Of Course

Ch. 7- On the Left in the Cabinet

What the hell? Strip? Uhhh... 

"Uhhh..."

"We were making out earlier and went half-naked swimming."

"That's not my fault. You're the one who snuck away and ripped all your clothes off." 

"Valid. You strip then I strip." She has gained more energy since finishing her food and resting on my bed. 

"Hell no. That isn't fair. I do it, you do it at the same time." I crossed my arms and leaned against my door after shutting it. 

"Fine." Standing up, she starts unbuttoning her shorts and slowly pulls them down. What a tease. She is totally going to regret that.

"I thought you were going to do it at the same time." Her arms crossed. Standing with a hip popped and a permanent smirk, she looked incredibly sassy.

She feels more comfortable with her bottom half, but me being a boy, I'd rather be shirtless than showing my tight pants.

I turned so she could see my front side and back. My shirt was bunched up by the back collar and I pulled it over my head. The shirt was thrown in my dirty clothes pile and then our eyes met. Her eyes were pools of mud, cloudier than usual. Her bottom lip was between her teeth, visibly biting with so much pressure to make it swollen.

She looked away but not quick enough for me to miss her scrutinizing stare. Those mud pools turned to transparent brown gel and looked at the shirt on the bed. 

"Weezer tour shirt from 2001. Totally thrashed. Nice." She shook her head as in remembering something and the corners of her mouth curved up slightly. 

"Everyone has to have at least one ripped band tee."

She nodded and reached for her own shirt preparing to expose herself. I unbuttoned my shorts and readied myself. 

She whispered, "One...two...three." My shorts were pulled down slowly and thrown in the pile just as my shirt had been. Her shirt was placed on the dresser where she put her sweater and shorts. 

I have no idea why she would be so insecure. Her body was literally perfect. She had muscular calves and thighs, but I knew her upper thighs had a little more fat because of her diet. Not only her legs were flawless, but her entire form was quintessential. You could tell she played sports but not everyday. Her stomach wasn't completely flat, but you could tell her core was strong. I'd hate to talk about my best friend's chest, but it's just too nice not to. It was impeccable. You could tell she didn't just have fat because she's a girl, but she actually had pectoral muscles. Everything was in proportion and everything was the perfect size. She didn't look at me right away and it confused me. 

"Why are you nervous? You've been naked in front of, like, six guys before."

"But you're not them." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You're more special and I actually care about what you think." She was holding my shirt up to her chest and not making eye contact. 

I walk over to her and she looks up at me with sad, hopeful eyes. 

"You don't need to care what I think about you, any part of you. I know what you've done, who've you done, what laws you've broken, and who you really are. If I thought bad of you or cared about any of that or what you look like, you probably wouldn't be half-naked in my room right now." I smiled politely and she put the shirt back on the bed, uncovering herself. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and engulfed her into the best hug she would ever recieve. Her arms were wrapped around my waist and we stood in that position for the longest time at 1 a.m.