Shorts Quotes

My personal style depends on what I'm doing or where I am. I wear a lot of jeans and jean shorts and t-shirts, and I love leather jackets; it's pretty relaxed. ~ Jessica Springsteen

See that guy over there?" I nod toward a man in jean shorts and a Budweiser T-shirt. "Am I that obvious?"
St. Clair squints at him. "Obviously what? Balding? Overweight? Tasteless?"
"American."
He sighs melodramtically. "Honestly, Anna. You must get over this."
"I just don't want to offend anyone. I hear they offend easily."
"You're not offending anyone except me right now."
"What about her?" I point to a middle-aged woman in khaki shorts and a knit top with stars and stripes on it.She has a camera strapped to her belt and is arguing with a man in a bucket hat. Her husband,I suppose.
"Completely offensive."
"I mean,am I as obvious as her?"
"Considering she's wearing the American flag, I'd venture a no on that one." He bites his thumbnail. "Listen.I think I have a solution to your problem, but you'll have to wait for it. Just promise you'll stop asking me to compare you to fifty-year-old women,and I'll take care of everything."
"How? With what? A French passport?"
He snorts. "I didn't say I'd make you French." I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off. "Deal?"
"Deal," I say uncomfortably. I don't care for surprises. "But it better be good."
"Oh,it's good." And St. Clair looks so smug that I'm about to call him on it, when I realize I can't see our school anymore.
I don't believe it.He's completely distracted me. ~ Stephanie Perkins

E-13 No wonder it makes a man blush. No wonder a real true preacher look upon his congregation and try to lead them before the throne of God, and visit their homes and find them smoking cigarettes, telling dirty jokes to each other, entertaining in the back yard with beer parties, walking around on the streets, their young women, and middle age, and so forth, and even grandmother with little shorts on. Mother out on the street with a baby on one arm, dressed sexy enough to attract the attention of any bootlegger that walked the street, and calling themselves Christians? It would make any true man of God blush to bring such a person in the Presence of God. Right. ( "A Blushing Prophet" Preached on Sunday evening, 25th November 1956 at the Branham Tabernacle in Jeffersonville, Indiana, U.S.A. - See Paragraph E-13 ). ~ William Marrion Branham

I don't know about you, but every time some joker points me out as I walk through an airport wearing extra-small Dolfin shorts, a tank top and leg warmers, I get a little upset. ~ Richard Simmons

I watched salaciously as he adjusted his shorts, indicating the swelling of his erection which was fast filling the space within them.
Licking my lips at the sight of him grabbing his cock, my body yearned for his touch. He really was mouth-watering, and seeing him cup the very appendage I wanted deep in between my legs, depleted me of all cognitive thought. Focus Alexis. ~ K.M. Golland

I watched out of the corner of my eye as he stepped into his shorts and pulled a T-shirt over his head. Slipping the razor into his pocket, he walked out the door. I almost called after him to ask if he wanted to meet me for dinner, but I didn't. My eyes, reflected in the mirror, knew the reason why the words stuck in my throat.
I was afraid he would say no.
I was even more afraid he would say yes. ~ Juliann Rich

I'd do a podcast about guys wearing shorts when it's too cold. ~ David Letterman

When I was in elementary school, I was a big fan of the zip-off pants that could be turned into shorts. The Delia's catalog used to be my bible. ~ Hayley Williams

Yeah, it's real easy to look in the mirror and be proud when you're wearing pleated shorts. And you know what's really pathetic? I don't even have any dividends to get tax-decreased. When'll they cut taxes on not-having-health-insurancends? ~ David Rees

Success sometimes can really bite you in the shorts. ~ Donny Osmond

My gaze dipped and ran over her legs. legs unbelievable long for someone so short ... and those shorts were short. tiny pockets, too.
Yeah, i was not going after those keys ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

So I said, "Hey, Joe," and hoped it was a start. He was startled. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. He made a growling noise deep in his chest, a low rumble that made my skin itch. It was pleased, that sound, like even just me saying his name was enough to make him happy. For all I knew, it was. It cut off as quickly as it started. He looked faintly embarrassed. I scuffed my foot in the dirt, waiting. He said, "Hey, Ox." He cleared his throat and looked down. "Hi." It was weird, that disconnect between the boy I'd known and the man before me. His voice was deeper and he was bigger than he'd ever been. He radiated power that had never been there before. It fit him well. I remembered that day that I'd really seen him for the first time, wearing those running shorts and little else. I pushed those thoughts away. I didn't want him sniffing me out. Not yet. Because attraction wasn't the problem right now. Especially not right now. I ~ T.J. Klune

When I take my hand out of this blanket," he thought, "my nail will be grown back, my hands will be clean. My body will be clean. I'll have on clean shorts, clean undershirt, a white shirt. A blue polka-dot tie. A gray suit with a stripe, and I'll be home, and I'll bolt the door. I'll put some coffee on the stove, some records on the phonograph, and I'll bolt the door. I'll read my books and I'll drink coffee and I'll listen to music, and I'll bolt the door. I'll open the window, I'll let in a nice, quiet girl
not Frances, not anyone I've ever known
and I'll bolt the door. I'll ask her to read some Emily Dickinson to me
that one about being chartless
and I'll ask her to read some William Blake to me
that one about the little lamb that made thee
and I'll bolt the door. She'll have an American voice, and she won't ask me if I have any chewing gum or bonbons, and I'll bolt the door. ~ J.D. Salinger

