Polite//l.s

Twenty Three

I'm sorry I'm American.

After an immensely embarrassing escapade to a store that had been covered in pink stripes, Gemma had forced me out carrying two rather large bags. The bags had similar stripes across the surface with gold writing and pink ribbons for handles. It looked pretty.

"Do you like them?" She asked from the drivers seat as we pulled up to the house.

"They're a bit girly," I frowned. I hadn't tried them on yet, perhaps I'll like them better on.

"That's the point," she laughed, "They don't make men's lingerie, well I don't think they do."

"Why would you purposely strip me of my masculinity," I gasped, appalled by her suggestion.

Boys were supposed to dress like boys.

"Just try them on when we get inside and tell me if you like them, but do not show me. That is something I really don't want to see," she laughed, taking the pink bags from me and pushing me inside the house, "if Father sees you with these bags he'd have a fit,"

"Why am I doing things that would displease Father?" I had been doing this for the past two weeks.

"Just do it," she laughed, pushing me up the stairs.

When we got to my room, she let me walk through the door before unloading the bags into my arms and closing the door behind me.

"Try them on, I'll wait out here,"

"Is this what brothers and sisters normally do?" It seemed a bit strange for this to be a family matter.

"No, but I haven't known you for the majority of my life, so I can consider you more of a friend than a brother." I could hear her sitting down on one of the leather chairs outside my room, "Also, your so terribly sheltered you need my help,"

I frowned, but did as she said and tried on the underwear.

"How do I know I'm wearing it correctly?" The material had a lot of holes. And strings. And ribbons. And lace.

"The wider part goes in the back, unless it's a thong,"

I didn't think it was a 'thong' but I didn't know much underwear terminology.

"Where to I put my, uh, extra appendage?" It wasn't put away very well as I pulled the material up my legs.

Gemma snorted loudly, "I don't know? Tuck it somewhere!"

"You know I can't bend it very well?" Why was she making me do this? 

I only heard her laughter and mocking as I struggled to find a way to make this look almost normal, eventually finding a way to secure it without it falling out.

God, this is an embarrassment to my family name.

"Harry, you probably look hot, stop grumbling," she banged on the door, "Well, I mean not hot to me, hot to Louis,"

"Louis will like it?" I felt a blush rise to my cheeks and shoulders. Saw it in the mirror I was staring at.

I suppose I do look pretty. I don't have a reference for 'hot' when used as an adjective describing a person and I don't know what that really means, but I can hypothesize that it's a good thing.

The lace overlays surprisingly complimented my skin tone, the pastels blending nicely with the milky color.

"Should I wear it to the party?"

"Are you going to be staying the night with Louis?" She asked, I could hear her drumming her fingernails on the table.

"I don't think Father would allow me to," I began to slip the underwear off, wanting to try on more.

"I'll cover for you," she stopped drumming, "Text him and tell him you got him something,"

"Text who?"

"Louis,"

"I can't," I picked out a grey pair that had stitching across the cotton front, designed to look like normal underwear, the waistband read 'Pink' even though the underwear had none of that color on them. "I don't have a phone, and I don't know his number," I thought for a minute as I pulled the new pair on, "I didn't even buy him anything, we just bought clothes for me,"

"It's a two part gift!" She slapped her hand on the door, making me jump, "One you both get to enjoy,"

I nodded at that, feeling stupid afterwards because she couldn't see me.

The more I tried on the more I began to enjoy the feeling of the delicate material against my skin. This underwear was surprisingly softer than what I usually wear; I had thought it to be tougher due to the cheap price. I can't believe I bought underwear for as low as $10.

After a while, Gemma had left, saying the appropriate goodbyes as she went.

I had proceeded to pick out what I wanted to wear tomorrow. I felt myself grow.... excited. Excited. I haven't felt this way in a while. I used to get excited over Christmas, but I already have everything I want; it becomes increasingly less magical over the years when all I receive is money that I don't need.

My birthday is just as mundane.

But this, this is a new experience that I've never had the chance to explore.

A churning rose in my stomach as  I thought about it, I'd be going out tomorrow night.

I'll be wearing clothes my father would burn if he saw, be wearing underwear that isn't meant to be seen save one person. Exciting indeed. Exhilarating.

And it felt nearly shameful how willing I was to do things I knew I wasn't supposed to do.

I gave a final glance to the outfit I had laid out nearly, crisply folded in an organized pile in my closet. I didn't want to put them in the drawers or hang them in fear I would do it incorrectly and wrinkle them.

I definitely didn't want to give them to the maids for them to put away; the fear of them reporting the new style or finding something they shouldn't held me back, making me feel like I'd be cleaning my own room for a while.

I sighed crawling into bed, I had to get a decent amount of rest tonight. It wouldn't be very polite to show up to the party with dark circles.