Locked Out of Spring Break (REWRITING)

Chapter 6: Boxer Size

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When I get home, I see Luciana speaking with my parents in the living room. 

"What are you doing here?" 

She immediately dashes up to me and hugs me. "I missed you so much!" 

I look at her crazily. Okay? "How do you miss me when you see me all of the—"

She tugs my arm. "Come on. We have a lot to talk about." 

We go upstairs until we're in my room. She shuts the door and locks it. She instantly went through my dressers, pulling out socks, a shirt and pants. She observes the tags on each of them and jots down something in a mini notepad.

"What are you doing, Luci?" I question.

"Do you wear boxers or briefs?" 

"Both," I answer. "Why?" 

"Which are you more comfortable in?"

"Boxers, I guess," I answer. 

She looks me up and down. "Where's your boxers and briefs?" 

"Why?" 

"Turn around," she says. 

I give the weirdest look. "Again, why?"

"Just do it!" she snaps. 

I flinch at the tone of her voice. I turn around, then I'm suddenly shoved onto my bed. "Luci, what the hell?" 

Instantaneously, I feel her pulling the back of my pants down at the small area that was showing. Then, she yanks my pants completely from my legs. I don't even have enough time to react until I feel my boxers get slightly pulled. "So, you're size is medium," she states, "I didn't know you had a beauty mark by your butt crack." She gets off of me. 

I look at her in puzzlement. "What's going on? You're freaking me out."

"Take off your shirt," she orders. 

I avert my eyes away from her. "How come?" 

She grabs the base of my shirt and pulls it over my head, struggling. "Why do you have such a big head, Rico?" 

"Luci..." 

She closely looks at the tag on my shirt. "Okay, just wanted to verify your size." 

"What is happening right now?" 

"What? I just wanted to know what size boxers my best friend wears."

"Why?" I demand. 

"Is that all you can say, Rico?" she snaps, "Why? Why? Why?"

My eyes go big at her snippy attitude. "Well, yes it is. You just pushed me on my bed to know my boxer size."

"I weigh 149 pounds," she blurts, "My panties size is 6. My bra size is a 34 C—"

"What the actual hell?" 

She shrugs. "We're best friends. We should know these things about each other."

"For what reason?" I question. "Why would I want to know your bra size?" 

She shrugs. "Because we need to know everything about each other." 

"I don't need to know your bra size, Luci," I point out, "That's something a boyfriend should know."

Ignoring what I said, she pulls out that same notepad from her purse and scribbles in it again.