A Little Bit Ninja

13: Nice Pants, Tough Guy

A/N: This one is for FrancescaG who was one of my first fans. She's an awesome writer and has part of her story The Heiress up and waiting for you to enjoy...After you read my chapter that is. 

Chapter 13:  Nice Pants, Tough Guy

I’d really hoped that silver monogram was as small as I remembered, but it wasn’t. In fact, there were two hearts, linked together. And I’d really hoped that his shirt was long enough to cover it, but it wasn’t. In fact, the two linked hearts swelled as his buttocks stretched the material.

 Luckily he was in such a hurry to get into some breeze free pants, that I don’t think he noticed the décor on the tush.

He should be grateful to my dad that there was even a pair of pants in here. See, Dad has this terrible habit of buying souvenirs for us every time he goes out of town—which is all the time.

I have nothing against souvenirs, but here’s a tip—don’t buy clothes for other people if you:   

A)     Don’t understand fashion for the genre of clothing you are buying

B)      Don’t know the size of the person you are buying for

C)      Don’t have a clue whether the person already has an overabundance of that particular item

D)     Are color blind

Dad doesn’t follow those guidelines, which is why I have a rack in my closet specifically designated for Dad’s gifting indiscretions. Yes, I do love clothes, but that love does not extend to red, and green candy cane, striped blouses.  

I just give him credit for trying. This excited gleam washes through his countenance when I’m about to open the gift and pass judgment on it.  That’s why I can’t tell him to stop the insanity.

There was nothing terrible about these pants, that sent them to the reject rack though. The problem with these was—B) he didn’t’ know my size.

 I’d tried to wear them. I made it all the way down here to the sports court before they fell off me. I’d even rolled the waistband several times. They were just meant for a person at least twenty pounds heavier, and six inches taller than me.

Ant finished tugging the pants on but was still muttering under his breath. I couldn’t quite understand what he was saying, something that included, “mess…sick and wrong….never again.” 

Landon wasn’t even attempting to keep his glee under wraps.

“Oh! Don’t come any closer,” he choked out between laughing fits, “or I’ll throw up.”

Anton didn’t dignify his ridicule with a response. He just gave him a blank stare, but that only encouraged him.

“Dude! I’m going to poke my own eyes out. That’s so nasty.”

Landon burst into a fresh wave of laughter.

I would have offered to let him use a pair of Abe’s soccer shorts or something, but there was no way I could bypass the deadbolt on his bedroom door. He never forgot to lock it. When I was nine, I tried every day for three months. I still test it occasionally, just out of habit, but I’ve never gotten in when Abe isn’t home. Of course it’s mine and Landon’s fault that he installed the deadbolt in the first place.

So that wasn’t an option. Ant would just have to deal with the only option available.

Anton was facing Lan, and still wore that blank mask on his face but his gaze could have burned holes into Landon’s face. I could almost see his mind turning over all the possible ways he could remove our newest ally’s ability to laugh, permanently.