Tyrell's POV
I gulp nervously, feeling my confidence waver as I survey the opulent lingerie and snug jeans eyeing me provocatively. "Great," I murmur to myself, realizing I'd rather go au naturel than succumb to these fashion atrocities, turning me into a caricature.
Yet, a nagging feeling urges me to search, to double-check if I missed something. My eyes widen with hope as I spot a brown pair of shorts that definitely shouldn't belong here. I grab them with a grin, amazed at how perfectly they fit—almost like a miracle. Hastily, I slip them on, now on the hunt for a shirt to cover my bare torso, feeling awkward and less than masculine draped only in a blanket.
After what feels like an eternity, I unearth a navy blue t-shirt in a medium size, seemingly ready to cling to me like a second
