hits me. Inhaling the scent, it instantly reminds me of Nycto as I take in his closet. The left side is all hanging space. The right lower half, all drawers, then stopping to make a shelf. A mirror sits at the back of the closet. On top of the shelf are little knickknacks. A matchbox motorbike—maybe from his childhood. A zippo lighter with what I’m assuming is the club logo inscribed on it. A small wooden box. A bottle opener. A set of Bluetooth headphones. An expensive-looking watch. Picking up the matchbox motorbike, I study it—a miniature Harley.
Is this where his love of bikes came from as a kid?
Returning it, I turn to the left side, running my hand through the hanging clothes. Mainly white or black tees. The occasional dress shirt. One random pair of sweatpants.
Pressing my lips together, I pull them from the rack, throwing them over my shoulder. I rustle through the rest finding an RBMC club shirt. It’s black with a white logo on the back, then the word ‘President’ is proudly sported across the front. I grin from ear to ear as I take it off the hanger. He’s probably going to kick my ass for this, but honestly, I don’t care at all. He pressed my buttons, so I’ll stomp right back on his.
Turning around, I walk over to the bed, placing my ensemble on the mattress. Excitement bubbles inside of me as I sashay out of the dress I never want to wear again in my lifetime. I throw it onto his desk out of the way, wishing I had some fresh underwear. I gnaw down on my bottom lip glancing back over at his closet. Slowly, I walk back and open the top drawer.
Score.
Boxer briefs.
Would that be weird?
I hesitate for a moment, then throw caution to the wind.
I search through his underwear drawer until I find the smallest pair of boxer briefs I can find. They’ll still be far too big, but they’ll be better than what I’m wearing. I slide his drawer closed, turning back to face the door. I hesitate for a moment making sure no noises are coming from the other side.
It’s clear.
So, I shimmy my panties down, quickly sliding his briefs up my tanned legs. Rolling the edge over a couple of times, I manage to get them to sit on me just fine.
I giggle to myself.
Nycto is going to blow his mind.
I walk over placing my panties on top of my dress in clear view if he ever walks back into the room. He’ll know right away I’m not wearing my panties. It will drive him mad, and for some strange reason, that makes me happy as fuck.
Moving back over to the bed, I grab his sweatpants, pulling them up. They’re way too big, so just like the briefs, I fold the edge over and over until they end up sitting perfectly in place. Grabbing the President’s shirt, I hesitate for a moment. Bringing it to my nose, I sniff, it smells like him. This is a big deal. This shit means something to him. Plus, it’s probably disrespectful in his eyes.
Fuck it.
I thread my arms through the sleeves, yanking it over my head. Glancing down at the shirt, which is too big for my body, I can’t help but smile.
Something washes over me. A feeling of home, a sense of belonging. The sensation foreign to me.
I haven’t felt like I truly belonged anywhere since my parents died.
When they left, everything felt skewed like nothing was right.
But standing here, in Nycto’s shirt, it’s like my world is falling back into place. The only problem, it scares the hell out of me because Ivy isn’t here. A world without my sister, without me protecting her and making sure she’s okay, is not a world I will be okay in.
I scrub at my face to stop my eyes from watering and head back over to the closet to close it. My mischievous mood has soured, and now I want to sit on the bed and wallow. I close the left door, grab the right, but as I go to shut it, the small wooden box on the shelf grabs my attention.
Pausing, my eyes focus on it.
Once you know what’s in there, it can’t be unseen.
My curiosity outweighs my better judgment.
I slowly slide my fingers over the lid of the box. Inhaling, I hold my breath as I gingerly open the box. I tense, half expecting a finger or some