**Title: College Guy's Mall Magic**

After a solid week and a half of nothing but textbooks, study groups, and cheap coffee, Alex finally had a free afternoon. The first thing he promised himself: new underwear. His last pair had given up, the waistband stretched to oblivion, and the hole situation had moved past “quirky” into “engineering marvel.” So, armed with his favorite playlist and an infectious sense of relief, he made his way to the mall’s department store. There was a comfort in wandering the aisles, idly drumming his fingers on his jeans to the beat pulsing through his earbuds. The men’s section looked as generic as ever, but there was something thrilling about the simple adult task of buying underwear. He thumbed through the choices and, eventually, scooped up a multipack of boxer briefs, blue and black. It felt like victory. He paid at the counter, stashed the bag, and was about to head out when a tap on his shoulder startled him. A girl, brown-haired, an anxious smile on her lips, pointed to her phone and asked, “Hey, sorry, do you know where the food court is? I got completely turned around.” Pulling out an earbud, Alex gave friendly directions, gesturing down the escalator and around a corner, the whole time resting his bag on a nearby display. She thanked him with genuine relief, and Alex watched her go, giving himself a mental pat on the back for his helpfulness. He picked up what he thought was his bag, popped his earbuds back in, and navigated lazily through the crowd back to campus. Back at his dorm, he dropped his bag on the bed, already relishing the idea of finally ditching the last tattered pair. But when he opened it, his hand froze. Lacy. Pink. Definitely not boxer briefs. There were panties, thongs (bright purple), and bras neatly folded, and the bag read “Victoria’s Secret” in hot pink script. Oh. Oh no. Sifting through, Alex realized he must’ve swapped bags with the girl while giving directions. He picked up a pair of silky black panties, held them against his hips, and did a half-turn in the mirror, arching an eyebrow. All things considered, they might actually fit. Was it odd? Sure. Was it destiny or a weird twist of fate? Maybe. But underwear was underwear, at least until he figured out how to fix the mix-up. He shrugged, sighing as he tossed the lacey bundle onto his laundry pile, making a note to keep them safe in case the girl tried to track him down. He chuckled to himself, imagining springing into next week’s 8 a.m. class with the ultimate secret—new, actually functional underwear. Even if they were silk and lace instead of cotton, and he now owned a matching bra set or two. College, he decided, was really just a series of strange and wonderful firsts.