The hand on my ankle gave it a light squeeze, and I looked up to find Zac’s light blue eyes on my face.

“It’s a good picture, huh?” I asked him.

His thumb rubbed along the sole of my foot. “Yeah, kiddo. It’s a real good one,” he agreed, looking me dead in the eye.

Chapter Sixteen

I would have paid money to have a picture of Trevor’s face when he saw us walking up to the front doors of the club where the Halloween party was being hosted weeks later.

Honestly, from the handful of interactions we’d had, I wasn’t sure he was physically capable of doing more than rolling his eyes, scowling, or making his features go completely emotionless. So that was something. I mean, Zac had needed to lift his hand to get him to shake mine the second time we’d met.

First, he blinked.

Then I’d swear that he rubbed his eyes with a fisted hand and looked at us again, like maybe his eyes had tricked him.

They hadn’t.

While I didn’t enjoy his disbelieving face anywhere near as much as Zac did, I still got a kick out of it. And I knew without a doubt that Zac got a huge kick out of it because he started elbowing me and giggling. All “hehehe” under his breath while we made our way through the parking lot with CJ and Amari trailing behind us, more than likely tugging at their own costumes. I’d helped them come up with a quick costume the day before when I’d gone over to the house to pick up Zac so we could go grocery shopping.

Salt and pepper.

It had almost brought a tear to my eye.

But nothing had made me laugh quite like what Zac and I had managed to find at the costume store.

But Trevor wasn’t laughing as he gazed at us with a sigh and muttered, “Really?”

Zac’s plaid-covered elbow hit my bodysuit-covered one.

I mean, it had been freaking fate—like we’d planned it when we hadn’t. Yet it had worked out perfectly. Beyond perfect honestly. Even CJ shook his head when he’d met us outside of the house while we waited for the ride Zac ordered. “You both would” was all he’d said before snapping a picture of us. Zac had an elbow on my shoulder, because why not when it was level and I could basically be used as a crutch?

I’d asked CJ to take one for me too on my phone, and then Zac had taken my cell and sent it to himself.

“Whatcha think, Trev?” Zac asked as we stopped in front of his longtime manager.

Trevor scrubbed at his face again, finally making me take in the “costume” he had on.

It wasn’t much of one. Honestly, he looked like he usually did. I was pretty sure I’d seen him wearing the same suit like a week ago when I had gone to pick up Zac before going to the movies. He’d been stressed as hell that day—I was able to tell by his face—but it had been because of the game the White Oaks had been set to play the next day. Going to the movies had been my idea to try and take his mind off things. Unfortunately, the team had lost the first game that Zac had started, but they’d won the second one and scraped by with another win during the third.

Boogie had come down to Houston, and we’d watched that home game together—the first one since Zac had taken over—low in the stands, while we’d screamed our asses off. Afterward, Zac had come over to my apartment, and he’d barbecued on my patio to celebrate. It had been a lot of fun.

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.