Steve was having an off morning. It wasn't one of those mornings where things didn't go right, but rather the kind of morning where he didn't act right. Not that he'd had a morning like that before. He briefly wondered if anyone had.
He'd tried to go about his morning routine, get up, work out a bit, the shower. Up until the shower everything had been fine. Maybe his mind had been on other things, but before he knew it he'd been washing and conditioning his hair with the fruity-smelling stuff his little sister used. What was worse, he was enjoying the smell. Sure, he had liked it when he'd smell it on a girl, but on him?
He'd quickly rinsed it out, hoping that he didn't smell too girlie, then grabbed a towel to head for his room. It was only when he'd closed the door that he realized that he'd wrapped the large pink towel under his armpits so as to cover up his breasts. Wait. Breasts? He looked down, then shook his head. Something was majorly off.
He discarded the towel, forcing himself to be unashamed of his manly chest, then began pulling clothes from drawers. As he dressed himself in his bland blue jeans and boring grey t-shirt (didn't he have anything with more flare?), his mind drifted to the football game he knew he had that evening. He found himself feeling dread at the thought, hoping that the coach would bench him so that he could just watch and cheer on his team. Somehow the thought of playing against those big scary football players terrified him in a way that it never had before.
Steve finished getting dressed and, pausing to blow himself a kiss in the mirror, headed downstairs. He hoped the rest of the day would go better.
