Page 19 of Unbound
But I could also see Jesse's face in the coffee shop. The way he'd looked at me when I asked if he'd ever wanted something just because he wanted it. Like I'd asked him to translate ancient Greek on the spot.
The guy wore underwear chosen by his church's modesty standards, and he wasn't even Mormon. He'd probably never even considered that there were other options.
Fuck it.
I added all three to the cart. Then, because I'm apparently an asshole with a credit card with too high of a limit, I added a fourth pair. Deep burgundy, slightly more daring cut. Something to grow into.
At checkout, I paused at the gift message option.
Life's too short for boring underwear. Consider this an educational expense. Constitutional law requires proper foundation garments. –A
Too much? Probably too much. No, definitely too much.
I typed it anyway and hit purchase.
My phone buzzed again, another message from Phoenix.
I know you're doing something stupid. I can feel it in my bones.
Your bones are wrong.
My bones are never wrong. What did you do?
I locked my phone and tossed it aside, staring at the order confirmation on my laptop screen.
Two-day shipping. They'd arrive Wednesday.
I had until Wednesday to figure out how to give Jesse Miller a box of expensive underwear in public without making it weird. That should be easy, right?
I closed my laptop with more force than necessary and grabbed my phone again.
I bought him underwear.
I'M SORRY, YOU WHAT
Get your ass in here RIGHT NOW
I found Phoenix in their room, sitting cross-legged on their bed in an oversized hoodie and full face of makeup—their version of casual evening wear. They looked at me like I'd just confessed to murder.
"Explain," they demanded.
"He wears tighty-whities."
"So?"
"So, they're tragic."
"Adrian—"
"Hear me out." I paced their small room. "The guy has never made a choice about his own body. Not one. Everything is prescribed. Monitored. Approved by committee. I just—" I stopped, running my hand through my hair. "I thought maybe if he had something that was his choice. Something nobody else knew about. Something that wasn't about being good or righteous or whatever the fuck—"
"Something that makes you think about him in his underwear," Phoenix finished drily.
"That too," I admitted. "Look, I know how it sounds."
"It sounds like you're trying to seduce a closeted fundamentalist with luxury underwear."
"When you say it like that—"
