master of none.

010; please don't think i'm insecure.

          "WHAT ARE TRAINING BRAS EVEN FOR?" Miles asked as he and I navigate through the aisles of the Target that has recently employed Cassidy. She said me getting a job encouraged her to, and I quote, 'get off her lazy ass and do something productive'. She then said she wished she could say the same for Miles.

She was heading towards the end of her shift, and wanted us to wait it out with her so she could leave with us. However, from her stance behind the register, which consisted of her leaning against the wall behind her with her arms folded, it was clear that she had already clocked out mentally at least two hours ago.

"Preparing you for lower back problems, underboob sweat, and the unwanted gaze of the male sex." I informed him as we leisurely strolled through the women designated part of the store. He'd been (naturally) looking at the bras, and observing the different sizes. Apparently, he had never seen training bras before, because he was completely enamored by them.

"Ew, boobs sweat?" He pulled a face, showing his distaste.

"Don't your balls sweat?" I questioned rhetorically, arching a brow as I did.

Miles paused before mumbling a: "Fair point." He then turned his attention to a plain green bra, picked it up, and held against himself, which completely contrasted the size of his chest. "Do you think you can help me figure out my cup size?"

I put a hand against his flat, but very defined chest (though I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction in letting him know I was impressed), and assessed what I have to work with. "Definitely an A cup." I told him, then paused. "Was this a ploy to get me to feel your chest?"

He winked, like the sleaze he was. "It worked, though, didn't it?"

I moved my hand away from him, and gave him the best glare I could manage. "You represent everything wrong with guys."

"Aw, that's no fair." He replied, his tone almost resembled a whine. "I would understand half, but everything? That's a bit of a stretch."

"The lock screen on your phone is Adriana Lima." I stated. "In lingerie."

He simply stared, as if I said something crazy. "And? She's a beautiful woman."

"That you objectify." I pointed out.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but he's interrupted by Cassidy, who was loudly expressing her hatred for her job as she stomped her way over to us, her bookbag on her shoulder. "Jesus Christ, for someone that loves shopping here, you'd think working here would be a plus." She dropped the bag and unzipped it, stood up straight, and removed her red uniform shirt, revealing a black lace bra. I tried not to stare too hard.

It caught me off guard because 1.) we we're in public, 2.) there was no warning, and 3.) Miles was standing right in front of her. She continued without much of a care, dropping the shirt into the bag and grabbed another, this time, more along her tastes than the former, and put it on.

"Warning much?" Miles said with a roll of his eyes, seemingly not fazed that he saw his best friend in a bra. Perhaps I held him at too low of a standard, but it did surprise me given his creepiness.

"Shut it." She fired back as she pulled the shirt over her head and put her arms through the sleeves. "It's not like you haven't seen me without a shirt before."

Involuntarily, my eyebrows shot up. They immediately took note of my surprised expression, because they're both quick to elaborate on what Cassidy had let slip out.

"It's a long story."

"I know what you're thinking, and it's not like that."

"Yeah, it's completely different."