Ctrl + Alt + Dalt (BxB)

Ctrl + Alt + Dalt + 9

"Well, thank you," I say, the tinge of heat finding it's way up into my cheeks. "I still have your other outfit in the wash, I'll be sure to return them to you. I could bring them back tonight, if you're available."

"You needn't bother, they look better on you than they do on me. Besides, I wouldn't want them back now that you've already put them through the wash," he says, gazing into my eyes. I raise my brow, unsure of what it is that he seems to be implying. He looks around, before quietly adding, "I would have wanted them if they still had your scent to carry me through the darkest and loneliest of nights."

"Well, I'll be sure to return your shorts, then," I say, laughing to release some of the nervous tension searing my cheeks.

"Please, do. They happen to be my favorite pair," he says, wearing a serious expression.

"Are they, really? Now, I feel rather honored to be wearing them," I say as he breaks into a smile.

"No, that was just an excuse to help convince you to return them, so that I can have something physical to remember you by," he admits and I'm touched that he seems to imply that he perhaps feels similarly as I do about him having to leave so soon after we've just met.

"I didn't need any convincing, they're yours anyhow," I say as the lurking loneliness within me begins to kick me in the chest with the thought that this is it—I'll never see him again after today is over.

"I wasn't lying."

"About what?"

"They're not currently my favorite pair, but they will be—just as soon as I've had the chance to bury my face in them, that is," he says, smirking. I cough as I ponder the picture of where his beautiful face will be exactly in relation to these shorts and my lower body. A huge wave crashes against the rocks beneath us as a wave of loneliness sweeps the thought away, reminding me that I'll likely never see him again.

"Unfortunately for me, the clothes that I'll have of you will no longer carry your scent," I say, dejectedly, realizing that I shouldn't have put them through the wash already. Perhaps, had I known that he'd let me keep them, I wouldn't have been so quick to do so.

"Easily remedied. You may have the ones I'm currently wearing, including my lucky socks, if you so wish. It would lighten my luggage," he says, winking, and I can feel my rapid heartbeat within the sear of my cheeks. I suppose that I must look like a neon sign flashing pink with lurid interest. "You may also have my favorite pair of underpants—the one's currently on me. On one condition."

"And what would that be?" I ask, hardly believing that I'm hearing his words correctly. Is he really offering me his unmentionables? If he is, the searing heat in my cheeks certainly won't let me pass up that chance.

"Perhaps two conditions, actually—but, technically, three," he says, looking up into the line-abreast formation of Pelicans flying just overhead. At this point, he may as well claim to have a hundred conditions and I'd still seriously consider accepting them all as the worthy price to pay in exchange for his undies.

"Which would be?" I ask, barely controlling my nervous excitement.

"The first two being that I keep my shoes—one condition for each shoe." He laughs.

"Done. And your last condition?"

"If you're so eager..." His voice trails off with a sideways glance and a half-seen smirk.

"I am," I admit in all seriousness.

"Seeing as they are my favorite pair, as it were, I think it only fair that I receive the ones you're currently wearing in recompense."