The Boy with Bad Habits

Chapter 63

Sure, I never thought in my lifetime this would happen. Despite that, when it comes to people you care about there's a lot of sacrifices, right?

Who am I kidding this was far from sacrifice. This was absolute hell.

"Come on out Ace, I'm sure it's not that bad." A grin was evident in her voice. I was positive Lisa would be patiently waiting to observe the scene of Willow's flamboyant homosexual friend.

Keeping the act, I rolled my eyes while still in the dressing room, "I don't think this one suits me. We can come back another time.." my lips pursed.

As I stood in front of the mirror staring with disdain, the halter top came so low and tight on my chest I started to feel it expand as it squeezed. Coming inward, my shoulders were too broad so I was forced to scrunch together. The end of the dress stopped just below my boxers revealing muscular hairy legs. I had to go backwards ten steps to actually see the horrid sight practically draining my masculinity.

Beading wrapped around its midsection, almost sparkling if reflected properly. "Ace," Willow chided, "I'm sure you look fabulous. I want to see."

Rolling my eyes, momentarily frustrated, I had to put up atleast a little more fight. "The zipper won't even reach," I pouted/drawled.

"Oh do you need some help?" Lisa spoke for the first time since I had gotten into the changing room.

That sobered me up, "No, no its fine I'll be out in a second."

My polo shirt hung on a hanger in place. God how I ached to put it back on in that moment. "Are there a lot of people out there?"

"Not nearly as many as you think there are," I could already see that spirited smile across her face as she tried to assure me. That'd be a saleswoman for you.

Closing my eyes one final time feeling fully humiliated and helpless at this point, a shiver ran down my spine. The hair on my chest on full display and defined arms planted at the sides.

Before I could pull the curtain across I heard Willow's voice. "I'll just go in there, maybe he's had last minute thoughts."

Panic rushed through, no, no, no. This was not the plan. A quick glance and done. No intimate space shared while my man pride is kicked to the pants.... er....dress. The moment is already ruined then.

Quickly, my hands raced to the top of its outline and I pulled it down immediately to the ground. Hopping out of it in order to prevent a tear, the dress fell flatly to the floor and I was left in my american eagle boxers from last Christmas.

However, I was too late. As I tried to retrieve my polo shirt next, she was already present. The heels she wore from last night clicked further toward me and were grazing the outside. A small feminine hand tucked it back so no one else could see inside as she entered.

Instantly, my hands grasped the outfit to hide any protruding parts. When her head peeked in, I thought the doses of warm chocolate irises would pop straight out of their sockets.

Mouth agape in shock, her cheeks almost matched the pigment of the frock itself. Her eyes darted in embarrassment and she put an immense amount of effort into not meeting mine, shifting from one foot from the other. Almost frantic.

Clearing her throat, "I um, oh my, sorry—best be on my way," she chuckled nervously, a foot already in motion.

Funny how she thought this tension wouldn't be felt on both ends. As soon as her hand went to pull the curtain, "Actually," I initiated, "I'm going to need some assistance here."

That's when I took action and removed it from my skin. She put up a considerable amount of restraint, I could tell, to not let those curious eyes wander. Her head tilted toward the ground hiding that remarkable blush. A tinge of amusement made itself known for me.