His Identity

42

I've managed to find a shirt and a pair of sweatpants that barely fits me, but it's the best I could find.

I stand in front of Nick's wardrobe, examining the multitude of clothing options spread out before me. He'd told me to grab something for him to wear as well and I wish he hadn't.

His wardrobe is— well, it's not exactly what one would call tidy. I've had a hard time finding something for me to wear among the mess.

All the clothes are of same usual colors I've seen so many times on him that matches his personality. As I sift through the choices, my fingertips graze the soft fabrics, my mind going straight to imagining the way they would feel against his skin.

After what went down in the shower, I can't stop thinking about it. The way his hand felt against me, the way his tongue brushed against mine— snap out of it.

"Having trouble choosing, are you?" Nick teases making me turn around abruptly to see him leaning against the door frame, his eyes fixed on me and a playful glint in his eyes. He's got only a towel wrapped around his waist, the rest of him bare and exposed. I dare not let my eyes wander. The heat from the shower has flushed his cheeks, bringing a healthy color back to his face.

"Well, if someone had a more organized wardrobe, this wouldn't be so difficult," I retort, my tone filled with mock annoyance.

Nick feigns innocence, raising an eyebrow. "Organized chaos, sweetheart. That's what my wardrobe represents."

Rolling my eyes, I pluck a random grey shirt from the hanger. Its color reminds me of the twilight sky, just before the stars emerges.

"Nice choice," Nick remarks, stepping closer to me. His voice softens as he gazes down at me, our proximity creating an intoxicating tension. I hold my breath as he asks, "now, how about you help me put it on?"

My heart skips a beat as I swallow nervously. The thought of touching him again, even in such an innocent way, sends a surge of electricity coursing through my veins. "Why can't you put in on yourself?"

"Because," is all he says.

"Because?" I press, still holding the shirt in between my fingers, our bodies just as close.

"Because—" his sentence is cut short when an unfamiliar voice shouting his name reaches our ears.

"Nick!" The voice repeats, louder this time. I look at him, his entire expression shifts as he quickly reaches out to the shirt in my hands and slide it on. Then he walks over to his wardrobe and grabs a random pair of pants. I don't know why but I look away when he drops the towel before hastily putting the pants on as well all while muttering some incoherent words under his breath.

I just stand there and look at him with obvious confusion written all over my face once he's done dressing up. Either he doesn't notice it or he's deciding to ignore it. He obviously knows who that is.

"Nick!" The voice shouts again.

"Give me a second!" Nick shouts back, drying his hair with the towel. "For fuck's sake."

"Who's that?" I finally ask, "should I leave?" I thought nobody knew where he lives yet people keep on coming here as if they own the place. It's quite funny.

"What?" He furrows his brows as he drops the towel carelessly on his bed. He's so. . . messy. "No," he says, "of course not. We still have B-guy to deal with, then we're going to get you things so we can redecorate your room together."

"Wait," I blink, "I wasn't aware of that plan of yours."

"Well," he approaches me and stops once he's just an inch away, "I made that plan when we were showering. Are you in or do we have to postpone?"