Page 10 of Shift Change

“Fuck off. I can see packing lessons are in order.”

“Some other time. I need to put this stuff away.”

Feeling a bit silly, I pointed out the dresser and closet. We bantered while he found places for everything, and when he took his toiletry kit into the bathroom, I glanced down and noticed his underwear was still in the suitcase. He wore boxer briefs, like me, but his were nothing like mine. I stuck to basic colors—black, gray, and navy—but Dog walked on the wild side. Bright colors, contrasting waistbands, and… damn, were those cartoon characters?

I reached for a neon blue pair with a cat and mouse on it and held them up. The cat was chasing the mouse, and their little faces were frozen in over-the-top mayhem. I snorted.Of course Dog wears funny boxers.

I looked at them for a bit, and then, in a moment of unthinking madness, I sniffed them. It was a casual, absentminded lift to my nose. They smelled like fabric softener, but was there a trace of something else, a little of him? Or was I imagining it? My brain short-circuited.

Shit!What the almightyfuckwas I doing? Since when have I been an underwear sniffer? And a guy’s underwear, for God’s sake. Even worse, I was wondering if they smelled like him. How the hell would I even know, since I didn’t go around sniffing guys? Well, sometimes in college we’d messed with a teammate to make him paranoid, but this was different.

Am I losing my mind?

My heart damn near punched its way out of my chest. I forgot to breathe, then over-corrected and started hyperventilating. My fingers tingled as a string of words looped through my brain, my personal litany of shame.I sniffed his shorts. I sniffed his shorts. Fuck me, I sniffed his goddamn shorts.

What was next in my descent into depravity? Would I stick my nose between his cheeks and sniff his ass?

“Holky? Do you have any cotton balls?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. As he approached, black spots appeared in front of my eyes, and I froze. What the hell? Would he be able to sense what I’d done? Was there a secret pheromone crime scene detector I didn’t know about?

I needed to drop the boxers back into the suitcase.Easy, just let them fall.

Did I do that? Of course not. Because I’m a moron.

Instead, in the dumbest, sickest, most illogical thing I’d ever done, I stuffed them under my hoodie and shoved them into my sweatpants.

“Oh, you’re here. I thought you’d left.”

I jerked my head around to see him. “Um… I… No.” I’d have probably kept muttering if my voice hadn’t cracked.

He laughed. “Holky? You look like I caught you jerking off.”

“No.” I meant to say more, but then his underwear poked into my belly, and I stayed quiet.

“Do you have any cotton balls I could borrow?”

“Yes. I’ll get them.”Thank you for this chance to escape.

Since the cotton balls were in my bathroom, I stopped in the bedroom long enough to catch my breath. After glancing at the door to confirm he hadn’t followed me, I took his boxers out and looked at them again. Stupid cat and mouse. I tossed them into my underwear drawer and went to find his balls.

* * *

Still buzzing after my underwear theft, I left Dog to finish unpacking and retreated to the safety of my room. In a move straight out of Riley’s dramatic playbook, I closed the door, stripped to my shorts, and flung myself on the bed. Determined not to think about stealing another man’s boxer briefs, I found my tablet and tried to read. Though many in the league would dispute it, I was in fact literate, but today, even my favorite spy novel wasn’t doing it. I couldn’t keep my eyes away from the dresser, a little worried Dog’s boxers might burn right through the wood like radioactive contraband.

I gave up reading and powered on the TV, hoping it would get my mind off the larceny, but it didn’t work. What the hell had possessed me to take those dumb shorts, anyway? I was never interested in other guys’ underwear. I’d never touched any except in college when we’d sometimes help ourselves to each other’s things if we got behind on laundry.

Scrolling through my phone didn’t distract me any more than reading or TV had. Dog’s boxers were sucking all the oxygen out of the room. They were probably expanding, swelling bigger and bigger until the dresser drawer would burst open and send them flying out in a massive explosion. Dog would come running to see what happened and catch me red-handed; even I wouldn’t be able to make up an explanation for doing something like this.

I was clearly not cut out for a life of crime.

Maybe if I looked at the boxers, I could figure out why they fascinated me so much. Then, mystery solved, I could sneak into his room, put them in his dresser while he showered, and pretend it never happened. It was a solid plan, so I got up and brought the underwear back to bed.

It was a normal brand, nothing fancy. The fabric was neon blue cotton, and the cat was chasing the mouse. On closer inspection, it wasn’t the same scene repeated. Instead, there were three: a grinning cat chasing a terrified mouse under a birdcage, a laughing cat chasing a sweating mouse beside a fishbowl, and an eye-rolling cat halfheartedly tailing a mouse who was now the one laughing under the birdcage.

What the fuck was so special about them, anyway? While I thought about it, I sniffed them again. Fabric softener, like the first time. Then, before I realized what I was doing, I held them against my cheek. The cotton was soft, almost luxurious, and I…

Holy shit! I rubbed another guy’s boxers on my face. Do I need to have my brain examined?

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