White Tie, Black Leather

5: No Pants Policy

"Wake up," I'm shaken from my slumber by none other than Satan himself. It seems he's already unraveled Cam from under me and I sit up, rubbing my head.

"Where's Cam?" I murmur, my voice sleep-filled. "In the apartment already. C'mon, you're wasting my time," He hisses.

I moan, stretch my arms, then rub at my eyes. "Princess, get up. Unless you expect me to carry you, like some lowly servant—"

I outstretch my arms towards him, signifying that I want him to pick me up. He sighs loudly, murmuring a, "You've gotta be kidding me," under his breath.

I suddenly feel myself being roughly lifted off the seat and into his arms. I instantly curl into his warmth, my groggy state clouding my judgment and glazing over the fact that he detests me.

"You owe me for this," He grits out.

"So—comfortable—" I manage to speak. He exhales sharply but remains silent as he carries me into the building.

Soon, I find myself drifting off— back into the world of dreams where everything is perfect and I'm not constantly being hounded by chauvinistic ideals.

  ♔

The sound of running water slowly acclimates me to the land of the awake and my eyes flutter open. The door to the room is shut, blocking out any light that might have escaped in.

I sit up, my legs tangled in the polyester sheets and cotton duvet. The mattress beneath me is surprisingly comfortable, although it seems as if it doesn't have a box spring or any source of support.

My hands skim over my legs and I find them bare. Wait... Wasn't I wearing pants?

I place my palms on my shirt, feeling the soft, oversized material beneath my fingers. This isn't my shirt...

The bathroom door flies open, yellow light cascading down and creating a silhouette of Jesse standing there, silent, in only a towel.

Leftover water droplets roll down his toned chest and I have to force myself to look away. "You're awake," He states, walking past the bed and to his drawers.

"Yes," I reply, still watching him. He rummages through, searching for clothes, I suppose. "Jesse," He barely even flinches when I say his name, but I know he's heard me. "Where are my pants?"

"Blythe, it's your responsibility to keep up with your pants," He mumbles, pulling underwear out from the drawer. The light shines from the bathroom onto the hard planes of his chest and half of his face.

His skin radiates in the yellow glow, giving him an ethereal look. "I—" I begin, but he cuts me off by pulling away his towel. I quickly avert my gaze whilst he puts on underwear.

When he's done, I turn my attention back to him, watching him get dressed. "I'm serious, Jesse. Where are my pants? I'm not getting up until I have them," I say strongly, bursting forth with all of the confidence I have.

"Then I guess you'll jut have to stay in my bed," He remarks blandly, tugging a wife-beater over his head. After pulling on pants and throwing on some boots, he goes to his door.

Flinging open the thin piece of wood, he throws me a look, "Nice cheekies, by the way." I blush as he so freely speaks about my undergarments.

Then, he's gone down the hallway towards the living area and kitchen. White light streams in from the hallway windows and blinds me.

Assuming that Cam is still passed out drunk, I stumble from the bed and follow Jesse.

"I'm not kidding, I need my pants, Jesse—" I begin but as I turn the corner, several eyes find me and my half-dressed self. "Uh—" I stutter, stepping back and pulling at the bottom of the shirt.