Wear a towel instead of a coat, it's very chic. Or your husband's boxer shorts with a belt, or something from your grandmother. It's all about do-it-yourself at the moment. ~ Vivienne Westwood

I love those shorts."
A crinkled formed between her brows. "They're old and ratty." ...
"I like them, but if you don't, I'd be happy to take them off for you." He cocked one brow ... ~ Cat Johnson

Joel arrived at Hemmant beach in a pair of white nylon shorts. He knew they'd be see-through once they were wet, and he deliberately didn't wear any underwear, because he wanted to be in the surf, practically naked, and have people looking at him. ~ Todd Young

It takes a truly cool girl to pull off short-shorts and rain boots. ~ Peter Som

Way too many fat people in shorts. ~ C.J. Box

He peered up at the house.

"I know you're finished in there, Blake. May as well come out."

I breathed a silent sigh.

Blake strolled onto the deck wearing low-slung skater shorts and flip-flops. Being shirtless must've been mandatory in California. I kind of wished they'd get dressed so I could focus properly when I told them about the prophecy. Blake joined us beside the pool.

"So . . . ," said Blake, rocking back on his heels. "Lover's quarrel over?"

"We're not lovers," Kaidan and I said together.

"What's stopping you?" Blake smiled.

"What's stopping you and Ginger?" Kaidan asked.

"An ocean, man. Fu - " He glanced at me. "Uh . . . eff you."

"Eff me?" Kaidan asked, grinning. "No, eff you, mate."

Blake put a fist over his mouth when he caught what must have been a seething look on my face, and he laughed, punching Kaidan in the arm.

"Told you, man! She's pissed about the cursing thing! Ginger was right."

I shook my head. I wouldn't look at them. I was too humiliated to deny it.

"Girl, all you have to do is say the word, and Mr. Lusty McLust a Lot here will be happy to whisper some dirty nothings in your ear."

Kaidan half grinned, sexuality rolling off him as wild as the Pacific below us.

I took a shaky breath.

"I don't appreciate when people are fake with me." I pointed this statement at Kaidan.

Wendy Higgins

The minute Molly and Priss disappeared inside, Trace cursed. He actually wanted to hit something, but a tree would break his knuckles, he didn't want to put another dent in the truck, and Dare would hit back.
Chris Chapey, Dare's longtime best friend and personal assistant, approached with the enormous cat draped over one shoulder so that he could keep an eye on the trailing dogs. The bottom half of Liger filled his arms, and the long tail hung down to the hem of Chris's shorts.
Without even thinking about it, Trace started petting the cat. After a few hours in the truck together, he and Liger had an understanding of sorts.
Dare watched him, but said only, "That cat is a beast."
"He's an armful, that's for sure." Chris hefted him a little higher, and got a sweet meow in return.
Both dogs barked in excitement, but quited when Liger gave them a level stare.
Chris laughed at that. "You want me to head in to keep an eye on things"
"That's why I pay you the big bucks, right?" Dare stared toward the house. "You can tell Trace's lady - "
"She's not mine."
Both Chris and Dare gave him a certain male-inspired look, a look that said they understood his bullshit and would let it slide - for now. ~ Lori Foster

Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy - "
"Find my what?"
" - and take his Wheezy back from the merpeople!"
"What's a Wheezy?"
"Your Wheezy, sir, your Wheezy - Wheezy who is giving Dobby his jumper!"
Bobby plucked at the shrunken maroon sweater he was now wearing over his shorts.
"What?" Harry gasped. "They've got... they've got Ron?"
"The thing Harry Potter will miss the most, sir!" squeaked Dobby. ~ J.K. Rowling

My partner and I won the race, and I threw my hat into the air and bent to pick it up. Everyone started laughin' because I had split the back end of my pants out, and I wasn't wearing shorts. ~ Chris LeDoux

I like sundresses with cowboy boots, little shorts with big wedge heels and a big piece of turquoise. I also love classic, Old Hollywood romantic styles. I'm 'country girl meets city girl' circa 1930. ~ Kirsten Prout

It's fine. I'm fine. Unravel your boxer shorts. ~ Jodi Ellen Malpas

Hollywood's two polar types are the cynically drunken writer aggressively nursing a ten-year-old reputation and the theatrically self-conscious hermit who strides the boulevard in sandals, home-made shorts and a prophetic beard, muttering against the Age of the Machines. ~ Christopher Isherwood

Before I opened my computer in the parking lot today, I relived one of my favorite memories. It's the one with Woody and me sitting on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum after it's closed. We're watching people parade out of the museum in summer shorts and sandals. The trees to the south are planted in parallel lines. The water in the fountain shoots up with a mist that almost reaches the steps we sit on. We look at silver-haired ladies in red-and-white-print dresses. We separate the mice from the men, the tourists from the New Yorkers, the Upper East Siders from the West Siders. The hot-pretzel vendor sells us a wad of dough in knots with clumps of salt stuck on top. We make our usual remarks about the crazies and wonder what it would be like to live in a penthouse apartment on Fifth Avenue overlooking the Met. We laugh and say the same things we always say. We hold hands and keep sitting, just sitting, as the sun beings to set. It's a perfect afternoon. ~ Diane Keaton

The true test of maturity is not how old a person is but how he reacts to awakening in the mid-town area in his shorts. ~ Woody Allen

I sprinkle some flour on the dough and roll it out with the heavy, wooden rolling pin. Once it's the perfect size and thickness, I flip the rolling pin around and sing into the handle - American Idol style.

