Stolen Jerseys / ✓

2.07: chapter twenty-six

S C O T T

"Kelly!" I greeted loudly, grinning at the blonde on the other side of the door. Kelly quirked an eyebrow at me and my grin just widened, "It's so nice that you're here! Connor's so excited for your date, but he was having a little pants-boxers problem."

Kelly didn't even bat an eyelash; she was used to this kind of stuff. She had been friends with Connor and I long enough to know not to question anything. Plus, she knew the amount of times Connor had embarrassed me in front of Elle, so she was probably expecting me to get him back sometime. It was inevitable.

"Revenge?" Kelly whispered, and I nodded happily. She laughed and stood up a little straighter, calling out in a louder voice, "A pants-boxer problem? What the hell?"

I heard Connor shout my name from his room, and I busted out into laughter. I just smirked and nodded again at Kelly, "You know how it is with Connor. He tucked his shirt into his boxers - "

I didn't get to finish my sentence. I could hear Connor running in the room, but, before I got to say another word, he launched himself onto my back. I yelped out and stumbled forward, grasping the wall to get myself from falling on top of Kelly. Kelly bit her lip to keep from laughing and took a step backwards, at the same time Connor threw his hands over my mouth.

I growled in annoyance and stepped back from the wall. Connor was naturally fairly light, and I was used to skating around with weight on me. But the second I stepped back, Miguel ran past my feet and I shouted, tripping over the cat. I stumbled backwards and Connor yelled, dropping his hands from my mouth to wrap his arms around my shoulders tightly.

I stayed up for a few seconds, but then couldn't get my balance. I cursed and tripped over my own two feet, falling to the ground. Connor fell first and I landed on top of him, the back of my head knocking into the front of his. I groaned and pushed myself up slightly, rubbing the back of my head where Connor's nose had slammed in the back of my head. Shit, he had a hard nose.

Connor pushed me and I reluctantly rolled off of him, landing on my back. I groaned again and leaned my head back against the floor, narrowing my eyes at Miguel when he ran past me. All that cat did was steal my boxers, try to steal my food, and accidentally pee on my floor. He was Satan.

"I think I have your butt imprint on my stomach," Connor hissed, turning his head to narrow his eyes at me, "I blame you if I need surgery to get back my regular stomach again."

I rolled my eyes and pushed myself up, stretching out my legs and tugging on the edge of my shirt to straighten it out, "You're the one that jumped on top of my back, doucher."

"That's my word!" Connor cried, pushing himself up. He groaned and stopped mid-way, lifting up his shirt to look at his stomach. I scoffed and flipped him off, and he looked back up at me, "Remember when I asked if you had a firm butt? You do. And it fucking hurts."

I leaned forward and slapped the back of Connor's head, just as Kelly decided to actually enter the apartment. Connor's cheeks flushed and he tugged down his shirt, giving her an awkward wave. Kelly laughed and I stood up, grabbing Connor's shoulders and tugging him up, since he seemed incapable to do it himself.

"Hi," Connor grinned, pale cheeks flushed a bright red color. I snickered at that and he put his hand behind his back to flip me off, "You look really, really good."

"So do you," Kelly said, and Connor's grin only became impossibly wider, "you know, even with your shirt tucked into your boxers."

Connor's head whipped around to his back and he tugged on the edge of the plaid shirt, making sure that it wasn't tucked into his boxers. When he realized Kelly was joking, he turned back to her, a playful smile on his face. Even I couldn't help but smile at how happy they both looked at that moment.