his right hand went straight to the headrest, his fingers clinging to the leather. His mouth gaped.
Zac was already smiling at him like it was second nature.
The driver startled. “Don’t mind my French, but fuck me….”
I snorted and pulled the seat belt across my shoulder, clipping it in.
Zac held his hand out, and the driver didn’t hesitate to shake it, before gesturing to me. “Mohamed, Bianca, my boss. Bianca, Mohamed.”
I shot Zac a look and took the man’s hand the second it was free, even though I’m pretty sure he only left it out from the shock.
“Hi,” I told him, giving it a quick shake that he didn’t register because he was so busy gaping at Zac.
He and Mohamed, a very nice man with three children—two daughters and a twenty-year-old son that Zac signed an autograph for—talked pretty much the entire ride to the hotel.
“Can we get a picture?” Mohamed asked as he stopped in front of the hotel.
“Yeah, sure,” Zac agreed as the older man took his phone off its holder and turned it to selfie mode. Zac unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward. I tried to move to the side to give him room to sneak up and forward, but a big, familiar hand settled on the middle of my back.
He smiled at me as he guided me forward too until we were right beside Mohamed’s headrest. He made sure my chin was right there and Zac’s cheek was right there too by mine. The tiny bristles tickled my face, and I tried my best to ignore the heat of his skin.
“Cheese!” Mohamed called out before snapping one, then two pictures that had the flash blinding the shit out of me.
After saying bye, we hauled ass through the lobby, and it wasn’t until I got into the elevator that I realized what I’d done.
“I left my wallet in Connie’s trunk.”
Zac held his jacket in one hand and had a hip against the wall as the elevator took us up. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the throat and damp in a few places. “You need money?” he asked.
“No, my room key is in there,” I told him, even as I unlocked my phone and sent Connie a text message.
“Oh. Wait in my room ’til Connie gets back. Or you wanna go back and get it?”
Go back? It’d been hard enough to squeeze my feet back into the death traps called my shoes so that I wouldn’t have to walk barefoot outside of the hall and through the hotel.
“I’ll wait, if you’re fine with that,” I told him. “I just sent her a message. When we were at the hall, she said she was going to my uncle’s house, but I bet she can drop by first and then go over there.”
He was looking down at me. “I don’t mind, kiddo. But if I fall asleep, don’t take creepy pictures of me.”
The door pinged open. “No promises.”
He smiled, and so did I.
“Did you have an okay time?” I asked as we walked in the direction of his room.
“Touch my back.”
I pulled my arm into my side, not trusting him or this request. “Why? Because you’re sweaty?”
“Yeah, from all the dancing. Touch my shirt.”
I shook my head, wrinkling my nose. “Thank you, but no thank you. I believe you.” Because I did. His hair was dark and matted, and his neck still flushed. And I knew I was sweaty as hell too. I’d been holding my arms stretched at my sides to give them a breeze so they could dry off.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
He winked at me as he slid his keycard into the slot at the door and flipped on the lights before gesturing me in. I went into the room that was pretty much a mirror of the one I shared with Connie and the kids, except that instead of two double beds, there was only a king. I didn’t think twice about toeing my shoes off right at the door as Zac flipped the lock and the metal safety bar above it. I sat on the edge of the bed as he flung his jacket aside and began unbuttoning his shirt.
I looked at my phone then, even though it hadn’t beeped or vibrated with a response from Connie… or from anyone.
Would they give me a room key if I didn’t have my ID? Probably not. And I definitely didn’t want to make Zac go ask in case he could get away with things that the rest of us