"Calling Gloriaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa . . ."

And then I turn around.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Without thinking, I bend my arm and throw the rolling pin like a tomahawk . . . straight at the head of the guy who's standing just inside the kitchen door.

The guy I didn't hear come in.

The guy who catches the hurling rolling pin without flinching - one-handed and cool as a gorgeous cucumber - just an inch from his perfect face.

He tilts his head to the left, looking around the rolling pin to meet my eyes with his soulful brown ones. "Nice toss."

Logan St. James.

Bodyguard. Totally badass. Sexiest guy I have ever seen - and that includes books, movies and TV, foreign and domestic. He's the perfect combo of boyishly could-go-to-my-school kind of handsome, mixed with dangerously hot and tantalizingly mysterious. If comic-book Superman, James Dean, Jason Bourne and some guy with the smoothest, most perfectly pitched, British-Scottish-esque, Wessconian-accented voice all melded together into one person, they would make Logan fucking St. James.

And I just tried to clock him with a baking tool - while wearing my Rick and Morty pajama short-shorts, a Winnie-the-Pooh T-shirt I've had sinc ~ Emma Chase

On either side of them the essence of honky tonk beach resort had now enclosed them: gas stations, fried clam stands, Dairy Treets, motels painted in feverish pastel colors, mini golf.

Larry was drawn two painful ways by these things. Part of him clamored at their sad and blatant ugliness and at the ugliness of the minds that had turned this section of a magnificent, savage coastline into one long highway amusement park for families in station wagons. But there was a more subtle, deeper part of him that whispered of the people who had filled these places and this road during other summers. Ladies in sunhats and shorts too tight for their large behinds. College boys in red and black striped rugby shirts. Girls in beach shifts and thong sandals. Small screaming children with ice cream spread over their faces. They were American people, and there was a kind of dirty, compelling romance about them whenever they were in groups never mind if the group was in an Aspen ski lodge or performing their prosaic/ arcane rites of summer along Route 1 in Maine. And now all these Americans were gone. ~ Stephen King

Say "no" only when it really matters. Wear a bright red shirt with bright orange shorts? Sure. Put water in the toy tea set? Okay. Sleep with your head at the foot of the bed? Fine. Samuel Johnson said, "All severity that does not tend to increase good, or prevent evil, is idle. ~ Gretchen Rubin

After a couple of attempts at making shorts, I decided to make a feature film with a friend, Tom Hall, whom I've worked with ever since. ~ John Carney

I prefer little hotpant-like shorts, but I wear thongs too. ~ Lucy Pinder

Rowdy, hopped-up college kids pass us in an endless, noisy blur like they're being mass produced or squeezed out of a tube - guys skulking in their T-shirts and cargo shorts, girls in low-slung jeans and flip-flops, pimples and breasts and tattoos and lipstick and legs and bra straps, and cigarettes; a colorful, sexy melange. I feel old and tired and I just want to be them again, want to be young and stupid, filled with angst and attitude and unbridled lust. Can I have a do-over, please? I swear to God I'll make a real go of it this time. ~ Jonathan Tropper

When I was growing up, I was teased for being too skinny. I went to summer camp when I was 11. I wore shorts, and the nurse said to me, in front of all my friends, that I was anorexic and that she had to monitor me to make sure I was eating. Because of that trauma, I never wore short pants or short skirts until I was 20. ~ Hani Furstenberg

Is princess here?" Coach called from his office.
"The she-wolf has arrived!" Evan yelled back.
Coach emerged from his office and stood in front of us.
Oh God, he had the short shorts on again. ~ Micalea Smeltzer

With women, my wiring shorts out. My senses respond to the physical and the chemical, the scent and sheen of her. Evil could not possibly reside in the form of this angel. Or could it? Sure, I'm politically incorrect. I admit it; I confess; guilty as charged. I am, Your Honor, the lowest of the species, still wet from the swamp, webbed feet fossilized in the mud. I am a Man! ~ Paul Levine

It's when I'm around some people that my entire vocabulary goes on vacation. Like now, when Dave's walking next to me wearing an old black singlet and board shorts and the tattoo of a bird on his wrist, every single word in my head except "no" and "huh" is lying somewhere on a beack getting a suntan ~ Cath Crowley

Let's press ahead a little further by sketching out a few variations among short shorts:

ONE THRUST OF INCIDENT. (Examples: Paz,
Mishima, Shalamov, Babel, W. C. Williams.) In these short shorts the time span is extremely brief, a few hours, maybe even a few minutes: Life is grasped in symbolic compression. One might say that these short shorts constitute epiphanies (climactic moments of high grace or realization) that have been tom out of their contexts. You have to supply the contexts yourself, since if the contexts were there, they'd no longer be short shorts.

