting her hands over her mouth in order to stop herself from bursting out laughing. I can't imagine how expensive that shirt was…

CHAPTER FIVE Dante POV I watched Julian through the vanity mirror as he struggled with the silk tie I’d sent to his room. It was Moretti crimson, the color of fresh arterial spray, a shade that declared war on the shadows of this house. He looked at the fabric with such raw loathing that I half-expected him to use it to hang himself before we reached the car.

I added "This is mine," he said then fabbed the vintage photo " so this is mine," I said and pulled the heart photo I placed it on my wallet so he does "I will put it here so that every time that I open my wallet I will see your face" he added "Tch..." I glared at him While walking we stopped at a souvenir shop " hey Off walk faster," I said This souvenir shop is the best shop here because you can ask for personalized accessories " P' excuse me.. uhhmm by chance can you make us a bracelet and can you engrave this there," I said and handed him a paper

Not because I was ashamed, but because I didn't want to make things awkward with Maria. I settled on a light blue cotton shirt with a collar that would cover most of my neck. It wasn't perfect—the highest marks would still be visible—but it was better than nothing. I paired it with comfortable white shorts since we'd probably have training later and I wanted to be able to move easily despite the soreness. Looking at myself in the mirror again, dressed and with my hair dried and brushed, I looked almost normal. Except for the visible marks on my neck that the collar couldn't quite hide.

she said. "Yes, Mariposa. We'll watch. You're great too, go ahead and be careful!" "Don't worry we're only here when you need back up. The beauty of your new prosthetics, can abort jaws when seen by men," said by one of her colleagues. "All right, I'll be out. It's up to you to pay the club manager." Mariposa came out. She was wearing a fitted red dress that was above the knee, suitable for her because her whiteness was more pronounced.

I added, "If you keep licking cheaply made lipstick, you'll end up with lead poisoning." Yves changed into a new shirt before coming up with a poor excuse. He said, "Don't misunderstand. Melissa fell, and I just happened to catch her." "Really? She just happened to fall on your shirt collar? What a coincidence. "It seems like it won't wash off. This shirt is custom and handmade in Kintaly. Melissa probably can't even afford it with several years' worth of her salary," I said. I raised my brows and looked at Yves.

Dawn shook her head. “Let’s start with the good news.” “We have actual clothes. I found two of your shorts in here. They probably got mixed in with mine,” Maxwell said. “But the only shirts we have are these.” He pulled out one extra-large T-shirt with a print that read: [I Put the ‘Max’ in Maximum Pleasure] “And this is yours,” Maxwell said, showing a small-sized shirt that read: [I Survived the Max Attack!]

“Mom, someone spilled choco milk on my shirt.” Little Madelaine pulled her shirt to show the brown stain on it. Her eyes were red and puffy as she looked up to her mother who gave a sad smile. “It’s okay honey, no harm done. Let’s just wash it off at home, okay?” her mother answered, grabbing her hand, guiding her out from the school. “But she intentionally poured it to me! And…this is Mickey,” she insisted pouting her soft pink lips, her fingers trailing over the sequence design sewed on her shirt that followed the shape of her favorite cartoon character. “This is my favorite shirt…”