Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
It had been a good few weeks—weeks in which I hadn’t seen Trevor again, even though I saw Zac just about every other day when he didn’t stay late to watch film or do whatever it was he did at the White Oaks facilities. On the days I didn’t see him, we still texted. Sometimes he called. Being around him so much had started to be second nature.
And then there had been us going to the Halloween store on one of his half days.
Trevor, on the other hand, hadn’t gone to a costume store. He was in a sleek, slim-cut, black suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. The only difference was that the hair he usually had combed and gelled backward was parted down the middle and might have had a little bit of oil in it. It was a lot longer than it looked when he had it styled normally; it just about hit his chin.
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.