Souvenir [Complete]

Twenty-three. Delicates

Luke had put the pink striped bag beside his dresser in his room. He wanted to see it from bed. And he looked at it there in the darkness. He could see its little outline. It held the little cottony item of clothing that made his heart race.

He couldn't actually believe he'd bought them. He'd expected to chicken out. Same thing with the nail polish, and the bleach. He didn't think he had the guts to go through with purchases like that.

But then again, it wasn't the purchasing part that really mattered if they just sat there.

He rolled over in bed thinking about Ashton's face. What must it have looked like when it clicked for him that Luke owned at least one pair of panties. He wanted to revel in it. Surely that face was worth any ounce of discomfort the underwear might give him.

Of course, it was only in his head. He didn't know exactly what Ashton's face had looked like cause he was better than that. He didn't need to look at him. He didn't need some scoundrel anyway. And Ashton was a poor excuse for a scoundrel anyway, cause he made himself too likable.

He just wanted to look cooler than he was. That was Ashton's big thing. He's terrified of looking un-cool. God forbid he slips up and makes mistakes like normal people.

But no, if Ashton makes a mistake, like accidentally get his friend involved in some illegal shit, he decides to, what? Outcast himself from society further?

No. Ashton was going out with Stacy to hurt him. He didn't know how Ashton knew that they were somewhat friends, there were plenty of other people in this town. But it had to be the one who won prom queen.

It wasn't Stacy's fault. She genuinely had no idea, but it hurt Luke to think Ashton could be kissing her like he kissed Luke in that club.

Chills ran up his spine at the memory. He couldn't get the echo of that song out of his head. It was like that moment was suspended in his mind forever. The dark, crowded bar, the smell of cigarette smoke, Rum and coke on Ashton's lips...

Luke whimpered and pulled his blanket over his head. He didn't wanna remember anything from that night. He felt like the kiss was tainted now. Scarred forever. It could never hold the same meaning that it did before now that he'd seen first-hand how Ashton kissed someone else.

Luke imagined Ashton maybe thought the same thing about him. Luke couldn't remember, had he been kissing Brian when Ashton pulled into town? He remembered he'd felt guilty...

Enough was enough.

Luke pulled off the covers and slid out of bed. He found the satiny strap of the bag in the dark and put it on the bed. He cut on the lamp beside his bed and inspected the paper gift before him. But what he was after was still inside.

Where was that adventurous spirit from before? He could do this. It's just clothes. He had to keep reminding himself of that as he reached in, pulling out the softest pair of pink-and-white-striped cotton underwear he'd ever felt. It was like holding a cloud in his hands.

In the store they had looked small, but now out of the store they just looked abnormal in Luke's hands. He didn't have particularly big hands or anything, but holding them seemed a little out of place.

Luke bit his lip and tugged down his boxers before he could talk himself out of it again. And then, he had the soft new fabric sliding up his thighs and snuggled around his hips.

The first thing he noticed was now comfortable it felt. It was like briefs but softer. He inspected himself by looking down, terrible angle, but he seemed to be safe and secure in the panties.

He raced over to his full length mirror and looked at himself. His milky thighs looked squishy and soft, his hips were full. Apart from the little bump he made, in the front it was hard to believe that Luke wasn't a girl in these—at least from the hips down.