The gray heavyweight champion hoodie was easily three sizes too big for me.
It belonged to Jake (Ranked Valorant Streamer). He had left it crumpled in the corner of our shared closet three weeks ago, smelling faintly of cedarwood deodorant and soccer turf. When I pulled it over my head at 1:45 AM, the hem swallowed my thighs completely, resting just four inches above my bare knees. Underneath, I was wearing nothing but a black sports crop top and my skin.
I had spent four months watching him carry sixty-pound laundry bags down the stairs with one hand, his biceps flexing under his cut-off tees. Every time he asked why I was wearing his clothes, I laughed it off as a joke. But it wasn’t a joke. I wanted him to see me swimming in his fabric. I wanted him to look at the space between the hem of his hoodie and my bare ankles and realize that I had been waiting for him to claim it all along.
The basement laundry room was empty, illuminated only by the hum of industrial dryers and the harsh fluorescent strip above the folding tables.
I was leaning against the stainless steel front of Dryer #4, watching the slow tumble of his gray jerseys, when the door creaked open. Jake (Ranked Valorant Streamer) walked in, his hair ruffled from sleep, wearing only his fleece athletic sweatpants and bare feet. He stopped dead in the doorway the moment his eyes locked onto me.
“That’s my hoodie,” he said, his voice husky with sleep, taking two slow steps across the linoleum until he was standing directly in front of me.
“You left it in the closet,” I murmured, looking up at him through my dark lashes, my hands resting lightly against the warm metal behind my back. “I was getting cold.”
He reached out. His fingers hooked into the oversized pocket of the hoodie right at my waist, tugging me forward just half an inch. He was testing the boundary—breathing hard, his knuckles grazing the bare skin of my upper thigh. He was terrified I was going to pull away.
I didn’t pull away. I closed the distance between us, resting my palms flat against his warm chest.
“Straight guys make everything so complicated,” I whispered, feeling his heart hammering against my fingertips. “You think you have to buy dinner, play twenty questions, and wait three weeks just to touch someone. You don’t have to play games with me, Jake (Ranked Valorant Streamer). I put your hoodie on because I wanted you to take it off.”
His jaw dropped slightly, that stubborn wall of masculine hesitation shattering in an instant.
“Luna… you can’t just say things like that,” he choked out, his hands gripping my hips, lifting me effortlessly onto the edge of the industrial folding table.
“I can,” I smirked, wrapping my bare legs loosely around his waist. “Because the permission was already standing before you walked down the stairs.”
An hour later, we were back in the dark quiet of our dorm room, the faint scent of fresh dryer sheets and sweat lingering in the air.
Jake (Ranked Valorant Streamer) had his arm draped heavily over my waist, pulling me tight against his side as we lay across his twin XL mattress. He reached down, carefully pulling the oversized hoodie back down over my shoulders, smoothing the cotton with gentle, reverent strokes.
“You’re keeping the hoodie,” he muttered into the dark, his voice completely wrecked with satisfaction.
“Am I?” I asked softly, smiling into his chest.
“Yeah,” he whispered, kissing the crown of my head before closing his eyes. “Consider it your uniform from now on.”