Was he…?
“I think I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said dryly in response to Zac’s question about what he thought about our costumes.
Zac looked down at the same time I glanced up, and we both grinned, elbows meeting again, like this pleased us. Because it did. There were so many times you had to act like an adult, but if I had the opportunity not to… well, I was going to take it. “You’re only as old as you tell yourself,” Mamá Lupe used to say. And I was so lucky Zac felt the same way.
Even though I felt like his costume wasn’t much of a stretch, but that’s what made it even better.
In his most “country” boots, which his mom had mailed to him overnight, with spurs on them and everything; skintight blue jeans that hugged every inch of those long, muscular legs; a big, old, vintage belt buckle that he’d told me belonged to Paw-Paw, which his mom had also sent; and a yellow plaid, long-sleeved, button-down shirt… he could have passed for a cowboy. But it was the cow print vest, red bandana, the big fake star clipped to the vest, and his tilted cowboy hat that really sealed the deal.
I’d sat outside the dressing room door laughing my ass off for at least two minutes when he’d come out with what the costume store had provided.
And it was while I’d been laughing that he’d been the one to ask the employee if they had the costume that I was currently wearing.
They did, and he’d brought it to me as an offering.
I hadn’t thought twice about it. I’d agreed. And even though it was meant for someone taller and bigger than me—a small man—I was glad that it wasn’t totally skintight. It was just regular tight. The white spandex had a few green lines around the stomach and the forearms. I had a thick black belt on, and over my chest was a foam chest piece with red buttons, shoulder pads, and more green accents. The hood of the spandex suit was purple and hid almost all of my hair. I had silver ballet flats that I’d put green fabric over the toes with double-sided tape that I had a feeling would fall off in the first thirty minutes. The only thing I was missing was a laser and retractable wings.
But whatever. It wasn’t sexy, but it made me and Zac laugh, so I was happy with it. I was so stressed and confused about other things going on, I needed it.
I’d asked him how I looked, and he’d crossed his arms over his chest, shook his head, and said, “Absolutely beautiful, darlin’.”
A lie, but I’d take it.
I focused back on Trevor. “Hey, Trev.”
Beside me, Zac choked. He’d already explained how much he hated being called Trev, but since he wasn’t particularly nice to me—more like he suffered through my presence when I was around—I figured we were good.
“Trevor,” he corrected.
Yeah, yeah. “Are you supposed to be John—”
“Wick. Yes. Let’s go inside. I want to be out of here in an hour. I came straight from the airport. I’ve got things to do.”
A hand landed on the padded shoulder of my Buzz costume, giving it a squeeze for a moment before those fingers curled around the nape of my neck and stayed there as we followed after Trevor. There was a line, of course, but he headed straight toward the bouncers, holding out what looked like laminated, holographic passes that the men checked with flashlights and then some kind of blue light before they waved our small group in. I couldn’t hear Amari or CJ over the music coming through the doors and walls as we went through them. It wasn’t anywhere near as loud as a club usually got, but it was still noisy enough that I figured I’d have to stare at mouths the rest of the night to understand what anyone said—if anyone even talked to me in the first place.
There were a lot of people already inside.
And like he could read my mind, Zac leaned in real close, the light wisp of his breath tickling my ear as he reconfirmed, “Hang with me, all right?”
I had already been contemplating this since I’d heard about this thing. “That’s okay. You don’t need to babysit me or anything. I know you might have to do your thing. I’ll be okay for a while. If I want to leave, I know how to get home.” I smiled at him.
His eyebrows went flat under the low brim of his cowboy hat. “Get home? By yourself?” he asked like I’d just said I was going to compete in the Olympics for gymnastics.
I glanced up at his handsome face and nodded. He really was the perfect Woody. But, what? Did he think I was going to go home with someone? He knew I had to work the next morning; I’d mentioned it a minimum of six times. I wasn’t going to stay here all night. He hadn’t planned on it either from what he’d said.
Zac moved closer, dipping his head so I could get a real good look at his lips. “How about this: we’ll stay for an hour, and then we’ll get outta here like Trev is plannin’. We can do whatever you want after that. Deal?”
The “yes” was there, but so was the knowledge he knew people here. “Zac, you know my feelings won’t be hurt if you would rather hang out with—”
He pressed his index finger against my lips.
I blinked at him and said with his finger still over my mouth, “I will lick your finger, and you know I will.”
Zac laughed, booping me on the nose. “I would rather hang out with you than here. You got me? Or do I gotta say it again for the… what? The fiftieth time?”
I didn’t need to watch his face to know he was telling me the truth. So I