LIFE ROLLED UP. (Examples: Tolstoy's 'Alyosha the Pot,' Verga's 'The Wolf,' D. H. Lawrence's 'A Sick Collier.') In these you get the illusion of sustained narrative, since they deal with lives over an extended period of time; but actually these lives are so compressed into typicality and paradigm, the result seems very much like a single incident. Verga's 'Wolf' cannot but repeat her passions, Tolstoy's Alyosha his passivity. Themes of obsession work especially well in this kind of short short.

SNAP-SHOT OR SINGLE FRAME. (Examples: Garda Marquez, Boll, Katherine Anne Porter.) In these we have no depicted event or incident, only an interior monologue or flow of memory. A voice speaks, as it were, into the air. A mind is revealed in cross-section - and the cut is rapid. One would guess that this is the hardest kind of short short to write: There are many pitfalls such as tiresome ~ Irving Howe

Peter smiled as Concheetah sashayed across the ballroom floor
Concheetah sashayed towards him, wriggling her hips, full lips in a pout, followed obediently by the tentative, Tapping Ted dressed in tight shorts and singlet. Tapping? Tapping because he always wore conspicuous, tap-dancing shoes in the club.
Was Ted going to rip up the stage as a mincing Irish dancer or maybe perform a Gene Kelly routine or the Swan Lake ballet in taps? It was terrible to imagine. Peter bit his lip at that thought, hoping he wouldn't burst into howls of laughter.
He had noted after coming to several shows, that Ted usually stood at the side of the stage ready with a drink of champagne and an encouraging word and a dry towel to mop Her Highness's face. And he always cried during the
show's finale, Abba's Dancing Queen. Poor Tapping Ted. ~ T.W. Lawless

When I'm in yoga class, and I'm in the Tree Pose, I always pretend I'm the Tree of Knowledge. To help further the fantasy I come to class with my yoga shorts stuffed with two apples. ~ Jarod Kintz

Because there's a silent, shrugging, stoical acceptance of all the things in the world we can never be part of: shorts, swimming pools, strappy dresses, country walks, roller-skating, ra-ra skirts, vest tops, high heels, rope climbing, sitting on a high stool, walking past building sites, flirting, being kissed, feeling confident. And ever losing weight, ever. The idea of suggesting we don't have to be fat –that things could change –is the most distant and alien prospect of all. We're fat now and we'll be fat forever and we must never, ever mention it, and that is the end of it. It's like Harry Potter's Sorting Hat. We were pulled from the hat marked 'Fat' and that is what we must now remain, until we die. Fat is our race. Our species. Our mode. As a result, there is very little of the outside world –and very little of the year –we can enjoy. Summer is sweaty under self-conscious layers. On stormy days, wind flattens skirts against thighs, and alarms both us and, we think, onlookers and passers-by. Winter is the only time we feel truly comfortable: covered head to toe in jumpers, coats, boots and hat. I develop a crush on Father Christmas. If I married him, not only would I be expected to stay fat, but I'd look thin standing next to him, in comparison. Perspective would be my friend. We all dream of moving to Norway, or Alaska, where we could wear massive padded coats all the time, and never reveal an inch of flesh. When it rains, we're happiest of all. Then we can just stay ~ Caitlin Moran

I have a picture of me with Lady Antebellum, when they released their first single and I was at CMA Fest as a fan. I'm in flower-power shorts and a headband - so not cute - and I'm fan-girling next to Hillary. I couldn't believe I was standing next to her. ~ Kelsea Ballerini

Dat means you like me. A lot."
"Yeah, it does." Captain obvious.
"So dat means I'm Mr. Bryn."
"Whatever you say."
"Oh. Whatever I say? You want me to be da boss? Because dat's not a problem at all. I like to be da boss of you."
"No," I said, putting on and zipping up my shorts, "you are not the boss of me. I'm the boss of me and you."
He frowned. "Dat's not fair. I want to be da boss of something."
"You can be the boss of Buster."
"No, not da dog. Dat's not da boss of anything, really."
"Fine. You can be the boss of ... I don't know. Kissing."
Bodo stopped putting on his shirt, his eyes taking on a special gleam, making me almost regret I had said it. ~ Elle Casey

People in bigger towns are very aware of their surroundings. The people in the smaller markets, they will show up with flip-flops and shorts and just kind of already have a buzz on. ~ Pauly Shore

It sounds like a cliche but there are no shorts cuts. You have to be very dedicated and challenge yourself everyday to be better. ~ Casey Stoney

Mum drifted off to sleep again. I sat on her window seat, looking out at the snow, and had a little think. I love my 'little thinks,' which are just quiet moments of daydreaming, really. I picked up the expression when I was working at a school in England and we were discussing Jack and the Beanstalk. I asked the children, 'What did Jack do at the top of the beanstalk?' and a little boy in grey shorts with chubby, red knees called out, 'He sat on a rock.' 'And then what?' I asked, and the boy said, 'He had a little think. ~ Anny Scoones

He wore the same shorts and t-shirts to work for days on end. He refused to wear shoes with laces. He refused to wear watches or even his wedding ring. To calm himself at work he often blared heavy metal music. ~ Michael Lewis

The front of his shorts are tented with what appears to be a very aggressive, very large, erect penis and I seriously cannot wait to yank his shorts off so I can see this wonder in the flesh. ~ Monica Murphy

