The Winter Formal, Part 8
“My feet hurt,” I groaned when we stepped outside. I had been running around in some fairly high pumps for the evening and my decision was beginning to catch up with me. I removed my shoes and started walking, but the bottoms of my feet still felt it.
Byron took my shoes from me as Blue picked me up and started carrying me back. At the room, Byron gave me a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt to change into. This would’ve been fine, were he not about a foot and four inches taller than me and of the athletic persuasion. The result left me practically drowning in his clothing as we got ready for bed.
“I wish I would’ve known about this,” I said, “I would’ve packed clothing. And a toothbrush."
"Oh, I have an extra toothbrush, I think.”
The three of us proceeded to stand in the bathroom, toothbrushes in hand, cleaning our teeth in a neat little row at the mirror. It was kind of precious.