The Stepfather (MxM) ✓

Chapter 5

I wanted a white shirt, he wanted me to get a pink one.

There was a large viewing room outside of each changing room, something that made me feel more than a little scrutinised each and every time I presented myself to Austin.

"No," I retorted, hands smoothing down my legs with a huff, "these jeans are way too tight."

"They're supposed to be tight!" Austin cried, as though tight jeans being superior was common knowledge. "If you don't come out, I'm coming in."

Not taking his threat seriously, I took off the shirt that he had ordered me to put on. Out of disgust I even throw it out over the door to Austin. I didn't even hear him wriggle under the door until he jumped up behind me and brushed himself down with a happy, "greetings!"

Jumping was the only predictable reaction that anyone could have as I splayed myself against the wall of the changing room, my chest rising and falling as my heart eventually slowed down from the utter shock.

I was an incredibly jumpy person.

Sometimes it came in handy, other times it didn't. Kind of like now.

"Stop staring," I gruffly grumbled the moment that I realised that he was blatantly gawking at me. Shirtless, exposed - whatever way you wanted to put it.

Then again, could I really blame him for that? Bruises didn't heal all that fast, and I was littered with them. But it didn't mean that I welcomed his eyes on me.

I flicked my eyes to my own shirt, but Austin got there before me and flung it over into the other stall before I even had the chance to cover myself up.

"This is a damn invasion of privacy," I complained, crossing my arms over my chest, clearly put out.

Everyone had their own scars to bear. Those were just mine, nothing wrong with that. They were my business.

"Where'd you get them?" his voice was casual despite the question, eyes eventually moving to mine as he raised a brow – expecting me to give him a truthful answer.

"Just get me my shirt," I said instead, making for the door before he blocked me to it.

Wonderful.

A brawl in the middle of a changing room wasn't exactly on the cards. It wasn't as though we weren't already drawing enough attention to ourselves. With the whole two teenage boys in one small changing room aspect, wherein one was missing a shirt and wearing pants that were cutting off circulation to their balls.

Me. That one was me. I was in agony.

"Not until you tell me where you got them," he proceeded, a little bit more forcefully this time. If the situation wasn't so damn awkward, I would have laughed at how amusing it was to see him pissed off. It didn't suit him.

"Get me my shirt before I pulverise you."

That seemed to get the message across and he dipped out of the stall once again, tossing the shirt into me which I pulled on gratefully. My heart was still pounding in my chest, but I forced myself to swallow that down in favour of calming the hell down.

"Get those jeans." Austin sounded as though nothing had actually happened, and I found myself doubting if it even had for a moment.

"They make my ass stand out."

"That's the whole point."

Austin won, I got the jeans.

Actually, I got a lot more than just the jeans, the majority of which I didn't even want in the first place, but a certain someone's insistence prevailed and I ended up carrying around three bags of shit.