They were utterly fearless. I did not understand it until I looked out on the street. That was where I saw white parents pushing double-wide strollers down gentrifying Harlem boulevards in T-shirts and jogging shorts. Or I saw them lost in conversation with each other, mother and father, while their sons commanded entire sidewalks with their tricycles. The galaxy belonged to them, and as terror was communicated to our children, I saw mastery communicated to theirs. ~ Ta-Nehisi Coates

She wears a Val Surf T-shirt and boys' boxer shorts and she has a boy's phone number scrawled on her hand. Part of her wants to spit on it and rub it off, and part of her wishes it was written in huge numbers across her belly, his name in gang letters, like a tattoo. ~ Francesca Lia Block

A 5'5", 182-pound, 43-year-old man wearing khaki shorts and a UCLA sweatshirt runs to Nicolas Cage in a manner he will spend the rest of the night describing to his slightly bored but equally boring date as "ambushing." No one else is on the street and Nicolas Cage is unable to avoid the man, who wants a picture with his "brand new Droid." As the man, who actually seems to be vibrating and hovering in an almost hummingbird-like way, adjusts his stance for the third attempt at a picture his crotch lightly brushes Nicolas Cage's upper thigh, causing his face to shift from "bemused resignation" to, strangely, "serene bliss," for what will become the man's inaugural Facebook profile picture. ~ Megan Boyle

Another revolution around the sun and I was still no closer to getting home. Laying on my lumpy mattress in my blood-stained shirt and dusty jeans with my arm over my eyes, I tried to imagine I was lying on Violet's couch. Clara paced in her cell and I let myself believe it was Violet, padding around the kitchen. My memory kicked up the image of her in tiny cotton shorts and a baggy Beatles t-shirt making coffee. My chest swelled and more than ever I wished I could see her face again, hear her voice. ~ Allison Sipe

The biggest misconception is that I only write about shitty people. Or that I'm trying to be shocking. I just think people are super weird, so I like to write characters that get addicted to things, lose their minds, hurt others, put themselves in bad situations. I'm just more interested in that. ~ Leslye Headland

I pressed my lips together, trying to find a safe place to focus my attention. He filled the entire shower stall, his skin clean and wet, every part of him chiseled. His gym shorts clung to a package I had no business noticing. ~ Lisa Kessler

Now comes the picture of mass defeat, the most awesome spectacle of the war. It is in the bent bodies of old women who poke among ruins seeking some miserable object that will link their lives with the old days. It is in the shamed darting eyes of the defeated. It is in the faces of the little boys who regard our triumphant columns with fear and fascination. And above all it is in the thousands of beaten, dusty soldiers who stream along the roads towards the stockades. Their feet clump wearily, mechanically, hopelessly on the still endless road of war. They move as haggard, gray masses, in which the individual had neither life nor meaning. It is impossible to see in these men the quality that made them stand up and fight like demons out of hell a few shorts months ago. ~ Audie Murphy

I think the fans of the old-school Internet shorts were a little bit older just because it was racier material. ~ Andy Milonakis

I was always the girl who wore the mismatching socks, frizzy hair, ponytail I wouldn't take out for a week, and cutoff jean shorts that were at my knees. ~ AnnaLynne McCord

While Hannah was busy positioning the laptop and shimmying out of her shorts and a thong, I pushed off my boxers and squirted lube into my palm. I glanced at my cock. It stood stiffly from me, nine thick, smooth inches for which I didn't thank God often enough. ~ M. Pierce

She belonged to the class that wear their best clothes, however unsuitable to the occasion. Last year, you know, we had a picnic outing at Scrantor Rocks. You'd be surprised at the unsuitable clothes the girls wore. Foulard dresses and patent-leather shoes and quite elaborate hats, some of them. For climbing about over rocks and in gorse and heather. And the young men in their best suits. Of course, hiking's different again. That's practically a uniform, and girls don't seem to realize that shorts are very unbecoming unless they are very slender. ~ Agatha Christie

There's no reason that young girls shouldn't feel like they can't smash people on the field. Nothing dirty. You want to keep it clean. You just want to play hard. Get your jersey dirty, shorts dirty, and just have fun out there. ~ Carli Lloyd

First I need to do something.' He pulled me closer towards him until our lips were almost touching.
'What might that be?' I managed to stutter, closing my eyes, anticipating the warmth of his lips against mine. But the kiss didn't come. I opened my eyes. Alex had jumped to his feet.
'Swim,' he said, grinning at me. 'Come on.'
'Swim?' I pouted, unable to hide my disappointment that he wanted to swim rather than make out with me.
Alex pulled his T-shirt off in one swift move. My eyes fell straightaway to his chest – which was tanned, smooth and ripped with muscle, and which, when you studied it as I had done, in detail, you discovered wasn't a six-pack but actually a twelve-pack.
My eyes flitted to the shadowed hollows where his hips disappeared into his shorts, causing a flutter in parts of my body that up until three weeks ago had been flutter-dormant. Alex's hands dropped to his shorts and he started undoing his belt.
I reassessed the swimming option. I could definitely do swimming.
He shrugged off his shorts, but before I could catch an eyeful of anything, he was off, jogging towards the water. I paused for a nanosecond, weighing up my embarrassment at stripping naked over my desire to follow him. With a deep breath, I tore off my dress then kicked off my underwear and started running towards the sea, praying Nate wasn't doing a fly-by.
The water was warm and flat as a bath. I could see Alex in the distance, his skin gleaming in the n ~ Sarah Alderson

