Plucking the icepack off, I tossed it onto the side table to my left. “Nah, they’ve gotten worse,” I admitted before realizing what I’d said.

Of course he picked up on it. “Why?”

I didn’t want to tell him, but… I didn’t want to not tell him either.

“What happened?” he demanded quietly.

I scratched at the tip of my nose and stretched my leg out a little to end up on the cushion between us. “He’s just been more of an asshole because I keep telling him no when he asks me to work longer shifts. Now he found out we’re friends and tried to ask me about it, but I shut it down.”

Those dark blond eyelashes dropped, and the pleasant expression on his face fell off. He even set the can of grape soda on the floor by his feet. “What?”

“I think he might have wanted me to ask you to come to the gym or something annoying.”

A frown took over his perfect face.

“It’s fine,” I told him, even throwing in a shrug so he’d really believe me that it wasn’t a big deal.

“If you say so, but you tell me if there’s somethin’ I can do to help. I don’t see why you haven’t quit yet—yeah, I know because of your friend—but you don’t need to be puttin’ up with that kind of nonsense, Bibi.”

“I know,” I muttered. “I’ll be out of there soon, come hell or high water. Which speaking of, I didn’t tell you but the photographer that’s going to be doing my book asked if we could move the booking to November, so I’m trying to figure that out.”

He was still frowning as he stretched his legs out in front of him and kept going. He shot me a little side-look that was mostly a frown. “If there’s somethin’ I can do to help, I’m serious, let me know.”

I knew he was serious, so I nodded at him.

“We goin’ to that Halloween party?” he asked.

I’d forgotten all about it, even though the owner-guy had brought it up again—pointing a finger at me as he said it like there was another Baker Girl around—after everyone had made it through the haunted house. But I’d been too distracted bickering with Zac about my wedge boots to do more than smile and nod. But now I wasn’t distracted.

“I thought he was just being nice inviting me.”

He slanted me a look. “He told you twice and texted me as we were leavin’,” he explained. “You’ll come then?”

“When is it? I don’t have a costume, and I’m trying to save my money right now to pay off the photographer.” It was the truth. Regardless of how far I took my willingness to quit, I had to save everything I possibly could until then. “I shouldn’t be spending on things like that.”

He gave me the same exact expression he had a moment ago. “You need money? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t need money. I just don’t need to be spending it right now.” I smiled at him. “But thank you for worrying. I’m sure you can get—”

“Bianca, I swear if you try and pawn me off on some make-believe other friend again—”

“I’m gonna tell Mama,” I mocked him before bursting out laughing.

He pressed his lips together.

I laughed harder, so hard there were tears in my eyes by the time he decided to ignore what I was doing and saying. He hadn’t forgotten what we were talking about.

“I’ll let you borrow whatever money you need to pay for your photographer,” he stated, that frown back on his face.

I would never take his money… unless I absolutely had to, but I wasn’t there yet. I didn’t feel like arguing with him, so I said nothing instead and let him keep yammering on.

“And if you go with me to pick out a costume, I’ll get yours too.”

I sighed. “You can go by yourself, you know.”

“If I wanted to go by myself, I would.”

I bet he would.

I’d bet if he wanted a date with some pretty woman, he could get it in about a split second too. That’s what I’d been on the verge of reminding him. But instead, he wanted to go with me. I wasn’t sure why. I really didn’t understand it. As far as I knew, he hadn’t been out with anyone, anywhere, not since the day of his party. All his posts had been football related.

Every time I wondered why he liked to spend time with me, the only question in my head that came up was that it might be because he could be himself around me. But that didn’t add up because he didn’t act differently around other people. Maybe he was slightly more ridiculous in my presence, but the true essence of him, he shared with everyone. It was part of what made him so likable and charismatic. Also, it was those damn eyes.

And the rest of him, honestly.

It had touched me that he’d gone to the haunted house to support his teammate. It said a lot about him. At least I thought so.

Well, whatever. I wasn’t going to bring it up, so I was never going to know; therefore, I had to take the information available to me—that if he wanted to go with someone else, he easily could—and make a decision.

“Okay. It can be my Christmas present,” I agreed.

He huffed but nodded. So I leaned forward and poked at him and got poked back in return. We smiled at each other.

“My friends are plannin’ on comin’ to visit to watch a game,” he said. “Not sure when yet. They’ve got three kids. I really want you to meet ’em.”

He did? I nodded. “Okay. Tell me when.”

His attention moved forward again, and a moment later, his phone started ringing from its spot on the middle cushion between us, right next to my foot. I took a peek at the screen and saw the name flash across it before he hit the ignore button.

ALICIA BLONDEATTY HOU

I swallowed.

Zac was silent for a second, but he wasn’t looking at his phone—he’d barely glanced at it. He was focused on the television.

He wasn’t even looking at me either when he dropped his hand over my ankle and held it there, giving it a light squeeze. It was warm and dry.

He left it there for a while.

I couldn’t help but wonder some more who the Alicia person was. Someone he’d met in Houston apparently. It shouldn’t be a surprise.

Maybe it was even the same blonde from the party. More than likely though, it was a different one. He hadn’t remembered her when I’d brought her up a while back. Cool. Fine. Okay.

My phone beeped right then, and I peeked at the screen to see I’d been tagged in something.

Tagged by HTWONHAUNTEDFACTORY.

I unlocked the screen and hit the icon to open it.

I nudged at Zac’s shoulders, getting those baby blues swinging in my direction. I showed him the screen.

On it was Zac, mostly, mouth open as he laughed, and behind his shoulder—like the other twenty pictures that my grandma had had in her house of us—was me. A forearm wrapped around his neck, face scrunched up, eyes closed. Behind us was the man holding the fake chainsaw, acting like he was chasing us out, which he probably had been, but I’d been too busy having my eyes closed to know for sure.

The owner man tagged me in the post. And Zac.

Me. The Lazy Baker.

Zac. Zac “Big Texas” Travis.

Well, if our friendship had been a secret before, it wasn’t any longer.