Mlp Hoodie Novels & Stories

They never tried to force me to go after that. As the others began to change into their swim attire, I went back upstairs and into our room to grab my jacket from my bag. It was a black hoodie with an image of a pouting cat in the middle, which my mom thought was cute when she gifted it to me. She says that the hoodie reminded her of me, which I am still debating if is a compliment.

Finally, they stopped at her door, and I heard the lock disengage. I was sitting cross-legged on the bed in her oversized hoodie, the sleeves swallowing my hands. This was not a women’s hoodie. I design clothes, and I know the difference between something intended for a woman and something designed for a man. This was a man’s hoodie. Maybe Makayla just liked it enough to buy it from the men’s side of a store since I at least knew it didn’t belong to an ex-boyfriend. The fabric still smelled like her skin—warm and electric, edged with cedar and storm—and I’d clung to it like a lifeline while she was gone. Pockets stirred from his spot beside me, ears twitching, tail giving one hopeful thump a