He laughs. "Put some clothes on so you don't scare poor Kiara with your morning hard-on."
I look down at my shorts. Sure enough, I've got la tengo dura in front of Kiara and Tuck. Shit. I reach out for the first thing I can grab and put it in front of me to shield myself from view. It happens to be one of Kiara's stuffed animals, but I don't have much choice right now.
"That's Kiara's Mojo," Tuck says, laughing. "Get it? Mojo? ~ Simone Elkeles

Do you have a favorite constalation, Percy?'
I was still kind of wondering about the little green snakes he'd shoved into his jogging shorts, but i said. 'Uh, I like Hercules.'
'Why?'
'Well ... because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better.
The jogger chuckled. 'Not because he was strong and famouse and all that?'
'No. ~ Rick Riordan

I travel as light as possible and usually pack in less than a minute. If I'm going somewhere hot, I throw in some flip-flops, T-shirts and shorts - but I still pack clothes that I never use. ~ Tom Parker Bowles

The beach at Meschers was crawling with wankers in shorts and bimbos in thongs. It was reassuring. ~ Michel Houellebecq

Oh. I get it." Abby laughed. "This is where you bid on someone to wash your car."

"Naked," Charli said.

"Or check the shower tiles."

"Also naked."

Abby laughed. "I'm guessing that as long as there's wet and naked, we're all good."

Fiona let out a long sigh.

"What was that?" Charli asked with a lift to her perfect brows. "Have you got a victim---I mean a participant in mind?"

Fiona glanced across the hall. "Have you seen Jackson's fireman buddy?"

"No." Charli looked across the room. "Should we?"

"Too late," Fiona said. "I've got first dibs."

At that moment, Abby noticed the Wilder boys walk across the front of the room near the stage. Individually, they were stunning. As a group, they looked as appetizing as a decadent box of chocolates. Abby couldn't tear her eyes away from Jackson. Put him in a fireman suit, a tux jacket and jeans, or a simple T-shirt and cargo shorts, and he took her breath away.

Truthfully, she liked him best in noting at all.

"Holy guacamole." Charli gestured to a tall, dark, and devastating man walking with the group. "Is that who you are talking about?"

Fiona nodded. "I want to lick him up one side and down the other like a cherry Popsicle."

"Honey, you bid as high as you can go," Charli said. "And if you run out of money, you just let me know. I'd be happy to chip in. ~ Candis Terry

Changing into shorts, he took a cold can of beer from the refrigerator and drank it, standing, while he heated a large pot of water. Before the water boiled, he stripped all the leathery edamame pods from the branch, spread them on a cutting board, and rubbed them all over with salt. When the water boiled, he threw them into the pot. ~ Haruki Murakami

Lust and love. They both put a fire in your damn shorts. ~ Lois Greiman

It took me thirty-six years; and, in some fifty stories, ranging in length from short-shorts to novels, I think I must have touched, in one way or another, on every aspect of computers and computerization. And (mark this!) I did it without ever knowing anything at all about computers in any real sense. To this day, I don't. I am totally inept with machinery ... on my typewriter I turn out books at the contemptible rate of one a month ~ Isaac Asimov

She'd been there for a few hours when Sawyer showed up. It was after midnight, but there he was, walking around the track. The moon was out and he was wearing white shorts and a white polo, so she could see him very clearly from her seat. She didn't move, so she didn't know what made him look up. But he did, and her breath caught, as it did every time he looked at her in school. They stared at each other for a long moment. Then he crossed the track and walked up the bleachers towards her. Sawyer had never approached her before, but he had always watched her at school. A lot of people watched her, so that in itself wasn't unusual. But he was always so deliberate about it. She'd often wondered if that was why she had these strange feelings for him, because she thought he really saw her. ~ Sarah Addison Allen

Sweeping the dorm soon's it's empty, I'm after dust mice under his bed when I get a smell of something that makes me realize for the first time since I been in the hospital that the big dorm full of beds, sleeps forty grown men, has always been sticky with a thousand other smells - smells of germicide, zinc ointment, and foot powder, smell of piss and sour old-man manure, of Pablum and eyewash, of musty shorts and socks musty even when they're fresh back from the laundry, the stiff odor of starch in the linen, the acid stench of morning mouths, the banana smell of machine oil, and sometimes the smell of singed hair - but never before now, before he came in, the man smell of dust and dirt from the open fields, and sweat, and work. ~ Ken Kesey

I love sundresses and I love shorts. ~ Ashley Tisdale

His young man's limbs, sleek in their dark male pride, seemed to disdain the covering offered them by the brief shorts and striped jersey. His body might have been naked, like his full, muscled throat, which rose, round and proud as the male organ of a flower, from the neck of his sweater. ~ Stella Gibbons

Liv runs. Every morning, and some evenings too. Running has taken the place of thinking, of eating, sometimes of sleeping. She runs until her shins burn and her lungs feel as if they will explode ... She plugs in her iPod earphones, closes the door of the block, rams her keys into the pocket of her shorts, and sets off at a pace. She lets her mind flood with the deafening thumping beat, dance music so relentless that it leaves no room for thought. ~ Jojo Moyes

