Party Favor [H.S.]

my name is...

Got the music in you baby, tell me why
               You've been locked in there forever
                  And you just can't say goodbye

10.4K words!! please vote and enjoy <3
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12: 45 AM

"What do you think about this one?" I turn to face Londyn holding up a shirt that reads 'I'm with stupid.' He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his lips twisted to the side staring at the shirt. Somehow, he convinced me to let him take me on some adventure on the strip. He had sworn on his heart, crossed his eye, and promised to stick a needle in his eye that he would tell me his name by the end of our adventure.

So, now we are standing together at a gift shop next door to the hotel. I brought up the idea while he picked me up and took me to the bathroom to get myself cleaned up. I told him that it would be fun if we dressed up as tourists or at least matching of some sort. At first, he was against the idea saying our outfits were fine and we didn't need to change. It took me batting my lashes a few times with a pouty mouth and kisses to his lips that were in a fine line for him to comply with my idea.

"Which one of us is supposed to wear it?"

"Me, of course," I scoff at his question, turning back in the mirror to hold it up to my body.

"Might be more fitting if I'm the one to wear it." I hear Londyn chuckle behind me as he also looks in the mirror at me. I shake my head trying not to show a smile and go to hand the shirt back up. "You have a better idea of what to wear, smartass." He lifts himself off the wall and goes to walk across the store without saying a word. I watch as he stops in front of my section and quickly flips through with his hands. I watch as he grabs out a shirt and holds it out judging it, his hand goes back in the rack of clothes pulling another option out. He turns on his feet and comes back to me.

"Which one do you like, diva?" He holds up what seems to be his top picks. In his left hand, a vintage stone-washed shirt that says welcome to Las Vegas with a graphic print. In his other hand, a colorful tie-dye shirt that just reads Las Vegas. I truly don't know which one to pick. I mentally curse myself for not finding the best shirts. I think for only a few more seconds and I point my finger to the vintage shirts. "Thank fuck you picked this one, you must have some taste because I was thinking about the same shirt."

"You are a terrible date, you know that?" He laughs at my words and goes to place the runner-up shirt in a random spot in one of the racks. He wraps his arm around my neck and we begin to walk in the direction of the dressing rooms. "It's a bit too early to say that. Give the night a chance."

Londyn unwraps his arm from me so I can walk into the changing room. I don't look behind me and go to close the door only to feel a block. Turning my head, I see Londyns' hand gripping the door with a smug grin on his face. "I hope you don't mind, I'm a good judge of fashion." He goes to walk in grabbing my waist to push us in more and he pushes the door closed with his foot. "Oh really? I think that you just want to get a peek at my body."

"I hate to inform you, diva, but I've seen it all." He does sit down on the small chair in the corner of the small booth. "Although, another look is just adding on to me feeling like I've won the golden ticket." Taking off the blazer dress, I throw it directly at his face at a fast pace trying to catch him off guard, and he catches it with one hand and a smug grin. "Showoff," I murmured quietly but enough to where he heard me. I place the t-shirt over me noticing that it is maybe a size too big.

"What do you think?" I turn my body to him to get his thoughts.

"I think your thighs look fucking amazing right now," I roll my eyes at him, and he just continues. "I'm serious, come here, sweet girl," he spreads his legs apart signaling that he wants me to stand in between them. With three small steps, I'm now towering over him with crossed arms and a bored expression as if I don't care about his horseplay. "Yes, Londyn." I watch him as he brings both hands up to place them right on my thighs dragging them up and down slowly. "Did I tell you how fucking perfect your thighs are?" In a swift motion, he pulls me by the sides of my thighs to sit me down on his thighs. I let out a small yelp not expecting that. "Because if I haven't I need to. They're fucking perfect."