There was a time when caddies couldn't wear shorts. ~ Dan Jenkins

At ten I asked my mother if I could start shaving my legs. My dark shin fur was hard to ignore in shorts weather, ~ Tina Fey

The girls seemed unconcerned and went about their days, each as lovely in their own way as the flowers they tended. Sorrel's black hair became streaked with premature white, which gave her an exotic air, although the elegance was somewhat ruined by the muddy jeans and shorts she practically lived in. Nettie, on the other hand, had a head of baby-fine blonde hair that she wore short, thinking, wrongly, that it would look less childlike. Nettie wouldn't dream of being caught in dirty jeans and was always crisply turned out in khaki capris or a skirt and a white shirt. She considered her legs to be her finest feature. She was not wrong.
Patience was the sole Sparrow redhead, although her hair had deepened from its childhood ginger and was now closer to the color of a chestnut. It was heavy and glossy as a horse's mane, and she paid absolutely no attention to it or to much else about her appearance, nor did she have to. In the summer her wide-legged linen trousers and cut-off shorts were speckled with dirt and greenery, her camisoles tatty and damp. The broad-brimmed hat she wore to pick was most often dangling from a cord down her back. As a result, the freckles that feathered across her shoulders and chest were the color of caramel and resistant to her own buttermilk lotion (Nettie smoothed it on Patience whenever she could make her stand still). When it was terribly hot, Patience wore the sundresses she'd found packed away in the attic. She knew they were her mother's, an ~ Ellen Herrick

A lot of people say, 'AC/DC - that's the band with the little guy who runs around in school shorts!' ~ Angus Young

I never want to be seen in my boxer shorts ever again. ~ Christian Cooke

On my days off, I love denim cut off shorts with gladiator sandals and crop tops. ~ Kat Graham

Perfect." He grins, completely removing my shorts and sending them to collect on the floor with the rest of my clothes.
"What?" I ask as he rakes his gaze over my body without moving another muscle.
"You're beautiful, Dorothy. And I just want to look at you. Just for a few seconds, I want to commit this to memory. ~ Jewel E. Ann

Anybody have any money?"
Frank checked his pockets. "Three denarii from Camp Jupiter. Five dollars Canadian."
Hedge patted his gym shorts and pulled out what he found. "Three quarters, two dimes, a rubber band and - score! A piece of celery."
He started munching on the celery, eyeing the change and the rubber band like they might be next. ~ Rick Riordan

Everyone needs to have a denim shirt in your wardrobe. They work in the evening with a blazer or over your shoulder. They're great to pair with a pair of shorts - roll up the sleeves, unbutton it to show a peekaboo of your tank top. ~ Brad Goreski

George gives me a smile, the same dazzling sweet smile as his big brother, although, at this point, with green teeth. "I might marry you," he allows. "Do you want a big family?"
I start to cough and feel a hand pat my back.
"George, it's usually better to discuss this kind of thing with your pants on." Jase drops boxer shorts at George's feet, then sets Patsy on the ground next to him.
She's wearing a pink sunsuit and has one of those little ponytails that make one sprout of hair stick straight up on top all chubby arms and bowed legs. She's, what, one now?
"Dat?" she demands, pointing to me a bit belligerently.
"Dat is Samantha," Jase says. "Apparently soon to be your sister-in-law." He cocks an eyebrow. "You and George move fast."
"We talked astronauts," I explain ... ~ Huntley Fitzpatrick

He's gawking at me when I open the door.
"Damn girl," he says, looking me over, "what the hell are you trying to do to me?"
I look down at myself, still trying to wake up the rest of the way and realize I'm in those tiny cotton white shorts and varsity tee with no bra on underneath. Oh my God, my nipples are like beacons shining through my shirt! I cross my arms over my chest and try not to look at him i the eyes when he helps himself the rest of the way inside.
"I was going to tell you to get dressed," he goes on, grinning as he walks into the room carrying his bags and the guitar, "but really, you can go just like that if you want."
I shake my head, hiding the smile creeping up on my face. ~ J.A. Redmerski

The millions of vacationers who came here every year before Katrina were mostly unaware of this poverty. French Quarter tourists were rarely exposed to the reality beneath the Disneyland Gomorrah that is projected as 'N'Awlins,' a phrasing I have never heard a local use and a place, as far as I can tell, that I have never encountered despite my years in the city. The seemingly average, white, middle-class Americans whooped it up on Bourbon Street without any thought of the third-world lives of so many of the city's citizens that existed under their noses. The husband and wife, clad in khaki shorts, feather boa, and Mardi Gras beads well out of season, beheld a child tap-dancing on the street for money and clapped along to his beat without considering the obvious fact that this was an early school-day afternoon and that the child should be learning to read, not dancing for money. Somehow they did not see their own child beneath the dancer's black visage. Nor, perhaps, did they see the crumbling buildings where the city's poor live as they traveled by cab from the French Quarter to Commander's Palace. They were on vacation and this was not their problem. ~ Billy Sothern

Aideen snapped her fingers. "Oh my God, I've an idea."

Angels began to sing from the Heavens at Aideen's declaration.

"There's a first time for everythin'." I shrugged.

Aideen shoved me and it made me, and the girls laugh.

"Go on then Watson, enlighten me with your plan."

Aideen smirked. "Accept the bet, then we use our bodies to make sure the only hard time that will be had is in the lads' boxer shorts."

That... that actually had promise.

"I love it," Branna beamed and bumped fists with Aideen.

I raised my eyebrow and smiled. "I never thought I'd say this, but good thinkin'."

Aideen bumped fists with me. "I'm much more than a pretty face with big tits, Sherlock. ~ L.A. Casey

I like 'em feisty. Especially with that twangy accent you got going on. I'd give my last UFC check to see you in a pair of Daisy Duke shorts. With those long legs, I bet they'd look amazing. ~ Kele Moon

There's something to be said about practice-even if I'm not actually practicing anything. Just hanging out in the water, holding my breath, withering my skin to grandma-like wrinkles.
I pull off the flippers Toraf brought me and chuck them onto shore. I keep my back turned while he maneuvers his shorts into place. "Are you decent?" I call after a few seconds. No matter how many times I tell him I can't see into the water yet, he insists I'm just trying to look at his "eel." For crying out loud.
"Oh, I'm more than decent. I'm actually quite a catch."
I couldn't agree more. Toraf is good-looking, funny, and considerate-which makes me question Rayna's attitude. ~ Anna Banks

Following their line of vision, he found the distraction. The damn tennis team, running the perimeter of the football field in some half-assed formation, following their fearless leader. They weren't looking at the field, weren't yelling or causing a scene. Just concentrating on keeping up with Chris.
Having been a teenage boy himself, the draw was obvious. Teenage girls. Short shorts. No brainer. At thirty-four, he was past that.
Except his eyes didn't seem to get the "I'm Too Old For This" memo. They were tracking Chris like a hawk tracks a field mouse. ~ Jeanette Murray

I don't think God gives a shit if we have a dog or if a woman wears shorts. I think He gives a shit whether you're a good person. ~ John Green

I gave a relenting sigh. "Fine! I'll throw on some clothes. Turn around. I'm in my pj's." Pj's that consisted of nothing but a tank top and boy shorts
an image I didn't want to sear into Scott's mind.
Scott smiled. "I'm a guy. That's like asking a kid not to glance at the candy counter." Ugh. The dimple in his cheek deepened. And it was not in any way cute ... ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

low-slung shorts/you and joe IT WAS not a gradual thing. Wait. That was a lie. I didn't know it was a gradual thing. But it must have been. It had to have been. Because it's the only thing that explained the cosmic explosion that was the feeling of want and need and mine mine mine. The force of it was ridiculous. It had to have been there. For a long time. JOE ~ T.J. Klune

In the dug-out, on the bench. The Anfield bench. Bill stared out at the players of Liverpool Football Club on the pitch. The Anfield pitch. In the sun, the players of Liverpool Football Club shining. In the sun, in their kits. Their red shirts, their white shorts. And their white socks. And in the dug-out, on the bench. The Anfield bench. Bill heard the whistle blow, Bill heard the crowd roar. The Anfield crowd. ~ David Peace

A punching bag. The guy was pounding on a punching bag. That realization took about a nanosecond to register in her brain before the real important information came to the forefront: LoriSue, God bless her slutty little soul, had been absolutely correct. He was male-stripper material, and he'd been thoughtful enough to strip to a pair of athletic shorts on his very first night in the neighborhood. ~ Susan Donovan

Leverage your brand. You shouldn't let two guys in a garage eat your shorts. ~ Guy Kawasaki

In that latitude the temperature flirted with a hundred degrees for a few of the dog days, but to a child it can hardly ever be too hot. I liked the sun licking the backs of my legs, and the sweat between my shoulder blades, and the violet evenings, with ice cream and fireflies, wherein the long day slowly cooled. I liked the ants piling up dirt like coffee grounds between the bricks of our front walk, and the milkweed spittle in the vacant lot next door. I liked the freedom of shorts, sneakers, and striped T-shirt, with freckles and a short hot-weather haircut.
We love easily in summer, perhaps, because we love our summer selves. ~ John Updike

I'm commandeering some shorts." A drawer squeaked. "Oh, for pity's sake. You wear tighty-whities. With superheroes? ~ Pam Godwin

These are a traveler's snakes," Conall countered. "But even on a larger scale, they're different." He smirked at Galen's expression of mingled disgust and fear. "How do I know I can trust you?" he asked again. He let out a sigh. "My girls talked to you."

Galen searched his face. "Let's just say I have a vested interested. One that's very close to me. And another who might be?" he asked hesitantly, and Conall raised his eyebrows.

"You're very forward. More than I'm used to."

"More than you're used to?" Galen laughed. "Says the man who covers himself in gold powder, then stands on a stage wearing nothing but shorts leaving very little to the imagination, and three snakes?"

Conall squirmed in his chair. "When you put it like that… That's my outside personality - my stage persona. The one Henry calls The Incredible Constrictor. I hate it, but once he's stuck on something, it's very hard to shake him. I could have strangled him. You'd think I was the one doing the constricting."

"Do you?" Galen asked with a half smile. Conall blushed, his tan hiding some of it, but not all.

"Only when encouraged," he finally muttered back, and Galen laughed. ~ Wendy Clements

I think my daughter actually influences my style more than having boys. I tend to dress more masculine with pants or shorts or flat boots, and she makes me want to dress more stylish, more girly. ~ Kourtney Kardashian